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Marsh saw a shadow outside the shop door, and dropped the wash rag he was holding. Then he walked towards the door, a candle in hand. If it was a nobleman’s servant, it wouldn’t be the first customer he’d been forced to cater to after hours. If it was an Allomancer, he’d already be dead.
The shadow shuffled impatiently as Marsh unlocked the door. It wasn’t until he moved the light closer that he could make out the stranger’s features. He almost dropped the candle in shock, but instead he covered the light, so as to not draw attention from the outside.
“Kelsier?” Marsh whispered, staring at the ghost outside his shop. He’d heard stories of mistwraiths during his time as resistance leader, as they propagated easily in the claustrophobic tunnels. He’d never considered what truth they might hold until tonight.
“Glad to see your intelligence hasn’t faded,” Kelsier said with a wan smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The exhaustion that hung around his shoulders was new, as was the mistcloak that fluttered when he stepped into the shop.
Marsh pulled Kelsier further inside, wary of spies passing by in the night. “Why are you wearing one of these?” Marsh held up a tassel. “You won’t be the only one to die if someone catches a skaa playing at Mistborn.”
Kelsier gently took the mistcloak’s tassel from Marsh’s hand. “Who said I wasn’t Mistborn?” He quickly followed this statement with a pull on the metal candle base, and an over correcting push to right it. While Marsh’s grip on the candle hadn’t changed, the agitation sent sparks flying. He quickly smacked out the flame on his sleeve before they could burn through.
Kelsier looked to Marsh expectantly, as if waiting for him to be impressed. He wasn’t. It had been a stupid way to show off his powers, playing with an open flame. Steel and iron were the most visible powers, but they were also the most unpredictable. Emotional Allomancy would have been simpler, if considerably less flashy.
Marsh turned away, and gestured towards Kelsier to follow him. Of course his brother had shiny new powers. Of course his brother wasn’t just a Misting but an actual Mistborn. As always, the Cosmere couldn’t grant Marsh anything that Kelsier didn’t have too—and his brother’s version was always better.
Marsh let the two of them into the shop’s storage. There were chairs in the back, and he needed to sit before Kelsier announced he was going to assassinate the Lord Ruler, or something equally ridiculous. Kelsier followed silently, which made Marsh uneasy. His brother had never been quiet before Hathsin, always filling up the room with raucous laughter. Where was that man now?
Marsh pulled two mismatched chairs from the dusty corners of the storage room. What he really needed was a drink, but he didn’t keep spirits in the shop—and he didn’t want Kelsier to know where he was currently residing. He wouldn’t dismiss caution, not even for his back-from-the-dead brother. Kelsier sat in a chair, while Marsh gathered a few more candles. This was not a conversation to be had in the dark.
“Talk,” Marsh said gruffly, taking a seat. He carefully arranged and lit the new candles on a nearby table.
Kelsier shook his head, and leaned back in his chair. “What is this, an interrogation? Why don’t you start, and tell me where the stubborn rebellion leader went?”
“He realized he had more important things to worry about than a lost cause.” Marsh wasn’t proud that he’d left the rebellion, but he didn’t regret it. Not when the only terrors he confronted now were in the darkness before sleep. He continued brusquely,“How did you get your powers?”
Kelsier took a few minutes to organize his thoughts, something he’d only done before when he was about to give a practiced speech. His hands quivered lightly, as if he was failing to hold them still. Whatever memories of his Snap he had must have been harrowing—possibly worse than Marsh’s own. He quickly pushed away memories of the day his mother had died, the obligator’s nasally voice, and his own vow of vengeance. Kelsier had been too young to remember the event, for which Marsh was grateful. Some things were better left misunderstood.
Kelsier breathed deeply before beginning,“Hathsin is a mine for atium…” Over the next few minutes, he spun out a harrowing story of living in tunnels, of pain and terror. He’d been practicing it, as he didn’t pause again until he’d finished. He didn’t talk about Mare, and Marsh didn’t ask. He would grieve her death until the day he died. Kelsier’s lonesome arrival only confirmed that truth. As Kelsier shifted while telling his story, Marsh caught sight of his arms, and the pale, twisting scars running over them. They bore stark testimony to the truth of his story.
“…They killed Mare,” Kelsier said with a soft menace to his voice. He continued with,”I killed the guards and escaped. I’ve spent the past two years training.” He punctuated the statement by balancing on two chair legs, the picture of casual indifference.
