unconscious. That means you have a way to signal to those above that I've been dealt with, so they can remove the stone and let you out. You have the power to free us. And I have the power to make you do as I wish.'
'Emotional Allomancy cannot control me to that extent,' Telden said. 'I'm no Allomancer, but I do know something of it. I suspect that you're manipulating my emotions right now, actually-which really isn't necessary, since I'm being completely frank with you.'
'I don't need Allomancy to make you talk,' Vin said, glancing down at the knife she still had in her other hand.
Telden laughed. 'You think that King Yomen-yes, he's up above-won't be able to tell if I'm speaking under duress? I have no doubt that you'd be able to break me, but I'm not going to betray my word simply on threats, so you'd have to cut off a few fingers or something before I'd do as you ask. I'm pretty certain that Yomen and the others would hear me screaming.'
'I could kill the servants,' Vin said. 'One at a time, until you agree to tell Yomen that I'm unconscious and have him open the door.'
Telden smiled. 'You think that I'd care if you kill them?'
'You're one of Elend's friends,' Vin said. 'You were one of those who talked philosophy with him.'
'Philosophy,' Telden said, 'and politics. Elend, however, was the only one of us interested in the skaa. I assure you, the rest of us really didn't understand where he got such a fascination with them.' He shrugged. 'However, I'm not a heartless man. If you kill enough of them, perhaps I
Vin glanced at the servants. They seemed terrified of her, and Telden's words didn't help. After a few moments of silence, Telden chuckled.
'You are Elend's wife,' he noted. 'Yomen is aware of this, you see. He was mostly convinced that you wouldn't kill any of us, despite your rather fearsome reputation. From what we hear, you have a habit of killing kings and gods, perhaps the occasional soldier. Skaa servants, however. .'
Vin looked away from the servants, but didn't meet Telden's eyes, fearing that he'd see confirmation in them. He was wrong about her-she would kill those servants if she thought it would get her out. However, she was uncertain. If Yomen heard screams, he wouldn't be likely to open the trapdoor, and Vin would have slaughtered innocents for no reason.
'So,' Telden said, finishing off his wine. 'We are at a stalemate. We assume that you're running low on food down here, unless you've found a way to open those cans. Even if you have, there's nothing you can do down here to help up above. My guess is that unless you take the wine, we'll all end up starving to death in this cavern.'
Vin sat back in her chair.
However, it was incredibly unlikely that she'd be able to break through that door above. She could
Telden's words, unfortunately, held a great deal of truth. Even if Vin could survive in the cavern, she'd be stagnant and useless. The siege would continue up above-she didn't even know how that was going-and the world would continue to die by Ruin's machinations.
She needed to get out of the cavern. Even if that meant being put into Yomen's hands. She eyed the bottle of drugged wine.
Pewter made the body resistant to all kinds of drugs. If she flared pewter with duralumin after drinking the wine, would it perhaps burn away the poison and leave her awake? She could pretend to be unconscious, then escape above.
It seemed like a stretch. And yet, what was she to do? Her food was almost gone, and her chances for escaping were slim. She didn't know what Yomen wanted of her-and Telden would be very unlikely to tell her-but he must not want her dead. If that had been the case, he'd simply have left her to starve.
She had a choice. Either wait longer in the cavern, or gamble on a better chance to escape up above. She thought for just a moment, then made up her mind. She reached for the bottle. Even if her trick with pewter didn't work, she'd rather gamble on getting into a better situation up above.
Telden chuckled. 'They did say that you were a decisive one. That's rather refreshing-I've spent far too long with stuffy noblemen who take years to come to any firm decisions.'
Vin ignored him. She easily popped the cork off of the bottle, then raised it and took a swig. The drugs began to take effect almost immediately. She settled back in her chair, letting her eyes droop, trying to give the impression that she was falling asleep. Indeed, it was very difficult to remain awake. Her mind was clouding despite flared pewter.
She slumped, feeling herself drift away.
'You'd be dead if she hadn't, my lord,' the servant said. 'We'd all be dead.'
And then the duralumin ran out. Her pewter disappeared with a puff, and with it went her immunity to the drug, which hadn't burned away. It had been a long shot anyway.
She barely heard her weapon click as it slipped from her fingers and hit the floor. Then, she fell unconscious.
51
Elend flew through the mists. He'd never quite been able to manage Vin's horse shoe trick. Somehow, she could keep herself in the air, bounding from Push to Push, then Pulling each horseshoe back up behind her after she used it. To Elend, the process looked like a cyclone of potentially lethal chunks of metal with Vin at the center.
He dropped a coin, then Pushed himself in a powerful leap. He'd given up on the horseshoe method after four or five failed attempts. Vin had seemed puzzled that he couldn't get it down-she'd apparently figured it out on her own, needing only about a half hour's practice to perfect it.
But, well, that was Vin.
Elend made do with coins, of which he carried a rather large bag. Copper clips, the smallest of the old imperial coins, worked perfectly for his purposes-particularly since he was apparently much more powerful than other Mistborn. Each of his Pushes carried him farther than they should have, and he really didn't use that many coins, even when traveling a long distance.
It felt good to be away. He felt free as he plunged down from his leap, dropping through the shifting darkness, then flared pewter and landed with a muffled thump. The ground in this particular valley was relatively free of ash-it had drifted, leaving a small corridor where it only came up to his mid-calf. So, he ran for a few minutes, for the change.
A mistcloak fluttered behind him. He wore dark clothing, rather than one of his white uniforms. It seemed appropriate; besides, he'd never really had a chance to be a true Mistborn. Since discovering his powers, he'd spent his life at war. There wasn't all that much need for him to go scuttling about in the darkness, particularly not with