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luthadel : prologue

the night that changes the trajectory of teya and marsh's lives. cw: death, food insecurity/starvation, referenced slavery & human trafficking, description of injury/blood & treatment thereof, alcohol. ~10k words. masterlist • next ->

Ash fell from the sky.

The city of Luthadel greeted it with a bowed head. The black flakes drifted lazily in the warm, still air, dancing with the smoke that rose from a thousand chimneys, settling on peaked rooftops and cobbled streets, adding to the stains that already lay centuries deep. Soot dusted the umbrellas and fine coats of the nobles who strutted by with upturned noses, the frayed clothing of the skaa who trudged on with slumped shoulders, the severe robes of the obligators busy carrying out the Lord Ruler’s will.

None of them noticed the girl hidden in their midst. Teya gazed out at the steady trickle of people on the street from her hiding place in a tiny nook between two shops. The spot was nigh-invisible to passersby, not that any of them spared a glance her way. The ash was piling up on her knees where they were pulled up to her chest, but she made no effort to wipe it away. Movement might draw attention, and it wasn’t as if the dirt mattered. She was already covered in the stuff anyway.

Hunger churned insistently in her stomach, a constant tug at the edge of her awareness. Not for the first time, her eyes drifted to the general store on the opposite side of the street, a place that catered to the lower nobility. Though the front door was carefully watched during the day and bolted tight at night, there was a window that opened to the back alley that she would easily be able to fit through. A perfect target – or it would be, if it weren’t double her height off the ground. The smooth wall of the building afforded no purchase for climbing, either.

Teya sighed. If she could only get inside, she could stuff enough food in her pockets to feed herself for a month. But she had never been able to figure out how. There were no other entrances, and even if she somehow managed to scrape together some coins, a skaa like her would never be allowed in to purchase anything – she’d be risking a beating or worse if she even idled nearby too long.

At least she had other alternatives.

A shout crashed through the low murmur of the city, coming from the building to her right. A moment later, a boy darted by. An urchin, much like Teya herself; a few years younger, a lot bolder – and a lot more foolish. Hot on his heels came the shopowner, shouting for guards, swearing he’d smash the kid’s skull in. No one else looked towards the scene. It was easier for some to ignore it; for others, it was safer.

Finally, Teya thought with relief, pushing quickly to her feet and slipping through the narrow gap between the buildings. The back door of the shop opened to the owner’s tiny apartment kitchen, now blessedly empty.

It only took seconds to grab the cheese and bread left on the counter and duck back out again. Maybe she would have had enough time to dig through the cabinets, but it wasn’t a risk worth taking. This much would be plenty to feed her for a few days. It had been an easy grab, too, which she appreciated. She’d been watching that boy for a few days now, knowing it was only a matter of time before he caused a commotion – and commotion was simple enough to take advantage of, if you knew how.

It was possible the boy would escape. Possible, but unlikely. Teya’s stomach twinged as the images of what would be done to him if he were caught flashed unbidden through her mind. There was no point in caring about his fate, and yet it lingered in her mind all the same. Life on the streets dictated selfishness as law, but Teya often found herself struggling to abide by it.

Don’t be stupid, she chided herself for the thousandth time. Just keep moving.

She tucked the food into her cloak, forcing herself to round the corners of the building at a casual pace. Catching the attention of other urchins or thieves could mean a fight. Worse, if it was a garrisoner that noticed her. Even if they didn’t suspect her of stealing, she would be questioned as to why she was on the streets. At sixteen, she was old enough that she should already have been forced into work at a mill or brothel.

To do that, they’d have to catch her first. Sure, this life was hard, but at least out here, Teya was able to make her own decisions, exist on her own terms. If there was one thing she was determined to protect, it was that freedom. Though she’d much rather avoid a confrontation, anyone who attempted to steal that from her would find themselves facing more of a fight than they had bargained for.

Bells rang out across the city, ringing in the hour, signaling the end of the workday at the mills and forges. Teya emerged from the alley into the next street over and joined a throng of workers making their way back to their tenements. She mirrored their posture, keeping her eyes downturned, her posture slumped, perfectly indistinguishable from the rest of the crowd.

A small stream of people split off towards a group of tenements, and Teya made as if to follow, slipping into another dim-lit alley the moment she was beyond the sightlines of the main street. A man lay on the ground beside the alley’s mouth; alive or dead, Teya didn’t know. She gave him a wide berth, ignoring the twist in her stomach, and continued on her way, down the familiar, dark maze of side streets and alleys, creeping past the sounds of a scuffle down one narrow lane, going well out of her way to avoid a garrisoner troop clomping by.

The sun’s light was quickly waning, shadows threatening their domination by the time Teya arrived in the square she sought. The people passing through were walking more hurriedly, eager to be indoors. No one wanted to be outside when dark fell.

Teya settled in the doorway of an abandoned building to wait, the broken wood creaking slightly as she leaned against it. The red sky darkened to the shade of dried blood, then abandoned color entirely, turning to the deepest grey. There was never time to see it fade to true black. The moment the last ray of sunlight vanished, the mists arrived.

They grew up as if from nothing, wispy tendrils springing into existence out of thin air. White, ghostlike, churning in a slow current, they quickly consumed the square, the sky, dampening sound, obscuring vision. Every night they appeared like this, blanketing the entire city, and for all Teya knew, the entire world.

She took a long, deep breath, savoring the cool freshness of the moist air. After waiting a little longer to ensure no one was still lingering on the streets, she left her doorway, flitting across the square. As always, she moved carefully, but for once she had little fear of being spotted. Few people came out in the mists. That was why Teya preferred them to the daylight.

She angled towards a larger building at the square’s edge – a brothel, one Teya frequented, if not in the manner of its other patrons. Finding the bit of cracked stone at the building’s corner, she used it to boost herself up as she had a dozen times before, clambering quietly up to the roof. Just below the highest peak lay a tiny window. The mists muffled the sound of its creak as Teya swung it open and gingerly squeezed herself through.

