“We will let the empress make that decision,” Penrod said. He liked to act the mediator—and by doing so, he made himself seem above the issues. In essence, he put himself in control by putting himself in between the other two.
Not all that different from what Elend tried to do, Sazed thought, with our armies. The boy had more of a sense of political strategy than Tindwyl had ever credited him with.
I shouldn’t think about her, he told himself, closing his eyes. Yet, it was hard not to. Everything Sazed did, everything he thought, seemed wrong because she was gone. Lights seemed dimmer. Motivations were more difficult to reach. He found that he had trouble even wanting to pay attention to the kings, let alone give them direction.
It was foolish, he knew. How long had Tindwyl been back in his life? Only a few months. Long ago, he had resigned himself to the fact that he would never be loved—in general—and that he certainly would never have her love. Not only did he lack manhood, but he was a rebel and a dissident—a man well outside of the Terris orthodoxy.
Surely her love for him had been a miracle. Yet, whom did he thank for that blessing, and whom did he curse for stealing her away? He knew of hundreds of gods. He would hate them all, if he thought it would do any good.
For the sake of his own sanity, he forced himself to get distracted by the kings again.
“Listen,” Penrod was saying, leaning forward, arms on the tabletop. “I think we’re looking at this the wrong way, gentlemen. We shouldn’t be squabbling, we should be happy. We are in a very unique position. In the time since the Lord Ruler’s empire fell, dozens—perhaps hundreds—of men have tried to set themselves up as kings in various ways. The one thing they shared, however, was that they all lacked stability.
“Well, it appears that we are going to be forced to work together. I am starting to see this in a favorable light. I will give my allegiance to the Venture couple—I’ll even live with Elend Venture’s eccentric views of government—if it means that I’ll still be in power ten years from now.”
Cett scratched at his beard for a moment, then nodded. “You make a good point, Penrod. Maybe the first good one I’ve ever heard out of you.”
“But we can’t continue trying to assume that we know what we are to do,” Janarle said. “We need direction. Surviving the next ten years, I suspect, is going to depend heavily on my not ending up dead on the end of that Mistborn girl’s knife.”
“Indeed,” Penrod said, nodding curtly. “Master Terrisman. When can we expect the empress to take command again?”
Once again, all three pairs of eyes turned to Sazed.
I don’t really care, Sazed thought, then immediately felt guilty. Vin was his friend. He did care. Even if it was hard to care about anything for him. He looked down in shame. “Lady Vin is suffering greatly from the effects of an extended pewter drag,” he said. “She pushed herself very hard this last year, and then ended it by running all the way back to Luthadel. She is in great need of rest. I think we should let her be for a time longer.”
The others nodded, and returned to their discussion. Sazed’s mind, however, turned to Vin. He’d understated her malady, and he was beginning to worry. A pewter drag drained the body, and he suspected that she’d been forcing herself to stay awake with the metal for months now.
When a Keeper stored up wakefulness, he slept as if in a coma for a time. He could only hope that the effects of such a terrible pewter drag were the same, for Vin hadn’t awoken a single time since her return a week before. Perhaps she’d awake soon, like a Keeper who came out of sleep.
Perhaps it would last longer. Her koloss army waited outside the city, controlled—apparently—even though she was unconscious. But for how long? Pewter dragging could kill, if the person had pushed themselves too hard.
What would happen to the city if she never woke up?
Ash was falling. A lot of ashfalls lately, Elend thought as he and Spook emerged from the trees and looked out over the Luthadel plain.
“See,” Spook said quietly, pointing. “The city gates are broken.”
Elend frowned. “But the koloss are camped outside the city.” Indeed, Straff’s army camp was also still there, right where it had been.
“Work crews,” Spook said, shading his face against the sunlight to protect his overly sensitive Allomancer’s eyes. “Looks like they’re burying corpses outside the city.”
Elend’s frown deepened. Vin. What happened to her? Is she all right?
