The Tineye's Redemption (Mistborn Original Series - Female OC + Kelsier as caretaker)

[Oolia]

Hey everyone!

I'm a fan of the Mistborn first trilogy, and some of its cool fantasy/magic mechanics really got my fetish gears spinning, so I decided to give it a try. Since it's not exactly a well-known fandom, I wrote this fanfic spoiler-free and with enough explanation so that everyone could read it and discover a little bit of the universe crafted by Brandon Sanderson. Hopefully it'll even make some people want to read his books, which are obviously WAY better than this fic

Just to be extra clear to those who did read the books, this fic takes place in the very beginning of the first book. It includes Kelsier, but he does not sneeze or get ill. He's the caretaker in this story. I've also chosen to write my own adult female OC because Vin was just too young and I was 0 interested in having her in my fetish fic.

Since I won't be able to participate in the Secret Santa this year, I'm hoping this fic will be someone's little holiday gift in advance!

One last note: This thing is looong (just like this intro), story-heavy and has a lower sneeze count than other fics because I personally enjoy a good story with a more "natural" amount of sneezes. I'll post it in installments over the next few weeks so that it's not too daunting.

Hope you guys like it!

 

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The Tineye’s Redemption

Keep Venture rose from the ground like a beacon in the night, powerful limelights illuminating its façade and keeping the darkness at bay. A cool breeze swept through the swirling mists, a reminder that winter was fast approaching. The sound of hooves clopping on the cobblestones filled the air as a stream of carriages lined up in front of the grand building’s entrance.

Alsira hurried up the stairs with other men and women in colorful attire. She held up the bulky, frilled bottom of her purple gown to avoid tripping on it as she climbed. A gesture repeated hundreds of times before, yet it always instilled in her a certain uneasiness. How quickly could one escape with such burdensome clothing? The thought made Alsira’s corset feel tighter, like a shackle around her chest.

Yet another ridiculous aristocrat custom, she thought, cursing the puffy fabric.

She followed a few groups of attendees babbling excitedly as they approached the main doors, looking forward to another “exquisite” ball at the most powerful Great House of Luthadel. Alsira gritted her teeth and focused instead on soothing sounds. Creaking wood from the carriages wheels. Wind whistling through the open doors. The subtle chime of her thin metal bracelets.

At the entrance, Alsira gave the attendant her falsified invitation and produced a pleasant, heavily rehearsed smile. The man took a quick look at the card, then bowed and waved her in without a word.

She weaved around clusters of elegant aristocrats discussing the latest gossips, as if they hadn’t seen each other two nights ago at House Hasting. Some of them glanced her way, but their eyes never lingered, never registered her. Neither beautiful, nor particularly unattractive, Alsira had the fortune of blending in effortlessly. With no distinctive marks or features, her long dark hair and forgettable face allowed her to disappear in a crowd, becoming everyone and no one at the same time.

When she reached the main hall, Alsira walked a few steps away from the doors and scanned the room. Keep Venture was one of the most ornate buildings in the city. Five stories tall and almost as long as it was wide, it was an impressive piece of architecture. Massive stained-glass windows lined the walls up to the ceiling, depicting religious scenes from the Lord Ruler’s past. Lights shone on them from outside, creating ethereal and colorful shadows on the gallery of each floor, extending to the center of the hall.

Alsira glanced at the draped dinner tables arranged around the perimeter of the main floor. Most of them were still untouched; attendees usually preferred to stand around and chat until the feast began. A dozen bald men in robes prowled the room like chaperones. The intricate tattoos around their eyes sent a shiver down Alsira’s spine. Obligators. Although they mostly acted as bureaucrats for the Ministry of the Lord Ruler, Alsira knew better than to draw their attention.

A quick count informed her that House Venture had stationed more than fifteen guards around the great hall, and she assumed others would be hidden somewhere on the floors above. There was also the threat of Venture Allomancers hidden in plain clothes, of course. But as long as Alsira stayed in the shadows, didn’t talk to anyone, and hid behind her forgettable appearance, she would be able to spy on her target undiscovered.

She felt for her supply of tin and cursed under her breath. It was running low. A wave of cold sweat rushed from her scalp to her shoulders. How could she forget to replenish her metal before coming here? It was normally the very first thing she did before leaving for a job.

She took a long, deep breath and walked towards the back of the room. Everything would be fine. She had brought an extra vial in case the job ran long, a lesson she’d learned two months ago after spending hours listening in on a conversation, only to run out of tin right before her target revealed where they were stockpiling their weapons.

She climbed the marbled stairs at the far end of the hall, holding the railing with her now sweaty hand. What else have I forgotten to do? she thought, her chest tight with dread. Did I make sure no one followed me here? She feverishly retraced her steps in her mind, relieved to confirm that she’d been as careful as always.

Truth be told, she’d felt off all day, which might have been why she’d forgotten to check her tin. Exhaustion had taken a hold of her from the moment she’d woken up. Her head was achy and floaty, stuck in a perpetual half-dream state. Had she worked herself too hard during the past few days? She had spent the entire night outside a couple of days ago, shivering under a window. Small contract. A silly case of a paranoid nobleman who believed his staff was conspiring to murder him.

But Alsira needed all the money she could get. Her plan was to accumulate enough boxings to travel as far as she could in the Eastern or Northern Dominance—she hadn’t made up her mind yet—and build herself a small house. Grow a garden. Find a place where she would finally belong, away from the rich, the thieves, the poor… and far from the Lord Ruler. Although she knew no one could ever escape his grip.

Alsira reached the walkway on the third floor, passing a few skaa servants getting ready to serve dinner. She ducked towards a balcony, pushing the heavy glass door with her shoulder. Outside, a narrow terrace with an ornate balustrade welcomed her. Big, bushy vines spilled over the left side, crowding the small space.

The air was cold and fresh. Thick mists curled in the outdoor lights, their wispy tendrils enveloping Alsira, sending prickling shivers up her arms. She closed her eyes, savoring the silence. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind, as it often did in quiet moments: “The mists are treacherous, Alsi. They will steal your soul and condemn you to the night.”

A sad smile lingered on Alsira’s lips. She believed him when she was younger, hurrying home before dusk. Fear wrapped around her little heart as she lied in bed at night, afraid that the mists would get in through the cracks in the wall. But now she knew better.

Noblemen weren’t even supposed to be afraid of the mists. Stories of soul-eating fog were told by skaa, passed down from generation to generation. A successful way for masters to bind them to their hovels at night and keep them under their servitude. But noblemen as poor as Alsira’s father lived in the same neighborhoods as the skaa, shared the same hopes and fears. The only difference between them was who could earn a whipping for not working hard enough.

And of course, Allomancy. Only people with noble blood had a small chance of being born with Allomantic powers like Alsira.

She reached for a small glass vial hidden in her cleavage and examined it. Tiny flakes of tin floated in an alcohol solution, shimmering under the light. She popped the cork and downed the content in one beat. Fire spread in her throat, bringing tears to her eyes. She let out a hiss of pain and muffled a cough. It didn’t usually hurt that much, but she had no time to wonder why. An intense tickle traveled through her nose, as if ignited by the pain. She tried to suppress it, but the cold, wafting mists set the impending sneeze ablaze.

“Ehhii’TSCHhh!”

She sniffed wetly, wincing from her now throbbing head.

The evening was off to a bad start.

 

 

Back in the main hall, Alsira sat down at a table conveniently tucked in the corner formed by the stairs and the back wall. The perfect spot to watch without being seen.

A skaa servant set down a few plates before her and bowed away. A delicious aroma of spicy boar stew and freshly baked bread wafted from the feast. Alsira took a few bites, careful to execute the delicate choreography of what she called “noble-eating.” She moved the spoon from the bowl to the tip of her lips in graceful, effortless movements, almost as if timed to an invisible rhythm and, of course, without making a sound. But in truth, she was fighting the urge to scarf it down.

Her hunger was infinite. She hadn’t eaten more than crusty old bread for the last three days, part of her efforts to save every coin possible. The spiciness made her nose runny and ticklish, but she didn’t care. It tasted amazing.

Once she finally felt warm and full, she set about locating the nobleman she was tasked to spy on. Thankfully, she knew her target. It was the youngest son of House Haught, Jermyn. She’d listen in on the young heirs so many times before that she knew all of their names. And much, much more. The number of idiotic ramblings coming out of their mouths was spectacular. It explained why her requesters often asked her to spy on heirs. They tended to leak secrets about their family to impress their friends.

Alsira rubbed at her nose while she scanned the room, the faint tickle from the spicy boar lingering in the back of her sinuses. She finally spotted Jermyn, chatting animatedly with two heirs from House Urbain and three unknown noblewomen. The group stood far from her, near the center of the hall, where a few courageous couples had started dancing.

Alsira turned her attention inward, “feeling” for the flakes of tin she had swallowed earlier. They were there, in her stomach. Like a mass of buzzing energy, a large nest of bumble bees, extending outward from her body.

She started burning tin, slowly at first. “Burning” metal was an odd feeling that Allomancers couldn’t really explain, like a trained muscle operating subconsciously. Alsira only had to think about it, and the buzzing would turn to a low, comfortable warmth. Then, the world around would… intensify.

She burned a little more tin, and all of her senses came alive. The smell of stew and alcohol grew stronger and more complex. She noted hints of cloves and cinnamon and pepper, mixed with the fruity, rancid aroma of wine. A breeze that she hadn’t noticed before rushed against her skin. Sounds were louder, too. Laughter, clanking metal bowls, violin and harp and heels on the ceramic floor; a chaos of sounds overtook her brain as she burned tin brighter and brighter.

Suddenly, the light tickle in her sinuses exploded in intensity. Alsira quickly extinguished her tin, but it was too late. Her lips parted and her chest rose. She pushed the base of her tongue against her palate and got up from the table as normally as she could. Her eyes were tearing up, the tickle furiously bubbling towards the tip of her nose. She managed to walk behind an oversized pillar, away from prying eyes, before muffling a set of sneezes into the cup of both palms.

“Hhh’ISSHHhh… Hh’NNTSShh… Ehh… Eehh’NNTSshh!”

Lowering her hands, Alsira looked around, her face burning with embarrassment and fear that she had drawn someone’s attention. But no one was looking. She sniffed to see if more sneezes were coming, and only felt wetness in her nose. No more tickle for now.

Shaken, she walked back to the table. A skaa was clearing the plates, removing the offending spicy remains before bowing away. She wondered if perhaps he had heard her sneeze and made the connection with the stew, but that thought was too embarrassing for Alsira to entertain very long.

