22

At first, there were those who didn’t think the Deepness was a serious danger, at least not to them. However, it brought with it a blight that I have seen infect nearly every part of the land. Armies are useless before it. Great cities are laid low by its power. Crops fail, and the land dies.

This is the thing I fight. This is the monster I must defeat. I fear that I have taken too long. Already, so much destruction has occurred that I fear for mankind’s survival.

Is this truly the end of the world, as many of the philosophers predict?

We arrived in Terris earlier this week, Vin read, and, I have to say, I find the countryside beautiful. The great mountains to the north—with their bald snowcaps and forested mantles—stand like watchful gods over this land of green fertility. My own lands to the south are mostly flat; I think that they might look less dreary if there were a few mountains to vary the terrain.

The people here are mostly herdsmen—though timber harvesters and farmers are not uncommon. It is a pastoral land, certainly. It seems odd that a place so remarkably agrarian could have produced the prophecies and theologies upon which the entire world now relies.

We picked up a group of Terris packmen to guide us through the difficult mountain passages. Yet, these are no ordinary men. The stories are apparently true—some Terrismen have a remarkable ability that is most intriguing.

Somehow, they can store up their strength for use on the next day. Before they sleep at night, they spend an hour lying in their bedrolls, during which time they suddenly grow very frail in appearance—almost as if they had aged by half a century. Yet, when they wake the next morning, they become quite muscular. Apparently, their powers have something to do with the metal bracelets and earrings that they always wear.

The leader of the packmen is named Rashek, and he is rather taciturn. Nevertheless, Braches—inquisitive, as always—has promised to interrogate him in the hopes of discovering exactly how this wondrous strength-storing is achieved.

Tomorrow, we begin the final stage of our pilgrimage—the Far Mountains of Terris. There, hopefully, I will find peace—both for myself, and for our poor land.

AS SHE READ her copy of the logbook, Vin was quickly coming to several decisions. First was the firm belief that she did not like reading. Sazed didn’t listen to her complaints; he just claimed that she hadn’t practiced enough. Couldn’t he see that reading was hardly as practical a skill as being able to handle a dagger or use Allomancy?

Still, she continued to read as per his orders—if only to stubbornly prove that she could. Many of the logbook’s words were difficult to her, and she had to read in a secluded part of Renoux’s mansion where she could sound out the words to herself, trying to decipher the Lord Ruler’s odd style of writing.

The continued reading led to her second conclusion: The Lord Ruler was far more whiny than any god had a right to be. When pages of the logbook weren’t filled with boring notes about the Lord Ruler’s travels, they were instead packed with internal contemplations and lengthy moralistic ramblings. Vin was beginning to wish that she’d never found the book in the first place.

She sighed, settling back into her wicker chair. A cool early-spring breeze blew through the lower gardens, passing over the petite fountain brook to her left. The air was comfortably moist, and the trees overhead shaded her from the afternoon sun. Being nobility—even fake nobility—certainly did have its perks.

A quiet footfall sounded behind her. It was distant, but Vin had grown into the habit of burning a little bit of tin at all times. She turned, shooting a covert glance over her shoulder.

“Spook?” she said with surprise as young Lestibournes walked down the garden path. “What are you doing here?”

Spook froze, blushing. “Wasing with the Dox to come and be without the stay.”

“Dockson?” Vin said. “He’s here too?” Maybe he has news of Kelsier!

Spook nodded, approaching. “Weapons for the getting, giving for the time to be.”

Vin paused. “You lost me on that one.”

“We needed the drop off some more weapons,” Spook said, struggling to speak without his dialect. “Storing them here for a while.”

“Ah,” Vin said, rising and brushing off her dress. “I should go see him.”

Spook looked suddenly apprehensive, flushing again, and Vin cocked her head. “Was there something else?”

With a sudden movement, Spook reached into his vest and pulled something out. Vin flared pewter in response, but the item was simply a pink-and-white handkerchief. Spook thrust it toward her.