The attic inside was cramped and filthy with dust and ash. Teya liked it. No one else ever came up here – its existence had seemingly been forgotten – and the window was so caked with dirt that no one could see in. She could hear people coming and going on the stairs directly below her, snatches of conversation filtering through the uneven floorboards. She hadn’t been in many places one might describe as cozy in her life, but the little attic did its best to earn the title.

She settled in her preferred spot in the corner, relatively clean from her brushing away the dust, and pulled out her cheese, using the little blade she carried to cut the rind off; the bread she kept safe in her pocket for later. With the edge of her hunger softened, a bit of her tension finally began to ease. Pulling her cloak from her shoulders, she bundled it into a pillow and curled up on the floor. Sleep never came easily to her, but she knew she had to at least try for some. Wrapping her arms around herself, she rubbed her thumbs soothingly over her sides, and the meager comfort was enough to allow her to fall into a fitful doze.

---

No more than a couple of hours had passed when Teya suddenly jerked upright, her body on high alert. Her mind struggled to catch up, unsure of what had set off her instincts. The attic remained empty except for her, the window closed. She strained to listen, trying to find the source of her anxiety, but she heard nothing, until –

A mighty crash rang out from below, followed by a terrified scream. Then came shouts, angry and authoritative, and more cries from the building’s occupants, muffled words of no and please and run.

Teya sat frozen, mind racing. It could just be a fight; those were common enough. Or maybe it was a thieving crew, breaking in to shake down some noblemen. But there was far more chaos below her than either of those scenarios could account for. The fear in those people’s voices…there was only one thing that could cause it.

The Ministry was here. And they were clearing the brothel.

That realization forced Teya into action. She pushed to a crouch, leaving her cloak behind, and made her way to the window, careful to avoid the squeaky boards. Quietly, she unlatched the window and peered out, hoping to see whether any obligators were stationed around the building. Lantern light illuminated the side door below her, but the mists obscured the rest of the small square.

A figure burst through the door, making Teya jump violently. Another angry shout reached her ears, the words far more distinct: “We’re losing one!”

Metal flashed in the air. The figure jerked and collapsed to the ground, disappearing into the mists.

“No matter,” another voice said, and Teya’s heart seized in her chest. That voice was rasping, gravely, wrong. A man emerged from the door – or what might have been a man, once. Clad in black robes, he was abnormally tall, his head shaven. Light glistened off the metal spikes driven through his eyes and out the back of his skull.

An Inquisitor. There was an Inquisitor directly below her.

Teya clapped a hand over her mouth, smothering the sound of her panicked breathing. The fear scattered and blurred her thoughts. An Inquisitor – how could she escape it? What was she supposed to do? Could she hide, wait for it to leave, hope that it wouldn’t find her?

More screams pierced the night. The smell of smoke reached Teya’s nose, and she glimpsed an orange glow between the gaps in the floorboards. Despair joined her fear, and she groaned behind her hand.

The brothel was on fire. Every option had been torn from Teya’s hands except one. Her only hope was to run, now, and pray she got lost in the chaos.

Teya choked down a sob. Terror like she’d never known held a vice grip on her, but if she wanted to survive, she had to claw her way free. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to take a deep breath. Then she grabbed the windowsill and pulled herself through.

She didn’t let herself think. She just moved, following the familiar path down the roof faster than she ever had before. Any one of a dozen times, she should have lost her balance and fallen, but sheer determination – and luck – kept her steady. Screams, pleas, and sobs chased her, and another shout came from nearby. Teya ignored them, focusing only on the alleyway in front of her. If she could make it there, she could escape through the abandoned bar to the next building over, then lose herself in the tangle of tenements nearby.

She leapt down the last few feet of the wall, breaking into a sprint the second her feet hit the ground. The mouth of the alley beckoned to her, so tantalizingly close – she could make it, she was almost there –

Something tore straight through her back.

Teya cried out as she fell, hitting the ground hard, tumbling over herself before she finally rolled to a stop on her side just inside the alley. Pain seared through her gut, and a warm wetness spread over her stomach.

A cloaked figure loomed in the corner of her vision. Teya looked up to see the Inquisitor standing halfway between her and the brothel. It was strangely distinct in the mists, its outline sharp. It watched her with those dead metal eyes, head tilted almost curiously.

Terror and pain worked in concert to paralyze Teya. No, she thought desperately. Please, no, not like this!

Another chorus of screams echoed from the brothel. Flames blossomed from the windows, brightening the mists. The Inquisitor turned away, walking back towards the building with a casual stride.

Teya stared at its retreating form. Why had it left? Did it think she was dead? Would it come back to check later? Finish off the job?

That thought sent another wave of terror through her – but this time it carried strength with it, strength that Teya seized onto, using it to force herself to stagger back up to her feet. She started down the alley, desperate to just get away. Every step sent spikes of agony through her torso, but she kept going, not daring to look back. That strength within her was pushing her forward, keeping her upright, and she clung to it as she half-ran, half-limped down the alley.

Teya didn’t pick a direction – she couldn’t even remember what her plan had been. She just kept moving, taking turns at random, focused on putting as much distance between her and the brothel as possible. It was impossible to tell if she was being followed, impossible to tell if someone was lying in wait ahead. All she could do was keep moving forward, gasping out every breath, fighting to stay on her feet against the overwhelming pain.

How far she managed to get, she didn’t know. At some point, the well of strength inside her began to fade. Her vision was growing fuzzy, her head spinning. She’d lost all sense of time and place; for all she knew, she could be at Kredik Shaw itself.

Just…a little further… she thought. Further to what, she didn’t know.

Teya’s legs were weakening dangerously as she staggered into the next alley, and she found herself slumping against the wall. The movement angered the wounds in her gut, jarring loose a whimper of pain. She took a moment to breathe, then pushed herself off the wall again, managing a few steps before collapsing back against it. Gathering herself, she started again, and this time she made it a little further before falling hard into the brick. Her shoulder protested painfully, but it barely registered over the agony of her stomach.

Come on… she thought dizzily. Come on…

But what was the point? Where did she think she was running to? There was still the tiniest bit of that strength within her remaining, but it wouldn’t be enough. She had nowhere to go, and she would never make it anyway.