Kelsier had glossed over the last two years as if they’d been nothing. Marsh knew he would have returned sooner if he’d only been practicing his powers, as he said. There had been rumors of unrest to the north circulating. It didn’t take much work to guess what direction Kelsier had arrived from. Marsh replied,”What are you scheming now?”
“I never said I was making plans.” Kelsier pulled back, faking hurt. The move was a shockingly familiar one. Even after years, they fell back into their roles easily: Kelsier played the innocent folk hero he assumed he was, while Marsh was turned into an unwitting Inquisitor.
“I wasn’t asking whether you were making plans, but what they are. I need to know what kind of mess I’m going to clean up later.”
Kelsier ignored him. As his chair once again made contact with the ground, his previously playful air vanished. “They killed her, Marsh, without a backward glance. For that, I’m going to bring down the Lord Ruler and his Final Empire.” A darkness hung over him to match his new cloak. He was as unreliable as they came, and twice as free-spirited. Marsh knew he would fulfill the promise regardless.
“Have fun with your new powers. When you need someone to save you, bother one of your friends. Dockson, or that Terrisman.” Marsh’s hands slammed harder on the table than he’d meant to place them as he stood to leave. Regardless, he refused to stay and entertain Kelsier’s delusions any longer. Marsh would keep his head down, like he always had, and would still be bowed over when the dust settled. He understood the rules of survival on a deeper level than his brother had ever managed.
“I can get you into the Steel Ministry.” Marsh paused. Kelsier pressed his advantage. “And I know you’ve been fascinated by Allomancy for years. I’ll answer your questions—or find solutions myself.”
Kelsier knew how to manipulate everyone. Marsh hated himself for sitting back down, hated the way Kelsier could walk into a room like he owned it, then back up the claim. Most of all, he hated that he had never managed the same. He’d spent years leading the rebellion. Kelsier could gather an army in a week if he wanted to. Not that he’d ever cared enough before to try, but now that he had a vendetta…
“Tomorrow night, I’m meeting with some friends to discuss a new job. I want you to come.”
“No,” Marsh shook his head. He shouldn’t have stayed to listen. “I won’t get dragged into another one of your schemes.” He had an honest life, however little that meant in Luthadel. He wouldn’t risk it for his brother's half-baked dream. Despite what Kelsier thought, there was no changing the world. Marsh had proved that. All you could do was keep your head down and pray for a quick death when the time came.
“I want you there, Marsh, as my brother. All you need to do is listen.” Without waiting for an answer, Kelsier stood up, and walked towards the room’s backdoor.
Marsh stayed exactly where he was and called,”You found yourself some new powers and escaped the pits. You’ll figure out a way to pull off your next project without me.”
Kelsier slipped into the night. Marsh rose, snuffed the candles out, and gathered them. Regardless of how he felt, he’d go to Kell’s meeting tomorrow. Like always with his brother, Marsh would give in.
Kelsier watched Marsh emerge last from the caves. The view of the two sightless steel eyes startled Kelsier, even though he’d helped Marsh fight Ruin. He’d almost died fighting a steel inquisitor, practically lost Vin on another occasion. The monster that stood in the sunlight couldn’t be his brother, could it? His mind struggled to reconcile the inquisitor before him with Marsh, his stern but noble older brother.
“I know you’re there,” Marsh rasped. “You’re the only idiot in the Cosmere who can’t die properly.”
Kelsier felt a gentle tug towards the Physical Realm. With the last remnants of Preservation, Kelsier sensed his Connection to Marsh. Following the thread, he allowed himself to be pulled into the Physical Realm. “Correction, I’m the only genius in the Cosmere who’s achieved lasting immortality,” he said from behind Marsh.
Marsh portrayed no surprise at Kelsier’s appearance, posture stiff as ever. He replied,”You already had it by creating an entire religion. You could have left like Vin and Elend.” Marsh choked on the last name, the man he’d murdered in cold blood. Unspoken was the hurt he’d caused Vin before her ascension. Kelsier struggled to see his brother beneath those acts of violence, even if they had been by Ruin’s command.
Kelsier walked around to face Marsh, hesitating before he met his brother's eye spikes. He was reminded of Vin’s final fight, facing down thirteen of these monsters, including his (possessed) brother. Kelsier pushed the thoughts away. “Vin and Elend were ready and I wasn’t. Is it wrong to want to live?”
