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Looking back, Marsh thought his mother must have sensed what was to come.
He’d seen it in the way her demeanor had subtly changed that day. Normally, she was unflappable, her steadiness betrayed only by the glints of mischief that would surface in her eyes when she joined her boys in their play or made little quips meant only for their ears. Even when putting up with their arguments and complaints – or worse, dealing with the irritating nobles who came to visit his father – she remained eternally composed. But all throughout this day, worry had creased her forehead and pinched her mouth. Marsh couldn’t understand why. Their father was paying them no mind as usual, and Kelsier had been behaving lately – well, what passed for behaving when it came to him. What could be bothering her, Marsh didn’t know, but the fact that it made his mother anxious enough to show it…that unnerved something deep within him.
That night, he curled up in bed, his mother sitting beside him as usual. Kelsier was still bouncing around their small room, excitedly proclaiming how many rooftops he was jumping over with his imaginary Mistborn powers. It made Marsh scowl – was Kell ever going to settle down? – but his mother just laughed softly.
“Just give him a few more minutes,” she murmured to Marsh. “He’ll burn through that energy soon.”
“Swoosh! Woo! Swoosh! Look – Mom – I’m jumping – so high!” Kelsier exclaimed, punctuated by the biggest leaps his little legs could manage.
“That’s amazing, sweetheart,” Mother said. She wore a fond smile as she watched Kell’s antics, but there was something sad behind it, worry tinging her expression even still.
Marsh hesitated. “Mom?” he asked. “Is something…wrong?”
She turned to him, still wearing that sad smile, and smoothed back his hair with a sigh. “Nothing more than usual, kiddo.”
“What’s wrong usually?”
“Many things,” Mother said softly. “You know how I’ve told you that we’re a little different? That life is more dangerous for people like us?”
Marsh nodded, and Mother sighed. “Then I think you understand,” she said. “Maybe one day, the world will change, and things will get easier. But for now…” She shook her head. “Well, those will remain idle dreams. We’ll go on, like we always have. You don’t need to worry yourself, okay?”
“But you’re worried,” Marsh said quietly.
“I’m your mother,” she replied. “Worrying is my job.”
“Could…I help you stop worrying?”
She brushed her fingers through his hair again, giving him another one of those sad smiles. “Oh, Marsh. You already are,” she said. “Because I know that no matter what happens, you’ll take good care of yourself and your brother. Right?”
Her words didn’t quite manage to ease the knot of anxiety in Marsh’s stomach, but he gave her an affirming nod anyway. She squeezed his shoulder, then ruffed up his hair, making him duck away with an annoyed sound. With a grin, she called, “Come on, Kell. Time to read before bed.”
“O-kay…” Kelsier moped. He trotted over and flopped into bed next to them without hesitation, though.
Mother pulled their current book from the bedside table. “In tonight’s story, our heroes will bravely climb the Ashmount Tyrian to find the treasure hidden within…”
The story was distracting enough to finally allow Marsh to relax. He was old enough now to realize that his mother changed the stories as she read to them; instead of the words written on the page – usually noblemen completing quests for the Lord Ruler, earning his favor – she turned the main characters into scrappy young boys, ones who adventured and explored, who helped people they found in need along the way, all for no reason other than that they wanted to. Her versions were far more interesting, in Marsh’s opinion.
It only took a few minutes for Kelsier to doze off. They were nearly at the end of the chapter, Marsh having to fight against the sleepiness threatening to overtake him, when a knock on the door made both him and his mother jump.
The head steward, a serious-looking Terrisman, stepped into the room. “His Lordship has summoned you,” he said, addressing Marsh’s mother.
Marsh felt her tense beside him. “Can it wait a few minutes?” she asked. “I need to get the boys to bed.”
“I’m afraid not,” the steward said quietly.
Mother took a deep breath. “Well, then,” she said to Marsh, her tone forcibly bright, “we’ll just have to finish this tomorrow.”
A pit of dread opened up inside Marsh’s chest as his mother stood up, handing him the book. “Mom,” Marsh whispered. “Wait…”
“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” she said with a gentle touch to his face. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She leaned over to put out the lamp, then stepped into the hallway, vanishing from sight. The steward gave Marsh a lingering look, then he too left, closing the door behind him.
Marsh hugged the book to his chest. The room was dark, now, and eerily quiet. Any semblance of tiredness was gone, washed away by his mounting fear. It wasn’t unusual for his mother to be summoned like that, but something about tonight just felt wrong.
He sat there for a moment, heart pounding. Part of him wanted to burrow under the covers, to hide and hope all his fear would turn out to be for nothing. But another part of him – a bigger part – wasn’t content with just hoping. He needed to do something.
