The Mistborn Trilogy

by Brandon Sanderson

  Breeze and Spook glanced at each other, and neither contradicted him.

  “It’s just not right,” Spook finally said. “These people claim to know Kelsier, but they don’t. He didn’t want people to be grim and bullied—he wanted them to be free and happy.”

  “Indeed,” Breeze said. “Besides, we did choose to follow Elend Venture—and he’s given us an order. Our empire needs these supplies, and we can’t afford to let an organized rebellion seize and control one of the most important cities in the empire. We need to secure this cache and protect the people of Urteau. It’s for the greater good, and all that!”

  Allrianne nodded her agreement—and, as always, Sazed felt her touch on his emotions.

  For the greater good . . . Sazed thought. He knew that Spook was right. Kelsier wouldn’t want this warped society being perpetuated in his name. Something needed to be done. “Very well,” he said. “What should our course of action be?”

  “Nothing, for now,” Breeze said. “We need time to feel out the city’s climate. How close are the people to rebelling against dear Quellion? How active is the local criminal element? How corruptible are the men who serve the new government? Give me some time to discover answers to these questions, and then we can decide what to do.”

  “I still say we do it as Kelsier did,” Spook said. “Why can’t we just topple the Citizen like he did the Lord Ruler?”

  “I doubt that would work,” Breeze said, sipping his wine.

  “Why not?” Spook asked.

  “For a very simple reason, my dear boy,” Breeze said. “We don’t have Kelsier anymore.”

  Sazed nodded. That much was true—though he did wonder if they would ever be rid of the Survivor’s legacy. In a way, the battle in this town had been inevitable. If Kelsier had possessed one flaw, it had been his extreme hatred of the nobility. It was a passion that had driven him, had helped him accomplish the impossible. However, Sazed feared it would destroy those whom it had infected.

  “Take the time you need, Breeze,” Sazed said. “Let me know when you think we are ready to take the next step.”

  Breeze nodded, and the meeting broke up. Sazed stood, sighing quietly. As he did, he met Breeze’s eyes, and the man winked at him with a smile that seemed to say, “This won’t be half as difficult as you think.” Sazed smiled back, and he felt Breeze’s touch on his emotions, trying to encourage him.

  Yet, the Soother’s hand was too light. Breeze couldn’t have known the conflict that still twisted inside of Sazed. A conflict about much more than Kelsier and the problems in Urteau. He was glad for a little bit of time to wait in the city, for he still had much work to do with the religions listed, one per sheet, in his portfolio.

  Even that work was difficult for him to get to recently. He did his best to give the others leadership, as Elend had asked. However, the pernicious darkness Sazed felt inside of him refused to be shaken away. It was more dangerous to him, he knew, than anything else he had faced while serving with the crew, because it made him feel as if he didn’t care.

  I must keep working, he decided, walking away from the meeting place, carefully sliding his portfolio off of a nearby shelf. I have to keep searching. I must not give up.

  It was far more difficult than that, however. In the past, logic and thought had always been his refuge. However, his emotions didn’t respond to logic. No amount of thinking about what he should be doing could help him.

  He ground his teeth, walking, hoping that the motion would help him work out the knots within himself. A part of him wanted to go out and study the new form of the Church of the Survivor that had sprung up here in Urteau. However, that seemed like a waste of time. The world was ending, why study one more religion? He already knew this one was false; he’d dismissed the Church of the Survivor early in his studies. It was filled with more contradictions than almost any in his portfolio.

  More filled with passion as well.

  All the religions in his collection were alike in one respect; they had failed. The people who’d followed them had died, been conquered, their religions stamped out. Was that not proof enough for him? He’d tried preaching them, but he’d very, very rarely had any success.

  It was all meaningless. Everything was ending anyway.

  No! Sazed thought. I will find the answers. The religions didn’t disappear completely—the Keepers preserved them. There must be answers in one of them. Somewhere.

  Eventually, he found his way to the wall of the cavern, which held the steel plate inscribed by the Lord Ruler. They already had a record of what it said, of course, but Sazed wanted to see it and read it for himself. He looked up at the metal, which reflected the light of a nearby lantern, reading the words of the very man who had destroyed so many religions.

  The plan, the words said, is simple. When the power returns to the Well, I will take it and make certain the thing remains trapped.

  And still I worry. It has proven far more clever than I had assumed, infecting my thoughts, making me see and feel things I do not wish to. It is so subtle, so careful. I cannot see how it could cause my death, but still I worry.

  If I am dead, then these caches will provide some measure of protection for my people. I fear what is coming. What might be. If you read this now, and I am gone, then I fear for you. Still, I will try to leave what help I can.

  There are metals of Allomancy which I have shared with none. If you are a priest of mine, working this cavern and reading these words, know that you will incur my wrath if you share this knowledge. However, if it is true that the force has returned and I am unable to deal with it, then perhaps knowledge of electrum will give you some aid. My researchers have discovered that mixing an alloy of forty-five percent gold and fifty-five percent silver creates a new Allomantic metal. Burning it will not give you the power of atium, but will provide some help against those who themselves burn it.