She sat back down and tried her tin again, ramping up the intensity even slower this time. Her head started pounding, her sinuses felt hot and heavy, but no tickle. This was one of the disadvantages in burning tin. Outside stimuli weren’t the only ones enhanced: pain and fatigue were also part of the deal.

She turned her attention to Jermyn and burned her tin a little more. Ignoring her headache and all other noises around, she focused on the group’s conversation. Soon, she could hear them as clearly as if they were standing right next to her.

She settled in her chair, trying to get comfortable. All she had to do now was to wait for them to spill interesting information.

Unfortunately, there was no way to tell how long it would take.

 

[Kiaory]

This is wonderful. Mistborn is one of those fandoms that really needs more love, and you really did it justice. I love the idea of burning tin making someone's nose more sensitive. I imagine that our protagonist with have a bit of trouble with that as the story progresses. 

Can't wait to seen the next part!

[Oolia]

On 11/21/2016 at 8:32 PM, Kiaory said:

This is wonderful. Mistborn is one of those fandoms that really needs more love, and you really did it justice. I love the idea of burning tin making someone's nose more sensitive. I imagine that our protagonist with have a bit of trouble with that as the story progresses. 

Can't wait to seen the next part!

I'm glad you're enjoying it Kiaory!

Here is the next part!

 

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Two hours into the evening, Alsira’s condition was worsening. Her head throbbed so badly that she could feel her heartbeat in her temples. She held a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes for a second. Maintaining the tin burn, she tried to push through and listen to Jermyn, but couldn’t make sense of the words through the haze of pain.

Suddenly, a tickle formed in the back of her sinuses. It spiked in a split second and spread like wildfire, sending a deep shiver up her spine. A tear spilled down her cheek from the intensity of the itch as she tilted her head back and launched into a ferocious sneeze. “Hhh—IITSSHHH!”

She pressed a loose fist on the underside of her nose in an effort to quell the tickle, to no avail. As soon as her knuckle brushed her sensitive nostrils, she took another sharp, quivering breath, bending forward into the explosive release, “EHH’TSSHHH!” And again “—NTTSSHHEEW”, until a final, tickly sneeze concluded the assault “EHH’NTSHHEEEW!”

As soon as she regained control, she extinguished her tin and looked up, terrified. To her enhanced ears, her sneezes had sounded thunderous and deafening. A few people in her vicinity had turned around, gaping at her. She excused herself from the table and darted towards a deserted hallway leading to the library.

After making sure it was empty, she paced back and forth down the corridor, hands shaking. Had people noticed her enough to remember her face? What if she had drawn the attention of obligators? She walked back towards the hall and peeked in. People were still chatting in groups or dancing, laughing, drinking. Lively music and conversational murmur mixed together in an undistinguishable buzz. Obligators were busy attending noblemen’s requests with no signs of concern, and soldiers stood at their post, unmoved.

Alsira turned back to the corridor, relieved that she hadn’t set off any alarms. But now she had to figure out what to do about her Allomancy predicament. Her nose was still ticklish, and burning too much tin would certainly set off another set of powerful sneezes. The key was to figure out the threshold. She burned the lowest amount of tin possible, closing her eyes to focus on the sensation in her nose. A feathery tickle blossomed, but nothing strong enough to set her off. She ramped up the intensity, feeling the tickle grow and grow until she reached the tipping point.

“Ehh…IIH’TSHIEEeww!”

She groaned. The range of Allomancy that her nose could tolerate was pitiful, and risking another sneezing fit would be too dangerous. It was best to cut her losses and leave. But this was a surprisingly well-paid job, and she didn’t want to wait much longer before leaving Luthadel. Every extra day spent here felt like an eternity. The thought of giving up on the job for a stupid tickle in her nose was maddening.

She could try standing closer to Jermyn. It would allow her to use very little tin to get a clear earshot. But then she’d be in the middle of the action, standing awkwardly without talking to anyone.

Her eyes wandered around the hall and lingered over the dancers in the center. Colorful gowns twirled under the candlelight. Couples executed complex routines as if they were second nature. As soon as they could walk, young noblemen were taught how to dance in preparation for these lavish balls. Alsira’s father had taught her a few of them, even though she would never be invited. Poor noblewomen weren’t of interest to the Great Houses, but her father had never lost hope that she’d one day live a better life than what he could offer. Her heart sank at the thought, her throat tightening.

Look at me, father, I’m attending a Venture House ball, she thought bitterly. Although I wasn’t exactly invited.

Then it hit her. Dancing. That was the solution to get near Jermyn and blend in. Tonight, the hours she had spent practicing with her father would finally pay off.

Alsira walked towards the crowd, an uncomfortable pressure in the pit of her stomach. She had never strayed from the outskirts of the rooms before, and she had especially never looked for someone to engage with during a job.

Making eye contact with a nobleman proved to be difficult. They were paying her no attention; an irony that wasn’t lost on Alsira. She wasn’t ready to be so bold as to tap someone on the shoulder yet, so she walked around a group of chatting ladies, analyzing the situation.

And saw a man looking straight at her.

She stopped dead in her track, alarmed.

He was in his late thirties, and wore a distinguished blue vest under a long suit coat. He smiled at her, oozing charm and confidence. His eyes were expressive, almost conniving, as if saying, “how about we make this boring night interesting?”

He approached her and extended a hand.

“Care to join me for a dance, my Lady?”

Alsira repressed an urge to run. She had no desire to engage with an aristocrat, but such was life in the Final Empire. The only way out was to dive in. Swallowing the contempt she felt for the man, she took his hand and bowed.

“Of course, my Lord.”

 

 

Alsira’s memory of this particular lively dance was rustier than she had thought. Her movements weren’t nearly as graceful as the ladies’ around her, but she at least kept the pace. The man, however, was incredibly skilled. His body moved through the air as if floating, unbound by the laws of the world. Not wanting to make a fool of herself, Alsira redoubled her efforts and focused on smoothing out her steps.

“There, that’s it. It’s all coming back now isn’t it?” the man said in her ear, a hint of a smile in his voice.

Alsira glared at him through the twirl. “I’m simply a bit stiff after sitting for so long.”

The man nodded, a smirk firmly lodged in the corner of his lips.

Alsira felt the warmth of his hand on her hip and wondered when was the last time someone had touched her on purpose. She’d been quite detached from the outside world in the past few years. The only people she called “friends” were long gone, and she preferred not think about the reasons behind their disappearance. Some of them had been skaa, which meant too many sinister fates to consider.

“Are you having a good time tonight, my Lady?” the man said, tearing her away from her dark contemplation.

She nodded, then craned her neck to see where Jermyn was. It was time to get back to the reason she was dancing in the first place. The song wouldn’t last forever, and judging by how quickly she was getting out of breath, the same could be said about her.

She located the heir a few feet away, and immediately started burning tin. In her eagerness to get back on track, she burned a little too high, and the tickle in her nose came back with a vengeance. She lowered the burn and tried to hold the sneezes in, but it was too late. Knowing she wouldn’t escape them, she turned her head away from her dancing partner and lifted her free hand to her face, pressing the back of her fingers under her nose.

“Ehh—TSshh! Iiihh’TShhh!”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Blessings, my Lady.”

But she wasn’t finished. She crumpled her nose, fighting to speak between the hitching. “Th—thank… Eh’NTTSHheew!” She leaned deeper to the side with the force of the third sneeze, throwing herself off balance. She felt the man grip the small of her back firmly, as if afraid she would fall.

Alsira straightened up, resuming her position as if nothing happened, save for a light sniffled that gave away the remnants of her sinus troubles. Her partner looked at her, his brows furrowed in a worried expression. “We can sit down if you are not well.”

She shook her head. “I’m quite alright, thank you.”

With her tin burning a bit lower, she turned her attention back to Jermyn’s conversation. Clear as crystal. Relief washed over her, but it was short-lived. Just as she started listening, Jermyn excused himself from the group. Panicked, Alsira tried to see where he was going, but was forced to turn her back on him as part of the dance. She craned her neck, catching only glimpses of him through the moving bodies around her, and then lost track.

Alsira let go of her partner’s hand and took a step back. “My deepest apologies, my Lord, but I must go.”

He smiled at her, his hawkish features coming alive in an expression she could only define as mischievous. “Would you do me the honor of finishing this dance at least?” he said, gently taking her hand again. “I believe if we simply move over there, you might find it agreeable to keep dancing.”

Puzzled, Alsira let the man lead her to the outskirts of the dancing mass. Perhaps he thought she just needed to get some air. But then why had he offered to sit down when she’d sneezed, yet insisted on finishing the dance when she’d excused herself?

Her thoughts were interrupted when she noticed Jermyn sitting at a table a few steps from her, in a clear line of sight. She was again close enough for her tin-enhanced ears to pick up on his conversation. She let out a long breath, grateful to have found him, but exhausted from the emotional tension. Her headache was getting worse.

“Is it bad?” the man asked while they danced.

Alsira met his gaze, confused.

“Your headache,” he said, “how bad is it?”

She lowered her eyes without responding. What had given it away? Thankfully, the dance was coming to an end, the music lifting to a crescendo. She was growing impatient to get away from this oddly perceptive and mysterious man. But as he lifted her arm above her head to help her spin, he said almost in a whisper, “you should probably take a break from burning tin.”

Her heart stopped, caught in her throat. She stood there, their hands interlink above her head, watching the man smile as if he’d just said the most innocuous thing.

And just then, someone to their left gasped. “The Survivor of Hathsin!”

The music stopped abruptly and everyone looked around, scared and confused. Alsira turned towards the origin of the scream and saw an obligator staring straight at them, his face contorted in a mixture of anger and fear. Spooked, Alsira took a step back and freed her hand from her partner’s. It was then that she noticed that the sleeve of his suit coat had slid up, and his arm was covered in thick, white scars.

She swallowed a gasp.

He smirked at her and said, “Run.”

So she ran.

 

 

The crowd moved like a swarm of bees, chaotic and noisy. Some attendees tried to flee the hall in fear, while others, more curious, came closer to gape at the scene. Soldiers had trouble getting to the man with the scars, fighting their way against the current.

Alsira slipped out of the moving crowd and made a beeline for the stairs, knowing that trying for the main doors was too dangerous. Obligators had seen her with the Survivor of Hathsin. They would suspect an affiliation.

She had heard rumors about the Survivor before. He was apparently part of a thieving crew from the skaa underworld, and had escaped after being captured by the Lord Ruler’s Ministry. But that was the extent of her knowledge about him.

Behind her, sounds of commotion echoed around the enormous hall. Metal clanged against metal, and Alsira couldn’t resist turning around before reaching the stairs. Flashes of swords sparked in the center of the crowd. What were the chances of this mysterious man surviving the assault?