He and Spook had cut across country, taking a cue from the Terrismen, to make certain that they didn’t get discovered by patrols from the city. Indeed, this day they’d broken their pattern, traveling a little bit during the day so that they could arrive at Luthadel just before nightfall. The mists would soon be coming, and Elend was fatigued—both from rising early and from walking so long.
More than that, he was tired of not knowing what had happened to Luthadel. “Can you see whose flag is set over the gates?” he asked.
Spook paused, apparently flaring his metals. “Yours,” he finally said, surprised.
Elend smiled. Well, either they managed to save the city somehow, or this is a very elaborate trap to capture me. “Come on,” he said, pointing to a line of refugees who were being allowed back into the city—likely those who had fled before, returning for food now that the danger was past. “We’ll mix with those and make our way in.”
Sazed sighed quietly, shutting the door to his room. The kings were finished with the day’s arguments. Actually, they were starting to get along quite well, considering the fact that they’d all tried to conquer each other just a few weeks before.
Sazed knew he could take no credit for their newfound amiability, however. He had other preoccupations.
I’ve seen many die, in my days, he thought, walking into the room. Kelsier. Jadendwyl. Crenda. People I respected. I never wondered what had happened to their spirits.
He set his candle on the table, the fragile light illuminating a few scattered pages, a pile of strange metal nails taken from koloss bodies, and one manuscript. Sazed sat down at the table, fingers brushing the pages, remembering the days spent with Tindwyl, studying.
Maybe this is why Vin put me in charge, he thought. She knew I’d need something to take my mind off Tindwyl.
And yet, he was finding more and more that he didn’t want to take his mind off her. Which was more potent? The pain of memory, or the pain of forgetting? He was a Keeper—it was his life’s work to remember. Forgetting, even in the name of personal peace, was not something that appealed to him.
He flipped through the manuscript, smiling fondly in the dark chamber. He’d sent a cleaned-up, rewritten version with Vin and Elend to the north. This, however, was the original. The frantically—almost desperately—scribbled manuscript made by two frightened scholars.
As he fingered the pages, the flickering candlelight revealed Tindwyl’s firm, yet beautiful, script. It mixed easily with paragraphs written in Sazed’s own, more reserved hand. At times, a page would alternate between their different hands a dozen different times.
He didn’t realize that he was crying until he blinked, sending loose a tear, which hit the page. He looked down, stunned as the bit of water caused a swirl in the ink.
“What now, Tindwyl?” he whispered. “Why did we do this? You never believed in the Hero of Ages, and I never believed in anything, it appears. What was the point of all this?”
He reached up and dabbed the tear with his sleeve, preserving the page as best he could. Despite his tiredness, he began to read, selecting a random paragraph. He read to remember. To think of days when he hadn’t worried about why they were studying. He had simply been content to do what he enjoyed best, with the person he had come to love most.
We gathered everything we could find on the Hero of Ages and the Deepness, he thought, reading. But so much of it seems contradictory.
He flipped through to a particular section, one that Tindwyl had insisted that they includ
e. It contained the several most blatant self-contradictions, as declared by Tindwyl. He read them over, giving them fair consideration for the first time. This was Tindwyl the scholar—a cautious skeptic. He fingered through the passages, reading her script.
The Hero of Ages will be tall of stature, one read. A man who cannot be ignored by others.
The power must not be taken, read another. Of this, we are certain. It must be held, but not used. It must be released. Tindwyl had found that condition foolish, since other sections talked about the Hero using the power to defeat the Deepness.
All men are selfish, read another. The Hero is a man who can see the needs of all beyond his own desires. “If all men are selfish,” Tindwyl had asked, “then how can the Hero be selfless, as is said in other passages? And, indeed, how can a humble man be expected to conquer the world?”
