Mistborn: secret history

He wants something, Kelsier guessed. Something that I have, maybe? No, he seemed legitimately

surprised that Kelsier was there. He had come here, intending to visit the Well. Perhaps he wanted to

enter it, access the power? Or did he, perhaps, just want to have a look at the thing Beyond?

“Well, you’re obviously resourceful,” Kelsier said. “Perhaps you can help me with my predicament.”

“Alas,” the Drifter said. “Your case is hopeless.”

Kelsier felt his heart sink.

“Yes, nothing to be done,” the Drifter continued. “You are, indeed, stuck with that face. By manifesting

those same features on this side, you show that even your soul is resigned to you always looking like one

ugly sonofa–”

“Bastard,” Kelsier cut in. “You had me for a second.”

“Now, that’s demonstrably wrong,” the Drifter said, pointing. “I believe only one of us in this room is

illegitimate, and it isn’t me. Unless…” He tapped the floating corpse on the head with his oar. “What

about you, Spanky?”

The corpse actually mumbled something.

“Happily married parents? Still alive? Really? I’m sorry for their loss.” The Drifter looked to Kelsier,

smiling innocently. “No bastards on this side. What about yours?”

“The bastard by birth,” Kelsier said, “is always better off than the one by choice, Drifter. I’ll own up to my

nature if you own up to yours.”

The Drifter chuckled, eyes alight. “Nice, nice. Tell me, since we’re on the topic, which are you? A skaa

with noble bearing, or a nobleman with skaa interests? Which half is more you, Survivor?”

“Well,” Kelsier said dryly, “considering that the relatives of my noble half spent the better part of four

decades trying to exterminate me, I’d say I’m more inclined toward the skaa side.”

“Aaaah,” the Drifter said, leaning forward. “But I didn’t ask which you liked more. I asked which you

were.”

“Is it relevant?”

“It’s interesting,” the Drifter said. “Which is enough for me.” He reached down to the corpse he was using

as a boat, then removed something from his pocket. Something that glowed, though Kelsier couldn’t tell if

it was something naturally radiant, or just something made of metal.

---

The glow faded as the Drifter administered it to his vessel, then – covering the motion with a cough, as if

to hide from Kelsier what he was doing – furtively applied some of the glow to his oar. When he placed the

oar back into the mists, it sent the boat scooting closer to the Well.

“Is there a way for me to escape this prison?” Kelsier asked.

“How about this?” the Drifter said. “We’ll have an insult battle. Winner gets to ask one question, and the

other has to answer truthfully. I’ll start. What’s wet, ugly, and has scars on its arms?”

Kelsier raised an eyebrow. All of this talk was a distraction, as evidenced by Drifter scooting – again –

closer to the prison. He’s going to try jump for the Well, Kelsier thought. Leap in, hoping to be fast

enough to surprise me.

“No guess?” Drifter asked. “The answer is basically anyone who spends time with you, Kelsier, as they

end up slitting their wrists, hitting themselves in the face, and then drowning themselves to forget the

experience. Ha! Okay, your turn.”

“I’m going to murder you,” Kelsier said softly.

“I– Wait, what?”

“If you step inside here,” Kelsier said, “I’m going to murder you. I’ll slice the tendons on your wrists so

your hands can’t do anything more than batter at me uselessly as I kneel against your throat and slowly

crush the life out of you – all while I remove your fingers one by one. I’ll finally let you breathe a single,

frantic gasp – but at that moment I’ll shove your middle finger between your lips so that you’re forced to

suck it down as you struggle for air. You’ll go out knowing you choked to death on your own rotten flesh.”

The Drifter gaped at him, mouth working soundlessly. “I…” he finally said. “I don’t think you know how to

play this game.”

Kelsier shrugged.

“Seriously,” Drifter said. “You need some help, friend. I know a guy. Tall, bald, wears lots of earrings.

Have a chat with him next–”

The Drifter cut off midsentence and leaped for the prison, kicking off the floating corpse and throwing

himself at the light.

Kelsier was ready. As Drifter entered the light, Kelsier grabbed the man by one arm and slung him toward

the side of the pool. The maneuver worked, and Drifter seemed to be able to touch the walls and floor

here in the Well. He slammed against the wall, sending waves of light splashing up.

As Kelsier tried to punch at Drifter’s head while he was stumbling, the man caught himself on the side of

the pool and kicked backward, knocking Kelsier’s legs out from beneath him.

Kelsier splashed in the light, and he tried to burn metals by reflex. Nothing happened, though there was