Her legs gave way underneath her, and she was forced to sink jerkily to the ground. Everything in her torso was on fire, searing, tearing, screaming. Teya’s chest heaved with a sob. It hurt. It hurt.

She let herself fall back against the wall, biting back a cry of pain. Tears slid down her cheeks as she gasped for breath; another sob shook her chest. The alley opened to a street just feet away, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. What did it matter if anyone saw her, if the Inquisitor found her again? She was going to die anyway.

Teya’s head tipped back against the bricks, her body trembling uncontrollably. The mists swirled above her, twisting and morphing in their strange way. Their coolness soothed her burning skin, dulled the edges of her pain. The current seemed to flow towards her, almost as if it recognized her, as if it were coming to greet her.

Another shuddering sob racked her body, but the pain seemed distant. The mists surrounded her, cloaking her, shielding her. Peace seemed to ebb from them as they embraced her quietly, drawing her fear away.

Maybe the mists had delivered her here, or maybe she’d made it through sheer luck. Either way, Teya was grateful. She would still die, but that was alright. Of all the deaths she could have had, this one – alone, free, cradled by the mists – was surely one of the gentlest.

The streets of Luthadel were eerily quiet in the night.

Marsh swept his surroundings with sharp eyes as he walked. The mists didn’t frighten him the way they did most people, but he was well aware of how easily someone could hide within them. They muffled the sound of his footsteps to his own ears, swallowed the ends of the street in both directions, reducing the broad expanse of the city to a cramped, lonely thing.

His strides created ghostly eddies in the tendrils of mist that swirled towards him as he burned his bronze. He kept it confined to short bursts, enough for him sense any Allomancy being used nearby while keeping any other Seekers from being able to track him. Tonight had been quiet; he’d sensed one Tineye, and had taken care to avoid them, but otherwise there had been nothing.

That didn’t mean he would lower his guard. There was no such thing as safety in the Final Empire, particularly for a half-breed rebel like Marsh. The Steel Ministry would like nothing more than to make an example of him. Thieves also wouldn’t hesitate to attack if they thought him a worthy target.

Marsh wouldn’t allow either party to have their way. He wasn’t willing to die yet. He had work to do.

The mists seemed to share none of his tension, floating lazily through the still air, drawn to him in a gentle, twisting current as he let off another quick pulse of bronze. This area was almost always empty, but he never took chances –

Marsh paused in his tracks. He sensed something, so faint he had almost missed it. Cautiously, he listened again, letting his bronze burn a little longer this time. A pulse washed against him, barely strong enough to register. He slipped into the shadow of a nearby building so he could safely concentrate on what he was hearing. It felt like…pewter, maybe? It seemed to be coming closer, but he couldn’t be sure.

He decided to take the risk, flaring his bronze for just a moment. The pulse instantly became clearer. It was pewter, on an extremely weak burn. And it was close – much closer than he’d realized, coming from the alley just in front of him.

Marsh prepared himself to run, or fight, if necessary. It could be some thief thinking to get the drop on him. With their tiny amount of pewter, though, he doubted they would have much of an advantage on him. If they had companions, however…

A small scuffling sound reached his ears. Marsh strained to listen, but he didn’t hear footsteps. Instead, he caught a strange noise, one that made him take an involuntary step forward. It had sounded like…

There it was again. A sob.

His decision was made in an instant. Closing his hand around the glass dagger in the pocket of his coat as a precaution, Marsh crept towards the mouth of the alley. The mists thinned as he approached, the starlight filtering through them enough to illuminate the source of those faint pulses of pewter.

It was a girl, curled up against the wall. Tangled brown hair fell around her shoulders, and her tattered clothes and hunger-thin frame clearly marked her as skaa. The sight of the dark stain covering her torso made Marsh hiss in a breath.

The girl’s eyes snapped open at the noise, and he heard her own sharp gasp as she caught sight of him. She pushed herself weakly away with a pained whimper, fear written all over her face.

“Hey, hey,” Marsh said, instinctively holding out a hand to her. “It’s alright – “

She shied back as he stepped forward, hand scrambling for something at her waist. It turned out to be a thin blade, one that barely qualified as a knife. She held it close to her chest in a trembling fist as he took another step closer. Her teeth were clenched, her eyes wild, like an animal caught in a trap.

Marsh showed both his hands to prove they were empty as he stepped towards her again. “It’s alright. You don’t need that. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The girl’s breath came in ragged pants as Marsh reached her. The sharp tang of blood hit his nose; the girl was soaked in it, and it was beginning to pool on the ground beside her. Despite what was clearly a grievous wound, she still clutched the blade tightly, eyes locked on him, apparently ready to fight until the bitter end. He couldn’t help but be impressed by her tenacity, but he needed her calm to keep her from worsening the bleeding.

“It’s okay,” Marsh said, slowly kneeling in front of her. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

The girl shivered, pressing further against the wall. A few tears streamed down her cheeks, and Marsh’s chest tightened. This close, the pulse of her pewter was more distinct; she’d flared it as he approached, but it was still horribly weak, already beginning to fade again. He wondered how she ended up here. Who had done this to her.

“I can help you,” he said, keeping his voice calm and even. “I’ll take you somewhere safe. I know you’re hurt, but I have a friend who can patch you up.”

A choked-off sob left the girl’s throat. Slowly, she lowered the blade, though she still huddled away from him.

“There you go. You’re okay,” he murmured. “Look, I can get you out of here, but we need to go now. You’ve already lost a lot of blood.”

The girl’s lip trembled, and another wave of tears ran down her face, leaving tracks in the ash and blood that dirtied it.

Marsh leaned a little closer, holding the girl’s eyes. “I can help you,” he repeated softly. “Will you let me?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and after a moment, nodded.

“Thank you,” Marsh said, relieved. Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, he maneuvered to her side. “Whoever did this to you, are they nearby?” he asked.

The girl gave the tiniest shrug. Just another reason to move quickly. “Do me a favor and put the knife down,” Marsh said. “It’s not safe to have metal on you in these areas. It attracts the wrong kind of attention.”

