Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [239]
Vin let the weapon go—it was just a distraction—as she slammed the second half of the broken arrow into Shan’s chest just beside its counterpart.
This time, Shan dropped. She tried to rise, but one of the shafts must have done some serious damage to her heart, for her face paled. She struggled for a moment, then fell lifeless to the stones.
Vin stood, breathing deeply as she wiped the blood from her cheek—only to realize that her bloody arm was just making her face worse. Behind her, the soldiers called out, nocking more arrows.
Vin glanced back toward the keep, bidding farewell to Elend, then Pushed herself out into the night.
Other men worry whether or not they will be remembered. I have no such fears; even disregarding the Terris prophecies, I have brought such chaos, conflict, and hope to this world that there is little chance that I will be forgotten.
I worry about what they will say of me. Historians can make what they wish of the past. In a thousand years’ time, will I be remembered as the man who protected mankind from a powerful evil? Or, will I be remembered as a tyrant who arrogantly tried to make himself a legend?
31
“I DON’T KNOW,” KELSIER SAID, SMILING as he shrugged. “Breeze would make a pretty good Minister of Sanitation.”
The group chuckled, though Breeze just rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I don’t see why I consistently prove to be the target of you people’s humor. Why must you choose the only dignified person in this crew as the butt of your mockery?”
“Because, my dear man,” Ham said, imitating Breeze’s accent, “you are, by far, the best butt we have.”
“Oh, please,” Breeze said as Spook nearly collapsed to the floor with laughter. “This is just getting juvenile. The teenage boy was the only one who found that comment amusing, Hammond.”
“I’m a soldier,” Ham said, raising his cup. “Your witty verbal attacks have no effect on me, for I’m far too dense to understand them.”
Kelsier chuckled, leaning back against the cupboard. One problem with working at night was that he missed the evening gatherings in Clubs’s kitchen. Breeze and Ham continued their general banter. Dox sat at the end of the table, going over ledgers and reports, while Spook sat by Ham eagerly, trying his best to take part in the conversation. Clubs sat in his corner, overseeing, occasionally smiling, and generally enjoying his ability to give the best scowls in the room.
“I should be leaving, Master Kelsier,” Sazed said, checking the wall clock. “Mistress Vin should be about ready to leave.”
Kelsier nodded. “I should get going myself. I still have to—”
The outside kitchen door slammed open. Vin stood silhouetted by the dark mist, wearing nothing but her dressing undergarments—a flimsy white shirt and shorts. Both were sprayed with blood.
“Vin!” Ham exclaimed, standing.
Her cheek bore a long, thin gash, and she had a bandage tied on one forearm. “I’m fine,” she said wearily.
“What happened to your dress?” Dockson immediately demanded.
“You mean this?” Vin asked apologetically, holding up a ripped, soot-stained blue mass of cloth. “It…got in the way. Sorry, Dox.”
“Lord Ruler, girl!” Breeze said. “Forget the dress—what happened to you!”
Vin shook her head, shutting the door. Spook blushed furiously at her outfit, and Sazed immediately moved over, checking the wound on her cheek.
“I think I did something bad,” Vin said. “I…kind of killed Shan Elariel.”
“You did what?” Kelsier asked as Sazed tisked quietly, leaving the small cheek cut alone as he undid the bandage on her arm.
Vin flinched slightly at Sazed’s ministrations. “She was Mistborn. We fought. I won.”
You killed a fully-trained Mistborn? Kelsier thought with shock. You’ve practiced for barely eight months!
“Master Hammond,” Sazed requested, “would you fetch my healer’s bag?”
Ham nodded, rising.
“You might want to grab her something to wear too,” Kelsier suggested. “I think poor Spook’s about to have a