Vin took it hesitantly. “What’s this for?”

Spook flushed again, then turned and dashed away.

Vin watched him go, dumbfounded. She looked down at the handkerchief. It was made of soft lace, but there didn’t seem to be anything unusual about it.

That is one strange boy, she thought, tucking the handkerchief inside her sleeve. She picked up her copy of the logbook, then began to work her way up the garden path. She was growing so accustomed to wearing a dress that she barely had to pay attention to keep the gown’s lower layers from brushing against underbrush or stones.

I guess that in itself is a valuable skill, Vin thought as she reached the mansion’s garden entrance without having snagged her dress on a single branch. She pushed open the many-paned glass door and stopped the first servant she saw.

“Master Delton has arrived?” she asked, using Dockson’s fake name. He played the part of one of Renoux’s merchant contacts inside Luthadel.

“Yes, my lady,” the servant said. “He’s in conference with Lord Renoux.”

Vin let the servant go. She could probably force her way into the conference, but it would look bad. Lady Valette had no reason to attend a mercantile meeting between Renoux and Delton.

Vin chewed her lower lip in thought. Sazed was always telling her she had to keep up appearances. Fine, she thought. I’ll wait. Maybe Sazed can tell me what that crazy boy expects me to do with this handkerchief.

She sought out the upper library, maintaining a pleasant ladylike smile, inwardly trying to guess what Renoux and Dockson were talking about. Dropping off the weapons was an excuse; Dockson wouldn’t have come personally to do something so mundane. Perhaps Kelsier had been delayed. Or, maybe Dockson had finally gotten a communication from Marsh—Kelsier’s brother, along with the other new obligator initiates, should be arriving back in Luthadel soon.

Dockson and Renoux could have sent for me, she thought with annoyance. Valette often entertained guests with her uncle.

She shook her head. Even though Kelsier had named her a full member of the crew, the others obviously still regarded her as something of a child. They were friendly and accepting, but they didn’t think to include her. It was probably unintentional, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Light shone from the library ahead. Sure enough, Sazed sat inside, translating the last group of pages from the logbook. He looked up as Vin entered, smiling and nodding respectfully.

No spectacles this time either, Vin noted. Why did he wear them for that short time before?

“Mistress Vin,” he said, rising and fetching her a chair. “How are your studies of the logbook going?”

Vin looked down at the loosely bound pages in her hand. “All right, I suppose. I don’t see why I have to bother reading them—you gave copies to Kell and Breeze too, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Sazed said, setting the chair down beside his desk. “However, Master Kelsier asked every member of the crew to read the pages. He is correct to do so, I think. The more eyes that read those words, the more likely we will be to discover the secrets hidden within them.”

Vin sighed slightly, smoothing her dress and seating herself. The white and blue dress was beautiful—though intended for daily use, it was only slightly less luxurious than one of her ball gowns.

“You must admit, Mistress,” Sazed said as he sat, “the text is amazing. This work is a Keeper’s dream. Why, I’m discovering things about my culture that even I did not know!”

Vin nodded. “I just got to the part where they reach Terris.” Hopefully, the next part will contain fewer supply lists. Honestly, for an evil god of darkness, he certainly can be dull.

“Yes, yes,” Sazed said, speaking with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “Did you see what he said, how he described Terris as a place of ‘green fertility’? Keeper legends speak of this. Terris is now a tundra of frozen dirt—why, almost no plants can survive there. But, once it was green and beautiful, like the text says.”

Green and beautiful, Vin thought. Why would green be beautiful? That would be like having blue or purple plants—it would just be weird.

However, there was something about the logbook that made her curious—something that both Sazed and Kelsier had been strangely closemouthed about. “I just read the part where the Lord Ruler gets some Terris packmen,” Vin said carefully. “He talked about how they grow stronger during the day because they let themselves be weak at night.”

Sazed suddenly grew more subdued. “Yes, indeed.”

“You know something about this? Does it have to do with being a Keeper?”