To his surprise, she didn’t argue, just opened her hand and let the blade clatter to the ground. That worried him; she was losing energy quickly.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Here. I’m going to pick you up, okay? It might hurt, so just brace yourself.”

The girl swallowed and nodded again. Her eyelids were beginning to droop, her pewter reaching its limits. Carefully, Marsh slid his arms underneath her. “Ready?” he asked.

She made a tiny noise of assent. He eased her into the air gently as possible, but she still gasped in pain, clutching at his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Marsh whispered. “It won’t be long; we’re not far. You’ll be alright, I promise.”

He stepped up to the mouth of the alleyway. A quick scan of the area with both his eyes and his bronze revealed nothing, but that didn’t mean no one was lurking out there, hidden by the mists or by a cloud of copper. There was nothing to be done about it, though. All he could do was move quickly.

Tightening his hold on the girl, he slipped out into the street, setting off at as fast a pace as he dared. She was light – worryingly so – but he didn’t want to put any more stress on her wound than he had to. As he walked, the girl rested her head on his shoulder, her trembling fingers twisting into his shirt. The mists swirled around them both, drawn by their Allomancy, though the burn of the girl’s pewter had grown so faint that Marsh could barely sense it even with her pressed to his chest.

“Almost there,” he whispered. “Just hold on.”

He hadn’t been lying to her; Nev’s place was close. Whatever had happened to this girl, she’d at least chosen a convenient alley to bleed out in. He only had to cross one more block before Nev’s tiny shop – and home – came into view, nestled on a side street. A light burned in the window, as he had expected. Nev wasn’t one to keep normal hours.

Marsh hurried up the steps to her door, giving it a few sharp kicks in lieu of knocking. He stood tense, watching the streets for any sign of movement, while he waited for an answer.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Come on – “

Right on cue, the door swung open. Nev stood fully dressed in her typical trousers and shirt, her dark hair pulled back. “Great,” she said dryly as she took in the scene. “Another one?”

“She needs pewter,” Marsh said, pushing his way inside. “Now.”

“A Misting?” she said, raising an eyebrow as she led him to the back, where her kitchen – and occasional makeshift surgery room – lay.

“Yes,” Marsh replied distractedly. “She’s hurt – gut wound.”

“Oh, how I long for the day when you bring in someone that’s actually intact,” Nev sighed, grabbing a tarp from where it was haphazardly thrown in a corner and spreading it over her kitchen table.

“You and me both,” Marsh muttered. He gingerly set the girl on the table, backing off as Nev approached with her medical supplies. She immediately started slicing off the bottom of the girl’s shirt, peeling the bloody cloth away from her wounds.

“Pewter, in the cabinet on the left,” Nev said. “Then get me more light.”

Marsh was moving before she finished speaking, opening the cabinet and digging through false back to pull out a few vials of pewter hidden with the other emergency supplies inside. The girl had fallen unconscious at some point on their trip over, so Nev had to hold her mouth open for Marsh to pour the vial into; luckily, she swallowed without choking. He moved on to the lamps, which were scattered around the room, snatching a matchbox from the counter to light each of them up.

Nev was at work cleaning the worst of the blood away as he positioned the lamps to throw their light over the table. She pointed wordlessly to the box containing her needle and thread, and Marsh began preparing them for her. Nev didn’t bother waiting until the blood was completely clean, just tossed her cloth aside and snatched the needle out of Marsh’s hands the moment he was finished threading it.

He watched anxiously as Nev started sewing the girl’s wounds up. He couldn’t feel the pulse of her pewter behind Nev’s perpetual coppercloud, but he could see its effect beginning to take hold. In the light, the girl’s skin was ghostly pale, a stark contrast to the cool brown of Nev’s hands. Her cheeks, however, had gained a slight hint of color, and she was breathing more deeply, the tightness of pain in her face easing.

“You can back off, now,” Nev said, startling Marsh. “Hovering isn’t the same as helping.”

“Sorry,” Marsh said. He forced himself to give her some space, backing away and turning to stare out the window instead.

Time passed in silence, slow and drifting like the mists outside, as Nev worked. “Well, aside from all this excitement, how’d the meeting go?” she asked eventually.

“Fine,” Marsh said absently.

“Uh-huh. And was there any type of decision made?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, and,” Nev said, long-suffering. “Did they make the right choice, or not?”

Marsh watched as an eddy formed in the curl of mist passing by. “Depends on what you think the right choice is.”

“Don’t annoy me when I’ve got my hands in someone’s guts,” Nev warned. “You and I both know there’s only one real option. Or are you seriously going to sit here and tell me you think someone else could do better?”

Marsh grimaced. “No.”

“Good,” Nev muttered. “As long as you have some sense left in you, there’s still hope for us.”

If only that were true, Marsh thought. He wanted nothing more than to bring hope to the skaa – not just hope, but real change, real freedom. Would that it be simple enough for one man to carry it all on his shoulders.

Nev seemed to sense his disquiet. “You’ll do fine,” she said. “Adona trusted you for a reason. She always knew you’d end up here.”

“I suppose,” Marsh said. “I just…wish I had more time. To prepare.”

“Don’t we all,” Nev said with a snort. “But all we can do is work with what we’re given, when we’re given it. Look at me, I’m doing it right now. All the preparation I had for this was a mug of ale and another sleepless night.”

Marsh’s mouth twitched. “I’d apologize, but you’re unfortunately the only person I can trust with these things.”

“Of course I am,” Nev said briskly. “If you went to anyone else, I’d be offended. Help me out, here.”

Marsh whirled around and darted to Nev’s side. At her indication, he helped prop the girl up on her side so Nev could look at her back.

Nev clicked her tongue. “I thought so. These are from coins.”

Marsh studied the wounds for himself. There were three of them scattered across the girl’s abdomen; the ones on her back were small, looking like barely more than deep cuts, but the ones on her stomach that Nev had already stitched up were nearly twice the size. Exit wounds.

“What happened?” he murmured, mostly to himself.

“You don’t know?” Nev asked.

“No. I found her in an alley nearby. Nobody else was around. She must have run from whoever attacked her, then lost too much blood to keep going.”

