First Meeting V

"What's with the mask?" Deserea blurted out.

Lyvia had far too much self control to ever roll her eyes unless she had decided that was what the situation called for… but sometimes Deserea put her will power to the test!

They had talked about this! They had planned for this meeting, and Lyvia had explained that it would make sense for Lyvia to do the talking, draw the most focus and allow Deserea to be overlooked. Being overlooked meant being underestimated, and that would give Deserea the greatest opportunity to intervene with rioting if the need should arise.

And Deserea had agreed! She hadn't needed convincing, in fact she had complained that Lyvia was being patronizing and she was perfectly capable of seeing the advantage of going unnoticed.

So Lyvia had taken her at her word, and had diplomatically not tried to remind Deserea of their discussion as they had waited for their visitor to arrive. And then Deserea had thrown the plan out the window, butted in, talked back and was now gawking openly at The Grim's mask.

Lyvia had to admit that she was curious, too. Though her expression was no different than during any other business deal, she couldn't help staring just a little while trying to discern the nature of the mask.

It was a skull. A human skull, yet somehow large enough for the man to wear it over his own face. The teeth of the upper jaw came down almost to his chin, so the only part of his face that could be seen were his eyes, dimly visible in the shadow of the skull's eye sockets. The effect of the eyes darting back and forth was unsettling. Someone less self possessed might have shuddered.

She had heard from her agents that the man was known to wear a skull mask, and reports had varied wildly from the plausible to the outright impossible. Evidently there was a lot of dramatization at work, and she had suspected the reality might have been just a normal mask with a skull painted on, or perhaps a carved wooden mask bleached white.

But this was clearly a real skull, aged and textured, the faint yellowish-gray shade of white familiar to anyone who had occasion to handle bones.

With the black hood hiding anything else that might be seen, it was no surprise some witnesses thought The Grim had an actual skull for a head. It was also obvious how he had earned his name, looking like a spirit of death.

To Deserea's credit, she didn't look away as The Grim stared her down. As much as Lyvia disapproved of the interruption, she waited to see if he would answer.

After an awkward pause, The Grim silently turned back to her. Ready to resume business, she supposed. Questions of facial adornment would have to wait for another time.

Deserea probably hadn't spoiled things too badly. Quiet and unassuming had been the intended impression, but coming across as impulsive and immature would also make Deserea seem less of a concern. …And come far more naturally to her, Lyvia thought to herself.

"As I was saying, the immediate situation that we intend to employ your skills—"

The Grim raised a finger to interrupt.

"Not employ…" he said quietly.

Lyvia was relieved that he was deining to speak at last, though terse and cryptic was almost as bad as silent.

"I beg your pardon, I was given to understand that your services were for hire?"

"Correct."

Lyvia thought she could guess what his objection meant, but felt that she needed to retake a little control of the conversation. Rather than ask him to explain, she just cocked her head slightly and waited. He's not the only one who can use silence as a weapon.

The Grim was hard to read behind his mask, but Lyvia could be like a statue when she wanted. This time the pause wasn't awkward, it was a minor battle of wills.

The Grim broke first. Taking a breath, he launched into an explanation.

"People can hire me, not employ me. I work to the contract, I don't work for them. I'm no-one's employee, and they're not my employer. No one gets to tell me what to do. If it's not in the contract, it's my decision. Anyone who doesn't like that can pay for a new contract. But the more restrictions there are, the more you'll pay. And I decide which contracts I accept. And I only take on one contract at a time."

The Grims voice was… unexpected. Once again, the reports of the man had varied wildly. One colorful description had said he spoke like the clanging of swords, another that he snarled like a wild animal and fire came from his nostrils. Lyvia had assumed that he would likely speak in either a breathy whisper or a gravelly growl, in order to disguise his true voice.

Surprisingly, he spoke quite normally in a soft, but clear voice. His tone was neutral; he sounded neither impatient nor frustrated, nor implying a threat. Just stating facts in a manner that implied this wasn't an opinion. This was just the way things would be.

His accent was noble Luthadel, impossible to place more specifically than that. As a Mistborn Lyvia knew he must have some degree of noble heritage, but the accent suggested noble upbringing as well, though it was an easy enough dialect to emulate.

It was still a mystery why a Mistborn with noble roots would end up working freelance. It wasn't unheard of for houses to trade the services of their allomancers as part of alliances, and mistings who hired themselves out were common enough.

But a Mistborn was a rare and powerful enough resource that any sensible house would hold it as one of their most precious secrets. How did this man end up needing to advertise his services rather than having a single powerful patron?

Perhaps it was just his personal preference. He clearly chafed at the idea of being "an employee." Perhaps there had been a bad experience earlier in his career, or something in his background. It would be fascinating to dig into the matter deeper, but like so much else with the man, facts were hard to come by.

Lyvia knew without looking that Deserea would be even more enthralled by the sound of The Grim's voice. A taste for the dramatic was a necessary element of Deserea's profession, but she had a tendency toward romanticism and flights of imagination. No doubt she would already be concocting mental images of what was under the mask, and fanciful notions for his backstory.

Deserea had a bad habit of deciding things to be true because "it would make for a better story" rather than information and evidence. Sometimes an imaginative leap was needed, and for that Deserea could be invaluable, but one should never confuse facts and fiction.

The remark about only taking on a single job at a time was unexpected. There were at least two accounts of him pulling off a stunt similar to Deserea's from earlier, of managing to align the goals of different parties so that he got paid multiple times for the same work. That would contradict his claim, but then equally it could be misinformation, like so much else said about The Grim.

"Do you imply that you have an existing contractual obligation?" asked Lyvia.

"I was contracted to make it to this room at this hour without being detected."

"And I have already acknowledged the skill you demonstrated in the completion of this contract," she responded.

"And yet the contract is not yet complete…"

Was he… being playful? His expression was inscrutable, and his tone was unchanged, but his implication at least was clear enough.

Lyvia pulled a pouch from the desk and tossed it to him lightly. His hand whipped out from the depths of his cloak and snatched it out of the air with a soft jangle of boxings. After a pause, the pouch disappeared back within his cloak. Lyvia wondered if he used steel to count the coins or could just tell by the weight.

Or perhaps he just trusted that most people wouldn't be foolish enough to try and shortchange a Mistborn.

He turned to glance at the window again. For a moment Lyvia wondered if he was going to leave now that he had been paid. Instead, he seemed to examine the mist that curled into the room, the shadows cast by the single shuttered lamp, Deserea tightly wrapped in furs.

"Are you ladies in the habit of leaving the windows open on a night as cold as this?"

Deserea spoke up. "It's important to all of us that you could come and go without being observed. Closed windows would make things unnecessarily difficult, and a roaring fireplace would be more likely to leave you silhouetted in the light."

The Grim gave a small nod as though he appreciated the gesture. Lyvia was gratified that Deserea had been paying attention to her earlier. The girl had a mind for details when she applied it, she was just too easily distracted. …Like being distracted by the need to make a good impression on their mysterious visitor when making an impression of any kind was exactly what they had agreed they wanted to avoid.

The Grim settled back against the wall alongside the window.

"Alright," he said. "Tell me about this new use you have for my skills."