A few soldiers suddenly broke out from the crowd, shoving people out of the way. The one at the front yelled, “Get the girl!” as they rushed towards her. Alsira’s veins filled with adrenaline. She kicked off her shoes, grabbed the skirt of her dress and climbed the stairs two at a time.

On the first floor, she took a left and ran down the empty walkway, then pushed through the first balcony door she saw. It was almost identical to the one she’d been on earlier, also covered in bushy brown vines. Grabbing the thick stalks, she slipped over the balustrade. Leaves scraped against her gown, branches tearing the expensive fabric as Alsira climbed down as quickly as possible. She burned her tin a little more and focused on sounds coming from the other side of the balcony door. As soon as she heard footsteps, she pushed herself into the vines and stopped moving. She was only about five feet from the balustrade, but the mists and the darkness draped over her like a cloak of invisibility.

Soldiers spilled onto the balcony.

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know! I can’t see anything in the mists.”

Alsira heard shuffling and boots crunching the rough ground of the balcony. She imagined them frantically looking over the balustrade, inspecting every corner. The tickle in her nose threatened to grow, but she didn’t want to extinguish her tin. She needed to hear what they were saying in case they spotted her.

“Do you think she’s a Lurcher? She could have flown out of here.”

Alsira held her breath. A Lurcher could easily fly off a balcony using iron to pull their body towards a nearby metal. If they believed that she possessed this type of Allomancy, their search was pointless; she’d be long gone.

“What metal could she have pulled on exactly?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a damned Allomancer, idiot.”

While they argued, Alsira struggled with the tickle. She wiggled her nose, hoping to abate the nagging itch. She wanted to pinch her nostrils shut, but her arms were already shaking from holding on to the vines for dear life. Freeing one hand to rub her nose would be too dangerous. She shut her eyes and focused on breathing as little as possible, through her mouth.

“It’s too late now anyway. We’ll never find her. Let’s get back to the hall.”

It was at this moment, of course, that her nose gave up the fight. Alsira took a shaky breath against her will, her nostrils flaring wide under the attack of a thousand prickles. She pushed her head deeper into the vines, hoping to muffle the sound as much as possible.

“Hh’nNGXSHhh!”

“What was that?”

Alsira clenched her teeth, her whole body tensing in fear. All of her muscles burned from supporting her weight and trying hard to keep the sneezes in. She didn’t know how much longer she would last.

There was a bit of shifting on the balcony. A small silence.

“We’re wasting our time. Let’s go, they’ll need our help with the Survivor.”

Alsira waited for them to leave and stayed a little longer, burning tin. When it seemed safe, she continued her descent, her body weak and shaking. As soon as she made it to the ground, she collapsed, taking deep, ragged breaths.

What had she gotten herself into?

 

 

Alsira trekked back to her neighborhood bare-footed. The night was quiet, as always, with only the mists for company. They swirled and shifted, trailing behind her as she walked. A thick layer of soot from the ashfalls covered the empty streets. Nobody cleaned the poor neighborhoods.

Feeling safer, she lowered her tin, leaving just enough to see through the blanket of the night. Her headache and sinus pain eased, but remained at the edge of her consciousness. Her gown was torn and dirty, her hair disheveled. An expensive dress ruined, an entire night wasted. All of this work for nothing. All because of the so-called “Survivor of Hathsin.”

She turned a corner, her fear morphing to anger, when she heard a voice to her left.

“Rough night?”

Alsira jumped. The man had appeared out of nowhere. He was standing a few feet from her, as if sprung from the mists, the same charming smile hanging on his lips.

The Survivor of Hathsin.

Alive.

 

 

Alsira shot the Survivor a resentful look and kept walking. She was in no mood to engage in conversation with the man who had ruined her contract, regardless of the fact that he had miraculously made it out alive from a keep full of soldiers. It had been a long night, and right now, all she wanted to do was to hide under her covers until the end of days.

The man, however, had another idea in mind.

“I’m glad you made it out safely,” he said, jogging behind her to catch up.

She bit her tongue, anger bubbling under her skin, threatening to explode if she uttered even a single word.

Her silence didn’t seem to phase him. “At least you can say that you attended the most interesting Venture ball of the year, although it isn’t a very difficult feat to achieve.”

A pause as they walked side by side, tension rising in Alsira’s chest.

“Not fond of confrontations, I presume?” he said.

Alsira stopped so abruptly that the man walked a few more steps before realizing she was no longer by his side. He turned, a flash of surprise on his usually composed face.

“Listen,” she hissed, her voice filled with poison, “I don’t know who you are and what, exactly, you survived, but you clearly want something from me, otherwise you wouldn’t know everything I’ve tried quite hard to keep secret.” Her voice rose rapidly in intensity. “But if you believe that potentially ruining my anonymity and almost getting me captured or killed is a great way to introduce yourself, I—“

She was interrupted by an urge to cough as the words tore through her throat, igniting a raw soreness that she hadn’t noticed yet. The man took a step towards her as if wanting to help, but she put up a hand to stop him.

“I’m fine. And I’m not interested in whatever you wanted from me, so leave me alone.” With that, she gathered the rest of her damaged skirt and dignity, and walked away.

The man didn’t follow this time, but after she took a few steps, she heard him say: “My name is Kelsier, Alsira. And I apologize for ruining your evening, but I’m prepared to pay twice what you were offered tonight if you agree to work on a job for me.”

His voice sounded sincere, a welcome departure from his earlier mocking tone. But she kept walking.

“Fine. Three times the pay. Final offer.”

Everyone has a price. And that night, Alsira found hers.

[Kiaory]

Not much to say here, except that this continues to be awesome. I love the way you work a variety of different sneezy scenarios into the plot.  

[Oolia]

Third part!

 

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Alsira and Kelsier walked along the empty streets, disturbing the milky mists as they went. The only sound for a while was Kelsier’s shoes hitting the cobblestones and echoing in the darkness.

“What happened to your shoes?” asked Kelsier, pointing towards Alsira’s bare feet. They peeked from underneath her dirty gown at every step, blackened by the soot.

She sniffed and kept looking straight ahead. “I would prefer that you focus on finding that elusive ‘private area’ you’ve been talking about rather than on the state of my feet.” She might have agreed to discuss the mysterious job he was willing to pay such a high sum for, but it didn’t mean that they were now friends. Although the promise of fifteen hundred boxings had been like a bucket of cold water on her fiery anger. She was, however, eager to go home and sleep off the headache.

She pointed towards a darkened factory in shambles, obviously abandoned. “Can’t we just talk over there? It seems fairly safe to me.”

Kelsier glanced at it without stopping, a dubious look on his face. “Thieves and homeless people often sleep in factories at night. I don’t want anyone to overhear us. Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

Silence settled between them again. Alsira cleared her sandpapery throat, dreaming of a sip of water.

Kelsier glanced sideways at her. “I’m impressed at how well you hid your true identity. I was expecting someone… quite different.”

Alsira smiled, looking down at the mists around her dress. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I was told you were a man. Pretty clever, I must say. It muddled my search quite a bit. I assume you get more business as a man than as a woman. But how do you do it? Are you conducting business through a third party? Aren’t you afraid they might reveal your identity?”

She scoffed. “Do you really expect me to reveal my secrets so easily?”

“Fair enough,” he said with a laugh.

They walked past a house in ruin, half-burned and split open. A few skaa were sleeping underneath what was left of the second floor.

“Why were you looking for me anyway?” Alsira asked, turning to look at Kelsier. “Surely I’m not the only Tineye in all of Luthadel?”

“No, but finding Allomancers without political or family ties to the Great Houses is increasingly difficult. And the ones who are neutral, such as you, do not have your level of expertise.” His voice grew soft, almost melancholic. “It’s quite fascinating that you are still not attached to one of the Houses.” He gestured towards the dilapidated buildings around them. “You live in poverty, even though you could easily get room and board in one of the best keeps of Luthadel in exchange for your services.”

Alsira diverted her eyes, expecting him to ask why. But he didn’t.

“There,” he said, pointing towards an old, unoccupied guard post close to the Luthadel perimeter wall. It was made of rough wood, about three stories high, and the only way to access it was through a worn ladder. “Let me check the surroundings to make sure it’s safe. I’ll meet you there.”

She heard the sound of a coin hitting the cobblestones, and all of a sudden, Kelsier flew upwards as if propelled by an incredibly strong current. She heard another coin drop, and saw him float down towards the ground, before he pushed himself up in an arc, going even higher. He disappeared into the darkness before she could say anything, and all that was left of him were cylinders of wispy mists sailing upwards where he once stood.

“Of course he’s a Coinshot,” Alsira mumbled. She had a hunch that he was an Allomancer—no mere mortal could have escaped Keep Venture alive—but she hadn’t been sure of what type. Coinshots were great at escaping dangerous situations, pushing on nearby metals to fly through the air; the exact opposite of Lurchers. They also excelled at trailing people from the rooftops, using coins to jump and travel faster.

Had he followed her without her knowing? Was that why he knew so much about her?

She pushed the thought out of her mind. Who was she to judge? She made boxings off of listening to people’s private conversations, after all. Still, it made her feel uneasy.

She walked towards the guard post, rubbing her nose. It had been tickling again, threatening to grow into more sneezes. Knowing she’d be alone for a bit, she flashed her tin to coax them out. The effect was intense and immediate. Her entire body shivered from the deep burning in her sinuses. She took a quivering, sharp breath, but managed to stifle most of the sneezes against her wrist. She didn’t want Kelsier to hear.

“Heh—NGXTSSHhh! Hhh’NGXSHhh… ‘NnGXTSHh—Ehh’TSSHhhh!”

She sniffed and groaned, feeling more congested than relieved. At least the tickle was gone for now. Her nose, already pink from the cold air, was now a deeper shade of red.

When she reached the structure, Kelsier was already at the top, smiling down at her. “Be careful with the ladder. It doesn’t look very sturdy.”

“This job better be worth it,” Alsira said, more to herself than anything. She was curious to hear what it entailed, and why Kelsier was taking so many precautions. She climbed the first few steps of the ladder, cursing at her gown and wishing she had thought of changing clothes at home before agreeing to this midnight walk. Thankfully, it was easier to grip the steps with her bare feet, but they were getting so cold and sore that she could barely feel them.

When she reached the top, she noticed that the last few steps were missing. Kelsier’s hand was already waiting for her, just within her reach. She looked up at his smiling face. “This can’t be safe,” she said.

He laughed and gestured for her to grab his hand. “Come on, I can pull you up.”

She hesitated. It wasn’t that she was afraid of heights, but the idea of quite literally putting her life in the hands of a stranger three stories above ground seemed risky.