Marsh set the book aside, took a deep breath, and slid off the bed. He’d go find his mother and tell her he felt sick, or that Kell was crying, or something. Whatever it took to get her back to their room. If she just came back, nothing bad could happen, at least for the night.
He tiptoed to the door and cracked it open, peering outside to verify the coast was clear before slipping into the hallway. He was well practiced at traversing the dark house; he and Kelsier had snuck out dozens of times before. Usually it was to swipe food from the kitchens, but sometimes Marsh would come out on his own to listen in on people’s conversations, whether they were nobles visiting with his father or servants chatting as they finished up their work. You learned a lot from what adults said when they thought no children were present, he’d found.
Tonight, at least upstairs, the house was quiet; no servants lingered in the halls. The ground floor, though, was another story. Lamplight crept up the walls as Marsh approached the balcony ringing the main staircase, and voices echoed from below. Marsh crept forward, trusting the shadows to hide him as they’d always done.
Through the gaps in the railing, he saw an odd group gathered near the door to the study downstairs: his father, accompanied by three obligators. Odd because his father didn’t typically associate with obligators beyond what was necessary; Marsh had heard him complain several times about them sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. Had he needed them to witness some kind of deal?
His attention was diverted as two people emerged from the foot of the steps – the steward, followed by Marsh’s mother. Marsh wanted to go down after them, but hesitated, unnerved by the presence of the obligators. Maybe he’d just wait until they went away.
The steward approached the group. “My lord,” he said. “I have brought her as requested.”
He moved aside, leaving Marsh’s mother standing alone. Her hair, blonde like that of her sons, seemed to glow in the warm light of the lamps. She seemed composed as ever she looked between the obligators and his father. “You have need of me, my lord?”
Father’s voice was cold enough to make Marsh shiver. “Indeed,” he said. “Some…information has recently come to my attention. Information that has caused great concern to both myself and the Ministry. I require your truthfulness on the matter.”
“Of course, my lord,” Mother replied smoothly.
One of the obligators stepped forward, his intricate tattoos marking him as a prelan. “We have been informed of some discrepancies in your lineage,” he said, in a prim way that immediately set Marsh’s teeth on edge. “You claim to be a distant cousin of House Aime. Yet, per our inquiries, no member of that house has any recollection of you.”
“I don’t blame them, my lord,” Marsh’s mother said, still impeccably calm. “As you said, I am their distant cousin, and I was not raised in Luthadel.”
“So distant none of those in your supposed family have even heard your name. Or your mother’s, for that matter,” the prelan mused. “Indeed, no one has heard of your mother at all. We ourselves have no record of her – and I assure you, we have searched thoroughly.”
Mother made no reply. The prelan circled her, and Marsh caught the edges of a wicked smile sharpening his face.
“Still more concerning,” he continued, “the man you claim as your father in fact died of a disease several decades ago.”
“Indeed,” Mother said coolly. She swiveled her head, tracking the prelan as he rounded her. “I was very young when it happened. I prefer not to speak of it.”
“Ah,” the prelan said, voice sinuous. “I am sure you do not. Especially considering that his death occurred three years prior to your own birth.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Marsh could hear the thump of his heart pounding in his ears. Every instinct was screaming at him to leave, to escape back to his room before the tension in the air broke, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His mother was still down there; he couldn’t just leave her.
“If that is the case, then there must be an error in your records,” Mother finally said, the slightest waver appearing in her voice. “Since I do, in fact, exist, as you can see.”
The prelan stepped closer. With those dark, sprawling tattoos and predatory smile, he barely seemed human. “Indeed you do,” he said softly. “But I am afraid that your existence does little to cast doubt upon our records. It does, however, call into question the accuracy of your own…recollection.”
“I assure you, I – “
“Enough,” the prelan ordered. He leaned closer, voice dropping. “Tell me, how long did you think your scheme could last? How long did you think you could survive in the shadow of nobility?”
Mother didn’t flinch, didn’t cower, didn’t look away. Her hands formed fists at her side. “Scheme? What scheme are you accusing me of?”
The two lesser obligators, who had drifted behind Marsh’s mother, both lunged, kicking her legs out from under her and sending her careening forward onto her knees. Marsh jerked backwards in shock, his gasp covered up by his mother’s startled cry.
The prelan loomed over her. “That of hiding your true nature. As skaa.”
An icy shock jolted down Marsh’s spine. His mother was skaa? But that meant – that meant –
The obligators grabbed hold of his mother’s arms, holding her tightly in place. She yanked against their grip, baring her teeth in a snarl. “This is insane,” she hissed. “I am no skaa. I have lived here, among noble society, for years – “
“You lived among them, perhaps,” the prelan said dismissively. “But you were never truly of them. It amazes me you believed yourself capable of integrating yourself without notice.”