“It does,” Sazed said. “But, this should remain a secret, I think. Not that you aren’t worthy of trust, Mistress Vin. However, if fewer people know about Keepers, then fewer rumors will be told of us. It would be best if the Lord Ruler began to believe that he had destroyed us completely, as has been his goal for the last thousand years.”

Vin shrugged. “Fine. Hopefully, none of the secrets Kelsier wants us to discover in this text are related to the Terrisman powers—if they are, I’ll miss them completely.”

Sazed paused.

“Ah, well,” Vin said nonchalantly, flipping through the pages she hadn’t read. “Looks like he spends a lot of time talking about the Terrismen. Guess I won’t be able to give much input when Kelsier gets back.”

“You make a good point,” Sazed said slowly. “Even if you make it a bit melodramatically.”

Vin smiled pertly.

“Very well,” Sazed said with a sigh. “We should not have let you spend so much time with Master Breeze, I think.”

“The men in the logbook,” Vin said. “They’re Keepers?”

Sazed nodded. “What we now call Keepers were far more common back then—perhaps even more common than Mistings are among modern nobility. Our art is called ‘Feruchemy,’ and it grants the ability to store certain physical attributes inside bits of metal.”

Vin frowned. “You burn metals too?”

“No, Mistress,” Sazed said with a shake of his head. “Feruchemists aren’t like Allomancers—we don’t ‘burn’ away our metals. We use them as storage. Each piece of metal, dependent upon size and alloy, can store a certain physical quality. The Feruchemist saves up an attribute, then draws upon that reserve at a later time.”

“Attribute?” Vin asked. “Like strength?”

Sazed nodded. “In the text, the Terris packmen make themselves weaker during the evening, storing up strength in their bracelets for use on the next day.”

Vin studied Sazed’s face. “That’s why you wear so many earrings!”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, reaching over to pull up his sleeves. Underneath his robe, he wore thick iron bracers around his upper arms. “I keep some of my reserves hidden—but wearing many rings, earrings, and other items of jewelry has always been a part of Terris culture. The Lord Ruler once tried to enforce a ban upon Terrismen touching or owning any metal—in fact, he tried to make wearing metal a noble privilege, rather than a skaa one.”

Vin frowned. “That’s odd,” she said. “One would think that the nobility wouldn’t want to wear metal, because that would make them vulnerable to Allomancy.”

“Indeed,” Sazed said. “However, it has long been imperial fashion to accent one’s wardrobe with metal. It began, I suspect, with the Lord Ruler’s desire to deny the Terrismen the right to touch metal. He himself began wearing metal rings and bracelets, and the nobility always follows him in fashion. Nowadays, the most wealthy often wear metal as a symbol of power and pride.”

“Sounds foolish,” Vin said.

“Fashion often is, Mistress,” Sazed said. “Regardless, the ploy failed—many of the nobility only wear wood painted to look like metal, and the Terris managed to weather the Lord Ruler’s discontent in this area. It was simply too impractical to never let stewards handle metal. That hasn’t stopped the Lord Ruler from trying to exterminate the Keepers, however.”

“He fears you.”

“And hates us. Not just Feruchemists, but all Terrismen.” Sazed laid a hand on the still untranslated portion of the text. “I hope to find that secret in here as well. No one remembers why the Lord Ruler persecutes the Terris people, but I suspect that it has something to do with those packmen—their leader, Rashek, appears to be a very contrary man. The Lord Ruler often speaks of him in the narrative.”

“He mentioned religion,” Vin said. “The Terris religion. Something about prophecies?”

Sazed shook his head. “I cannot answer that question, Mistress, for I don’t know any more of the Terris religion than you do.”

“But, you collect religions,” Vin said. “You don’t know about your own?”

“I do not,” Sazed said solemnly. “You see, Mistress, this was why the Keepers were formed. Centuries ago, my people hid away the last few Terris Feruchemists. The Lord Ruler’s purges of the Terris people were growing quite violent—this was before he began the breeding program. Back then, we weren’t stewards or servants—we weren’t even skaa. We were something to be destroyed.