“Trust me,” Kelsier said. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

What good was a promise from someone you didn’t even know? Especially when that someone was a thief by profession. But something compelled Alsira to reach out anyway. A sense of warmth and safety filled her entire body, and she felt Kelsier’s hand grab hers and pull her up as if she was a feather blowing in the wind. The strength with which he accomplished this feat was simply inhuman.

“Wait… Did you just burn pewter?” Kneeling on the wooden platform, she gaped at him. His mischievous smirk grew, and her stomach dropped.

Kelsier was a Mistborn.

Unlike Mistings, Allomancers who only possessed one power like Alsira, Mistborns had all of them. They could burn all known Allomantic metals, including pewter, which greatly increased physical abilities such as force and stamina.

And they could also burn brass to soothe away someone’s emotion. Like fear… or mistrust.

She stood up, her face burning with anger. “You soothed me so that I would take your hand!”

Kelsier raised both of his hands in defense. “It’s the first time I’ve used it on you.”

There was no way to tell if he was lying or not. Overwhelmed and dizzy, Alsira sat down at the edge of the platform and put her arms on the bottom railing, resting her forehead on top. She’d never met a Mistborn before. They were so rare that she sometimes thought of them as mythical creatures. And yet there was one standing right next to her.

“Promise me you’ll never use it on me again,” she said.

“What if I’m trying to save you and the only—“

She lifted her head and stared at him.

“Never.”

He nodded, his permanent, charming smile still painted on his lips. She was torn between finding it incredibly annoying and oddly pleasing.

Suddenly, her nose started burning again, as if irritated by the many strong emotions she’d been through. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips parted against her will. She buried her face in her hands, knowing she couldn’t fight it.

“Are you alright?” asked Kelsier as he crouched beside her.

Ignoring him, Alsira leaned forward on the railing for support, drawing a trembling breath behind the shield of her hands. “Eh’NTXSCHhh—‘nNTSCHhhew”. She didn’t move, feeling the itch build for yet another sneeze. “Hh... Hh... Ehh—TSSHHieew!”

“Blessings,” said Kelsier, his voice almost a murmur. He shrugged off his long coat and placed it on Alsira’s shoulders. It was warm and comforting, smelling faintly of firewood and moss. She lowered her hands and enveloped herself deeper into the coat.

“The mists seem friendly towards us Allomancers,” Kelsier said while sitting down next to her, “but you must be careful. They are cold and damp. If you don’t dress appropriately, you may fall ill.”

“Or have your soul stolen,” Alsira said, remembering what her dad used to say.

Kelsier chuckled. “Especially if you don’t wear shoes.”

She smiled and looked towards Luthadel’s perimeter wall, burning a little more tin to see further through the darkness and the mists. Mountains in the distance called her name. She longed to leave this city behind, filled with painful memories and loss. She felt the presence of the Lord Ruler, always, like a looming storm. Suffocating and threatening. In the name of the law, she was a noblewoman, but she was no more free than a skaa. No one was free in the Final Empire.

“Tell me about the job,” she said, turning to Kelsier.

He nodded. “There’s a young girl who needs our help. According to my sources, she’s trapped in a thieving crew.”

Alsira winced. She’d been part of a thieving crew when she was younger. After her father had died and the neighbors stopped feeding her out of pity, she started begging. Eventually, out of sheer will to survive, she started stealing. Only food at first; an apple from a merchant who wasn’t looking, scraps of meat kept for the dogs. Just a little something to calm her rumbling stomach. She eventually turned to pick-pocketing. As she grew older and wiser, she started collaborating with other beggars and devised more complex plans.

Her crew never got very big because skaa didn’t trust a noble-blooded thief, especially not a woman. They feared that she would turn them in to the Ministry and reap the reward. So she spent years thieving with a few other lost souls just like her, convincing herself that the rich noblemen they were stealing from deserved it. That they were simply righting an injustice that no one else cared to fix. Until one night, after a particularly risky job that yielded the highest sum they’d ever stolen, two of the members of her crew ran away with the haul.

She was angry at first, but eventually realized how cocky and greedy they had become. When had stealing for survival turned to stealing for the thrill, for the feeling of being alive? For revenge at no one in particular? She hated herself for turning into someone her dad would have disapproved of. Hadn’t he died trying to support her the right way, working thankless, back-breaking jobs to bring enough food for both of them? Jobs that would ultimately destroy his health and take him from her.

There was no justice in this world.

Kelsier interrupted her thoughts. “They’re using her as a slave, making her do all their bidding and beating her up when she speaks up. We need to get her out of there.”

“Let me guess. She will be of use to your own thieving crew, is that it?” said Alsira, her tone biting.

Kelsier frowned and his eyes turned to ice. “I hope you’re not implying that I would mistreat her in any way.”

“No, but she must be a powerful Allomancer for you to work so hard to save her. You need something from her. Nothing comes free in this world.”

Anger turned to sadness in Kelsier’s eyes. “I’m hurt that you think so little of me, Alsira. But that’s alright. We barely know each other after all. Yes, I would like for her to join my crew, but I have never forced anyone’s hand before, and I’m not going to start now.” He turned towards the wall, his jaw clenched. “My next plan isn’t about stealing some precious stockpile for the money, or even the glory. It’s bigger. Bigger than all of us.”

Alsira felt a pang of guilt. He seemed genuinely troubled and passionate about his cause. There was a hint of sadness in his words, as if he were hiding a certain heaviness behind his charming disposition.

“I’m not here to judge your intentions or convictions,” she said, sighing. “I just want to do the job.”

“Alsira, I want you to judge my intentions.”

She narrowed her eyes, staring at him. “What do you mean?”

“I want you to join my crew. And—“

Alsira lifted her hand, interrupting him. “No, Kelsier. I’m not joining anything. I’m done playing thief, or noblewoman, or anything else. It’s not for me.”

She didn’t even want to hear about Kelsier’s cause, or what his overarching plan was, or what wrong he thought he could right. The mere idea of it depressed her. Thieves and aristocrats were locked in a constant, pointless battle between skaa and noblemen, without any regards for individuals. Each side believed in their truth and fought for it, but the status quo was never broken. None of it mattered. Ash still fell from the sky, mists still roamed the night. The city was still a soot-covered prison, where puppets played pretend under the watchful eye of the eternal master.

And she belonged nowhere.

“Alsira…”

“Just tell me what you need me to do tomorrow, and I will accomplish it in exchange for the sum you promised.”

Kelsier sighed. “Fine. We’ll keep it at that for tonight, but I’m not giving up so easily.”

Alsira rolled her eyes and sniffed. “Your arrogance knows no bounds.”

“So I’ve heard,” he said with a smirk.

Alsira crinkled her nose, annoyed as another itch developed high in her sinuses. Her nostrils flared urgently. “Hhh...” She lifted a finger towards Kelsier. “Ehh... Hh...” Eyes half-closed, lips parted, she froze for a few, long seconds before the tickle finally triggered the first sneeze. “Ehh’ITSSHHhh!” She bent lightly forward, catching her nose into her cupped hands, then dissolved into another set of tired sneezes. “EHh’NNTSShh… Hhh… ehh’NNTSshhew—NNTSshhheew...”

“Oh dear,” murmured Kelsier, “you do not sound well at all, Alsira. Blessings again.”

Alsira sniffed wetly, embarrassed. “This is why I don’t normally meet face to face with my requesters.”

Kelsier laughed and handed her a delicate white handkerchief. She took it, surprised that he would own such a frilly piece of cloth. She noticed House Elariel’s crest embroidered in the corner. “Kelsier!”

“What? I thought you might need it, so I borrowed it on my way out of Keep Venture.” He smiled again, and she wondered if he ever stopped smiling. “Don’t worry, they have plenty. I’m sure they won’t miss this one.”

She folded the soft cloth over her nose as she hitched for one last sneeze. “Hh... Ehh—ITSCHhh!”

Kelsier readjusted the long coat on Alsira’s shoulders. “Are you sure you will be well enough for the job tomorrow?” His eyes were filled with worry. “I wouldn’t want to endanger you again.”

Alsira wiped her nose daintily with the handkerchief. “I simply need a good night’s rest. Don’t worry about me.”

Kelsier nodded. “Well, let’s not delay any longer then.”

As she listened to Kelsier’s plan for the morning, feeling him so close to her, warmth emanating from his body, she longed to put her aching head on his shoulder. This fleeting thought frightened her. She leaned away from him and peaked her tin for a few seconds. Her headache and sore throat flared, dissipating the haze that was clouding her judgment.

Tomorrow, she would be even closer to her goal. Soon, she’d have enough boxings to pay for her travels and survive a long trip to the far dominance.

There was no time for weakness

[Blah!?]

God I can't believe it took me so long to get to this. No point whining about that now though, since now that I have gotten here, I have to say I'm enjoying it a lot! I really don't know anything about the Mistborn series, but even with virtually no knowledge of the source material this has still been extremely easy to get into. I have a pretty clear picture of the world and how the magic works, and I feel like I have a good understanding of this character who I assume must be from the books. Alsira is great as an original protagonist too. I just want to give her a hug.

Anyway, I'm sure there will be more, so I'm really looking forward to seeing how this job of theirs goes off. The sneezing while hiding scene in part 2 was easily one of my favorite moments, so I hope there'll be more like that in the future!

[Oolia]

Alsira stood at the corner of a busy street. Morning light barely filtered through the thick clouds, and after a respite of less than two days, ash fell from the sky in thick, lumpy flakes. Skaa workers were already sweeping what had accumulated overnight. Merchants admonished them for sending soot on their wares, and then turned around with a smile to welcome browsing noblemen.

But Alsira wasn’t here to shop. She had been instructed by Kelsier the night before to follow a group of thieves and the promising young girl. Using tin, she was to listen to every word they would say on their way to the Canton of Finance, and report it to Kelsier. A simple job on a normal day. But today, Alsira was not feeling well.

There was no denying that she was under the weather. Her throat was sore and raw, her sinuses were heavy and swollen. Chills blew across her back despite the long, heavy cloak she’d adorned. She’d chosen it mostly for the hood, to hide her face, but also in an effort to warm up. At least she could wear trousers this time.

She watched the group turn the corner and followed closely in the shadows. There were about half a dozen of them, one dressed like a rich nobleman, the others like servants. A classic. She’d even used this tactic once with her own thieving crew. It was easier to convince a victim to trust you if you had plenty of servants, tricking them into thinking that you were rich and powerful. But Alsira didn’t quite understand why the group was headed to a Ministry building. It seemed like an incredibly risky move, willfully entering a building full of Obligators to accomplish a thieving job.

