Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [420]
“I don’t trust that girl,” Vin said as a couple of servants took Sazed’s pack and guided him away.
Elend smiled, turning to look down at Vin. “Do I have to say it?”
She rolled her eyes. “I know. ‘You don’t trust anyone, Vin.’ This time I’m right. She was dressed, but her hair was disheveled. She must have done that intentionally.”
“I noticed.”
“You did?” She sounded impressed.
Elend nodded. “She must have heard the servants waking up Breeze and Clubs, so she got up. That means she spent a good half an hour eavesdropping. She kept her hair mussed so that we’d assume that she’d just come down.”
Vin opened her mouth slightly, then frowned, studying him. “You’re getting better,” she eventually said.
“Either that, or Miss Allrianne just isn’t very good.”
Vin smiled.
“I’m still trying to figure out why you didn’t hear her,” Elend noted.
“The cooks,” Vin said. “Too much noise. Besides, I was a little distracted by what Sazed was saying.”
“And what do you think of it?”
Vin paused. “I’ll tell you later.”
“All right,” Elend said. To Vin’s side, the kandra rose and stretched its wolfhound body. Why did she insist on bringing OreSeur to the meeting? he wondered. Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that she couldn’t stand the thing?
The wolfhound turned, glancing at the kitchen windows. Vin followed its gaze.
“Going back out?” Elend asked.
Vin nodded. “I don’t trust this night. I’ll stay near your balcony, in case there’s trouble.”
She kissed him; then she moved away. He watched her go, wondering why she had been so interested in Sazed’s stories, wondering what it was she wasn’t telling him.
Stop it, he told himself. Perhaps he was learning her lessons a little too well—of all the people in the palace, Vin was the last one he needed to be paranoid about. However, every time he felt like he was beginning to figure Vin out, he realized just how little he understood her.
And that made everything else seem a little more depressing. With a sigh, he turned to seek out his rooms, where his half-finished letter to the Assembly waited to be completed.
Perhaps I should not have spoken of the mists, Sazed thought, following a servant up the stairs. Now I’ve troubled the king about something that might just be my delusion.
They reached the top of the stairs, and the servant asked if he wished a bath drawn. Sazed shook his head. In most other circumstances he would have welcomed the opportunity to get clean. However, running all the way to the Central Dominance, being captured by the koloss, then marching the rest of the way up to Luthadel had left him wearied to the farthest fringe of exhaustion. He’d barely had the strength to eat. Now he just wanted to sleep.
The servant nodded and led Sazed down a side corridor.
What if he was imagining connections that didn’t exist? Every scholar knew that one of the greatest dangers in research was the desire to find a specific answer. He had not imagined the testimonies he had taken, but had he exaggerated their importance? What did he really have? The words of a frightened man who had seen his friend die of a seizure? The testimony of a lunatic, crazed to the point of cannibalism? The fact remained that Sazed himself had never seen the mists kill.
The servant led him to a guest chamber, and Sazed thankfully bid the man good night. He watched the man walk away, holding only a candle, his lamp left for Sazed to use. During most of Sazed’s life, he had belonged to a class of servants prized for their refined sense of duty and decorum. He’d been in charge of households and manors, supervising servants just like the one who had led him to his rooms.
Another life, he thought. He had always been a little frustrated that his duties as a steward had left him little time for study. How ironic it was that he should help overthrow the Final Empire, then find himself with even less time.