“Yet, something kept the Lord Ruler from wiping us out completely. I don’t know why—perhaps he thought genocide too kind a punishment. Anyway, he successfully destroyed our religion during the first two centuries of his rule. The organization of Keepers was formed during the next century, its members intent upon discovering that which had been lost, then remembering for the future.”

“With Feruchemy?”

Sazed nodded, rubbing his fingers across the bracer on his right arm. “This one is made of copper; it allows for the storage of memories and thoughts. Each Keeper carries several bracers like this, filled with knowledge—songs, stories, prayers, histories, and languages. Many Keepers have a particular area of interest—mine is religion—but we all remember the entire collection. If just one of us survives until the death of the Lord Ruler, then the world’s people will be able to recover all that they have lost.”

He paused, then pulled down his sleeve. “Well, not all that was lost. There are still things we are missing.”

“Your own religion,” Vin said quietly. “You never found it, did you?”

Sazed shook his head. “The Lord Ruler implies in this logbook that it was our prophets that led him to the Well of Ascension, but even this is new information for us. What did we believe? What, or whom, did we worship? Where did these Terris prophets come from, and how did they predict the future?”

“I’m… sorry.”

“We continue to look, Mistress. We will find our answers eventually, I think. Even if we do not, we will still have provided an invaluable service for mankind. Other people call us docile and servile, but we have fought him, in our own way.”

Vin nodded. “So, what other things can you store? Strength and memories. Anything else?”

Sazed eyed her. “I have said too much already, I think. You understand the mechanics of what we do—if the Lord Ruler mentions these things in his text, you will not be confused.”

“Sight,” Vin said, perking up. “That’s why you wore glasses for a few weeks after you rescued me. You needed to be able to see better that night when you saved me, so you used up your storage. Then you spent a few weeks with weak vision so that you could refill it.”

Sazed didn’t respond to the comment. He picked up his pen, obviously intending to turn back to his translation. “Was there anything else, Mistress?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Vin said, pulling the handkerchief from her sleeve. “Do you have any idea what this is?”

“It appears to be a handkerchief, Mistress.”

Vin raised a droll eyebrow. “Very funny. You’ve spent far too long around Kelsier, Sazed.”

“I know,” he said with a quiet sigh. “He has corrupted me, I think. Regardless, I do not understand your question. What is distinctive about that particular handkerchief?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Vin said. “Spook gave it to me just a little bit ago.”

“Ah. That makes sense, then.”

“What?” Vin demanded.

“In noble society, Mistress, a handkerchief is the traditional gift a young man gives a lady that he wishes to seriously court.”

Vin paused, regarding the handkerchief with shock. “What? Is that boy crazy?”

“Most young men his age are somewhat crazy, I think,” Sazed said with a smile. “However, this is hardly unexpected. Haven’t you noticed how he stares at you when you enter the room?”

“I just thought he was creepy. What is he thinking? He’s so much younger than me.”

“The boy is fifteen, Mistress. That only makes him one year your junior.”

“Two,” Vin said. “I turned seventeen last week.”

“Still, he isn’t really that much younger than you.”

Vin rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for his attentions.”

“One would think, Mistress, that you would appreciate the opportunities you have. Not everyone is so fortunate.”

Vin paused. He’s a eunuch, you fool. “Sazed, I’m sorry. I…”

Sazed waved a hand. “It is something I have never known enough of to miss, Mistress. Perhaps I am fortunate—a life in the underground does not make it easy to raise a family. Why, poor Master Hammond has been away from his wife for months.”

“Ham’s married?”

“Of course,” Sazed said. “So is Master Yeden, I believe. They protect their families by separating them from underground activities, but this necessitates spending large periods of time apart.”

“Who else?” Vin asked. “Breeze? Dockson?”

“Master Breeze is a bit too… self-motivated for a family, I think. Master Dockson hasn’t spoken of his romantic life, but I suspect that there is something painful in his past. That is not uncommon for plantation skaa, as you might expect.”