She wondered what their plan was. Unfortunately, so far none of them had uttered a word, and Kelsier had refused to tell her what he knew exactly. It was clear that he was testing her. This was a trial run to see if she could be trusted. Perhaps he would hire her again if she did well.

She sniffed, trying to keep her runny nose in check, but it only exacerbated the tickle that had been plaguing her since the night before. She constantly had to readjust the amount of tin she was burning to avoid sneezing, while still keeping an enhanced ear on the group. An exhausting task, to say the least.

She walked a little faster to catch up with the crew. The young girl was trailing behind a little, giving Alsira a clear view of her back. Her shoulders were hunched as if she were trying to crumple into a ball of paper and disappear. Her footsteps were light, and Alsira could tell the girl was used to tip-toeing around, making herself invisible. At one point, she turned her head to the side, and Alsira’s stomach dropped. A large bruise covered the side of the young girl’s face.

Alsira didn’t need to ask herself what could have happened to her. It was obvious. Anger rose in her stomach. That poor girl never stood a chance. Hopefully Kelsier’s plan was ironclad, and by tonight, the girl would be safe.

In the meantime, Alsira had to play her part.

Up ahead, a merchant beckoned. “Sir, would you like a taste of the best apples in the land? They come straight from the farms south of Luthadel. Freshest apples you will ever taste.” Alsira shook her head no, keeping her head down to hide her face under her hood. He insisted. “Give it a try sir, just one bite. I promise they are the sweetest thing you’ll have in your life.”

Alsira’s nose twitched under the intensity of a new prickle. She kneaded her nose with her knuckle, but it kept rising like a burning tide. The merchant’s voice shrilled in her head as she tried to fight the sneezes, but it was too much.

“Ehh’NGXXTShhh!” She stumbled forward with the force of the sneeze, and locks of her long dark hair fell out of the hood. Before she could react, her head tipped with another sharp inhale, and she leaned forward again “EH’NTTSSshhew—Hhh’ISSHHhh!”

 “Lord Ruler! You’re a lady!” said the merchant, befuddled. “Now why would you wear men’s clothing in the streets like that? Are you a thief?” His voice rose with panic, and heads started turning to gawk. Alsira glanced at the group she was following. They were close enough to hear. This was not good.

She ducked in a side alley, walking faster to get away from the riled up merchant. Thankfully, no one followed her. She flared her tin, enduring the flash of pain in both her throat and her sinuses. She had to keep an ear on the group to know where they were going, now that she couldn’t see them. Even the pattern of their footsteps would be enough for her to locate them. As expected, the tin enhanced the damning tickle, and she launched into another fit, pinching her nose almost shut.

“Hh’NGXSH! Hh... NGXSHhh! Hhh’GXSShhh!”

Her sinuses throbbed under the pressure, but she kept walking. She eventually reached a crossroad and saw the group pass by in the street parallel to the alley. Rearranging her hair under the cloak, she slipped back behind them, a fair distance away.

Hopefully this will be the only crisis of the job, she thought. After the previous night’s disaster, luck had to be on her side.

 

 

The Ministry’s Canton of Finance was a towering, blocky structure with a large rose window in the front. Like all Ministry buildings, it inspired authority and austerity. Alsira hated walking near any of them, often going out of her way to avoid them. Today, the building looked even more gloomy under the heavy sheets of gray ashfall.

And the thieving crew was heading straight towards it.

Alsira watched from afar. The young girl’s stiff movements gave away her anxiety. The other crew members were playing their part a lot more naturally. One of the “servants” from the group even opened the door to the “nobleman,” and they all filtered in. When the large, heavy door closed behind them, Alsira sighed in frustration.

Not a word. They had said nothing the entire way there. What was she going to say to Kelsier? What if he refused to pay her in the absence of any new information?

She sniffed, thick congestion barely shifting in her nose. Her face felt heavy and warm, and all she wanted to do was to go back to bed. Tell Kelsier about what happened and move on. Maybe get better before taking on anymore contracts. But she couldn’t deny being intrigued by the girl. Partly to know why Kelsier was so interested in her, but also to make sure that he would get her out of this dangerous, toxic crew.

She waited outside ten, fifteen minutes, thinking that she could trail them on the way back. They would certainly talk about what had happened in there. But who knew how long it would be? And judging by how silent they were, she had the distinct impression that they had been instructed not to talk in case a Tineye like her was listening. It would be a waste of time.

She bit her lower lip. If she picked up the conversation between the crew and the Obligators inside, she would certainly hit the goldmine of information. Surely it would be worth her time, and the boxings Kelsier had offered her. But last night, Kelsier had warned her not to go in. “It’s too dangerous,” he’d said. “All I want is an ear to follow the group until their meeting with the Ministry.”

But she didn’t need to go too deep inside the building. Maybe stick around the entryway, act like she’s waiting for someone else. A quick peek wouldn’t hurt. If things turned sour, she could just turn around and leave.

She hesitated, one foot towards the tall structure. She thought about the girl and the bruise, then lowered the hood over her eyes and crossed the blackened street.

 

 

Alsira pushed the heavy door, her head throbbing from the effort. A few people milled around the extended entry way, which allowed her to slip in without having to state her business. The Obligator behind the desk was already busy with someone else anyway. She moved closer to the wall on the left, admiring a religious painting. “The Lord Ruler defeating the Deepness,” a small sign said at the bottom. It wasn’t much more than a huge canvas covered in swirls of black and dark gray.

The crew was nowhere to be seen. They had probably been taken to the room beyond, perhaps even further in the building. If they were in an office, Alsira doubted her tin would pick up their conversation, even at full capacity. With a little luck, they were close enough for her plan to work.

She burned her tin, scanning voices in the room. She jumped from conversation to conversation, trying to pick out something that would indicate a thieving crew. Suddenly, her stomach dropped. She recognized Kelsier’s voice.

“How about some of these cakes? Are you sure you don’t want any, Doc?” It had the same goofiness and charm, the same warmth that contrasted with the seriousness of the situation. Judging from the distance and direction of the voice, he was in the room next to the entry way, accompanied by an acolyte.

“Kelsier, sit down, I think they’re about to—“Kelsier’s friend stopped talking abruptly. Alsira looked up towards the door near the Obligator’s desk, and sure enough, the thieving crew appeared. She turned around, afraid of making eye contact with any of them. She burned her tin brighter, feverishly trying to capture both Kelsier and the crew’s voices at the same time.

“Well, what do you think?” said Kelsier’s friend in the other room.

“Here is the contract,” said the thief dressed as a nobleman, standing in front of a scribe at the other end of the entry way.

“About the girl, Kell,” the friend said.

Next to Alsira, two people started arguing and she lost her concentration. Her chest tightened, sweat forming at the back of her neck. She was losing control of the situation, and in retaliation, she burned her tin even more. The knock back hit her hard, voices becoming too loud, sharp pain poking at every angle, light bursting bright.

And her nose was suddenly assaulted by an unimaginably deep prickle.

She pinched her nostrils so hard that her ears popped. Kelsier’s voice broke through the cloud of panic. He was a little way behind her, telling a scribe that he was going to reschedule. Alsira’s heart boomed through her entire body. She kept her nose pinched, her head low facing the wall, and prayed that Kelsier wouldn’t notice her.

The tickle proved to be too much. She bobbed her head forward, holding her breath in, fighting against the force of the sneeze with all her might. No sound escaped her mouth. Behind her, she felt the presence of Kelsier and his acolyte as they walked out of the building.

He hadn’t seen her. But the relief was short-lived. The tickle, as if angry to have been stifled so efficiently, returned with a vengeance. It gripped her entire body. Her lip quivered and her nose scrunched up, as if with a mind of their own. She had no control over her hitching breaths, her head tilting back so far that her hood slipped off. This time, the sneezes would not be quieted.

“EHH’NTSSSHhh!” She heard it echo in the room, but could not react. The itch was too powerful, a river of prickles rushing through her sinuses, demanding all of her attention. She was reduced to a quivering mess, crumpling forward with the next sneezes. “EH’TSSCHHIIEEW! ‘NNTSSHHIIEEW! Ehh… EH’TSCHIIEW!”

Once she was done, Alsira swayed, cold sweat breaking on her skin. She could practically feel everyone’s eyes locked on her, the room silent save for a few murmurs. She looked up to see an obligator motioning in her direction, whispering to two guards. Her heart missed a beat. She turned around and pushed the door, slipping out the building.

Walking stiffly away, she glanced back a few times. The two soldiers were following her, their armor clanking as they walked. The sound was menacing. She turned the first corner she reached, hoping she was imagining things. But they were still there. Walking, as if they had been instructed not to make a scene.

She knew it would look even more guilty, but she couldn’t help it. She started running, and so did the soldiers. They were definitely chasing her.

But this time, there would be no mists to hide in

[Oolia]

Alsira ran through the streets, her chest tight and her breath short. She weaved around carts and vagrants, cutting through small alleys to lose her assailants, to no avail. Burning tin, she could hear their metallic footfalls following her everywhere she darted. Her energy was running out fast. Soon, they would catch up to her. Even though they were slowed by heavy armor, Alsira was too sick to overrun them, and she knew it.

Ash kept pouring from the sky. She’d hoped it would impede the soldier’s vision, but it also allowed them to track her by following her foot prints in the fresh soot. She needed a new strategy.

She ran until she saw a large abandoned factory at the end of a narrow street. Its walls were rotting, cracks showing through the black-stained wood. Windows had been barred, glassless, like the empty eyes of a mistwraith.

Alsira ran faster, pushing her body to the limits. She reached the building in a matter of seconds and rushed to one of the windows. The wood used to bar it was frayed and decomposing. She quickly climbed the windowsill and grabbed on to the wood plank, pulling with all her weight. It gave out with a loud crack, and Alsira fell to the ground. Although it wasn’t a very high distance, she accidentally landed on her ankle. Pain seared from her foot to her stomach. She extinguished her tin, gasping in agony, but got back on her other leg without a pause. She heaved herself through the window, this time landing carefully on the other side.

The inside of the building was dark and dusty, smelling like mold and wet wood. Alsira limped towards the window directly on the other side of the building, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. The room she had landed in was large. Massive stone forges lay dormant against the back wall, surrounded by web-covered anvils. It was an old blacksmith factory.

She reached the window, this one barred only by one wooden plank just high enough to slip through underneath. She was about to do so when she noticed skaa workers clearing the ashfall on the street outside. There would be no way for the soldiers to tell if she had walked on that side of the building or not.

She looked down at her swollen ankle. She wouldn’t go very far if she tried to run. Her heart was beating in her head, adrenaline rushing with every thump. There was only one other option.

