Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [600]
Vin shivered, walking up to one of the buildings, her tin-enhanced ears picking out sounds of talking inside. She paused, listening. Children laughed, and men spoke with gusto. She smelled what must have been the beginnings of the evening meal—a simple vegetable stew.
Skaa…laughing, she thought. A hovel like this one would have been a place of fear and gloom during the days of the Lord Ruler. Happy skaa had been considered underworked skaa.
We’ve meant something. It’s all meant something.
But was it worth the deaths of her friends? The fall of Luthadel? Without Elend’s protection, even this little village would soon be taken by one tyrant or another.
She drank in the sounds of laughter. Kelsier hadn’t given up. He had faced the Lord Ruler himself, and his last words had been defiant. Even when his plans had seemed hopeless, his own corpse lying in the street, he had secretly been victorious.
I refuse to give up, she thought, straightening. I refuse to accept their deaths until I hold their corpses in my arms.
She raised a hand and pounded on the door. Immediately, the sounds inside stopped. Vin extinguished her tin as the door creaked open. Skaa, especially country skaa, were skittish things. She’d probably have to—
“Oh, you poor thing!” the woman exclaimed, pulling the door open the rest of the way. “Come in out of that snow. What are you doing out there!”
Vin hesitated. The woman was dressed simply, but the clothing was well made to stave off the winter. The firepit in the center of the room glowed with a welcome warmth.
“Child?” the woman asked. Behind, a stocky, bearded man rose to place a hand on the woman’s shoulder and study Vin.
“Pewter,” Vin said quietly. “I need pewter.”
The couple looked at each other, frowning. They probably thought her mind addled. After all, how must she look, hair drenched by the snow, clothing wet and stuck with ash? She only wore simple riding clothing—trousers and a nondescript cloak.
“Why don’t you come inside, child?” the man suggested. “Have something to eat. Then we can talk about where you came from. Where are your parents?”
Lord Ruler! Vin thought with annoyance. I don’t look that young, do I?
She threw a Soothing on the couple, suppressing their concern and suspicion. Then, she Rioted their willingness to help. She wasn’t as good as Breeze, but she wasn’t unpracticed, either. The couple immediately relaxed.
“I don’t have much time,” Vin said. “Pewter.”
“The lord had some fine diningware in his home,” the man said slowly. “But we traded most of that for clothing and farming equipment. I think there are a couple of goblets left. Master Cled—our elder—has them in the other hovel….”
“That might work,” Vin said. Though the metal probably won’t be mixed with Allomantic percentages in mind. It would probably have too much silver or not enough tin, making the pewter work more weakly than it would otherwise.
The couple frowned, then looked at the others in the hovel.
Vin felt despair crawl back into her chest. What was she thinking? Even if the pewter were of the right alloy, it would take time to shave it and produce enough for her to use in running. Pewter burned relatively quickly. She’d need a lot of it. Preparing it could take almost as much time as simply walking to Luthadel.
She turned, looking south, through the dark, snowy sky. Even with pewter, it would take hours more running. What she really needed was a spikeway—a path marked by spikes driven in the ground that an Allomancer could push against, throwing themselves through the air again and again. On such an organized pathway, she’d once traveled from Luthadel to Fellise—an hour’s carriage ride—in under ten minutes.
But there was no spikeway from this village to Luthadel; there weren’t even ones along the main canal routes. They were too hard to set up, too specific in their usefulness, to be worth the bother of running them long distances….
Vin turned, causing the skaa couple to jump. Perhaps they’d noticed the daggers in her belt, or perhaps it was the look in her eyes, but they