Mistborn: The Final Empire (Mistborn, #1)

“Skaa rebellion,” Lord Venture snapped.

What? Elend thought as Lord Venture waved for another group of soldiers to approach. Impossible. A skaa rebellion in Luthadel itself . . . it was unthinkable. They didn’t have the disposition to try such a bold move, they were just . . .

Valette is skaa, he thought. You have to stop thinking like other noblemen, Elend. You have to open your eyes.

The Garrison was gone, off to slaughter a different group of rebels. The skaa had been forced to watch those gruesome executions weeks ago, not to mention the slaughter that had come this day. They had been stressed to the point of breaking.

Temadre predicted this, Elend realized. So did half a dozen other political theorists. They said that the Final Empire couldn’t last forever. God at its head or not, the people would someday rise up. . . . It’s finally happening. I’m living through it!

And . . . I’m on the wrong side.

“Why the canalmasters?” Elend asked.

“We’re leaving the city,” Lord Venture said tersely.

“Abandon the keep?” Elend asked. “Where’s the honor in that?”

Lord Venture snorted. “This isn’t about bravery, boy. It’s about survival. Those skaa are attacking the main gates, slaughtering the remnants of the Garrison. I have no intention of waiting until they come for noble heads.”

“But . . .”

Lord Venture shook his head. “We were leaving anyway. Something . . . happened at the Pits a few days ago. The Lord Ruler isn’t going to be happy when he discovers it.” He stepped back, waving over his lead narrowboat captain.

Skaa rebellion, Elend thought, still a little numb. What was it that Temadre warned in his writings? That, when a real rebellion finally came, the skaa would slaughter wantonly . . . that every nobleman’s life would be forfeit.

He predicted that the rebellion would die out quickly, but that it would leave piles of corpses in its wake. Thousands of deaths. Tens of thousands.

“Well, boy?” Lord Venture demanded. “Go and organize your things.”

“I’m not going,” Elend surprised himself by saying.

Lord Venture frowned. “What?”

Elend looked up. “I’m not going, Father.”

“Oh, you’re going,” Lord Venture said, eyeing Elend with one of his glares.

Elend looked into those eyes—eyes that were angry not because they cared for Elend’s safety, but because Elend dared defy them. And, strangely, Elend didn’t feel the least bit cowed. Someone has to stop this. The rebellion could do some good, but only if the skaa don’t insist on slaughtering their allies. And, that’s what the nobility should be—their allies against the Lord Ruler. He’s our enemy too.

“Father, I’m serious,” Elend said. “I’m going to stay.”

“Bloody hell, boy! Must you insist on mocking me?”

“This isn’t about balls or luncheons, father. It’s about something more important.”

Lord Venture paused. “No flippant comments? No buffoonery?”

Elend shook his head.

Suddenly, Lord Venture smiled. “Stay then, boy. That’s a good idea. Someone should maintain our presence here while I go rally our forces. Yes . . . a very good idea.”

Elend paused, frowning slightly at the smile in his father’s eyes. The atium—Father is setting me up to fall in his place! And . . . even if the Lord Ruler doesn’t kill me, Father assumes I’ll die in the rebellion. Either way, he’s rid of me.

I’m really not very good at this, am I?

Lord Venture laughed to himself, turning.

“At least leave me some soldiers,” Elend said.

“You can have most of them,” Lord Venture said. “It will be hard enough to get one boat out in this mess. Good luck, boy. Say hello to the Lord Ruler in my absence.” He laughed again, moving toward his stallion, which was saddled and readied outside.

Elend stood in the hall, and suddenly he was the focus of attention. Nervous guards and servants, realizing that they’d been abandoned, turned to Elend with desperate eyes.

I’m . . . in charge, Elend thought with shock. Now what? Outside, he could see the mists flaring with the light of burning fires. Several of the guards were yelling about an approaching mob of skaa.

Elend walked to the open doorway, staring out into the chaos. The hall grew quiet behind him, terrified people realizing the extent of their danger.

Elend stood for a long moment. Then he spun. “Captain!” he said. “Gather your forces and the remaining servants—don’t leave anyone behind—then march to Keep Lekal.”

“Keep . . . Lekal, my lord?”

“It’s more defensible,” Elend said. “Plus, both of us have too few soldiers—separated, we’ll be destroyed. Together, we might be able to stand. We’ll offer our men to the Lekal in exchange for protecting our people.”

“But . . . my lord,” the soldier said. “The Lekal are your enemies.”

Elend nodded. “Yes, but someone needs to make the first overture. Now, get moving!”

The man saluted, then rushed into motion.

“Oh, and Captain?” Elend said.

The soldier paused.

“Pick out five of your best soldiers to be my honor guard. I’ll be leaving you in charge—those five and I have another mission.”

“My lord?” the captain asked with confusion. “What mission?”

Elend turned back toward the mists. “We’re going to go turn ourselves in.”



Vin awoke to wetness. She coughed, then groaned, feeling a sharp pain in the back of her skull. She opened dizzy eyes—blinking away the water that had been thrown on her—and immediately burned pewter and tin, bringing herself completely awake.

A pair of rough hands hoisted her into the air. She coughed as the Inquisitor shoved something into her mouth.

“Swallow,” he ordered, twisting her arm.

Vin cried out, trying without success to resist the pain. Eventually, she gave in and swallowed the bit of metal.

“Now burn it,” the Inquisitor ordered, twisting harder.

Vin resisted nonetheless, sensing the unfamiliar metal reserve within her. The Inquisitor could be trying to get her to burn a useless metal, one that would make her sick—or, worse, kill her.

But, there are easier ways to kill a captive, she thought in agony. Her arm hurt so much that it felt like it would twist free. Finally, Vin relented, burning the metal.

Immediately, all of her other metal reserves vanished.

“Good,” the Inquisitor said, dropping her to the ground. The stones were wet, pooled with a bucketful of water. The Inquisitor turned, leaving the cell and slamming its barred door; then he disappeared through a doorway on the other side of the room.

Vin crawled to her knees, massaging her arm, trying to sort out what was going on. My metals! She searched desperately inside, but she found nothing. She couldn’t feel any metals, not even the one she had ingested moments before.

What was it? A twelfth metal? Perhaps Allomancy wasn’t as limited as Kelsier and the others had always assured her.

She took a few deep breaths, climbing to her knees, calming herself. There was something . . . Pushing against her. The Lord Ruler’s presence. She could feel it, though it wasn’t as powerful as it had been earlier, when he had killed Kelsier. Still, she didn’t have copper to burn—she had no way to hide from the Lord Ruler’s powerful, almost omnipotent, hand. She felt depression twisting her, telling her to just lie down, to give up. . . .

No! she thought. I have to get out. I have to stay strong!

She forced herself to stand and inspect her surroundings. Her prison was more like a cage than a cell. It had bars running along three of the four sides, and it contained no furniture—not even a sleeping mat. There were two other cell-cages in the room, one to either side of her.

She had been stripped, they had only left her with her undergarments. The move was probably to make certain that she didn’t have any hidden metals. She glanced around the room. It was long and thin, and had stark stone walls. A stool sat in one corner, but the room was otherwise empty.