Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [453]
But, OreSeur hadn’t flown with Zane, hadn’t sparred in the mists. Through no fault of his own, OreSeur was like Elend. Not an Allomancer. Neither of them could understand what it was to soar on a Push of steel, to flare tin and experience the sudden shock of five heightened senses. They couldn’t know. They couldn’t understand.
Vin leaned back. Then, she regarded the wolfhound in the growing light. There was something she’d been meaning to mention, and now seemed as good a time as any. “OreSeur, you can switch bodies, if you want.”
The wolfhound raised an eyebrow.
“We have those bones that we found in the palace,” Vin said. “You can use those, if you’re tired of being a dog.”
“I couldn’t use them,” OreSeur said. “I haven’t digested their body—I wouldn’t know the proper arrangement of muscles and organs to make the person look correct.”
“Well, then,” Vin said. “We could get you a criminal.”
“I thought you liked these bones on me,” OreSeur said.
“I do,” Vin said. “But, I don’t want you to stay in a body that makes you unhappy.”
OreSeur snorted. “My happiness is not an issue.”
“It is to me,” Vin said. “We could—”
“Mistress,” OreSeur interrupted.
“Yes?”
“I shall keep these bones. I’ve grown accustomed to them. It is very frustrating to change forms often.”
Vin hesitated. “All right,” she finally said.
OreSeur nodded. “Though,” he continued, “speaking of bodies, Mistress, are we ever planning to return to the palace? Not all of us have the constitution of a Mistborn—some people need sleep and food on occasion.”
He certainly complains a lot more now, Vin thought. However, she found the attitude to be a good sign; it meant OreSeur was growing more comfortable with her. Comfortable enough to tell her when he thought she was being stupid.
Why do I even bother with Zane? she thought, rising and turning eyes northward. The mist was still moderately strong, and she could barely make out Straff’s army, still holding the northern canal, maintaining the siege. It sat like a spider, waiting for the right time to spring.
Elend, she thought. I should be more focused on Elend. His motions to dismiss the Assembly’s decision, or to force a revote, had all failed. And, stubbornly lawful as always, Elend continued to accept his failures. He still thought he had a chance to persuade the Assembly to choose him as king—or at least not vote anybody else to the position.
So he worked on speeches and planned with Breeze and Dockson. This left him little time for Vin, and rightly so. The last thing he needed was her distracting him. This was something she couldn’t help him with—something she couldn’t fight or scare away.
His world is of papers, books, laws, and philosophies, she thought. He rides the words of his theories like I ride the mists. I always worry that he can’t understand me…but can I really even understand him?
OreSeur stood, stretched, and placed his forepaws on the wall’s railing to raise himself and look north, like Vin.
Vin shook her head. “Sometimes, I wish Elend weren’t so…well, noble. The city doesn’t need this confusion right now.”
“He did the right thing, Mistress.”
“You think so?”
“Of course,” OreSeur said. “He made a contract. It is his duty to keep that contract, no matter what. He must serve his master—in his case, that would be the city—even if that master makes him do something very distasteful.”
“That’s a very kandralike way of seeing things,” Vin said.
OreSeur looked up at her, raising a canine eyebrow, as if to ask Well, what did you expect? She smiled; she had to suppress a chuckle every time she saw that expression on his dog face.
“Come on,” Vin said. “Let’s get back to the palace.”
“Excellent,” OreSeur said, dropping down to all fours. “That meat I set out should be perfect by now.”
“Unless the maids found it again,” Vin said with a smile.
OreSeur’s expression darkened. “I thought you were going to warn them.”
“What would I say?” Vin asked with amusement. “Please don’t throw away this rancid meat—my dog likes to eat it?”
“Why not?” OreSeur asked. “When