“These accusations are baseless! You cannot do this to me. My lord, you know me. Tell them – “
“You are a fool to think he would spare any sympathy for a simple mistress,” the prelan cut in. “Even more so to think that there is anything we cannot do.”
Mother sagged, going limp in the arms of the obligators. The prelan turned his back on her, smirking. “As I predicted,” he said to Marsh’s father. “When faced with the truth, she had no defense. Skaa find confrontation difficult; it’s part of what makes them easy to control – “
He was cut off by the obligators’ shouts of surprise, as Marsh’s mother broke free from their hold in a frenzied burst of motion. She threw herself towards the stairwell, and after a stunned pause, all three obligators dashed after her. Marsh found himself leaning forward, stretching out a hand towards her, as if he could pull her to safety through sheer will.
His mother managed to reach the base of the stairs. She looked up, prepared to climb, then froze, her eyes going wide as they locked with Marsh’s.
The prelan, moving with unnatural speed, caught up at the same moment. He grabbed Mother’s arm, yanking her towards him, and raised his other fist in a powerful blow. It connected with her jaw, whipping her head sideways, an awful crack echoing through the hall.
She collapsed to the floor just before the stairs, facedown, motionless.
And something inside of Marsh snapped.
He wanted to scream, but all that came out was a strangled gasp. He hunched over, arms around his middle, pain clawing at the inside of his ribs.
“No,” he mouthed soundlessly. “No…Mom…”
The prelan glanced towards the balcony, and Marsh found himself rigid, unable to move despite the sickening surge of adrenaline urging him to bolt. He silently willed the darkness to cover him, begging it to be enough –
And somehow, it was. The prelan remained oblivious as he turned back to Marsh’s father, wiping his hand on a cloth pulled from his robes. He seemed indifferent to the violence, to the fact that he’d just…he’d just…
A trickle of blood ran down Mother’s ear. It seeped into her hair, pooling on the marble floor, staining red everything it touched.
Something roared in Marsh’s ears.
The prelan’s voice filtered through the haze. “Well, there’s a problem solved,” he said. “You two – pay more attention, next time.”
The other obligators, looking sheepish, lifted Mother’s limp form between them, blood still dripping from her head. Together, they hauled her out the door with as much care as they would show a sack of garbage. Bile burned at the back of Marsh’s throat. His chest felt pulled tight, like part of him was tethered to his mother, a part that was being torn away with her.
Father barely spared her form a glance. “So much for finding confrontation difficult.”
“That? It was hardly a confrontation,” said the prelan. “Simply a desperate attempt at escape.”
“One I didn’t anticipate you to end so…messily.”
“It seemed best to subdue her quickly,” the prelan said calmly. “I do apologize for dirtying the floor.”
“No matter,” Father muttered, waving his hand towards the steward. “It will be taken care of.”
The steward bowed before retreating, stepping delicately around the splashes of blood. Marsh’s eyes snagged on it again, the sharp contrast of red on white. A distant part of him insisted he should leave while he still had the chance, but his body didn’t seem to be listening.
The prelan kept on talking. “Your cooperation is appreciated, my friend,” he said. “You were wise, coming to me before the issue got…out of hand.”
Father grunted. “I’d prefer for it to have never happened.”
“Ah, but mistakes are inevitable,” the prelan replied. “Which reminds me…” He lowered his voice, but Marsh could still make out his words. “I trust no children came of this…affair? We certainly wouldn’t wish Inquisitor involvement to be necessary.”
Another shock hit Marsh like lightning. They would send Inquisitors after him and his brother. He had to run, had to get to Kell, but he still – couldn’t – move –
His father didn’t respond right away. Instead, he fished in his jacket, pulling out a sizable pouch. “No,” he said, holding the pouch up, as if considering it. “No children.”
The prelan smirked, plucking the pouch from Marsh’s father with deft fingers. “Excellent,” he said. “In that case, we can all put this unfortunate incident behind us.”
He turned to go, gracefully avoiding the patches of blood. “In the future,” he called over his shoulder, “do try to be more discerning, old friend.”
The door slammed behind him with an ominous bang. Marsh’s father sighed as the steward reappeared, cleaning supplies in hand.
“We will say she died in an accident,” Father said. “A fall from the balcony, perhaps. No one will question it.”
“And…the children, my lord?” the steward asked, kneeling beside the bloodied floor.
Father made an irritated sound. “They will have to stay, at least for a time. Sending them off too quickly could raise suspicion.”
