Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [120]
She thought, for just a moment, that she might have escaped.
A dark form thumped to the rooftop. The rain was letting up, and her tin revealed a head set with two spikes, a body cloaked in a dark robe.
She was too weak to move, too weak to do more than shiver in the puddle of water, clothing plastered to her skin. The Inquisitor turned toward her.
“Such a small, troubling thing you are,” he said. He stepped forward, but Vin could barely hear his words.
It was growing dark again…no, it was just her mind. Her vision grew dark, her eyes closing. Her wound didn’t hurt anymore. She couldn’t…even…think….
A sound, like shattering branches.
Then arms gripped her. Warm arms, not the arms of death. She forced her eyes open.
“Kelsier?” she whispered.
But it wasn’t Kelsier’s face that looked back at her, streaked with concern. It was a different, kinder face. She sighed in relief, drifting away as the strong arms pulled her close, making her feel oddly safe in the terrible storms of night.
I don’t know why Kwaan betrayed me. Even still, this event haunts my thoughts. He was the one who discovered me; he was the Terris philosopher who first called me the Hero of Ages. It seems ironically surreal that now—after his long struggle to convince his colleagues—he is the only major Terris holy man to preach against my reign.
15
“YOU TOOK HER WITH YOU?” Dockson demanded, bursting into the room. “You took Vin into Kredik Shaw? Are you bloody insane?”
“Yes,” Kelsier snapped. “You’ve been right all along. I’m a madman. A lunatic. Perhaps I should have just died in the Pits and never come back to bother any of you!”
Dockson paused, taken aback by the force in Kelsier’s words. Kelsier pounded the table in frustration, and the wood splintered from the force of the blow. He still burned pewter, the metal helping him resist his several wounds. His mistcloak lay in tatters, his body sliced by a half-dozen different small cuts. His entire right side burned with pain. He’d have a massive bruise there, and he’d be lucky if none of his ribs were cracked.
Kelsier flared the pewter. The fire within felt good—it gave him a focus for his anger and self-loathing. One of the apprentices worked quickly, tying a bandage around Kelsier’s largest gash. Clubs sat with Ham at the side of the kitchen; Breeze was away visiting a suburb.
“By the Lord Ruler, Kelsier,” Dockson said quietly.
Even Dockson, Kelsier though. Even my oldest friend swears by the Lord Ruler’s name. What are we doing? How can we face this?
“There were three Inquisitors waiting for us, Dox,” Kelsier said.
Dockson paled. “And you left her there?”
“She got out before I did. I tried to distract the Inquisitors as long as I could, but…”
“But?”
“One of the three followed her. I couldn’t get to it—maybe the other two Inquisitors were simply trying to keep me busy so that their companion could find her.”
“Three Inquisitors,” Dockson said, accepting a small cup of brandy from one of the apprentices. He downed it.
“We must have made too much noise going in,” Kelsier said. “Either that, or they were already there for some reason. And we still don’t know what’s in that room!”
The kitchen fell silent. The rain outside picked up again, assaulting the building with a reproachful fury.
“So…” Ham said, “what of Vin?”
Kelsier glanced at Dockson, and saw pessimism in his eyes. Kelsier had barely escaped, and he had years of training. If Vin was still in Kredik Shaw…
Kelsier felt a sharp, twisting pain in his chest. You let her die too. First Mare, then Vin. How many more will you lead to slaughter before this is through?
“She might be hiding somewhere in the city,” Kelsier said. “Afraid to come to the shop because the Inquisitors are looking for her. Or…perhaps for some reason she went back to Fellise.”
Maybe she’s out there somewhere, dying alone in the rain.
“Ham,” Kelsier said, “you and I are heading back to the palace.