Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [806]
And yet, he did wonder what it would be like to have the other powers too. Kelsier had given him pewter. Could he, perhaps, bless Spook with iron and steel as well?
A man directed the line of working figures. His name was Franson; he was the one who had asked Spook to rescue his sister. The execution was only a day away. Soon, the child would be thrown into a burning building of her own, but Spook was working on ways to stop that. There wasn’t much he could do at the moment. So, in the meantime, Franson and his men dug.
It had been some time since Spook had gone to spy on the Citizen and his councillors. He’d shared the information he’d gleaned with Sazed and Breeze, and they’d seemed appreciative. However, with the increased security around the Citizen’s home, they’d suggested that it was foolhardy to risk more spying until they’d figured out their plans for the city. Spook had accepted their guidance, though he felt himself growing anxious. He missed going to see Beldre, the quiet girl with the lonely eyes.
He didn’t know her. He couldn’t fool himself that he did. Yet, when they’d met and spoken that once, she hadn’t screamed or betrayed him. She’d seemed intrigued by him. That was a good sign, right?
Fool, he thought. She’s the Citizen’s own sister! Talking to her nearly got you killed. Focus on the task at hand.
Spook watched the work for a time longer. Finally, Franson—dirty and exhausted in the starlight—approached him. “My lord,” Franson said, “we’ve gone over this section four times now. The men in the basement pit have moved all the debris and ash to the sides, and have sifted through it twice. Whatever we were going to find, we’ve found it.”
Spook nodded. Franson was probably right. Spook removed a small pouch from his pocket, handing it to Franson. It clinked, and the large skaa man raised an eyebrow.
“Payment,” Spook said, “for the other men. They’ve worked here for three nights.”
“They’re friends, my lord,” he said. “They just want to see my sister rescued.”
“Pay them anyway,” Spook said. “And tell them to spend the coins on food and supplies as soon as they can—before Quellion abolishes coinage in the city.”
“Yes, my lord,” Franson said. Then, he glanced to the side, where a mostly burned banister still stood upright. This is where the workers had placed the objects they had located in the wreckage: nine human skulls. They cast eerie shadows in the starlight. Leering, burned, and blackened.
“My lord,” Franson said. “May I ask the point of this?”
“I watched this building burn down,” Spook said. “I was there when these poor people were herded into the mansion, then locked inside. I couldn’t do anything.”
“I’m . . . sorry, my lord,” Franson said.
Spook shook his head. “It’s past now. However, there is something their deaths can teach us.”
“My lord?”
Spook regarded the skulls. The day Spook had watched this building burn—the first time he had witnessed one of the Citizen’s executions—Durn had told him something. Spook had wanted information about the Citizen’s weaknesses, something to help him beat the man. Durn had only said one thing in response to this.
Count the skulls.
Spook had never had the chance to investigate that tip. He knew Durn would probably explain himself if pushed, but they both seemed to understand something important. Spook needed to see it for himself. He needed to know what the Citizen was doing.
And now he did. “Ten people were sent into this building to die, Franson,” Spook said. “Ten people. Nine skulls.”
The man frowned. “What does that tell us?”
“It tells us there’s a way to get your sister out.”
“I’m not certain what to make of this, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said. They sat at a table in one of Urteau’s skaa bars. The alcohol flowed freely, and skaa workers packed the place, despite the darkness and the mists.
“What do you mean?” Breeze asked. They sat alone,