Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [50]
No ash in the corners, she thought, eyeing the floor. The room is kept swept. She’d never lived in such a place before. It was almost like living in some nobleman’s house.
She glanced back at the kitchen women. They wore simple dresses of white and gray, with scarves around the tops of their heads and long tails of hair hanging out the back. Vin fingered her own hair. She kept it short, like a boy’s—her current, ragged cut had been given by one of the other crewmembers. She wasn’t like these women—she never had been. By Reen’s command, Vin had lived so that other crewmembers would think of her as a thief first and a girl second.
But, what am I now? Perfumed by her bath, yet wearing the tan trousers and buttoning shirt of an apprentice craftsman, she felt distinctly out of place. And that was bad—if she felt awkward, then she undoubtedly looked awkward too. Something else to make her stand out.
Vin turned, eyeing the workroom. The apprentices were already about their morning labors, working on various bits of furniture. They stayed in the back while Clubs worked in the main showroom, putting detailed finishing touches on the pieces.
The back kitchen door suddenly slammed open. Vin slipped reflexively to the side, putting her back to a wall and peeking around into the kitchen.
Ham stood in the kitchen doorway, framed by red sunlight. He wore a loose shirt and vest, both sleeveless, and carried several large packs. He wasn’t dirtied by soot—none of the crew had ever been, the few times Vin had seen them.
Ham walked through the kitchen and into the workroom. “So,” he said, dropping his packs, “anyone know which room is mine?”
“I’ll ask Master Cladent,” one of the apprentices said, moving into the front room.
Ham smiled, stretching, then turned toward Vin. “Morning, Vin. You know, you don’t have to hide from me. We’re on the same team.”
Vin relaxed but remained where she was, standing beside a line of mostly finished chairs. “You’re going to live here too?”
“It always pays to stay near the Smoker,” Ham said, turning and disappearing back into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a stack of four large baywraps. “Anyone know where Kell is?”
“Sleeping,” Vin said. “He came in late last night, and hasn’t gotten up yet.”
Ham grunted, taking a bite of a baywrap. “Dox?”
“In his room on the third floor,” Vin said. “He got up early, came down to get something to eat, and went back upstairs.” She didn’t add that she knew, from peeking through the keyhole, that he was sitting at his desk scribbling on some papers.
Ham raised an eyebrow. “You always keep track of where everyone is like that?”
“Yes.”
Ham paused, then chuckled. “You’re an odd kid, Vin.” He gathered up his packs as the apprentice returned, and the two moved up the stairs. Vin stood, listening to their footsteps. They stopped about halfway down the first hallway, perhaps a few doors from her room.
The scent of steamed barley enticed her. Vin eyed the kitchen. Ham had gone in and taken food. Was she allowed to do the same?
Trying to look confident, Vin strode into the kitchen. A pile of baywraps sat on a platter, probably to be delivered to the apprentices as they worked. Vin picked up two of them. None of the women objected; in fact, a few of them even nodded respectfully toward her.
I’m an important person now, she thought with a measure of discomfort. Did they know that she was…Mistborn? Or was she simply treated with respect because she was a guest?
Eventually, Vin took a third baywrap and fled to her room. It was more food than she could possibly eat; however, she intended to scrape out the barley and save the flatbread, which would keep well should she need it later.
A knock came at her door. Vin answered it, pulling the door open with a careful motion. A young man stood outside—the boy who had been with Clubs back at Camon