Sazed shook his head, smiling. At times, her objections had been very well conceived—but at other times, she had just been struggling to offer another opinion, no matter how much of a stretch it required. He ran his fingers across the page again, but paused on the first paragraph.
Tall of stature, it said. That wouldn’t refer to Vin. It hadn’t come from the rubbing, but another book. Tindwyl had included it because the rubbing, the more trustworthy source, said he’d be short. Sazed flipped through the book to the complete transcription of Kwaan’s iron-plate testimony, searching for the passage.
Alendi’s height struck me the first time I saw him, it read. Here was a man who was small of stature, but who seemed to tower over others, a man who demanded respect.
Sazed frowned. Before, he’d argued that there was no contradiction, for one passage could be interpreted as referring to the Hero’s presence or character, rather than just his physical height. Now, however, Sazed paused, really seeing Tindwyl’s objections for the first time.
And something felt wrong to him. He looked back at his book, scanning the contents of the page.
There was a place for me in the lore of the Anticipation, he read. I thought myself the Holy First Witness, the prophet foretold to discover the Hero of Ages. Renouncing Alendi then would have been to renounce my new position, my acceptance, by the others.
Sazed’s frown deepened. He traced the paragraph.
Outside, it was growing dark, and a few trails of mist curled around the shutters, creeping into the room before vanishing.
Holy First Witness, he read again. How did I miss that? It’s the same name the people called me, back at the gates. I didn’t recognize it.
“Sazed.”
Sazed jumped, nearly toppling his book to the floor as he turned. Vin stood behind him, a dark shadow in the poorly lit room.
“Lady Vin! You’re up!”
“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long,” she said.
“We tried to wake you,” he said softly. “You were in a coma.”
She paused.
“Perhaps it is for the best, Lady Vin,” Sazed said. “The fighting is done, and you pushed yourself hard these last few months. It is good for you to get some rest, now that this is over.”
She stepped forward, shaking her head, and Sazed could see that she looked haggard, despite her days of rest. “No, Sazed,” she said. “This is not ‘over.’ Not by far.”
“What do you mean?” Sazed asked, growing concerned.
“I can still hear it in my head,” Vin said, raising a hand to her forehead. “It’s here. In the city.”
“The Well of Ascension?” Sazed asked. “But, Lady Vin, I lied about that. Truly and apologetically, I don’t even know if there is such a thing.”
“Do you believe me to be the Hero of Ages?”
Sazed looked away. “A few days ago, on the field outside the city, I felt certain. But…lately…I don’t seem to know what I believe anymore. The prophecies and stories are a jumble of contradictions.”
“This isn’t about prophecies,” Vin said, walking over to his table and looking at his book. “This is about what needs to be done. I can feel it…pulling me.”
She glanced at the closed window, with the mists curling at the edges. Then, she walked over and threw the shutters open, letting in the cold winter air. Vin stood, closing her eyes and letting the mists wash over her. She wore only a simple shirt and trousers.
“I drew upon it once, Sazed,” she said. “Do you know that? Did I tell you? When I fought the Lord Ruler. I drew power from the mists. That’s how I defeated him.”
Sazed shivered, not just from the cold. From the tone in her voice, and the air of her words. “Lady Vin…” he said, but wasn’t sure how to continue. Drew upon the mists? What did she mean?
“The Well is here,” she repeated, looking out the window, mist curling into the room.
“It can’t be, Lady Vin,” Sazed said. “All of the reports agree. The Well of Ascension was found in the Terris Mountains.”
Vin shook her head. “He changed the world, Sazed.”
He paused, frowning. “What?”
“The Lord Ruler,” she whispered. “He created the Ashmounts. The records say he made the vast deserts around the empire, that he broke the land in order to preserve it. Why should we assume that things look like they did when he first climbed to the Well? He created mountains. Why couldn’t he have flattened them?”
Sazed felt a chill.
