Tindwyl smiled. "I am not pretending, child."
"Then why are you so mean to Elend?"
"The lad grew up as a pampered son of a great lord," Tindwyl said. "Now that he's king, he needs a little harsh truth, I think." She paused, glancing down at Vin. "I sense that you've had quite enough of that in your life."
The dressmaker approached with his swatches, spreading them out on a low table. "Now, my lady," he said, tapping one group with a bent finger. "I think your coloring would look particularly good with dark cloth. A nice maroon, perhaps?"
"What about a black?" Vin asked.
"Heavens, no," Tindwyl said. "Absolutely no more black or gray for you, child."
"What about this one, then?" Vin asked, pulling out a royal blue swatch. It was nearly the shade she'd worn the first night she'd met Elend, so long ago.
"Ah, yes," the dressmaker said. "That would look wonderful against that light skin and dark hair. Hum, yes. Now, we'll have to pick a style. You need this by tomorrow evening, the Terriswoman said?"
Vin nodded.
"Ah, then. We'll have to modify one of the stock dresses, but I think I have one in this color. We'll have to take it in quite a bit, but we can work through the night for a beauty like yourself, can't we, lad? Now, as for the style. . ."
"This is fine, I guess," Vin said, looking down. The gown was the standard cut of those she'd worn at previous balls.
"Well, we're not looking for 'fine,' now, are we?" the dressmaker said with a smile.
"What if we removed some of the pettiskirts?" Tindwyl said, pulling at the sides of Vin's dress. "And perhaps raised the hem just a bit, so that she could move more freely?"
Vin paused. "You could do that?"
"Of course," the dressmaker said. "The lad says thinner skirts are more popular to the south, though they tend to lag in fashion a bit behind Luthadel." He paused. "Though, I don't know that Luthadel even really has a fashion anymore. . .."
"Make cuffs of the sleeves wide," Tindwyl said. "And sew a couple of pockets into them for certain personal items."
The old man nodded as his quiet assistant scribbled down the suggestion.
"The chest and waist can be tight," Tindwyl continued, "but not restrictive. Lady Vin needs to be able to move freely."
The old man paused. "Lady Vin?" he asked. He looked a little closer at Vin, squinting, then turned to his assistant. The boy nodded quietly.
"I see. . ." the man said, paling, hand shaking just a little bit more. He placed it on the top of his cane, as if to give himself a little more stability. "I'm. . .I'm sorry if I offended you, my lady. I didn't know."
Vin flushed again. Another reason why I shouldn't go shopping. "No," she said, reassuring the man. "It's all right. You haven't offended me."
He relaxed slightly, and Vin noticed Spook strolling over.
"Looks like we've been found," Spook said, nodding to the front windows.
Vin glanced past dressing dummies and bales of cloth to see a crowd gathering outside. Tindwyl watched Vin with curiosity.
Spook shook his head. "Why do you get to be so popular?"
"I killed their god," Vin said quietly, ducking around a dressing dummy, hiding from the dozens of peeking eyes.
"I helped too," Spook said. "I even got my nickname from Kelsier himself! But nobody cares about poor little Spook."
Vin scanned the room for windows. There's got to be a back door. Of course, there might be people in the alley.
"What are you doing?" Tindwyl asked.
"I have to go," Vin said. "Get away from them."
"Why don't you go out and talk to them?" Tindwyl asked. "They're obviously very interested in seeing you."
Allrianne emerged from a dressing room—wearing a gown of yellow and blue—and twirled dramatically. She was obviously put out when she didn't even get Spook's attention.
"I'm not going out there," Vin said. "Why would I want to do something like that?"
"They need hope," Tindwyl said. "Hope you can give them."
"A false hope," Vin said. "I'd only encourage them to think of me as some object of worship."
"That's not true," Allrianne said suddenly, walking forward, looking out the windows without the least bit of embarrassment. "Hiding in corners, wearing strange clothing, and being mysterious—that's what has gotten you this amazing reputation. If people knew how ordinary you were, they wouldn't be so crazy to get a look at you." She paused, then looked back. "I. . .uh, didn't mean that like I think it sounded."
Vin flushed. "I'm not Kelsier, Tindwyl. I don't want people to worship me. I just want to be left alone."
"Some people don't have that choice, child," Tindwyl said. "You struck down the Lord Ruler. You were trained by the Survivor, and you are the king's consort."
"I'm not his consort," Vin said, flushing. "We're just. . ." Lord, even I don't understand our relationship. How am I supposed to explain it?
Tindwyl raised an eyebrow.
"All right," Vin said, sighing and walking forward.
"I'll go with you," Allrianne said, grabbing Vin's arm as if they had been friends since childhood. Vin resisted, but couldn't figure a way to pry her off without making a scene.
They stepped out of the shop. The crowd was already large, and the periphery was filling as more and more people came to investigate. Most were skaa in brown, ash-stained work coats or simple gray dresses. The ones in the front backed away as Vin stepped out, giving her a little ring of empty space, and a murmur of awed excitement moved through the crowd.