She burned her tin to locate the soldiers. They were still outside, close to the building, but they were no longer running. Either they were carefully following her foot prints, or they were afraid that she was planning an ambush.

Alsira looked around the room for a place to hide. A stack of crates were piled near the forges. She hobbled over the first one that seemed big enough for her. Panic rose in her throat as the soldiers got closer and closer to the window she’d broken open. She pushed the heavy lid off of the crate, a cloud of dust engulfing her as it slid to the side. Her head jerked instinctively out of the way, but it was too late. Her nose had gotten a good gush of it. She could smell its strong scent of dry dirt and decay.

It was filled about halfway with old pieces of leather. She grabbed of few of the top pieces and crawled into the crate, then arranged the leather on top of herself. Her nose twitched as it began to run even more than earlier, irritated by the dust. She breathed through her mouth, afraid of setting off a sneeze if she tried to sniff.

When she heard the soldiers climb inside the building, she held her breath. Every fiber of her being tensed in fear.

“Over there! She must have run through the window on the other side.”

Their footsteps jogged to the middle of the room before the second soldier stopped. “What if she’s hiding here?”

The first one stopped as well. “Fine. Let’s take a quick look around.”

Alsira’s heart stopped. She followed the sound of their movements as they walked around the building. A tickle suddenly fired in her nose. Then another, and another. A firework of prickles came to life, lighting up in her sinuses. She shut her eyes and slowly brought her hands to her face to pinch her nostrils.

After a few minutes, one of the soldiers wandered over to the pile of crates where Alsira was hiding. Holding her breath and fighting the urge to sneeze, she silently prayed to the Lord Ruler, hoping he wouldn’t rummage around too much. What would she even do if they found her? She had no weapon to fight back.

“We’ve already wasted enough time,” said the other soldier now standing in the middle of the room. His voice was dripping with annoyance. “She has to have left through that window. The more we stay here, the farther she will be when we get out there.” He started walking towards it, but the second soldier didn’t follow.

Alsira’s nose was burning, her lungs threatening to suck in a deep breath in preparation for a sneeze.

“Listen, if you want to stay here and inspect every damned cracks and corners of the room, be my guest. But you will be the one answering to the High Prelan when he wants to know why we couldn’t catch this harmless woman. TWICE.” The first soldier walked to the window, cracked the wooden plank barring it and heaved himself on the other side.

Alsira was losing the battle against the tickle. Tears overflowed from her closed eyes. She took a tentative breath through her mouth, but could barely keep it from hitching, desperately trying to maintain control of her rebelling body.

Finally, after a few eternal seconds, the second soldier followed the first one, jumping through the window and out of the building.

Alsira waited for as long as she could, until the gates gave way and the flood of sneezes poured out.

“Hhh’ISSHHhh—IISSSHhhew—TSShheew!” She emerged from the leather piled upon her, bending forward with each sneeze. They were coming on fast, one after another, riding on the same breath. After the first rapid-fire triple, she gasped for air before the next wave overtook her. “Hh’NNTSShh—Eh’ISSHhhew! Eehh’NNTSshh—IIISSHhh—IISSHhh—IIIISHhhheeew!”

When the tickle finally abated, she laid back down in the crate, shivering from fear, cold and exhaustion. Her ankle felt like a ball of fire. Her head was throbbing. Her throat was screaming raw. She slid her hand under her cloak and retrieved the handkerchief Kelsier had stolen for her the night before. She wiped her nose and tried not to cry. How had she gotten herself in so much trouble again? She didn’t even know how she would get back to the dilapidated room she called “home.”

Suddenly, she heard movements at the window again. She stopped moving, her eyes wide, her skin cold and clammy. They must have figured out she was still in here.

“Alsira?” whispered a voice. “Are you there?”

It was Kelsier.

 

 

Alsira groaned and sat up in the crate. “Over here.” Her voice was nothing but a raspy squeak. Kelsier was at her side in a flash, holding her hand to help her get out from her hiding spot.

“Oh Alsira…” he murmured, his words dripping with concern. “I’m so sorry. I saw you run away from the soldiers, but the High Prelan sent a Steel Inquisitor after the girl. I had to take care of it before coming to your aid.”

Alsira shivered in terror at the mere mention of a Steel Inquisitor. She had only seen one in her lifetime, but the image was forever burned in her memory. The large metal spikes piercing their eye sockets were enough to give even the bravest knights nightmares. “Is she alright?”

Kelsier dusted off Alsira’s cloak, smiling. “She’s fine for now. I distracted him and he lost her trail.” He pointed at Alsira’s leg. “You’re not putting weight on your foot. Did you hurt yourself?”

Alsira nodded, but a fierce tickle prevented her from answering. Her nostrils quivered, and she turned her head to the side, giving herself fully to the sneeze. She was too exhausted to hold it in. “Hh... Ehh’IIISSHHeew!” She dipped foward into the release, barely catching the sneeze in her elbow. Kelsier put a hand on her back and pulled her towards him to prevent her from falling backward into the crate.

Still in the midst of her fit, Alsira covered her nose with both her hands and leaned on his chest. “Ehh’TSSHhiiew—TSShhhew…” Each sneeze pressed her body forward against Kelsier’s torso, but he didn’t move, supporting her weight as she hitched helplessly. “Hhh... Hh... Ehh... IIIISSHHHEEW!”

When she was done, she noticed that Kelsier had placed his other arm around her, holding her in a tight hug. It felt nice. Safe. She stayed there a little longer than she should have. Burning a light tin, she listened to his heart beating. All she wanted was to fall asleep right there in his arms.

Kelsier broke the silence. “You really don’t sound good, Alsira.” His voice was gentle, as if she were made of thin crystal, ready to crack at the slightest breeze. “I’m sorry I sent you on this mission. I should have waited for you to get better.”

Alsira lifted her head and took a step back. Kelsier let her go, but stayed close in case she needed support. “So you really didn’t need me to spy on them today.” It was more of a fact than a question. “I must have failed your test, then.”

Kelsier laughed. “Not at all. I’m looking for people who are passionate, skilled and hardworking. You were able to lose those soldiers all by yourself, without even fighting, which is quite impressive. But I never want my crew members to put themselves in danger.” His voice turned serious, concerned. “As much as this proves me that you have a thick skin, I don’t want you to ever do this again. If you don’t feel well, let me know.”

She scoffed, which turned into a small cough. “I never said I would join your crew. In fact, I’m pretty sure I said I wanted nothing to do with it.”

“Alsira, your first concern when I found you here was the girl. You care about her. You don’t know her, but you’ve seen what they’ve done to her. It affects you. It tears you up inside because she’s the embodiment of injustice. No matter how much you refuse to admit it, you do want to fight against all that is wrong in this world.”

She clenched her teeth, a look of defiance in her eyes. “You don’t know anything about me. I did this job for the boxings, that’s all. Unless you’ve discovered a new, rare alloy that lets you read my mind, you don’t know what’s going on inside my head. How dare you say that—ehhh… I’m—eehh… Eehh’NNTShhhew!”

Kelsier held her by the elbow. He slipped another stolen Venture handkerchief in her hand, and she buried her face in it, her nose flaring and her lips quivering. “IIIH’TSShhh—Eh’NTSsshhew!” Kelsier put a comforting hand on her back as she tipped her head back, preparing for one last sneeze. “Hhh—IIIH’TSSshhew!”

“I may not know exactly what you’re thinking, but I know that you are in no condition to stand here and argue. Let me take you to my crew’s hideout. It’s safe, warm, and we have a bed waiting for you.”

Alsira wiped her nose, her brows furrowed. It was rather appealing, but it also meant that they would be on his territory. He’d have more power over her, and she didn’t want that to happen. She didn’t want to be convinced to join him. She was so close to her dream of starting anew, alone and far from here.

But why did it sound so unsatisfying now?

Did she just need to rest?

“Listen,” said Kelsier, crouching slightly to meet her eyes. “Just one night. Let me repay you for the danger I’ve put you through today. One night to rest. In the morning, you can leave, and we’ll never have to speak again.”

A long silence. Then she nodded.

[Oolia]

The home was empty when Kelsier let Alsira in. Everyone was waiting at another location for an official meeting with the new recruit. Kelsier helped her upstairs to the guest bedroom and brought her water, then promised to come back soon after the meeting. She fell asleep almost immediately, blissfully snuggled under the cover next to a roaring fire.

When she woke up, night had fallen. Mists swirled outside the window, as if trying to peer in and make sure Alsira was alright.

“Hey,” said Kelsier. He was sitting near the bed, worry lines etched on his face. “How are you feeling?”

A drowsy smile touched her lips. She was still half-asleep, basking in the glow of the warm fire. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was. “I’m alright.” Instinctively, she started burning tin to gain a better understanding of the room and look for any threats. She whimpered as pain flared in her throat and ankle.

“Hey, hey,” said Kelsier as he slid his chair closer to the bed. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t use tin. I know it’s hard when you’re in an unfamiliar place, but you’re safe here. You need to rest your body; don’t push it.”

She extinguished her metal reluctantly. It felt eerie. Light dimmed in the small, cozy room. The orange glow of the fire cast threatening shadows on the walls, and sounds appeared muffled, as if she had cotton in her ears. It made her feel uneasy, but Kelsier was right. It was time for a rest. She was almost out of tin anyway; better to keep it for an emergency.

“Here, drink some water,” Kelsier said, handing her a mug. When she sat up, congestion shifted in her nose and triggered a tickle. She lifted her finger, drawing a trembling breath. Her nostrils flared, her eyes shut halfway. Kelsier grabbed a handkerchief from the nightstand and slid it in her hand. She placed it over her nose just in time, her upper body folding on her lap with the force of the sneeze. “Eehh’IITTSSshhh…” She straightened up, only to crumple into another sneeze right away. “IIITSSSHHEeew!” She stayed down this time, handkerchief securely over her nose, until the itch peaked again. “Hhh… Hh’GNXSShhhew!”

“Blessings, Alsira,” Kelsier murmured as she sat up. His eyes swept over her face in scrutiny, no doubt taking note of her glazed eyes, her red nose, her pale skin. “You are so sick.” He sighed. “I can’t believe I sent you on this mission. I probably made it worse.”

She wiped her nose and shook her head. “You couldn’t have known. I wasn’t so ill yesterday.” She noticed the crest on the handkerchief. “How many of these did you steal, Kelsier?”

He chuckled. “I went to Keep Venture after tonight’s meeting to get you more. They’re the softest in all of Luthadel. I think they get their cotton from farms in the North.”

Alsira’s eyes opened wide. “Why would you do such a dangerous thing?”