“Well, as long as nobody comes looking for her,” Nev muttered, squinting as she pulled a stitch tight on the girl’s back. A few minutes later, she straightened. “Okay, these are fine. We just need to bandage her up.”

Marsh slid an arm under the girl’s shoulders, lifting her so Nev could wrap the bandages around her torso. She didn’t stir, but her coloration had continued to improve, and she’d relaxed enough that she looked almost peaceful in her sleep.

“There we are,” Nev sighed as she finished with the bandages. “All that’s left is for her to rest, now.”

“She’ll be alright?” Marsh asked, glancing again at the blood that was beginning to dry on the tarp.

Nev scoffed, dunking another cloth in her bucket of water and scrubbing at her hands. “If she isn’t, you need to find some other fool to use as your medic. If I can’t keep a Pewterarm alive, I don’t deserve the title.” Tossing the cloth to join its fellow, she headed towards the staircase leading to the floor above. “Give me a second. Gonna grab some clothes for her.”

Marsh nodded, his gaze drifting back towards the window. The relief of knowing the girl would live was powerful, but with it came a creeping sense of helplessness. Hundreds, if not thousands of others like her were out there in the city: injured, starving, alone. But no one was coming to save them. Marsh wished desperately that he could find and help them all, but the rebellion’s limited resources – and the Steel Ministry’s watchful eye – made it impossible.

He let his eyes settle back on the girl’s sleeping face. He’d never be able to do enough, but saving her…that meant something, at least.

“Here we are,” Nev said, appearing back on the stairs with a bundle of clothes in her arms. Setting then on a chair, she waved dismissively at Marsh. “Your part is done. Get out of here.”

“Just let me know if there’s anything else I can do,” Marsh said. “I saw you’re low on pewter, I can go get some, and more clothes for her if she needs – “

“Tomorrow, Marsh,” Nev said dryly. “Go home. Get some rest. Lord knows you’re going to need it.”

Marsh grimaced, but didn’t argue – with Nev, it wasn’t worth the trouble, particularly when she was right. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll come by again in the morning.”

He followed Nev to the door, where she paused with her hand on the knob and cast a disapproving look at Marsh’s torso. “I’d button up that coat if I were you.”

“What…” Glancing down, he was reminded of the large bloodstain covering his shirt. “Right,” he muttered.

Nev rolled her eyes as he fastened his coat, opening the door once he was done. “Don’t get yourself killed out there,” she said.

“Likewise,” Marsh said, and stepped out into the night, letting the mists swallow him once more.

The most surprising thing about waking was that it happened at all.

Closely after that followed the fact that Teya wasn’t lying on hard cobblestones or bare wood. She was somewhere…soft. Warm. Comfortable.

Keeping herself still, her breath slow and even, Teya opened her eyes. She lay in a bed in a small room, modestly furnished with a dresser and nightstand along with a chair that sat beside the bed.

The memory of the night before played out in flashes behind her eyes. The brothel, the Inquisitor, the alley…and the man. She remembered his calm voice, his promises of safety. Where was he now, and where had he taken her? For a moment Teya wondered if he had been nothing more than a hallucination conjured up by her dying mind. But someone had to have brought her here, and someone had to…

Pulling back the blankets, Teya looked down at her torso. She was wearing a clean shirt and soft undershorts, and when she lifted the shirt, she found her stomach wrapped in bandages. The pain, she realized with a start, was all but gone, only a dull ache remaining. She felt…strong. Stronger, even, than she had before she’d been wounded. Nothing at all like she’d only just escaped the jaws of death.

The door clicked and swung open. Teya gasped, scrambling for her knife before remembering that it was gone, left in the alley at the man’s behest. If it had been a lie, if he’d brought her here just to kill her, or worse –

But the person who entered the room was not the man from the alley. It was a woman, brown-skinned and dark-haired; though modestly dressed, there was a confidence in the way she carried herself that immediately told Teya that this was not a skaa who toiled beneath the taskmasters, but one who had found herself a bit of freedom, even more than Teya had. A shopowner or craftsperson for sure. Maybe even someone who dealt in the underground.

She raised an eyebrow as she took in Teya’s frightened posture. “Relax, kid. I promise we didn’t keep you from dying just to kill you ourselves. Would be a damn waste of time.”

Teya watched warily as the woman seated herself in the chair. “Who…” Her voice came out hoarse, and she was forced to whisper. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Nev,” the woman replied. “I’m the one who stitched you back together. Here.”

She held out the cup she was holding to Teya, who saw that it was full of water. It looked clear, but… “You take a drink first,” she told Nev, narrowing her eyes.

Nev smiled wryly. “Smart one, eh?” she said. “Paranoid, but smart.” She swirled the water, then took a quick gulp before holding it back out to Teya. “There. Happy?”

Teya could see that some water had been drained. Unable to resist the way her throat clamored for relief, she took the cup and swallowed a cautious sip. Normal water, it seemed, if cleaner than what she was used to.

“Now,” Nev said, “I need to check your stitches, so if you can do us both a favor and not try to strangle me about it, I’d be grateful.”

She leaned forward, and Teya hesitated, but there wasn’t much point in refusing. Nev waited for her nod before unwinding the bandages around Teya’s stomach. When she peeled back the final layer, Teya’s eyes widened in astonishment. The wounds were closed, well on their way to being healed.

“Would you look at that,” Nev said approvingly. “Your pewter’s been putting in some good work these past few days. I should be able to take these out tonight.”

Teya tried her best to decipher Nev’s meaning, but she was left baffled. “I…what? My pewter?”

Nev smiled slightly, opening the drawer of the nightstand and pulling out fresh bandages. “Marsh did say you might not know you’re an Allomancer.”

The word sent a burst like lightning down Teya’s spine. All she could do was gape at Nev as she gestured for Teya to sit up. It couldn’t…it couldn’t be possible. Allomancers were legends, myths, the most secretive and powerful of the nobility. Many people didn’t even believe they existed. How could Teya, street filth as she was, be one of them?

“But…” she said, finally finding her voice again. “But I’m not…”

“What, noble?” Nev said. “You’re at least half, aren’t you?”

