Kelsier had heard stories.
He had heard whispers of times when once, long ago, the sun had not been red. Times when the sky
hadn't been clogged by smoke and ash, when plants hadn't struggled to grow, and when skaa hadn't
been slaves. Times before the Lord Ruler. Those days, however, were nearly forgotten. Even the
legends were growing vague.
Kelsier watched the sun, his eyes following the giant red disk as it crept toward the western
horizon. He stood quietly for a long moment, alone in the empty fields. The day's work was done;
the skaa had been herded back to their hovels. Soon the mists would come.
Eventually, Kelsier sighed, then turned to pick his way across the furrows and pathways, weaving
between large heaps of ash. He avoided stepping on the plants-though he wasn't sure why he bothered.
The crops hardly seemed worth the effort. Wan, with wilted brown leaves, the plants seemed as
depressed as the people who tended them.
The skaa hovels loomed in the waning night. Already, Kelsier could see the mists beginning to form
clouding the air, and giving the moundlike buildings a surreal, intangible look. The hovels stood
unguarded; there was no need for watchers, for no skaa would venture outside once night arrived.
Their fear of the mists was far too strong.
I'll have to cure them of that someday, Kelsier thought as he approadched one of the larger
buildings. But, all things in their own time. He pulled open the door and slipped inside.
Conversation stopped immediately. Kelsier closed the door, then turned with a smile to confront
the room of about thirty skaa. A firepit burned weakly at the center, and the large cauldron beside
it was filled with vegetable-dappled water-the beginnings of an evening meal. The soup would be
bland, of course. Still, the smell was enticing.
'Good evening, everyone,' Kelsier said woth a smile, resting his pack beside his feet and leaning
against the door. 'How was your day?'
His words broke the silence, and the women returned to their dinner preparations. A group of men
sitting at a crude table, however, continued to regard Kelsier with dissatisfied expressions.
'Our day was filled with work, traveler,' said Tepper, one of the skaa elders. 'Something you
managed to avoid.'
'Fieldwork hasn't ever really suited me,' Kelsier said. 'It's far too hard on my delicate skin.'
He smiled, holding up hands and arms that were lined with layers and layers of thin scars. They
covered his skin, running lengthwise, as if some beast had repeatedly raked its claws up and down
his arms.
Tepper snorted. He was young to be an elder, probably barely into his forties-at most, he might
five years Kelsier's senior. However, the scrawny man held himself with the air of one who liked
to be in charge.
'This is no time for levity,'Tepper said sternly. 'When we harbor a traveler, we expect him to
behave himself and avoid suspicion. When you ducked away from the fields this morning, you could
have earned a whipping for the men around you.'
'True,' Kelsier said. 'But those men could also have been whipped for standing in the wrong place,
for pausing too long, or for coughing when a taskmaster walked by. I once saw a man beaten because
his master claimed that he had 'blinked inapproriately.'
Tepper sat with narrow eyes and a stiff posture, his arm resting on he table. His expression was
unyielding.
Kelsier sighed, rolling his eyes. 'Fine. If you want me to go, I'll be of then,' He slung his pack
up on his shoulder and nonchalantly pulled open the door.
Thick mist immdediately began to pour through the portal, drifting lazily across Kelsier's body,
pooling on the floor and creeping across the dirt like a hesitant animal. Several people gasped in
horror, though most of them were too stunned to make a sound. Kelsier stood for a moment, staring
out into the dark mists, their shifting currents lit feebly by the cooking pit's coals.
'Close the door.'Tepper's words were a plea, not a command.
Kelsier did as requested, pushing the door closed and stemming the flood of white mist. 'The mist
is not what you think. You fear it far too much.'
'Men who venture into the mist lose their souls,' a woman whispered. Her words raised a question.
Had Kelsier walked in the mists? What, then, had happened to his soul?
If you only knew, Kelsier thought.