The steward nodded, and Father picked up a lamp from his desk. “Leave a small bit,” he said. “As…evidence.”
“Yes, my lord,” the steward replied quietly.
Marsh’s father started towards the steps. Move, Marsh yelled at himself. Move, you have to move!
Finally, finally, his body obeyed. He staggered to his feet and darted back down the hallway, doing his best to keep his movements both quick and quiet. The light from his father’s lamp was beginning to brighten the walls when Marsh reached his bedroom door and slipped back inside. He watched, heart thundering, as the light grew closer. But his father’s footsteps moved away, towards his own bedroom, and slowly the light faded with them.
Marsh forced himself to breathe. The room was just as he’d left it. Dark, quiet. Kelsier still in bed, fast asleep. Marsh stared at him, wondering at how close they’d both come to following their mother into…
Numbness began to cloud his thoughts. He turned away, abandoning the bed, and sank to the floor beside the window.
A tug on the curtains revealed the mists outside, drifting lazily by, unseeing, uncaring. Marsh rested his head on the window frame. Shivers began to roll over him in waves, mirroring the mists’ gentle currents.
He wanted to cry. He should be crying. But the tears wouldn’t come. He just sat there, staring out at the shifting mists, searching them for some kind of comfort, for something to cling onto. Something he couldn’t seem to find.
Hours passed before he finally dozed off into a restless slumber, all his dreams stained red.
Morning came all too quickly. Marsh dressed himself slowly, his muscles stiff, his thoughts sluggish. Kelsier had woken up, but he was more interested in playing with his toys than getting ready. Marsh, lacking the strength to argue, didn’t protest.
A soft knock at the door sent Marsh’s heart into his throat. Instinct sent him darting towards Kell as the door opened.
It was the steward again. He stepped into the room and let the door close behind him, studying the boys with an inscrutable look. Marsh swallowed, forcing himself to stay calm. His father had said they had to stay, so whatever the steward was here for, it wasn’t to take them away. Probably.
Finally, the steward spoke. “His Lordship has requested that I inform you of last night’s events,” he said, his voice emotionless.
So that was it. Marsh stared at him, feeling oddly disjointed, like his mind wasn’t attached to his body quite right. Perhaps a good thing, as it numbed the next words out of the steward’s mouth.
“Your mother has died.”
Marsh couldn’t muster a reaction, though the steward seemed to take his blank stare in stride. Out of the corner of Marsh’s eye, he saw Kelsier glance at him, then the steward, then back again.
“Mom…died?” he said.
“Yes,” said the steward. “It was an…unfortunate accident. A fall from the balcony.”
Something cold flooded Marsh’s nerves. The images flashed through his head again – his mother’s eyes, the prelan’s blow, the blood on the floor. The lies were a good thing, he knew. It meant nobody would know the truth. Nobody would find out what he and his brother were.
And nobody would know what had been done to his mother. Then again, it seemed no one would care, anyway.
An odd trembling shook through Marsh. For a moment, he thought it was the ground moving, before he realized it was his own body shaking.
“You will remain here, cared for by the servants,” the steward continued. “Understand that the rules of the house are still to be obeyed.”
He turned to leave, and as he did, he caught Marsh’s eyes. Something had cracked through his firm expression, something that looked a little like regret.
“Make sure you both get down to breakfast,” he said. Giving Marsh the barest hint of a nod, he retreated, leaving them alone once more.
Kelsier tugged on Marsh’s arm. “What did he mean, Mom died? How could she die?”
Marsh fought to push through the dullness that blanketed his mind. “I…I don’t know. It just…happened.” Blinking hard, he added, “Go get dressed so we can eat. Please.”
“Okay…” Kell said, sounding unconvinced. But by some miracle, he actually deigned to cooperate.
Marsh…didn’t remember much of the rest of the day. It was a haze broken only by flashes of awareness. A pitying look from a servant passing by. Kelsier spilling his drink at lunch. A guest stopping by, their carriage rattling over the cobblestones.
Father didn’t speak to either Marsh or Kelsier. He never even looked at them. If they were trivial to him before, they were all but invisible to him now. Marsh didn’t care. To have his father’s cold eyes on him, knowing he’d watched Mother be dragged off with the same icy impassivity…
Well, Marsh was grateful for the inattention. As much as he was able to feel anything.
The servants did check in on the two of them every now and then, but mostly they were left alone. Kelsier was his usual self, chattering and boisterous. Only a few times did he ask where their mother was, or when she would be coming back. Marsh, in each case, couldn’t find it within himself to answer.
