Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [586]
Marsh’s map, he thought. It was an extensive and detailed representation of Luthadel, complete with notations about Ministry activity. Sazed had a visual image of the map, as well as a detailed description of it, in one of his copperminds—and he had sent a physical copy to the Synod.
Tindwyl and the others had covered the large map with their own notations. Sazed approached slowly, and as soon as Tindwyl saw him, she waved for him to approach.
“Ah, Sazed,” Dockson said in a businesslike tone, voice muddled to Sazed’s weak ears. “Good. Please, come here.”
Sazed stepped up onto the low dance floor, joining them at the table. “Troop placements?” he asked.
“Penrod has taken command of our armies,” Dockson said. “And he’s put noblemen in charge of all twenty battalions. We’re not certain we like that situation.”
Sazed looked over the men at the table. They were a group of scribes that Dockson himself had trained—all skaa. Gods! Sazed thought. He can’t be planning a rebellion now of all times, can he?
“Don’t look so frightened, Sazed,” Dockson said. “We’re not going to do anything too drastic—Penrod is still letting Clubs organize the city defenses, and he seems to be taking advice from his military commanders. Besides, it’s far too late to try something too ambitious.”
Dockson almost seemed disappointed.
“However,” Dockson said, pointing at the map, “I don’t trust these commanders he’s put in charge. They don’t know anything about warfare—or even about survival. They’ve spent their lives ordering drinks and throwing parties.”
Why do you hate them so? Sazed thought. Ironically, Dockson was the one in the crew who looked most like a nobleman. He was more natural in a suit than Breeze, more articulate than Clubs or Spook. Only his insistence on wearing a very unaristocratic half beard made him stand out.
“The nobility may not know warfare,” Sazed said, “but they are experienced with command, I think.”
“True,” Dockson said. “But so are we. That’s why I want one of our people near each gate, just in case things go poorly and someone really competent needs to take command.”
Dockson pointed at the table, toward one of the gates—Steel Gate. It bore a notation of a thousand men in a defensive formation. “This is your battalion, Sazed. Steel Gate is the farthest the koloss are likely to reach, and so you might not even see any fighting. However, when the battle begins, I want you there with a group of messengers to bring word back to Keep Venture in case your gate gets attacked. We’ll set up a command post here in the main ballroom—it’s easily accessible with those broad doors, and can accommodate a lot of motion.”
And it was a not-so-subtle smack in the face of Elend Venture, and nobility in general, to use such a beautiful chamber as a setting from which to run a war. No wonder he supported me in sending Elend and Vin away. With them gone, he’s gained undisputed control of Kelsier’s crew.
It wasn’t a bad thing. Dockson was an organizational genius and a master of quick planning. He did have certain prejudices, however.
“I know you don’t like to fight, Saze,” Dockson said, leaning down on the table with both hands. “But we need you.”
“I think he is preparing for battle, Lord Dockson,” Tindwyl said, eyeing Sazed. “Those rings on his fingers give good indication of his intentions.”
Sazed glanced across the table at her. “And what is your place in this, Tindwyl?”
“Lord Dockson came to me for advice,” Tindwyl said. “He has little experience with warfare himself, and wished to know the things I have studied about the generals of the past.”
“Ah,” Sazed said. He turned to Dockson, frowning in thought. Eventually, he nodded. “Very well. I will take part in your project—but, I must warn you against divisiveness. Please, tell your men not to break the chain of command unless they absolutely must.”
Dockson nodded.
“Now, Lady Tindwyl,” Sazed said. “Might we speak for a moment in private?”
She nodded,