Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [511]
But, if that were Zane’s goal, then why not just kill me himself? Zane didn’t make sense. He didn’t have to. That was, perhaps, one of the advantages of being insane.
Zane shook his head. “I think you will be surprised, Father. One way or another, you will soon have nothing to fear from Vin.”
“She thinks I tried to have her beloved king assassinated.”
Zane smiled. “No, I don’t think that she does. She’s far too clever for that.”
Too clever to see the truth? Straff thought. However, his tin-enhanced ears heard shuffling in the mists. He held up a hand, halting his procession. In the distance, he could just barely pick out the flickering blobs of wall-top torches. They were close to the city—uncomfortably close.
Straff’s procession waited quietly. Then, from the mists before them, a man on horseback appeared, accompanied by fifty soldiers of his own. Ferson Penrod.
“Straff,” Penrod said, nodding.
“Ferson.”
“Your men did well,” Penrod said. “I’m glad your son didn’t have to die. He’s a good lad. A bad king, but an earnest man.”
A lot of my sons died today, Ferson, Straff thought. The fact that Elend still lives isn’t fortunate—it’s irony.
“You are ready to deliver the city?” Straff asked.
Penrod nodded. “Philen and his merchants want assurances that they will have titles to match those Cett promised them.”
Straff waved a dismissive hand. “You know me, Ferson.” You used to practically grovel before me at parties every week. “I always honor business agreements. I’d be an idiot not to appease those merchants—they’re the ones who will bring me tax revenue from this dominance.”
Penrod nodded. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding, Straff. I don’t trust Cett.”
“I doubt you trust me,” Straff said.
Penrod smiled. “But I do know you, Straff. You’re one of us—a Luthadel nobleman. Besides, you have produced the most stable kingdom in the dominances. That’s all we’re looking for right now. A little stability for this people.”
“You almost sound like that fool son of mine.”
Penrod paused, then shook his head. “Your boy isn’t a fool, Straff. He’s just an idealist. In truth, I’m sad to see his little utopia fall.”
“If you are sad for him, Ferson, then you are an idiot, too.”
Penrod stiffened. Straff caught the man’s proud eyes, holding them with his stare, until Penrod looked down. The exchange was a simple one, mostly meaningless—but it did serve as a very important reminder.
Straff chuckled. “You’re going to have to get used to being a small fish again, Ferson.”
“I know.”
“Be cheerful,” Straff said. “Assuming this turnover of power happens as you promised, no one will have to end up dead. Who knows, maybe I’ll let you keep that crown of yours.”
Penrod looked up.
“For a long time, this land didn’t have kings,” Straff said quietly. “It had something greater. Well, I’m not the Lord Ruler—but I can be an emperor. You want to keep your crown and rule as a subject king under me?”
“That depends on the cost, Straff,” Penrod said carefully.
Not completely quelled, then. Penrod had always been clever; he’d been the most important nobleman to stay behind in Luthadel, and his gamble had certainly worked.
“The cost is exorbitant,” Straff said. “Ridiculously so.”
“The atium,” Penrod guessed.
Straff nodded. “Elend hasn’t found it, but it’s here, somewhere. I was the one who mined those geodes—my men spent decades harvesting them and bringing them to Luthadel. I know how much of it we harvested, and I know that nowhere near the same amount came back out in disbursements to the nobility. The rest is in that city, somewhere.”
Penrod nodded. “I’ll see what I can find, Straff.”
Straff raised an eyebrow. “You need to get back into practice, Ferson.”
Penrod paused, then bowed his head. “I’ll see what I can find, my lord.”
“Good. Now, what news did you bring of Elend’s mistress?”
“She collapsed after the fight,” Penrod said. “I employ a spy on the cooking