“Dockson is from a plantation?” Vin asked with surprise.

“Of course. Don’t you ever spend time talking with your friends, Mistress?”

Friends. I have friends. It was an odd realization.

“Anyway,” Sazed said, “I should continue my work. I am sorry to be so dismissive, but I am nearly finished with the translation…”

“Of course,” Vin said, standing and smoothing her dress. “Thank you.”

She found Dockson sitting in the guest study, writing quietly on a piece of paper, a pile of documents organized neatly on the desktop. He wore a standard nobleman’s suit, and always looked more comfortable in the clothing than the others did. Kelsier was dashing, Breeze immaculate and lavish, but Dockson… he simply looked natural in the outfit.

He looked up as she entered. “Vin? I’m sorry—I should have sent for you. For some reason I assumed you were out.”

“I often am, these days,” she said, closing the door behind her. “I stayed home today; listening to noblewomen prattle over their lunches can get a bit annoying.”

“I can imagine,” Dockson said, smiling. “Have a seat.”

Vin nodded, strolling into the room. It was a quiet place, decorated in warm colors and deep woods. It was still somewhat light outside, but Dockson already had the evening drapes drawn and was working by candlelight.

“Any news from Kelsier?” Vin asked as she sat.

“No,” Dockson said, setting aside his document. “But that’s not unexpected. He wasn’t going to stay at the caves for long, so sending a messenger back would have been a bit silly—as an Allomancer, he might even be able to get back before a man on horseback. Either way, I suspect he’ll be a few days late. This is Kell we’re talking about, after all.”

Vin nodded, then sat quietly for a moment. She hadn’t spent as much time with Dockson as she had with Kelsier and Sazed—or even Ham and Breeze. He seemed like a kind man, however. Very stable, and very clever. While most of the others contributed some kind of Allomantic power to the crew, Dockson was valuable because of his simple ability to organize.

When something needed to be purchased—such as Vin’s dresses—Dockson saw that it got done. When a building needed to be rented, supplies procured, or a permit secured, Dockson made it happen. He wasn’t out front, scamming noblemen, fighting in the mists, or recruiting soldiers. Without him, however, Vin suspected that the entire crew would fall apart.

He’s a nice man, she told herself. He won’t mind if I ask him. “Dox, what was it like living on a plantation?”

“Hmm? The plantation?”

Vin nodded. “You grew up on one, right? You’re a plantation skaa?”

“Yes,” Dockson said. “Or, at least, I was. What was it like? I’m not sure how to answer, Vin. It was a hard life, but most skaa live hard lives. I wasn’t allowed to leave the plantation—or even go outside of the hovel community—without permission. We ate more regularly than a lot of the street skaa, but we were worked as hard as any millworker. Perhaps more.

“The plantations are different from the cities. Out there, every lord is his own master. Technically, the Lord Ruler owns the skaa, but the noblemen rent them, and are allowed to kill as many as they want. Each lord just has to make certain that his crops come in.”

“You seem so… unemotional about it,” Vin said.

Dockson shrugged. “It’s been a while since I lived there, Vin. I don’t know that the plantation was overly traumatic. It was just life—we didn’t know anything better. In fact, I now know that amongst plantation lords, mine was actually rather lenient.”

“Why did you leave, then?”

Dockson paused. “An event,” he said his voice growing almost wistful. “You know that the law says that a lord can bed any skaa woman that he wishes?”

Vin nodded. “He just has to kill her when he’s done.”

“Or soon thereafter,” Dockson said. “Quickly enough that she can’t birth any half-breed children.”

“The lord took a woman you loved, then?”

Dockson nodded. “I don’t talk about it much. Not because I can’t, but because I think it would be pointless. I’m not the only skaa to lose a loved one to a lord’s passion, or even to a lord’s indifference. In fact, I’ll bet you’d have trouble finding a skaa who hasn’t had someone they love murdered by the aristocracy. That’s just… the way it is.”