“It’s what I would do,” Vin said. “If I knew the power would return, if I wanted to preserve it. I’d hide the Well. I’d let the legends remain, talking about mountains to the north. Then, I would build my city around the Well so that I could keep an eye on it.”
She turned, looking at him. “It’s here. The power waits.”
Sazed opened his mouth to object, but could find nothing. He had no faith. Who was he to argue with such things? As he paused, he heard voices below, from outside.
Voices? he thought. At night? In the mists? Curious, he strained to hear what was being said, but they were too far away. He reached into the bag beside his table. Most of his metalminds were empty; he wore only his copperminds, with their stores of ancient knowledge. Inside the sack, he found a small pouch. It contained the ten rings he had prepared for the siege, but had never used. He pulled it open, took out one of the ten, then tucked the bag into his sash.
With this ring—a tinmind—he could tap hearing. The words below became distinct to him.
“The king! The king has returned!”
Vin leaped out the window.
“I don’t fully understand how she does it either, El,” Ham said, walking with his arm in a sling.
Elend walked through the city streets, people trailing behind him, speaking in excited tones. The crowd was growing larger and larger as people heard that Elend had returned. Spook eyed them uncertainly, but seemed to be enjoying the attention.
“I was out cold for the last part of the battle,” Ham was saying. “Only pewter kept me alive—koloss slaughtered my team, breached the walls of the keep I was defending. I got out, and found Sazed, but my mind was growing muddled by then. I remember falling unconscious outside Keep Hasting. When I woke up, Vin had already taken the city back. I…”
They paused. Vin stood in front of them in the city street. Quiet, dark. In the mists, she almost looked like the spirit Elend had seen earlier.
“Vin?” he asked in the eerie air.
“Elend,” she said, rushing forward, into his arms, and the air of mystery was gone. She shivered as she held him. “I’m sorry. I think I did something bad.”
“Oh?” he asked. “What is that?”
“I made you emperor.”
Elend smiled. “I noticed, and I accept.”
“After all you did to make certain the people had a choice?”
Elend shook his head. “I’m beginning to think my opinions were simplistic. Honorable, but…incomplete. We’ll deal with this. I’m just glad to find that my city is still standing.”
Vin smiled. She looked tired.
“Vin?” he asked. “Are yo
u still pewter-dragging?”
“No,” she said. “This is something else.” She glanced to the side, face thoughtful, as if deciding something.
“Come,” she said.
Sazed watched out the window, a second tinmind enhancing his sight. It was indeed Elend below. Sazed smiled, one of the weights on his soul removed. He turned, intending to go and meet the king.
And then he saw something blowing on the floor in front of him. A scrap of paper. He knelt down, picking it up, noticing his own handwriting on it. Its edges were jagged from having been ripped. He frowned, walking over to his table, opening the book to the page with Kwaan’s narrative. A piece was missing. The same piece as before, the one that had been ripped free that time with Tindwyl. He’d almost forgotten the strange occurrence with the pages all missing the same sentence.
He’d rewritten this page, from his metalmind, after they’d found the torn sheets. Now the same bit had been torn free, the last sentence. Just to make certain, he put it up next to his book. It fit perfectly. Alendi must not reach the Well of Ascension, it read, for he must not be allowed to take the power for himself. It was the exact wording Sazed had in his memory, the exact wording of the rubbing.
Why would Kwaan have worried about this? he thought, sitting down. He says he knew Alendi better than anyone else. In fact, he called Alendi an honorable man on several occasions.
Why would Kwaan be so worried about Alendi taking the power for himself?
Vin walked through the mists. Elend, Ham, and Spook trailed behind her, the crowd dispersed by Elend’s order—though some soldiers did stay close to protect Elend.
Vin continued on, feeling the pulsings, the thumpings, the power that shook her very soul. Why couldn’t the others feel it?
“Vin?” Elend asked. “Where are we going?”
“Kredik Shaw,” she said softly.
“But…why?”
The Mistborn Trilogy Page 146
