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Elendel wasn’t perfect. Marsh had seen it grow from Spook’s idealistic vision to the metropolis it was today, and he thought Spook would be proud of what it had become. But there were still bad areas and so, unfortunately, he was not particularly surprised to see the child huddled in the alleyway, with only a thin blanket for warmth against the winter wind.
She didn’t seem surprised to see him, either, and that was what prompted Marsh to stop. He always tried to make his way through the city unseen because, well … inevitably, the sight of him frightened people. But the girl wasn’t frightened. Instead, she looked up at him with eyes full of such calm resignation that Marsh almost thought he’d been inadvertently Soothing her. He paused and the girl stood up, shakily, casting off the tattered blanket.
Marsh knew what the stories said about him, these days. “You’re not dying,” he said.
“Oh …”
Her voice, filled with surprise and—disappointment?—forced him to admit that, if he left her where she was, she might be. And so he scooped her up, wrapped her in his cloak, and took her with him into the night.
That was how he met the girl. There was a Pathist orphanage, and he made arrangements for her to be taken there, and he thought that would be the end of it. He didn’t even know her name.
She was waiting for him two weeks later. He had to live somewhere, after all, but the room he kept was hidden, out of the way. He wouldn’t have thought she could find her way back.
“I just wanted to make sure you were real,” she said. “They told me I was dreaming because I was sick.”
“You weren’t dreaming, child,” said Marsh. “But you shouldn’t speak to people of me.” What was he supposed to do with a child? He hadn’t interacted with a child since—but no, Vin hadn’t been a child, not even then.
“But they all think you’re scary!” the girl protested. “Don’t you want them to know you’re really good?”
“You don’t know me, child,” Marsh said. “You don’t know that.”
“Well …” the girl drew back a little, looking Marsh up and down. Maybe the reality of who she was speaking to was finally sinking in—maybe she’d decide she’d be better off leaving him alone. But— “It’s because you’re big and tall and wear a black cloak,” the girl concluded. “No one would think I was scary if I went around with nails in my face.”
Marsh laughed, for what might have been the first time in decades.
It wasn’t until their third meeting that he learned her name.
“You shouldn’t come here, girl,” he said, finding her waiting in his room once again.
“Why not?” And Marsh couldn’t think of any good reason, beyond the fact that he no longer knew how to act around someone who wasn’t afraid. “And it’s Tesha,” she added. “Not ‘girl’ or ‘child.’”
“Tesha.”
“Do you have a name? Or is it just Ironeyes?”
He hadn’t been Marsh in three centuries. “Just Ironeyes,” he said.
Marsh had always preferred to be alone. It wasn’t that he disliked people, but he didn’t thrive in their company, the way Kell had. Loneliness was not a problem—if anyone was suited for a lifetime in the shadows, it was him.
The truth was, he’d forgotten what it was like to have friends. Tesha reminded him.
“Are you sure? You can’t show up and scare them just a little?”
“I thought you said I wasn’t really scary.”
“Yeah, but the boys don’t know that.”
“Think about it,” said Marsh. “What good would that do? Your schoolfellows already fear me.”
“So … I should make them scared of me?”
“You should make them respect you,” he corrected. He taught her to hold her own in a fight. It wasn’t something she took to naturally, not like Vin had, but she was determined enough.
That was it, that was the problem. He kept comparing her to Vin. The truth was, they weren’t anything alike. Both children of the streets, but that was just superficial. Tesha was open and trusting where Vin had been hesitant, brash and outspoken where Vin stayed quiet and hidden.
You did right by Vin, in the end, he reminded himself. How you treat a completely different girl three centuries later will change nothing. And that should have been the end of things. It would have been easy to convince the girl to stay away—she was a determined little thing, but she had no defenses against emotional allomancy. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
What part does she play, then? he asked. I can sense her importance, but she’s not even a misting. Does she have some destiny yet uncovered?
She does not. Not in any way that I can see. There was amusement in Sazed’s—Harmony’s—voice, amusement that Marsh rarely heard. Did it occur to you that her importance might have nothing to do with the fate of the world?
Explain.
You’re allowed to care about people, you know.
Marsh remembered what happened to people he cared about. What he had done to people he cared about. Of course that wouldn’t happen, not here, not now, but knowing that didn’t stop the memories.
“I wish I had a sister,” Tesha said one day, out of the blue, which was not at all unusual for her.
“Siblings can sometimes be more trouble than they’re worth.”
The girl threw him a sharp look. “You have a sister?”
“Had,” said Marsh. “A brother.” None of the mythology named Ironeyes as the Survivor’s brother—he wasn’t sure why—and he wasn’t about to give that piece of information to a girl who never stopped talking. “We didn’t always get along. He would have made a better companion for you. Friendlier.” Kelsier had been like a father to Vin—Marsh didn’t have that in him.
“Friendly’s easy, anyone can be friendly,” said Tesha. “You’re here.”
Something about the way she said it made Marsh stop. Try to turn it around, see things from her side. What must it be like for the first constant in her life to be someone like him? Someone so inhuman, corrupted … no. That wasn’t how the girl saw him. The girl saw someone strong and unstoppable. Somehow, the girl saw someone good.
“I’m going away for a time.”
Tesha did not take the news well. “You can’t!”
“There are things I must do outside the city.”
“Take me with you, then!”
“No,” Marsh said, firmly. Then, “I have something for you, before I go.”
The girl eyed the gift doubtfully. “I don’t pray very much,” she confessed.
Try ‘at all.’ But there was kindness in Sazed’s voice.
“You don’t have to. Though I’m sure Harmony would like to hear your voice.” Tesha still looked skeptical. “It belonged to someone I cared about,” Marsh explained, gently pressing the earring into Tesha’s hand. “I’ve held onto it long enough.”