“Not to worry, I frequently visit them without their knowledge. What good are my Mistborn powers if I can’t have a little fun at their expense?” He offered her the mug again. She took a sip, thankful to wet her parched, burning throat.

“Is the young girl officially part of your crew?”

“Barely, but yes, Vin joined our family. Probably more out of necessity than will, I’m sad to say. I’m hoping to change that. I suspect it will take some time to get her to trust us.” He set the mug on the nightstand. “But with you, I feel like it’s not a question of trust.”

Alsira rolled her eyes. “I thought I was in no condition to argue tonight.”

Kelsier chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Even under the weather, you have quite the sharp tongue.”

She repressed a laugh. “And you always manage to take everything with a smile. How can you be so positive in such a grim world?”

“As I always say, laughter is the only thing the Lord Ruler cannot take from me.”

There it was again. A ghost of sadness under the grin, a crack in his confidence. She wondered what had happened to him in the Pits of Hathsin. How had he ended up there, and how had he managed to get out? It was easy to guess why he had become a thief in the first place. Her own story repeated in most criminals of the underworld. In its broad strokes, it was always a tale of survival, and then revenge. She’d gone through the same emotions after her father had died, but the revenge she was seeking was too broad. It had changed nothing. She was still bitter. And angry.

And lonely.

“I know you don’t hold thieves very dear to your heart, Alsira, but I believe the job we’re about to do would align perfectly with your views.”

She wasn’t sure if this was a trick to convince her to join, but she was intrigued. She sniffed wetly and rubbed her itchy, irritated nose. “What sort of job are w—we… ehh… talking ab—Ehh’TSSHheew!”

She muffled another set of sneezes in the handkerchief.

“Blessings, my dear. Maybe we should talk about it in the morning. You need rest.”

Alsira shot him a death glare. “No, you can’t do this. You can’t just pester me about your cause all night and… ehh—Eehh’IIITSSHhhh!... Excuse me. And keep me waiting when I finally want to hear about it.”

He smiled. “Fine. If your nose cooperates, I will tell you. Not that I mind your adorable sneezes, of course. Has anyone told you how noble-like they are?”

She ignored his mocking comment. “Spill it, thief.”

Kelsier stood and walked to the balcony door in a dramatic gesture that would have looked ridiculous, if it weren’t for his charm and graceful manners. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the skaa rebellion?”

Alsira nodded. Another one of the many organizations in the skaa underworld, but the only one with altruistic motives. The only problem was, they were disorganized and ineffective. Most of the skaa that weren’t brainwashed into submission turned to thievery to survive. Few had the energy to fight for their rights, or even believe they had any.

“They’ve hired us to overthrow the Final Empire.”

 

 

 

Alsira laughed when Kelsier said it. Overthrowing the Lord Ruler sounded ridiculous. Impossible. He’d told her to sleep on it, unfazed by her mockery. As if he was so sure of his plan that it didn’t matter if people ridiculed him.

It was now a few hours later. She’d dozed off for half an hour or so, but her mind was racing. She tossed and turned in bed, mulling it over. What if it was possible to take down the Lord Ruler? What if he knew something nobody else did?

She pushed down the covers and slid out of bed, fighting the rush of dizziness as she stood and the searing pain in her ankle. The fire crackled in the corner. The night was quiet. She burned tin, locating voices downstairs. Kelsier and his crew, perhaps. She didn’t try to make out words. It would take too much tin, and she had so little left.

Alsira hobbled to the balcony door and pushed it open. It creaked, revealing a small deck surrounded by iron railings, bathing in the mists. She stood inside, looking at the smoky tendrils wafting towards her, unable to cross the threshold. Mists never came inside, for mysterious reasons.

She stepped outside, her arms crossed over her chest, shivering as the cold breeze and the mists drifted across her skin. She was only wearing a thin nightgown that Kelsier had fetched for her. Or probably stolen. She didn’t want to know.

The cold made her congested nose run. When she sniffled, a tickle ignited, but she did not fight it. Knowing she was alone, she let it consume her until nothing else existed but the urgent need to sneeze. She tipped her head back, her nostrils quivering under the assault. “Eehh’IITTSHiiieww…” She bent forward slightly with the force of the release. She took a few, shaky breaths again, knowing there would be more. There were always more. “Hh… Ehh… Eehh’IITTSHiiieww! IIITSSCHhhew… ‘NTSSHhhiiew!”

She straightened up, sniffling, watching her foggy breath mix with the mists. Ash had stopped falling, and the sky was in a rare, almost clear state. Alsira burned a little more tin. Tiny lights appeared through the wispy clouds, jewels glittering in the night sky. It was a rare treat that only Tineyes and Mistborns were privy to, since they were not visible to the naked eye.

She heard footsteps behind her. Kelsier appeared with a thick blanket, placing it on her shoulders.

“Blessings.”

She smiled. “Burning tin, are you?” Only tin enhanced ears would have heard her from Kelsier’s previous location downstairs.

He shrugged. “When are we not?” He joined her, leaning on the railing and looking up. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

Alsira didn’t respond. Silence settled between them as they marveled at the sky. After a few minutes, Alsira lowered her eyes to look at Kelsier. He seemed so calm, in control. As if he owned the night, the mists, the sky. She couldn’t help but feel safe around him. Could she trust him to bring in a new era, after thousands of years of the Lord Ruler’s reign?

But what did she have to lose anyway? Shouldn’t she try to change the world for the better if she was so unhappy with it? What if she didn’t find solace in living alone somewhere deep in the far dominance? What if her dream was only a mirage that would dissolve as soon as she reached it?

What if she didn’t really want to be alone?

Kelsier broke the heavy silence. “Do you ever wonder if there is more?”

“More than what?”

He gestured towards the streets below. “Than this. Mists, ashfalls. Darkness. Death.”

“It’s hard to imagine anything else.”

“Even when you see this?” he asked, pointing to the lights in the sky. “The world used to be different. I know it.”

He turned to Alsira, looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “You look so much like her.” His voice was heavy, sad.

“Who?” asked Alsira, barely breathing, afraid the moment would shatter.

“Someone I loved.”

“Did she believe in you?”

Kelsier looked away, as if the question had burned him. “I like to think that she did.”

“Would she have believed in your plan?”

Kelsier stood still for a moment, surrounded by mists shifting and rolling, like milk in a cup of tea. “Yes, she would have.”

Alsira nodded, then shivered. Kelsier came closer to her and readjusted the blanket. “You shouldn’t be out here in the cold.”

As if to prove him right, Alsira’s nose twitched. Kelsier looked on as she buried her face in the blanket. Her sensitive, chapped nostrils flared against the soft fabric, exarcerbating the tickle. “Hh… Hh!” She hitched for a few seconds before giving in. “Eehh’NGXSHhh!” Her breath caught in her throat again, and she dipped forward with a fierce double sneeze. “Iiih’NGXSHheew—NGXSHhh!”

Kelsier placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you back in bed.” He supported her weight as she limped to the bed. While she slid under the cover, he closed the door to the balcony and added a log in the fire, then sat at her bedside.

“We need you, Alsira. We need your help to find skaa willing to join our ranks in the far dominance.” He pulled the blanket closer to her chin, covering her shoulders. “You won’t have to stay in Luthadel.”

Alsira nodded, drowsiness spreading through her body, warmth lulling her to sleep.

“I’ll be right here,” Kelsier whispered. “You’re safe.”

 

 

Alsira woke up in the darkness, confused and disoriented. She sat up in bed, her head swimming, her throat on fire. She looked around the empty room, burning tin. The fire was reduced to a few dying coals. Kelsier’s chair was empty, almost as if she had dreamed of his presence. She could hear no sounds coming from downstairs.

A crushing feeling of loneliness expanded in her chest until she could no longer breathe.

She untangled herself from the covers, her body wracked with shivers. Her skin felt hot and cold at the same time. What was she even doing here? Her mind was spinning, making it hard for her to focus on her dizzying thoughts. How could she have fallen for Kelsier’s charm, almost convincing her to join his crew? Had he been using zinc or brass to manipulate her emotions? He had promised he wouldn’t, but what good was a thief’s promise?

Fear weaved its tendrils around her throat. She needed to get out.

Bursts of light appeared in her peripheral vision as she stood up. She held on to the nightstand until they cleared, and set about finding her clothes. They had been folded neatly and placed on a chest near the window. Her shivering body was desperately calling for warmth. She dressed as quickly as possible, disappointed to find the clothes even colder than the room. She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering.

Her head felt cloudy, floating. Burning.

She opened the door to her room and listened with tin. The house creaked and ticked, the wind howled at the windows, someone snored in a bedroom near. But no movements. No one was awake. She limped out of the house as quietly as possible, relieved when the mists welcomed her back as soon as she stepped foot outside.

She didn’t know where she was, but she started walking, letting the night guide her through the empty streets. Her ankle had gotten a bit better after keeping off of it, but she couldn’t walk very fast. And her tin was about to run out. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to see through the mists, but surely she would find somewhere to hide until the morning. Then she would get home, grab the little box in which she’d hidden her boxings, and leave Luthadel for good.

This had been the plan all along, and she would stick to it.

Her nose protested the coldness. A tickled brewed deep inside, and she wandered close to a house, using the wall for support. She didn’t even have the energy to hitch, letting the burning sensation take over until there was no choice but to surrender. “Hhh’ETSSHhhh…” But the itch remained, torturing her, hungry for more sneezes. “Iiihh’TSShhh…” Each of them sounded more tired than the other, echoing into the night. “Eh’NTSSHheew—TSSHhhew…”

She wiped her nose on her sleeve, her head throbbing. She kept walking, crossing her arms over her chest for warmth, but she felt so cold. Cold in her bones, her flesh. Punishment for being so naïve, she thought. That’s what happens when you let yourself believe that you’re part of something. She didn’t belong here. Or anywhere.

Suddenly, she heard clothes flapping in the wind. Shoes landing on the ground behind her. She turned around, expecting to find Kelsier. But it wasn’t him.

A thin, feminine silhouette stood in the mists, unmoving. Alsira blinked a few times, wondering if it was a hallucination. But before she could react, the apparition rushed at her and tackled her to the ground.

[Oolia]

Alsira briefly blacked out when she hit the ground, knocking the air out of her lungs. She came to coughing and gasping for breath. Her attacker lifted her on her feet with strength that such a tiny body wouldn’t be able to muster. Burning pewter, for sure. A Mistborn.

The woman bound Alsira’s hands with rope, her pale face expressionless, her long hair tied neatly into a pony tail. Alsira had never seen this woman. What did she want with her? Had Kelsier sent her to kidnap her and bring her back to the hideout?