"Wow," Allrianne said quietly. "There sure are a lot of them. . .."
Vin nodded. OreSeur sat where he had before, near the door, and he watched her with a curious canine expression.
Allrianne smiled at the crowd, waving with a sudden hesitance. "You can, you know, fight them off or something if this turns messy, right?"
"That won't be necessary," Vin said, finally slipping her arm free of Allrianne's grasp and giving the crowd a bit of a Soothing to calm them. After that, she stepped forward, trying to push down her sense of itching nervousness. She'd grown to no longer feel she needed to hide when she went out in public, but standing before a crowd like this. . .well, she almost turned and slinked back into the dressmaker's shop.
A voice, however, stopped her. The speaker was a middle-aged man with an ash-stained beard and a dirty black cap held nervously in his hands. He was a strong man, probably a mill worker. His quiet voice seemed a contrast to his powerful build. "Lady Heir. What will become of us?"
The terror—the uncertainty—in the large man's voice was so piteous that Vin hesitated. He regarded her with hopeful eyes, as did most of the others.
So many, Vin thought. I thought the Church of the Survivor was small. She looked at the man, who stood wringing his cap. She opened her mouth, but then. . .couldn't do it. She couldn't tell him that she didn't know what would happen; she couldn't explain to those eyes that she wasn't the savior that he needed.
"Everything will be all right," Vin heard herself say, increasing her Soothing, trying to take away some of their fear.
"But the armies, Lady Heir!" one of the women said.
"They're trying to intimidate us," Vin said. "But the king won't let them. Our walls are strong, as are our soldiers. We can outlast this siege."
The crowd was silent.
"One of those armies is led by Elend's father, Straff Venture," Vin said. "Elend and I are going to go meet with Straff tomorrow. We will persuade him to be our ally."
"The king is going to surrender!" a voice said. "I heard it. He's going to trade the city for his life."
"No," Vin said. "He would never do that!!"
"He won't fight for us!" a voice called. "He's not a soldier. He's a politician!"
Other voices called out in agreement. Reverence disappeared as people began to yell out concerns, while others began to demand help. The dissidents continued to rail against Elend, yelling that there was no way he could protect them.
Vin raised her hands to her ears. Trying to ward off the crowd, the chaos. "Stop!" she yelled, Pushing out with steel and brass. Several people stumbled back away from her, and she could see a wave in the crowd as buttons, coins, and buckles suddenly pressed backward.
The people grew suddenly quiet.
"I will suffer no ill words spoken of our king!" Vin said, flaring her brass and increasing her Soothing. "He is a good man, and a good leader. He has sacrificed much for you—your freedom comes because of his long hours spent drafting laws, and your livelihoods come because of his work securing trade routes and agreements with merchants."
Many members of the crowd looked down. The bearded man at the front continued to twist his cap, however, looking at Vin. "They're just right frightened, Lady Heir. Right frightened."
"We'll protect you," Vin said. What am I saying? "Elend and I, we'll find a way. We stopped the Lord Ruler. We can stop these armies. . ." She trailed off, feeling foolish.
Yet, the crowd responded. Some were obviously still unsatisfied, but many seemed calmed. The crowd began to break up, though some of its members came forward, leading or carrying small children. Vin paused nervously. Kelsier had often met with and held the children of the skaa, as if giving them his blessing. She bid the group a hasty farewell and ducked back into the shop, pulling Allrianne after her.
Tindwyl waited inside, nodding with satisfaction.
"I lied," Vin said, pushing the door closed.
"No you didn't," Tindwyl said. "You were optimistic. The truth or fiction of what you said has yet to be proven."
"It won't happen," Vin said. "Elend can't defeat three armies, not even with my help."
Tindwyl raised an eyebrow. "Then you should leave. Run away, leave the people to deal with the armies themselves."
"I didn't mean that," Vin said.
"Well, make a decision then," Tindwyl said. "Either give up on the city or believe in it. Honestly, the pair of you. . .." She shook her head.
"I thought you weren't going to be harsh with me," Vin noted.
"I have trouble with that sometimes," Tindwyl said. "Come, Allrianne. Let's finish your fitting."
They moved to do so. However, at that moment—as if to belie Vin's assurances of safety—several warning drums began to beat atop the city wall.
Vin froze, glancing through the window, out over the anxious crowd.
One of the armies was attacking. Cursing the delay, she rushed into the back of the shop to change out of the bulky dress.
Elend scrambled up the steps to the city wall, nearly tripping on his dueling cane in his haste. He stumbled out of the stairwell, moving onto the wall top, rearranging the cane at his side with a curse.
The wall top was in chaos. Men scrambled about, calling to each other. Some had forgotten their armor, others their bows. So many tried to get up after Elend that the stairwell got clogged, and he watched hopelessly as men crowded around the openings below, creating an even larger jam of bodies in the courtyard.