Teya clamped her mouth shut, and Nev glanced up with a raised eyebrow. “Easy, there. We were both cast in the same forge. My uncle was noble – decently high up, too.”

Half-breed skaa weren’t supposed to exist, and yet here were two in the same room. Teya suppressed a shudder at the thought of the Ministry discovering that fact. “My father was one,” she admitted.

“That’ll do it,” Nev said. For how rough her hands looked, they were careful as they fastened the bandages in place. Once done, she sat back with a sigh. “So, here’s the important stuff. You’re a Misting – a Pewterarm.”

“…A what?”

“Pewterarm,” Nev repeated, crossing her ankle over her knee. “Most people call ‘em Thugs, but…” She cast a critical eye over Teya’s small frame. “That title doesn’t quite fit you, I’d say.”

Teya silently agreed. “What it means,” Nev continued, “is that you can swallow metal – pewter, in your case – and burn it to give yourself power. You’re probably doing it right now – do you feel it? That warmth inside you?”

Frowning, Teya turned her focus inward. There was a warmth there, she realized, deep in her stomach, like the feeling after swallowing a hot drink. It was so natural she hadn’t even noticed it.

Nev nodded knowingly at Teya’s wide eyes. “Pewter enhances your strength and makes you heal faster – those wounds of yours will be nothing but scars within a few weeks. It’s the reason you’re alive right now. Well, that, and Marsh. He’s a Misting, too – a Seeker. He can sense people using Allomancy; that’s how he found you. I gotta say, you’re lucky it was him that heard you, and not an Inquisitor.”

Teya kept her expression carefully blank. “Why did he bring me here?” she asked. “What do you want from me?”

“From you?” Nev snorted. “Nothing. He brought you here so that I could patch you up, that’s all. You’re free to go if you want, though I’d suggest at least giving your gut a few more days to heal first. If you do stay, we’ll make sure you’re fed, clothed, all that. Nothing fancy, mind you, but plenty enough to get by. Us rebels know how to be resourceful.”

Cold fear shot down Teya’s veins, a sharp contrast to the warmth in her stomach. “You’re rebels?”

Nev’s grin was a sharp, fierce thing. “Damn right.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, Teya thought numbly. So much for escaping the Ministry’s clutches – she had only wandered right into another den that they would love nothing more than to exterminate.

“Relax,” Nev said. “You’re safe here. I sure as hell don’t let them use my house for a meeting place. And I’ve always got my coppercloud up, so feel free to burn away.”

At Teya’s look of exasperated confusion, Nev rolled her eyes. “I’m a Smoker – I burn copper. Puts up this ‘cloud’ that hides any Allomancy within it. So, you’re safe to burn your pewter. Speaking of, drink this. You’ll be low on your reserves by now.”

She pulled out a small glass vial from the nightstand and held it out. It seemed to be filled with water, with silvery flakes of metal resting on the bottom. Teya took it, her mouth twisting with uncertainty.

Nev gave her a flat look. “Don’t get all stubborn on me. You need that if you want to keep healing. Here, look.” She pulled a similar vial from the pocket of her trousers, the metal in this one more brownish-orange in color. Nev swirled the vial, then popped off the top and tossed it back with one quick swallow. Wiping her mouth, she said, “I can’t have pewter, so you’ll have to be happy with that.”

Teya’s gaze fell back to the vial in her own hand. This would be a hell of a lot of trouble for anyone to go to just to poison her, she had to admit. And testing the limits of Nev’s patience didn’t seem wise.

Fuck it, she thought. Uncorking the vial, she hesitated, then drank it down.

Nothing happened. Frowning, Teya reached within, a jolt hitting her as she found that in the place where the warmth was coming from now sat a vast wellspring of power. Following pure instinct, she tapped into that well, stoking the heat a little higher, just to see what would happen.

“Woah,” she breathed. A flood of strength surged through her, dizzying in its intensity. It felt as if she could get up and run for hours, lift an entire cartful of stone, climb to the top of Kredik Shaw, fight a dozen guards – anything.

Nev chuckled. “There you go,” she said. “Now, I know you probably feel invincible, but don’t let it go to your head. You can still get killed like anyone else, especially if you run out of pewter, and I’m not interested in reassembling you again. It burns quick, so don’t use it all up at once.”

Teya nodded slowly. Reaching within herself again, she reluctantly pulled back the burn until it was a glowing ember rather than a hot coal. Better not to waste it until she was sure she could get more.

“Anyway,” Nev said. “I’ve got to go downstairs in case some fool noble stops in. I’ll bring up food and more pewter in a little while. Oh, and one more thing…”

She reached into the pocket of her jacket, raising her other hand in a non-threatening gesture. “Marsh brought this for you,” she said, setting the retrieved object on the nightstand. “I’ll trust you not to stab me with it.”

With tentative hands, Teya reached out and picked it up. It was a dagger, half again as long as her palm, with a shiny black blade and a sturdy handle. Obsidian, wood, and leather – no metal. It was well-crafted, beautiful in its simplicity.

“Why?” Teya whispered, stunned.

“You’ll have to be more specific, girl,” Nev drawled.

“Why…why would he give this to me?”

“He wants you to be able to protect yourself.”

“But why…”

“Why does he care?” Nev smiled wryly. “That’s just who he is. You’ll get used to it eventually.”

Pushing to her feet with a sigh, she disappeared out the door, leaving Teya staring down at the dagger in her hand, trying to make sense of the dozens of ways her reality had just seismically shifted.

---

The mists seemed excited, Teya thought, as they streamed around her.

She stood alone, back in the familiarity of a darkened alley, the wall of the general store looming before her, the window beckoning a dozen feet above. A new cloak hung around her shoulders, its pockets stuffed with oat cakes nabbed from Nev’s cabinets – and the vials of pewter that had been concealed in the back.

With her stitches removed and Nev napping in the other room, Teya had taken her chance to run. Staying with the rebels was just too dangerous. Sure, they had been kind to her, but kindness never survived. It wasn’t smart. It couldn’t keep you safe.

Could it?