“Come on,” said the woman, her voice low and monotonous. “Can you walk?”

Alsira nodded, dazed and scared. The woman kept a hand on Alsira’s arm as they started walking, ready to grab her with inhuman pewter strength if needed. Escaping would be difficult, especially in Alsira’s state. She felt woozy and drained, her skin aching under each wave of shivers.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, slowly because of Alsira’s ankle. But the woman never complained or pushed her harder. She didn’t seem to have any animosity towards Alsira, so why had she attacked her? It felt like she was just doing a job.

“Did Kelsier send you?” risked Alsira, her voice cracked and raspy.

A smile made a brief appearance on the woman’s lips, the first emotion Alsira saw on her face. “The Survivor of Hathsin? No. He’s not the one who sent me.”

“Then who did?”

“Interesting choice for a first question. Usually, people ask who I am, or where I’m taking them. Or why I’m hurting them.” Her matter-of-factly tone was unnerving. “Although it does grant you enough information to answer all the other questions yourself. Good choice.”

A small sound interrupted her. Alsira burned a little more tin, trying to figure out where it had come from. There was no doubt that the other woman was doing the same; her head spun left and right worriedly, her ponytail whipping the air. But the noise didn’t repeat and she relaxed.

“You could say that House Venture sent me. They want to talk to you about the ball you attended, and why you fled when the Survivor showed up. They’ve heard rumors about you being a Tineye.” She glanced at Alsira. “It’s a good thing Tineyes are easy to find. Always walking in the mists, giving themselves away.”

Another noise, but this time much smaller. Like a tiny pebble being crushed by a shoe. The Mistborn didn’t seem to hear it, which made Alsira’s heart fill with hope. Mistborns had so many Allomancy powers, it was difficult for them to become an expert at all of them. They were often mediocre at most, save for one pair that they favored. Apparently, the woman did not favor tin.

Alsira checked her reserves. She was running really low. Maybe another twenty minutes at a slow burn. She needed it to see in the mists, which could help her escape if she found the right opportunity. But in a fight between a Misting and a Mistborn, the chances were not in her favor. Especially not as sick as she was.

Something moved in the corner of her eye. She kept her head straight and burned more tin, trying to focus on her peripheral vision. There it was again. A cloaked man, briefly appearing in the shadows between two houses. The Mistborn turned her head towards it, but it was too late.

Alsira could feel the tension rising. The woman fidgeted slightly, unnerved. Her cool exterior had peeled away. When Alsira launched in a small coughing fit, the Mistborn jumped.

“Quiet,” she hissed.

Alsira heard it, in between coughs. A coin dropping on the cobblestone a little further. A sound that had escaped the Mistborn, thanks to the coughing fit.

Alsira looked straight ahead and burned more tin.

There he was, on the roof of a shop, almost invisible against a smoking chimney. Waiting.

Alsira knew instantly what she had to do. She burned the rest of her tin in one go. Her entire body came alive with pain as her senses peaked. A sharp prickle traveled like lightning through her nose, forcing her to take a deep, urgent breath. Her nostrils flared wide, and she launched into a fit of vicious sneezes.

“EHH’TSSCHHHH!”

The Mistborn turned to her, frightened.

“EEH’TSSCHHHEEEW!”

A coin dropped a few feet in front of them.

“EHhh’NTSCHHEEW!”

A cloaked silhouette flew through the mists.

“IIHH’TSSSHHHhh!”

The Mistborn fell backward as Kelsier tackled her.

“EHH’NGXSHHhh—‘NTTSSHHHEEW!”

Alsira sloped to the ground, breathless. Her tin was gone; she was blinded by the thick mists, surrounded by white, milky clouds. Sounds of a fight came from somewhere near. Sudden, rapid currents in the mists indicated where the action was taking place, but Alsira felt powerless.

“Kelsier, I’m out of tin!” she yelled with what was left of her voice.

Something small hit her thigh and fell to the ground in a crystalline sound. She reached her bounded hands towards it, feeling the cold stones under her fingers until she touched a glass vial. Metals. She popped the cork and drank the alcohol solution, wincing from the pain.

As soon as she felt the warm, buzzing mass of tin in her stomach, she burned it.

Mists faded just enough for her to see through them. Darkness turned to a softly glowing blue. Silhouettes of buildings came into view.

And the two Mistborns appeared.

Alsira watched in awe as the two battled in the street with glass daggers, slashing the air back and forth and only missing each other’s flesh by a few inches. The woman’s face was serious, her lips reduced to a straight, severe line and her eyes focused on the action. To Alsira’s dismay, Kelsier was smiling, as if happy to have found an adversary worthy of his skills.

He grabbed a coin from a pouch attached to his belt and threw it on the ground, immediately Pushing on it to launch himself in an arc over the woman, landing behind her with feline grace. But the woman reacted swiftly, spinning around to face him. With one swift motion, she Pulled on Kelsier’s coin pouch, ripping it off clean from his belt, and Pushed it away. It spun off, rolling a few feet behind Alsira.

“Took you long enough,” said Kelsier with a taunting smirk.

Suddenly, Alsira overheard a faint plinging noise coming from a rooftop a few houses away from the battle. Flaring her tin, she focused on the source of the sound and gasped.

“Kelsier, Coinshots! Behind you!”

Kelsier pivoted just in time to see the three or four coins flying at him at full speed. He instinctively Pushed on them, but since the two Coinshots and Kelsier were about the same weight, their force canceled each other out. The coins stopped in middair, shuddering under opposite forces.

Alsira looked at Kelsier in confusion. As a Mistborn, he could easily burn pewter to make himself stronger and send the coins flying back to the Coinshots, but he didn’t. Instead, he suddenly Pulled on the coins, getting out of the way just in time. Since the Coinshots were putting all their weight Pushing on the coins from their side, the sudden loss of counterforce made them stumble forward, losing their balance and falling off the tall building in a sickening crack.

When he turned his attention back to the woman, Kelsier only found a cylinder of whispy smoke wafting upward. He looked up, trying to locate her. After a few seconds, he finally seemed to lock his eyes on a target, then at the very last second, right before the woman was about to tackle him from above, Kelsier Pushed on one of the coins on the ground and flew backward, his boots skidding across the cobblestones.

The woman landed on the ground in a powerful thud, her body strength obviously enhanced with pewter.

“Alsira, the coins!” yelled Kelsier before charging the other Mistborn.

Alsira crawled to the coin pouch behind her, keeping an eye on the battle raging in the middle of the street. Both Mistborns were Pushing and Pulling metals to move about, slashing their dagger at each other. Alsira finally reached the small leather bag and grabbed a handful of coins.

“Kelsier!” she warned before throwing the coins towards the two Mistborns.

Kelsier jumped back to position himself behind the woman, then pulled on the coins middair to accelerate their speed. The woman responded by swatting them away with a light Push, but Alsira threw another handful at her. And another. And another.

Soon, a shower of coins being manipulated by Kelsier flew at the other Mistborn. A few hit her, cutting gashes in her upper arm and thigh. Struggling to keep track of all the coins, the woman didn’t notice that Kelsier had thrown his dagger at her. When she finally saw it, she tried to deflect the glass weapon by Pushing on it. But without an ounce of metal in it, the dagger kept its original trajectory, lodging itself firmly into the woman’s heart.

She fell to the ground and did not get up again.

Without a pause, Kelsier rushed to Alsira, crouching in front of her. He cut the rope bouding her hands with his remaining glass dagger. “Are you OK?”

She nodded weakly. As he helped her up, Alsira’s face scrunched up, her breath trembling. When Kelsier noticed that she was fighting off another fit, he held her against his chest. “I’ve got you,” he said.

She didn’t have the energy to protest. She buried her face in his coat as he put his arms around her, protecting her from the night. Her small body shivered and leaned helplessly into him with each sneeze. “Ehh’TSShhh—TSShhhew… Ehh’NNTSSHhew…”

“Blessings,” murmured Kelsier, pulling her away from his chest for a second to look at her, frowning. “You feel so warm. I can feel your heat through my coat.” He gently placed a hand over her forehead, then her cheek. His hand felt incredibly cold to Alsira. “You’re burning up,” he said in disbelief. “You should still be in bed in my guest room. Why did you leave?” He wasn’t really scolding; he sounded confused and worried.

“I don’t know. I woke up and… I didn’t know if I could trust you.” She shivered, still pressed up against Kelsier’s body, her head on his chest. He hugged her closer. “This whole thing sounded crazy,” she continued. “The rebellion, changing the world, lights in the sky and how things used to be. It sounds…”

“Scary,” finished Kelsier. “I know. But it is necessary. And I have a plan, Alsira. I hope I can convince you to believe in it. To believe in me.”

“You came looking for me,” Alsira murmured, choking back tears. “Why?”

“Because I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure that you made it safely home.” When she shivered again, he rubbed her arm to warm her up. “Do you want to come back to the hideout for the night? The crew is worried about you. I’ve got a few of them looking for you in other parts of the city just in case.”

Alsira looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You told them about me?”

Kelsier smile. “Of course. They are eager to meet you. I was waiting for you to feel a little better before I introduce you. I figured a proper noblewoman would want to look her best when meeting new people.”

Alsira scoffed. She wasn’t a noblewoman, nor was she a skaa. She was both, and neither at the same time. She was the woman no one noticed. The spy with no allegiance. She’d been no one for so long that she hadn’t realized how amazing it felt to be wanted.

To belong.

She looked up at Kelsier and realized he wasn’t just a thief. He was a Mistborn with a cause bigger than himself. With the skills to make a change, however little it may be. And she yearned to be a part of it.

She let go, leaning into Kelsier’s embrace.

“Let’s go,” he said.

And he led the way.

 

THE END.

[Blah!?]

Jesus I'm really sorry it took me so long to read the rest of this. I'm glad I finally did though, since it was a lot of fun! It's always nice when characters still need to exert themselves when they're sick. No matter the setting, it's always something I enjoy.

On 12/5/2016 at 9:45 PM, Oolia said:

She pushed the heavy lid off of the crate, a cloud of dust engulfing her as it slid to the side. Her head jerked instinctively out of the way, but it was too late. Her nose had gotten a good gush of it. She could smell its strong scent of dry dirt and decay.

This little bit was probably my favorite part. It just feels like such classic sneezefic stuff, particularly when it's fit nicely into a hiding scenario. I've never really described why I like this so much before, but I finally realized that getting all the vivid details of the dust is just really fun.

I'm not sure why you were so worried about the fight scene. I was pretty darn entertained. Even with no prior knowledge of how anything in this universe works, reading this story gave me more than enough to form a solid mental image.

Thanks so much for sharing, and I hope you decide to write more in the future!