Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [792]
“YOU’LL BE ALL RIGHT HERE?” Spook asked.
Breeze turned away from the brightened tavern, raising an eyebrow. Spook had brought him—along with several of Goradel’s soldiers in street clothing—to one of the larger, more reputable locations. Voices rang within.
“Yes, this should be fine,” Breeze said, eyeing the tavern. “Skaa out at night. Never thought I’d see that. Perhaps the world really is ending. . . .”
“I’m going to go to one of the poorer sections of town,” Spook said quietly. “There are some things I want to check on.”
“Poorer sections,” Breeze said musingly. “Perhaps I should accompany you. I’ve found that the poorer people are, the more likely they are to let their tongues wag.”
Spook raised an eyebrow. “No offense, Breeze, but I kind of think you’d stand out.”
“What?” Breeze asked, nodding toward his utilitarian brown worker’s outfit—quite a change from his usual suit and vest. “I’m wearing these dreadful clothes, aren’t I?”
“Clothing isn’t everything, Breeze. You’ve kind of got a . . . bearing about you. Plus, you don’t have much ash on you.”
“I was infiltrating the lower ranks before you were born, child,” Breeze said, wagging a finger at him.
“All right,” Spook said. He reached to the ground, scooping up a pile of ash. “Let’s just rub this into your clothing and on your face. . . .”
Breeze froze. “I’ll meet you back at the lair,” he finally said.
Spook smiled, dropping the ash as he disappeared into the mists.
“I never did like him,” Kelsier whispered.
Spook left the richer section of town, moving at a brisk pace. When he hit the streetslot, he didn’t stop, but simply leaped off the side of the road and plummeted twenty feet.
His cloak flapped behind him as he fell. He landed easily and continued his quick pace. Without pewter, he would certainly have broken some limbs. Now he moved with the same dexterity he’d once envied in Vin and Kelsier. He felt exhilarated. With pewter flaring inside of him, he never felt tired—never even felt fatigued. Even simple acts, like walking down the street, made him feel full of grace and power.
He moved quickly to the Harrows, leaving behind the streets of better men, entering the cluttered, overpacked alley-like streetslot, knowing exactly where he’d find his quarry. Durn was one of the leading figures in the Urteau underworld. Part informant, part beggar lord, the unfulfilled musician had become a sort of a mayor of the Harrows. Men like that had to be where people could find—and pay—them.
Spook still remembered that first night after waking from his fevers a few weeks back, the night when he’d visited a tavern and heard men talking about him. Over the next few days, he’d visited several other taverns, and had heard others mention rumors that spoke of Spook. Sazed and Breeze’s arrival had kept Spook from confronting Durn—the apparent source of the rumors—about what he’d been telling people. It was time to correct that oversight.
Spook picked up his pace, leaping heaps of discarded boards, dashing around piles of ash, until he reached the hole that Durn called home. It was a section of canal wall that had been hollowed out to form a kind of cave. Though the wooden framing around the door looked as rotted and splintered as everything else in the Harrows, Spook knew it to be reinforced on the back with a thick oaken bar.
Two brutes sat watch outside. They eyed Spook as he stopped in front of the door, cloak whipping around him. It was the same one he’d been wearing when he’d been tossed into the fire, and it was still spotted with burn marks and holes.
“The boss isn’t seeing anyone right now, kid,” said one of the big men, not rising from his seat. “Come back later.”
Spook kicked the door. It broke free, its hinges snapping, the bar shattering its mountings and tumbling backward.
Spook stood for a moment, shocked. He had too little experience with pewter to gauge its use accurately. If he was shocked, however, the two brutes were stunned. They sat, staring at the broken door.
“You may need to kill them,” Kelsier whispered.
No, Spook thought. I just have