“I don’t know yet.” Marsh turned away. Shifting topics abruptly, he added,“I have a full set of powers—Mistborn and Ferachumnist.”
“Can you burn atium?”
“I can compound it.”
Marsh could be immortal. No, he could be a god, like the Lord Ruler, if he wished for it. Marsh clearly had no interest in religion, but the path was now open to him.
“Marsh, you have no idea how wonderful that news is. You’ll stick around for a while, right?” Kelsier let out a breath of relief. He wouldn’t have to be alone. No matter how many friends aged beyond him, he’d at least have Sazed, and now his brother.
“We’ll see,” Marsh said. He paused for a raspy breath. The next words came softly. “When I was under Ruin’s control, I tried to pull my linchpin spike—several times. He never let me.”
“You kept fighting though. You got my message to Vin, and I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”
“Immortality, legends, playing at god…it all fits you, Kell,” Marsh slowly shook his head. “In a few generations, I’ll be nothing more than a mistwraith, used to frighten children. ‘The Last Steel Inquisitor’—I haven’t decided yet if I’ll live to see it.”
Leave it to Marsh to make a full set of spikes sound morose. He’d been granted powers far beyond those of Kelsier’s (now absent) allomancy, and he refused to do anything with them? “I know your powers weren’t given naturally, but it’s not a sin to use them. Ruin is gone, Marsh,” Kelsier gestured to the open land around them, hills filled with the flowers from Mare’s drawing. “And He’s left behind a whole world for us. This is an opportunity.”
“As long as I live, Ruin will too.”
“You killed Elend under His control,” Kelsier said, forcing himself to stare directly into Marsh’s eye spikes. Don’t think about the time Vin almost died. Don’t think about the monster you beheaded before dying. Kelsier shoved the memories down.
Marsh did not comment, but his burdened posture was apology enough.
Softly, Kelsier continued,”You have work to do, Marsh, if you want to atone. Vin and Elend left a world behind, and it’s our job to steward it now. This is your chance.”
“You don’t think Sazed can handle godhood?”
“I don’t think Sazed knows the limitations of his newfound powers. It’s our job to protect the world in ways he can’t.”
“That was our job when you decided to burn down the Final Empire, but that’s over now. You’re dead, and I’m the monster you made me. You built yourself a pedestal, and like always, I paid the price for your vision. Not all of us have your luck.” Marsh gave a bitter laugh, more grating in his raspy voice. For a brief moment he sounded like Kar, the former head Inquisitor…No, this was Marsh. Kelsier would not forget who he was fighting for again, or the brother he’d dragged into his original plan. He’d learned that lesson once.
Marsh sat heavily on the grassy hill.
“You’re alive.” The words left behind a stale taste in Kelsier’s mouth, as he settled beside his brother. Of all the useless things he could have said…
Marsh shook his head. “Who said I’d wanted to be?”
Kelsier hated to mention her, but he had a final card to play. He couldn’t afford to lose this fight. “This is the world Mare wanted. So many of the people we knew died fighting for it: Yeden, Dockson, Clubs.” Deep breath. “Vin. It seems a shame to not at least stroll around before you pull your spike. Sazed remade Scadrial for the survivors, including us. Isn’t that worth something?”
Marsh simply pulled away. Kelsier thought he’d won him over, but he couldn’t tell.
Kelsier watched Marsh’s silhouette until it disappeared around another hill. He didn’t follow. He couldn’t, not when Marsh had a point. Kelsier had asked Marsh to infiltrate the Obligators without considering the cost. He would pay it again, for the world untainted by ash he stood in now. The realization settled uncomfortably in the bottom of his stomach with the rest of the stones he carried.
Kelsier knelt down to pick a Marewill. His hand passed through the petals, and he groped at air. A single thought lingered— Mare, what would you think of me? Kelsier already knew the unpleasant answer. Talking to Marsh always made Kelsier think of Mare and reconsider who he was—and he’d never liked the feeling of both in conjunction.
Instead, he let himself fade back into the cognitive realm. If Marsh wouldn’t listen to him, Spook might. Like always after a meeting with his brother, Kelsier would lose himself in a rush of friends and followers, or barring that, he’d settle for just another soul. Anything was better than being alone with himself.