Mistborn #02 The Well of Ascension

Perhaps. . .she could understand me .
    Perhaps she could save me .
    He sighed, opening his eyes and using the towel to clean his arm. His insanity frightened him sometimes. But, it seemed weaker around Vin. That was all he had to go on for the moment. He accepted his tea from the serving girl—long braid, firm chest, homely features—and took a sip of the hot cinnamon.
    Straff raised his own cup, then hesitated, sniffing delicately. He eyed Zane. "Poisoned tea, Zane?"
    Zane said nothing.
    "Birchbane, too," Straff noted. "That's a depressingly unoriginal move for you."
    Zane said nothing.
    Straff made a cutting motion. The girl looked up with terror as one of Straff's guards stepped toward her. She glanced at Zane, expecting some sort of aid, but he just looked away. She yelled pathetically as the guard pulled her off to be executed.
    She wanted the chance to kill him , he thought. I told her it probably wouldn't work .
    Straff just shook his head. Though not a full Mistborn, the king was a Tineye. Still, even for one with such an ability, sniffing birchbane amid the cinnamon was an impressive feat.
    "Zane, Zane. . ." Straff said. "What would you do if you actually managed to kill me?"
    If I actually wanted to kill you , Zane thought, I'd use that knife, not poison . But, he let Straff think what he wished. The king expected assassination attempts. So Zane provided them.
    Straff held something up—a small bead of atium. "I was going to give you this, Zane. But I see that we'll have to wait. You need to get over these foolish attempts on my life. If you were ever to succeed, where would you get your atium?"
    Straff didn't understand, of course. He thought that atium was like a drug, and assumed that Mistborn relished using it. Therefore, he thought he could control Zane with it. Zane let the man continue in his misapprehension, never explaining that he had his own personal stockpile of the metal.
    That, however, brought him to face the real question that dominated his life. God's whispers were returning, now that the pain was fading. And, of all the people the voice whispered about, Straff Venture was the one who most deserved to die.
    "Why?" God asked. "Why won't you kill him?"
    Zane looked down at his feet. Because he's my father , he thought, finally admitting his weakness. Other men did what they had to. They were stronger than Zane.
    "You're insane, Zane," Straff said.
    Zane looked up.
    "Do you really think you could conquer the empire yourself, if you were to kill me? Considering your. . .particular malady, do you think you could run even a city?"
    Zane looked away. "No."
    Straff nodded. "I'm glad we both understand that."
    "You should just attack," Zane said. "We can find the atium once we control Luthadel."
    Straff smiled, then sipped the tea. The poisoned tea.
    Despite himself, Zane started, sitting up straight.
    "Don't presume to think you know what I'm planning, Zane," Straff said. "You don't understand half as much as you assume."
    Zane sat quietly, watching his father drink the last of the tea.
    "What of your spy?" Straff asked.
    Zane lay the note on the table. "He's worried that they might suspect him. He has found no information about the atium."
    Straff nodded, setting down the empty cup. "You'll return to the city and continue to befriend the girl."
    Zane nodded slowly, then turned and left the tent.

    Straff thought he could feel the birchbane already, seeping through his veins, making him tremble. He forced himself to remain in control. Waiting for a few moments.
    Once he was sure Zane was distant, he called for a guard. "Bring me Amaranta!" Straff ordered. "Quickly!"
    The soldier rushed to do his master's bidding. Straff sat quietly, tent rustling in the evening breeze, a puff of mist floating to the floor from the once open flap. He burned tin, enhancing his senses. Yes. . .he could feel the poison within him. Deadening his nerves. He had time, however. As long as an hour, perhaps, and so he relaxed.
    For a man who claimed he didn't want to kill Straff, Zane certainly spent a lot of effort trying. Fortunately, Straff had a tool even Zane didn't know about—one that came in the form of a woman. Straff smiled as his tin-enhanced ears heard soft footsteps approaching in the night.
    The soldiers sent Amaranta right in. Straff hadn't brought all of his mistresses with him on the trip—just his ten or fifteen favorites. Mixed in with the ones he was currently bedding, however, were some women that