Tamsin and Jessica had stopped in their circuit to watch the duel as it finally began. The two men were fascinating to see as they advanced and retreated, some movements almost too quick for her to figure out what had happened. It was also slightly awkward; Tamsin was not used to seeing men fighting half-naked, or half-naked at all for that matter. However, beyond that initial startlement, it faded fairly quickly and she observed the match with curiosity.
Why
were they barechested? She had seen one or two duels before, but those had always been in shirtsleeves. It was hard to imagine Caden Hasting trying to show away for the ladies; it just did not fit him at all. Riordan Casuana was obviously trying to show away for everyone. A
pink shirt? Honestly! Despite Riordan's typical flourishing ridiculousness, though, they were almost elegant as they fought, and Tamsin's eyes were riveted to the pair until she detected an odd smell in the air.
It was faint, just an acrid trace. No one else seemed to have noticed yet; they were all focused on the tableau taking place in the dueling arena. She tried to decide what it was, and as it grew gradually stronger, she realized. Tamsin's hand clamped down on Jessica's arm as she whispered, "Do you smell smoke?"
That was when all hell broke loose. She could hear shouting somewhere in the Keep - then one of the stained-glass windows high above them exploded into a thousand brightly coloured shards, raining down over the crowd. A figure in a Mistcloak had leapt onto the railing, then jumped down, tumbling through the air to land on the long Casuana table with a shattering crash that resounded through the ballroom as the old wood broke entirely in two. His voice echoed through the shocked silence afterwards in warm, almost friendly tones in stark contrast to the message behind them.
Then the ballroom exploded, noblemen and women flying into a panic as arrows hissed down from the balconies overhead at the Mistborn. There was a surge of people around her, and she was swept away with them, her hand pulled away from Jessica's arm somewhere in the rush. She was separated, on her own, and Tamsin had no idea where to run or what to do; the exits of the ballroom were already choking up with a sudden stampede of nobles trying to escape. Smoke was rising in the room, a faint haze beginning to be visible.
Tamsin tried to keep her footing, to keep from being knocked over and trampled, and then she saw the table not far away. She dove for it and the shelter it represented, crawling under the edge of the tablecloth and pulling her dress in after her. Crouched there trembling, eyes wide with terror, she barely dared to breathe. Trying not to cough, she pulled out her handkerchief and put it over her mouth and nose.
Vizar was gone, leaving Jansten to himself. He was fine with that. It would have been fine if the Terrisman had stayed, too. All his limbs were quite heavy now and he didn't feel the urge to stir a finger; he was utterly relaxed and free of pain. Jansten closed his eyes and sighed peacefully; life was good. He had lost interest in his philosophical musings that had seemed so important a little while ago, and now he simply thought about nothing at all, a dazed smile on his face.
There was a smell in the air that he vaguely identified as smoke and then dismissed as totally unimportant. The room was even warmer than before. It was so comfortable. This must have been what it was like in the womb, he reflected distantly. Warm, and safe, and peaceful.
He drifted off into blissful drowsiness.
2
