Free Mistborn #02 The Well of Ascension by Brandon Sanderson Page B

metals to make an alloy," Vin said absently. "Just one metal and something else. Look at steel—it's iron and carbon."
    "Forty. . ." Elend repeated. "And you would have tried them all?"
    Vin shrugged. "Seemed like a good place to start."
    Elend looked concerned at that thought, but didn't say anything further. Instead, he turned to Ham. "Anyway, Ham, was there something you wanted to see us about?"
    "Nothing important," Ham said. "I just wanted to see if Vin was up for some sparring. That army has me feeling antsy, and I figure Vin could still use some practice with the staff."
    Vin shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"
    "You want to come, El?" Ham asked. "Get in some practice?"
    Elend laughed. "And face one of you two? I've got my royal dignity to think of!"
    Vin frowned slightly, looking up at him. "You really should practice more, Elend. You barely know how to hold a sword, and you're terrible with a dueling cane."
    "Now, see, why would I worry about that when I have you to protect me?"
    Vin's concern deepened. "We can't always be around you, Elend. I'd worry a lot less if you were better at defending yourself."
    He just smiled and pulled her to her feet. "I'll get to it eventually, I promise. But, not today—I've got too much to think about right now. How about if I just come watch you two? Perhaps I'll pick up something by observation—which is, by the way, the preferable method of weapons training, since it doesn't involve me getting beaten up by a girl."
    Vin sighed, but didn't press the point further.

I write this record now, pounding it into a metal slab, because I am afraid. Afraid for myself, yes—I admit to being human. If Alendi does return from the Well of Ascension, I am certain that my death will be one of his first objectives. He is not an evil man, but he is a ruthless one. That is, I think, a product of what he has been through .

6
    ELEND LEANED DOWN AGAINST THE railing, looking in at the sparring yard. Part of him did wish to go out and practice with Vin and Ham. However, the larger part of him just didn't see the point.
    Any assassin likely to come after me will be an Allomancer , he thought. I could train ten years and be no match for one of them .
    In the yard itself, Ham took a few swings with his staff, then nodded. Vin stepped up, holding her own staff, which was a good foot taller than she was. Watching the two of them, Elend couldn't help remarking on the disparity. Ham had the firm muscles and powerful build of a warrior. Vin looked even thinner than usual, wearing only a tight buttoned shirt and a pair of trousers, with no cloak to mask her size.
    The inequality was enhanced by Ham's next words. "We're practicing with the staff, not practicing Pushing and Pulling. Don't use anything but pewter, all right?"
    Vin nodded.
    It was the way they often sparred. Ham claimed that there was no substitute for training and practice, no matter how powerful an Allomancer one was. He let Vin use pewter, however, because he said the enhanced strength and dexterity was disorienting unless one was accustomed to it.
    The sparring field was like a courtyard. Situated in the palace barracks, it had an open-sided hallway built around it. Elend stood in this, roof overhead keeping the red sun out of his eyes. That was nice, for a light ashfall had begun, and occasional flakes of ash floated down from the sky. Elend crossed his arms on the railing. Soldiers passed occasionally in the hallway behind, bustling with activity. Some, however, paused to watch; Vin and Ham's sparring sessions were something of a welcome diversion to the palace guards.
    I should be working on my proposal , Elend thought. Not standing here watching Vin fight .
    But. . .the tension of the last few days had been so pressing that he was finding it difficult to get up the motivation to do yet another read-through of the speech. What he really needed was to just spend a few moments thinking.
    So, he simply watched. Vin approached Ham warily, staff held in