“Who was she?” Vin asked.

“A girl from the plantation. Like I said, my story isn’t that original. I remember… sneaking between the hovels at night to spend time with her. The entire community played along, hiding us from the taskmasters—I wasn’t supposed to be out after dark, you see. I braved the mists for the first time for her, and while many thought me foolish to go out at night, others got over their superstition and encouraged me. I think the romance inspired them; Kareien and I reminded everyone that there was something to live for.

“When Kareien was taken by Lord Devinshae—her corpse returned the next morning for burial—something just… died in the skaa hovels. I left that next evening. I didn’t know there was a better life, but I just couldn’t stay, not with Kareien’s family there, not with Lord Devinshae watching us work…”

Dockson sighed, shaking his head. Vin could finally see some emotion in his face. “You know,” he said, “it amazes me sometimes that we even try. With everything they’ve done to us—the deaths, the tortures, the agonies—you’d think that we would just give up on things like hope and love. But we don’t. Skaa still fall in love. They still try to have families, and they still struggle. I mean, here we are… fighting Kell’s insane little war, resisting a god we know is just going to slaughter us all.”

Vin sat quietly, trying to comprehend the horror of what he described. “I… thought you said that your lord was a kind one.”

“Oh, he was,” Dockson said. “Lord Devinshae rarely beat his skaa to death, and he only purged the elderly when the population got completely out of control. He has an impeccable reputation among the nobility. You’ve probably seen him at some of the balls—he’s been in Luthadel lately, over the winter, between planting seasons.”

Vin felt cold. “Dockson, that’s horrible! How could they let a monster like that among them?”

Dockson frowned, then he leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the desktop. “Vin, they’re all like that.”

“I know that’s what some of the skaa say, Dox,” Vin said. “But, the people at the balls, they aren’t like that. I’ve met them, danced with them. Dox, a lot of them are good people. I don’t think they realize how terrible things are for the skaa.”

Dockson looked at her with a strange expression. “Am I really hearing this from you, Vin? Why do you think we’re fighting against them? Don’t you realize the things those people—all of those people—are capable of?”

“Cruelty, perhaps,” Vin said. “And indifference. But they aren’t monsters, not all of them—not like your former plantation lord.”

Dockson shook his head. “You just aren’t seeing well enough, Vin. A nobleman can rape and murder a skaa woman one night, then be praised for his morality and virtue the next day. Skaa just aren’t people to them. Noblewomen don’t even consider it cheating when their lord sleeps with a skaa woman.”

“I…” Vin trailed off, growing uncertain. This was the one area of noble culture she hadn’t wanted to confront. Beatings, she could perhaps forgive, but this…

Dockson shook his head. “You’re letting them dupe you, Vin. Things like this are less visible in the cities because of whorehouses, but the murders still happen. Some brothels use women of very poor—but noble—birth. Most, however, just kill off their skaa whores periodically to keep the Inquisitors placated.”

Vin felt a little weak. “I… know about the brothels, Dox. My brother always threatened to sell me to one. But, just because brothels exist doesn’t mean that all the men go to them. There are lots of workers who don’t visit the skaa whorehouses.”

“Noblemen are different, Vin,” Dockson said sternly. “They’re horrible creatures. Why do you think I don’t complain when Kelsier kills them? Why do you think I’m working with him to overthrow their government? You should ask some of those pretty boys you dance with how often they’ve slept with a skaa woman they knew would be killed a short time later. They’ve all done it, at one point or another.”

Vin looked down.

“They can’t be redeemed, Vin,” Dockson said. He didn’t seem as passionate about the topic as Kelsier, he just seemed… resigned. “I don’t think that Kell will be happy until they’re all dead. I doubt we have to go that far—or even that we can—but I, for one, would be more than happy to see their society collapse.”

Vin sat quietly. They can’t all be like that, she thought. They’re so beautiful, so distinguished. Elend has never taken and murdered a skaa woman… has he?