Elend had sold all such finery he owned, struggling to feed his people during the last few winters.
Yomen laced his fingers on the table in front of him—his meal taken away by silent servants—and studied Elend, his cautious eyes framed by intricate tattoos. Yomen wore no crown, but he did wear a single bead of metal tied so that it hung in the center of his forehead.
Atium.
“There is a saying in the Steel Ministry,” Yomen finally said. “ ‘Sit down to dine with evil, and you will ingest it with your meal.’ ”
“It’s a good thing we’re not eating, then,” Elend said, smiling slightly.
Yomen did not smile back.
“Yomen,” Elend said, growing more serious. “I come to you now, not as an emperor seeking for new lands to control, but as a desperate king seeking allies. The world has become a dangerous place—the land itself seems to be fighting us, or at least falling apart beneath us. Accept my hand of friendship, and let us be done with wars.”
Yomen didn’t reply. He just sat, fingers laced, studying Elend.
“You doubt my sincerity,” Elend said. “I can’t say that I blame you, since I marched my army up to your doorstep. Is there a way that I can persuade you? Would you be willing to enter into talks or parley?”
Again, no answer. So, this time, Elend just waited. The room around them felt still.
Yomen finally spoke. “You are a flagrant and garish man, Elend Venture.”
Elend bristled at that. Perhaps it was the ball setting, perhaps it was the way Yomen so flippantly ignored his offer. However, Elend found himself responding to the comment in a way he might have years before, when he hadn’t been a king at war. “It’s a bad habit I’ve always had,” Elend said. “I’m afraid that the years of rule—and of being trained in propriety—haven’t changed one fact: I’m a terribly rude man. Bad breeding would be my guess.”
“You find this a game,” the obligator said, eyes hard. “You come to my city to slaughter my people, then you dance into my ball hoping to frighten the nobility to the point of hysteria.”
“No,” Elend said. “No, Yomen, this is no game. The world seems near to ending, and I’m just doing my best to help as many people survive as possible.”
“And doing your best includes conquering my city?”
Elend shook his head. “I’m not good at lying, Yomen. So, I’ll be truthful with you. I don’t want to kill anyone—as I said, I’d rather we simply made a truce and were done with it. Give me the information I seek, pool your resources with mine, and I will not force you to give up your city. Deny me, and things will grow more difficult.”
Yomen sat quietly for a moment, music still being played softly in the background, vibrating over the hum of a hundred polite conversations.
“Do you know why I dislike men like you, Venture?” Yomen finally asked.
“My insufferable charm and wit?” Elend asked. “I doubt it’s my good looks—but, compared to that of an obligator, I suppose even my face could be enviable.”
Yomen’s expression darkened. “How did a man like you ever end up at a table of negotiation?”
“I was trained by a surly Mistborn, a sarcastic Terrisman, and a group of disrespectful thieves,” Elend said, sighing. “Plus, on top of that, I was a fairly insufferable person to begin with. But, kindly continue with your insult—I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“I don’t like you,” Yomen continued, “because you have the gall to believe that you deserve to take this city.”
“I do,” Elend said. “It belonged to Cett; half the soldiers I brought with me on this march once served him, and this is their homeland. We’ve come to liberate, not conquer.”
“Do these people look to you like they need liberation?” Yomen said, nodding to the dancing couples.
“Yes, actually,” Elend said. “Yomen, you’re the upstart here—not me. You have no right to this city, and you know it.”
“I have the right given me by the Lord Ruler.”
“We don’t accept the Lord Ruler’s right to rule,” Elend said. “That’s why we killed him. Instead, we look to the people’s right to rule.”
“Is that so?” Yomen said, hands still laced before him. “Because, as I recall, the people of your city chose Ferson Penrod to be their king.”
Good point, that one, Elend had to admit.
Yomen leaned forward. “This is the reason I don’t like you, Venture. You’re a hypocrite of the worst kind. You pretended to let the people be in charge—but when they ousted you and picked another, you had your Mistborn conquer the city back for you. You rule by force, not by common consent, so don’t talk to me about rights.”
“There were… circumstances in Luthadel, Yomen. Penrod was working with our enemies, and he bought himself the throne through manipulating the assembly.”
“That sounds like a flaw in the system,” Yomen said. “A system that you set up—a system replacing the one of order that existed before it. A people depend on stability in their government; they need someone to look to. A leader that they can trust, a leader with true authority. Only a man chosen by the Lord Ruler has that claim on authority.”
Elend studied the obligator. The frustrating thing was, he almost agreed with the man. Yomen said things that Elend himself had said, even if they were twisted a bit by his perspective as an obligator.
“Only a man chosen by the Lord Ruler has that claim on authority…” Elend said, frowning. The phrase sounded familiar. “That’s from Durton, isn’t it? Calling of Trust?”
Yomen paused. “Yes.”
“I prefer Gallingskaw, when it comes to divine right.”
Yomen made a curt gesture. “Gallingskaw was a heretic.”
“That makes his theories invalid?” Elend asked.
“No,” Yomen said. “It shows that he lacked the ability to reason soundly—otherwise he wouldn’t have gotten himself executed. That affects the validity of his theories. Besides, there is no divine mandate in the common man, as he proposed.”
“The Lord Ruler was a common man before he took his throne,” Elend said.
“Yes,” Yomen said, “but the Lord Ruler touched divinity at the Well of Ascension. That imprinted the Sliver of Infinity upon him, and gave him the Right of Inference.”
“Vin, my wife, touched that same divinity.”
“I don’t accept that story,” Yomen said. “As it has been said, the Sliver of Infinity was unique, unplanned, uncreated.”
“Don’t bring Urdree into this,” Elend said, raising a finger. “We both know he was more a poet than a real philosopher—he ignored convention, and never gave proper attributions. At least give me the benefit of the doubt and quote Hardren. He’d give you a much better foundation.”
Yomen opened his mouth, then stopped, frowning. “This is pointless,” he said. “Arguing philosophy will not remove the fact that you have an army camped outside my city, nor change the fact that I find you a hypocrite, Elend Venture.”
Elend sighed. For a moment, he’d thought that they might be able to respect one another as scholars. There was one problem, however. Elend saw true loathing in Yomen’s eyes. And, Elend suspected that there was a deeper reason for it than Elend’s alleged hypocrisy. After all, Elend had married the woman who had killed Yomen’s god.
“Yomen,” Elend said, leaning in. “I realize we have differences. However, one thing seems clear—we both care about the people of this empire. We both took the time to study political theory, and we both apparently focused on the texts that held the good of the people up as the prime reason for rule. We should be able to make this work.