Pewter lay ready in Teya’s stomach, and it seemed at once strange and natural to reach within and burn it. Strength coursed through her, overflowing her body with potential, bringing her alive. She was solid. Unwavering. For the first time in her life, she was powerful.

Stepping up to the wall, her eyes fixed on the windowsill, Teya fell to a crouch.

And leapt.

The soft hum of conversation filled the dim room. The warmth of bodies crowded into the small space had led Marsh to shed his coat and roll up the cuffs of his white shirt. He sat at a high table opposite what passed for a bar here – little more than a plank of wood with some shabby stools set in front of it. The rebellion didn’t have the money to spare to rent any place resembling nice.

The others were gathered in tight knots, talking quietly, tossing nervous glances around them. The rebellion didn’t typically meet in such large groups within the city, but the importance of tonight’s meeting had necessitated the presence of as many as could be gathered. A veritable feast for the Ministry, if they caught wind of it. This meeting would be as short as possible.

The space around Marsh remained empty, as usual. He was well aware that no one would describe him as approachable, and the fact that he had worked so closely with Adona only served to intimidate people further.

Adona herself never had to deal with same issue. Despite the authority she carried, no one had shied away from her calm presence. Attentive to everyone she met, no matter their status, and holding an unshakable composure, she had inspired admiration even in those outside the rebellion’s ranks. She had never been the loudest voice in the room, but when she spoke, people listened.

Marsh had spent as much time as he could with her, trying to absorb her knowledge, her expertise both in running such a complex and risk-filled organization as the rebellion and in managing the people who comprised it – assuaging their fears, keeping them in line, encouraging them when hope seemed out of reach. Marsh had learned much over his twenty-three years, but Adona had twice that amount of experience, hard-won and more valuable than atium.

All of that had been lost with her. It should have been a routine raid, a strike on a small caravan traveling to Fellise – except the guards covering the shipment were twice the amount that had originally been scouted. The team of rebels had been routed, and Adona had been cut down, her body abandoned in the empty hills outside the city. The waste of it all, the unfairness, ate away at Marsh. The survivors had come back empty-handed, and the rebellion was left rudderless, no one left to guide their course. And selfishly, Marsh had lost his mentor, his friend, the first person he had ever met who hadn’t scoffed at his passion, but shared and encouraged it.

“Easy there, Ironeyes.”

Nev’s droll voice pulled Marsh from his thoughts. “Thought I told you not to call me that,” he muttered.

“Thought you knew better than to expect me to listen,” Nev replied. “Here.”

She thrust a mug unceremoniously towards him, ale nearly sloshing over the rim. Marsh opened his mouth to refuse, but Nev gave him one of her don’t challenge me looks. “You need it,” she said flatly.

Sighing irritably, Marsh took the mug. He took a sip, bracing himself for the poor quality, though it still made him grimace.

Nev settled into the chair across from him. “Your girl bolted earlier,” she said without preamble.

Marsh’s stomach sank. “You’re kidding.”

Nev sipped her ale, unfazed by the taste – the alcohol content was all that ever mattered to her. “Nope,” she said. “Up and vanished. Took half my pewter stores with her. And my spare cloak.”

“Shit,” Marsh said, hissing out a sigh.

“Oh, don’t be so disappointed,” Nev replied dryly. “I did tell you she’d be fine, and this proves me right. If she hadn’t run off with what she could like that, I’d have been worried.”

“I suppose,” Marsh said. “I just thought...” What? That she would stick around? That he could do more for her? There was a group of runaways leaving for the north in a few days. They could have sent her with them, gotten her to more permanent safety…

Nev gave him a surprisingly sympathetic look. “You know she was never going to stay.”

Shaking his head, Marsh forced himself to straighten his shoulders and swallow his regret. “How much pewter did you say she stole? I’ll make sure it’s replaced.”

“Everything you brought, plus a few more vials,” Nev said. She sounded slightly impressed as she added, “You know, I didn’t even hear a thing. She’ll do just fine for herself if she’s always that sneaky.”

“Hopefully,” Marsh murmured. He hated the thought of her being alone on the streets, especially when whoever had hurt her could still be out there, searching for her. “Did she ever say what happened?”

“Nope. And I didn’t ask. Figured she wouldn’t be too forthcoming, and I didn’t want to spook her. For all the good that did.”

Marsh frowned, a thought striking him. “The brothel at Cendre Square got attacked that night. I wonder if she escaped from there.”

Nev scoffed. “Are you kidding? The one that burned down? There was an Inquisitor there, for the Lord’s sake.”

“That’s confirmed?”

“As confirmed as it can be. Len said he saw it out his window, and he’s not one for tall tales. They really must’ve fucked up to catch that much attention.”

Harboring a skaa Misting certainly would have done it. But the odds of anyone escaping a Steel Inquisitor alive…they weren’t high enough to warrant contemplation. Marsh fidgeted with his mug, tapping his fingers against the side in an unconscious rhythm; it was only after a moment that he realized he was mimicking the beat of pewter.

A clanging noise caught their attention. Yeden was standing on a chair, awkwardly holding the mug and spoon he’d used as a call to order. Clearing his throat, he said, “Looks like we’re all here, so, um, if everyone’s ready, then, we can get started.”

Nev studied Marsh over her ale. “You ready for this?”

Taking a slow, deep breath, Marsh nodded.

The nervous chatter ebbed as everyone’s focus was brought to Yeden, who for his part looked uncomfortable with so many eyes on him. He plowed forward valiantly, though, saying, “I’m sure you’ve all heard by now that we’ve, uh…that we’ve lost our leader. If you ever had the chance to meet Adona, you know how brave she was. How much faith she had in us all, in our cause. She held us together, kept us hopeful. She was the best of us.”

Some people nodded, some dropped their gazes to the floor, some merely continued to listen in grim silence. Nev took a swig of her ale. A memory flashed in Marsh’s mind, the last time he’d seen Adona, the words she’d spoken that had morphed to eerie prophecy in hindsight. Take care of them while I’m gone.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say that we will always remember her,” Yeden continued. “But I think we also know that she wouldn’t want us to sit around, stuck in our grief. She would want us to move forward. And that starts with deciding who will take her place.”

