The glow faded as the Drifter administered it to his vessel, then—covering the motion with a cough, as if to hide from Kelsier what he was doing—furtively applied some of the glow to his oar. When he placed the oar back into the mists, it sent the boat scooting closer to the Well.

“Is there a way for me to escape this prison?” Kelsier asked.

“How about this?” the Drifter said. “We’ll have an insult battle. Winner gets to ask one question, and the other has to answer truthfully. I’ll start. What’s wet, ugly, and has scars on its arms?”

Kelsier raised an eyebrow. All of this talk was a distraction, as evidenced by Drifter scooting—again—closer to the prison. He’s going to try to jump for the Well, Kelsier thought. Leap in, hoping to be fast enough to surprise me.

“No guess?” Drifter asked. “The answer is basically anyone who spends time with you, Kelsier, as they end up slitting their wrists, hitting themselves in the face, and then drowning themselves to forget the experience. Ha! Okay, your turn.”

“I’m going to murder you,” Kelsier said softly.

“I— Wait, what?”

“If you step inside here,” Kelsier said, “I’m going to murder you. I’ll slice the tendons on your wrists so your hands can’t do anything more than batter at me uselessly as I kneel against your throat and slowly crush the life out of you—all while I remove your fingers one by one. I’ll finally let you breathe a single, frantic gasp—but at that moment I’ll shove your middle finger between your lips so that you’re forced to suck it down as you struggle for air. You’ll go out knowing you choked to death on your own rotten flesh.”

The Drifter gaped at him, mouth working soundlessly. “I…” he finally said. “I don’t think you know how to play this game.”

Kelsier shrugged.

“Seriously,” Drifter said. “You need some help, friend. I know a guy. Tall, bald, wears lots of earrings. Have a chat with him next—”

The Drifter cut off midsentence and leaped for the prison, kicking off the floating corpse and throwing himself at the light.

Kelsier was ready. As Drifter entered the light, Kelsier grabbed the man by one arm and slung him toward the side of the pool. The maneuver worked, and Drifter seemed to be able to touch the walls and floor here in the Well. He slammed against the wall, sending waves of light splashing up.

As Kelsier tried to punch at Drifter’s head while he was stumbling, the man caught himself on the side of the pool and kicked backward, knocking Kelsier’s legs out from beneath him.

Kelsier splashed in the light, and he tried to burn metals by reflex. Nothing happened, though there was something to the light here. Something familiar—