“No, because of the money,” Ham said frankly. “Thugs—or, Pewterarms, as the nobility prefer to call them—are the most sought-after Mistings. A competent Thug can stand against a half-dozen regular men, and he can lift more, endure more, and move faster than any other hired muscle. Those things mean a lot when you have to keep your crews small. Mix a couple of Coinshots with five or so Thugs, and you’ve got yourself a small, mobile army. Men will pay a lot for protection like that.”

Vin nodded. “I can see how the money would be tempting.”

“It’s more than tempting, Vin. My family doesn’t have to live in packed skaa tenements, nor do they have to worry about starving. My wife only works to keep up appearances—they have a good life, for skaa. Once I have enough, we’ll move away from the Central Dominance. There are places in the Final Empire that a lot of people don’t know about—places where a man with enough money can live the life of a nobleman. Places where you can stop worrying and just live.”

“That sounds... appealing.”

Ham nodded, turning and leading them down a larger thoroughfare toward the main city gates. “I got the dream from Kell, actually. That’s what he always said he wanted to do. I just hope I have more luck than he did....”

Vin frowned. “Everyone says he was rich. Why didn’t he leave?”

“I don’t know,” Ham said. “There was always another job—each one bigger than the last. I guess when you’re a crewleader like him, the game can get addicting. Soon, money didn’t even seem to matter to him. Eventually, he heard that the Lord Ruler was storing some incalculable secret in that hidden sanctum of his. If he and Mare had walked away before that job...But, well, they didn’t. I don’t know—maybe they wouldn’t have been happy living lives where they didn’t have to worry.”

The concept seemed to intrigue him, and Vin could see another of his “questions” working within his mind.

I guess when you’re a crewleader like him, the game can get addicting....

Her earlier apprehensions returned. What would happen if Kelsier seized the imperial throne for himself? He couldn’t possibly be as bad as the Lord Ruler, but . . . she was reading more and more of the logbook. The Lord Ruler hadn’t always been a tyrant. He’d been a good man, once. A good man whose life had gone wrong.

Kelsier’s different, Vin told herself forcefully. He’ll do the right thing.

Still, she wondered. Ham might not understand, but Vin could see the enticement. Despite noble depravity, there was something intoxicating about high society. Vin was captivated by the beauty, the music, and the dancing. Her fascination wasn’t the same as Kelsier’s—she wasn’t as interested in political games or even scams—but she could understand why he would have been reluctant to leave Luthadel behind.

That reluctance had destroyed the old Kelsier. But, it had produced something better—a more determined, less self-serving Kelsier. Hopefully.

Of course, his plans before also cost him the woman he loved. Is that why he hates the nobility so much?

“Ham?” she asked. “Has Kelsier always hated the nobility?”

Ham nodded. “It’s worse now, though.”

“He frightens me sometimes. It seems like he wants to kill all of them, no matter who they are.”

“I’m concerned about him too,” Ham said. “This Eleventh Metal business...it’s almost like he’s making himself out to be some kind of holy man.” He paused, then he looked toward her. “Don’t worry too much. Breeze, Dox, and I have already talked about this. We’re going to confront Kell, see if we can rein him in a bit. He means well, but he has a tendency to go a little overboard sometimes.”

Vin nodded. Ahead, the customary crowded lines of people waited for permission to pass through the city gates. She and Ham walked quietly past the solemn group—workers being sent out to the docks, men off to work one of the outer mills alongside the river or lake, lesser noblemen wishing to travel. All had to have a good reason to leave the city; the Lord Ruler strictly controlled travel inside his realm.

Poor things, Vin thought as she passed a ragged band of children carrying pails and brushes—probably on duty to climb the wall and scrub mist-grown lichen off the parapets. Ahead, up near the gates, an official cursed and shoved a man out of the line. The skaa worker fell hard, but eventually picked himself back up and shuffled to the end of the line. It was likely that if he wasn’t let out of the city, he wouldn’t be able to do his day’s work—and no work meant no food tokens for his family.

Vin followed Ham past the gates, heading down a street parallel to the city wall, at the end of which Vin could see a large building complex. Vin had never studied the Garrison headquarters before; most crewmembers tended to stay a good distance away from it. However, as they approached, she was impressed by its defensive appearance. Large spikes were mounted on the wall that ran around the entire complex. The buildings within were bulky and fortified. Soldiers stood at the gates, eyeing passersby with hostility.

Vin paused. “Ham, how are we going to get in there?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, stopping beside her. “I’m known to the Garrison. Besides, it’s not as bad as it looks—the Garrison members just put on an intimidating face. As you can imagine, they aren’t very well liked. Most of the soldiers in there are skaa—men who have, in exchange for a better life, sold out to the Lord Ruler. Whenever there are skaa riots in a city, the local garrison is usually hit pretty hard by malcontents. Hence the fortifications.”

“So...you know these men?”

Ham nodded. “I’m not like Breeze or Kell, Vin—I can’t put on faces and pretend. I’m just who I am. Those soldiers don’t know I’m a Misting, but they know I work in the underground. I’ve known many of these guys for years; they’ve consistently tried to recruit me. They generally have better luck getting people like me, who are already outside mainstream society, to join their ranks.”

“But, you’re going to betray them,” Vin said quietly, pulling Ham to the side of the road.

“Betray?” he asked. “No, it won’t be a betrayal. Those men are mercenaries, Vin. They’ve been hired to fight, and they’ll attack friends—even relatives—in a riot or rebellion. Soldiers learn to understand these kinds of things. We may be friends, but when it comes to fighting, none of us would hesitate to kill the others.”

Vin nodded slowly. It seemed...harsh. But, that’s what life is. Harsh. That part of Reen’s teaching wasn’t a lie.

“Poor lads,” Ham said, looking at the Garrison. “We could have used men like them. Before I left for the caves, I managed to recruit the few that I thought would be receptive. The rest...well, they picked their path. Like me, they’re just trying to give their kids a better life—the difference is, they’re willing to work for him in order to do it.”

Ham turned back to her. “All right, you wanted some tips on burning pewter?”

Vin nodded eagerly.

“The soldiers usually let me spar with them,” Ham said. “You can watch me fight—burn bronze to see when I’m using Allomancy. The first, most important thing you’ll learn about Pewterarming is when to use your metal. I’ve noticed that young Allomancers tend to always flare their pewter, thinking that the stronger they are, the better. However, you don’t always want to hit as hard as you can with each blow.

“Strength is a big part of fighting, but it’s not the only part. If you always hit your hardest, you’ll tire faster and you’ll give your opponent information about your limitations. A smart man hits his hardest at the end of a battle, when his opponent is weakest. And, in an extended battle—like a war— the smart soldier is the one who survives the longest. He’ll be the man who paces himself.”