Anticipation threaded through the quiet. Marsh’s grip on his mug tightened until his knuckles went white.

“Those of us who worked closely with Adona met a few days ago to discuss this, and in the end, it wasn’t really much of a decision,” Yeden said. “Adona made it clear who she considered to be her second-in-command, and it only makes sense that he should be the one to take her place. So…with all that said, we are proposing that we name Marsh as our leader.”

Heads turned across the room, seeking the man in question. Marsh kept his breath even, his expression carefully controlled.

“I’m sure you’re all aware of the good work he’s done, and how strongly he believes in our cause,” Yeden says. “Adona trusted him without question, and he’s already been hard at work since she’s been gone, picking up where she left off, keeping us from falling apart. To be honest, he’s basically already stepped into the role, but, uh, we thought it’d be best to make it official, so…all in favor, raise your hands.”

One by one, every hand in the room went up. Out of the corner of his eye, Marsh could see a smirk on Nev’s face as she raised her own hand. He expected his heart to be pounding, but it stayed steady, as if it had long since accepted this reality.

“Well,” Yeden said. “I think that settles it. Marsh, you have been named the leader of the rebellion. May you bring us victory.”

The proclamation was met with silence. Marsh pushed to his feet, nodding to Yeden as he climbed down from his perch. Weight settled onto his shoulders, the pressure of the rebels’ gazes upon him, their expectations, their struggling hope, the impossible goal they strove for.

“It’s an honor to be here. To know you all,” Marsh said, his firm voice echoing in the quiet. “Each of you is an invaluable part of the work we do, and I appreciate the confidence and trust you’ve placed in me. I swear to uphold that trust, to seek justice for every one of us. To create a world in which we are all free, where there is no longer a division between skaa and noble. To bring down the Ministry and stamp out their hatred. I only ask that you stay beside me. Keep pushing forward. Hold to your hope. They cannot defeat us so long as that hope exists.”

A low murmur broke the silence, solidarity appearing in firm nods, in raised fists and drinks. The hope he’d spoken of was visible now, glimmering fiercely in the rebels’ eyes, apparent in the determination on their faces. It was Marsh’s job to keep that fire burning, his job to keep these people safe in a world that wanted nothing more than to destroy them. The responsibility would be heavy enough to threaten anyone with collapse.

Setting his jaw, Marsh raised his own fist. The burden demanded a bearer, and he had always been willing to accept it. For these people – for his dream – he would do whatever was asked of him. Whatever it took.

---

At Marsh’s insistence, he accompanied Nev on her return, enduring her usual eye rolls and grousing about how if he was going to be stubborn about walking her home, he should take his own advice and stop traveling alone at night. They both knew he wouldn’t listen, but the familiar argument was strangely comforting to Marsh, an assurance that no matter what else changed, Nev would always be Nev.

The walk was uneventful enough that something approaching peace had settled over them by the time Nev unlocked her door. It fled in an instant, though, as she froze in her tracks halfway inside.

“What is it?” Marsh said sharply, holding a warding arm in front of her as he pushed by. He, too, froze at the sight that awaited them in the kitchen – but in wonder, not fear.

A pile of food sat on the table: sausages, cheeses, bread, fruit, and more. Alongside it lay a couple of thick bundles of cloth and several spools of thread. In front of it all, left like a strange calling card, was a single vial of pewter.

Behind Marsh, Nev burst into appreciative laughter. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she said. “Your girl must be one hell of a thief.”

Marsh nodded slowly, stunned into silence. They could feed dozens with this, make clothing and blankets of real quality…all told, it was a gift the likes of which he never would have believed.

They did a quick search of the shop and Nev’s rooms above it, but there was no sign of the girl. She had once again vanished, slipping through their fingers like a curl of mist, leaving in her wake a wealth of goods and a thousand questions Marsh knew he would likely never get the answers to. There was no telling where she had gone, if he would ever see her again. If she would survive. Though, if she was capable of pulling off things like this…well, her odds were better than most.

Good luck, Marsh thought. Wherever you are.

The early morning sun turned the eastern sky the burnished orange of copper, its slanted rays having long since chased off the lingering mists.

Wheels creaked beneath Teya’s feet. Getting onto the wagon had been easy; a bribe of coins taken from the store’s till had been enough to convince the driver to let her cling onto the bottom as he left through the Brass Gate. The guards there, notoriously lax, hadn’t bothered checking underneath for stowaways.

Now Teya sat atop the sacks in the back of the wagon, the driver content to ignore her as he munched away on the jerky she had offered him as extra encouragement. She would be gone before he realized, disappearing into the first town they passed by.

Little by little, the imposing walls of Luthadel receded with the distance. The truth of it was slowly sinking in: Teya was free. Just days ago, she had been certain she would die in the city’s clutches. Then one man had saved her, one woman had healed her, and in the process, they had upended everything Teya thought she knew about both the world and herself.

It might have – no, it had certainly been stupid, returning to Nev’s the way she had. But something within Teya wouldn’t allow her to leave without offering some kind of thanks. It certainly wasn’t an equivalent exchange, but she hoped Nev would enjoy the cheese a little more than oat cakes, at least. With any luck, she would leave enough for Marsh to have some, too.

Teya fingered the handle of her new dagger, tucked carefully into her trousers. She couldn’t keep her mind from wandering back to Marsh, who remained such a mystery to her. The memories played out behind her eyes over and over: the intent way he’d focused on her, the gentle way he’d spoken to her, the careful way he’d held her. Part of her longed to go back and find him again, so she could actually speak to him, ask him why he had bothered to help her, how he could care so much for someone he didn’t even know.

Her curiosity was forcibly overruled by practicality. The rebels may have been brave, they may have been kind, but they were also doomed. The Steel Ministry would inevitably find and slaughter them all; so it had always been, so it would always be.

Teya wouldn’t let herself be dragged into their fate. She had been granted not only another chance at life, but the power to protect it. And she had learned something else about herself, something Marsh had taught her the second he stepped into that alley:

She wasn’t willing to die yet.

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