That night, Marsh sat on the bed, rocked by Kelsier’s jumping. A servant had ushered them into their room earlier, with an admonition to be quiet, which Kell had predictably ignored. He’d so far refused Marsh’s every attempt to get him to settle down, regardless of how many demands, pleas, or bribes Marsh attempted. He found himself wishing for his mother’s calming presence, only to be hit like a slap by the reminder that he’d never again be able to rely on it.
He’d just have to keep trying. “Kell, come on. It’s time for bed,” he said for the thousandth time. “Stop jumping and sit down.”
Kell jumped again, landing on his knees. “But I’m not tired.”
“I’m tired. So let me read so we can go to sleep.”
“Mom reads,” Kell said, now bouncing on his knees. “Not you.”
“Yeah, but Mom isn’t here,” Marsh said. Pain lanced through his chest, but he forced it aside. “So I have to do it.”
“Well, I want Mom.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t care.”
“I do!” Kell insisted. “Mom’s gonna come read. That’s what she does!”
The thin strand of patience Marsh was clinging to finally gave out. “You don’t get it, do you?” he snapped, throwing the book aside. “Mom’s gone. She’s dead. She’s not coming back, ever. She’s gone!”
His voice broke on the last word. He turned away, his eyes burning, his own words echoing through his mind: She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.
Kelsier had gone strangely quiet. The mattress dipped as he crawled up the bed, settling beside Marsh.
“Are you crying?” he asked quietly.
“No,” Marsh muttered, wiping at his eyes.
Another beat of silence, one of the longest Marsh had ever heard from Kelsier, passed. “Mom won’t read to us anymore?” he said finally.
Marsh sniffled. “No. Not anymore.”
Kell fidgeted with the blanket. “She’s not gonna come back?”
“No.”
“But…” Kell said, voice small. “I want her to.”
“I know,” Marsh whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Me too.”
Kell sighed, slumping against Marsh. For once, Marsh didn’t try to push him off.
“You can read,” Kell said. “Instead of Mom. That’s okay.”
Marsh took a deep, shaky breath. “Okay,” he managed.
Carefully, he bent down and scooped the book back up. Kell squirmed into a more comfortable position as Marsh began to read.
He wasn’t as good at it as his mother; his words came out halting, and it was a lot harder to think of ways to change the story while you were in the midst of it than she’d made it look. But Kelsier didn’t complain. He stayed curled up beside Marsh, and after just a few pages, Marsh glanced over to see that he’d fallen asleep.
With a sigh, Marsh set the book aside and reached over to put out the lamp. The darkness settled over them, but his eyes adjusted, letting him see by the faint glow of the mists, still visible through the half-closed curtains.
He hadn’t been lying to Kelsier; he was tired. But the longer he lay there, the more obvious it became that sleep would elude him. Instead, he found himself watching the mists once again as they drifted steadily by. His head felt clearer as he gazed out there, as though all the fogginess that had consumed him earlier was being drawn away, dissolving into its kin.
He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. It left him free to remember. The memory played in his head, over and over again, the crack of the blow, his mother hitting the floor. And there was nothing left for him to hide behind, nothing to dull the pain.
Marsh clenched his teeth against another wave of tears. He should’ve tried harder to make his mother stay. Or gone after her sooner. Or actually tried to help her escape, instead of just sitting there, frozen. If he’d just been able to do something, maybe…maybe he could’ve saved her.
Or maybe the prelan would’ve killed him too. It could still happen, if he – or anyone else in the Ministry – discovered the existence of Marsh and his brother. Maybe the revelation that the two of them were half-bloods should’ve shocked Marsh more, but it felt right, he supposed. His mother had warned him – they were different, in a way that meant that danger would plague them all their lives.
The memory played itself out in his mind again. The blow, the blood. This time, though, it brought with it an upwelling of something Marsh had never felt before. A seething, fiery hatred. That prelan had enjoyed toying with Marsh’s mother, as if she weren’t even a person. He’d killed her without hesitation, then acted like it had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
How many times had he done that before, to other skaa? How many times would he do it again? How many skaa had died – would continue to die – at the hands of the Ministry, all for the crime of simply existing?
It had been happening for centuries, and it would never end. The Lord Ruler was immortal, and so was his church.
But…there might still be something Marsh could do about it. Once, he’d overhead his father complaining about the house’s supply boats being raided by rebels, so, curious, he’d asked his mother about it. She’d explained that there were people out there who fought against the Ministry. A rebellion, made up of those who didn’t accept the Lord Ruler, who wanted something better for themselves and others like them. His mother had spoken of them as the bravest people she’d ever known.
The decision was simple. Marsh would join them.
Not just to fight back against the Ministry. But to destroy them.