  And that was it. Beside the words was a map, indicating the location of the next cache—the one in the small southern mining village that Vin and Elend had secured a short time back. Sazed read over the words again, but they only served to enhance his sense of despair. Even the Lord Ruler seemed to feel helpless in the face of their current predicament. He’d planned to be alive, he’d planned for none of this to happen. But he’d known that his plans might not work.

  Sazed turned, leaving the plate behind, walking to the bank of the underground lake. The water lay like black glass, undisturbed by wind or ash, though it did ripple slightly from the current. A pair of lanterns sat by the edge of the water, burning quietly, marking the bank. Behind him, a short distance away, some of the soldiers had made camp—though a good two-thirds of them kept to the upstairs to make certain the building had the look of being lived in. Others searched the cavern walls in hopes of finding a secret exit. They would all be a lot more comfortable within the cavern if they knew they had a means of escaping it, should they get attacked.

  “Sazed.”

  Sazed turned, then nodded to Spook as the young man walked up to join him on the bank of the black still water. They stood together quietly, contemplative.

  This one has troubles of his own, Sazed thought, noting the way that Spook watched the waters. Then, surprisingly, Spook reached up and untied the cloth from his eyes. He pulled it free, revealing a pair of spectacles underneath, perhaps used to keep the cloth from pressing his eyes closed. Spook removed the spectacles and blinked, squinting. His eyes began to water, then he reached down and put out one of the two lanterns, leaving Sazed standing in very dim light. Spook sighed, standing and wiping his eyes.

  So it is his tin, Sazed thought. As Sazed considered the thought, he realized that he had often seen the young man wearing gloves—as if to protect his skin. Sazed suspected that if he watched closely, he’d see the boy put in earplugs as well. Curious.

  “Sazed,” Spook said, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “Please, speak as you wish.”

  “I . . .” Spook tra
iled off, then glanced at Sazed. “I think Kelsier is still with us.”

  Sazed frowned.

  “Not alive, of course,” Spook said quickly. “But, I think he’s watching over us. Protecting us . . . that sort of thing.”

  “That’s a pleasant sentiment, I think,” Sazed said. Completely false, of course.

  “It’s not just a sentiment,” Spook replied. “He’s here. I was just wondering if there was anything in any of those religions you studied that talked about things like that.”

  “Of course,” Sazed said. “Many of them spoke of the dead remaining as spirits to help, or curse, the living.”

  They fell silent, Spook obviously waiting for something.

  “Well?” Spook asked. “Aren’t you going to preach a religion to me?”

  “I don’t do that anymore,” Sazed said quietly.

  “Oh,” Spook said. “Um, why not?”

  Sazed shook his head. “I find it hard to preach to others that which has offered me no solace, Spook. I am looking through them, trying to discover which—if any of them—are right and true. Once I have that knowledge, I will be happy to share with you any that seem most likely to contain truth. For now, however, I believe none of them, and therefore will preach none of them.”

  Surprisingly, Spook didn’t argue with him. Sazed had found it frustrating that his friends—people who were, for the most part, determined atheists—would grow so offended when he threatened to join them in their lack of belief. And yet, Spook didn’t offer arguments.

  “It makes sense,” the young man finally said. “Those religions aren’t true. After all, Kelsier is the one who watches over us, not those other gods.”

  Sazed closed his eyes. “How can you say that, Spook? You lived with him—you knew him. We both know that Kelsier was no god.”

  “The people of this city think he is.”

  “And where has it gotten them?” Sazed asked. “Their belief has brought oppression and violence. What is the good of faith if this is the result? A city full of people misinterpreting their god’s commands? A world of ash and pain and death and sorrow?” Sazed shook his head. “That is why I no longer wear my metalminds. Religions which cannot offer more than this do not deserve to be taught.”

  “Oh,” Spook said. He knelt down, dipping a hand in the water, then shivered. “That makes sense too, I guess—though I’d have guessed it was because of her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your woman,” Spook said. “The other Keeper—Tindwyl. I heard her talk about religion. She didn’t think very much of it. I’d have thought that maybe you wouldn’t talk about religion anymore because that might be what she’d have wanted.”

  Sazed felt a chill.

  “Anyway,” Spook said, standing, wiping off his hand, “the people of this city know more than you think they do. Kelsier is watching over us.”

  With that, the boy trailed away. Sazed, however, wasn’t listening. He stood, staring at the ebony waters.

  Because that might be what she’d have wanted. . . .

  Tindwyl had thought religion to be foolish. She had said that people who looked toward ancient prophecies or unseen forces were seeking excuses. During her last few weeks with Sazed, this had often been a topic of conversation—even slight contention—between the two of them, for their research had dealt with the prophecies regarding the Hero of Ages.

  That research had turned out to be useless. At best, the prophecies were the vain hopes of men who wished for a better world. At worst, they had been cleverly placed to further the goals of a malignant force. Either way, he had believed strongly in his work at that time. And Tindwyl had helped him. They had searched through their metalminds, sifting through centuries of information, history, and mythology, seeking references to the Deepness, the Hero of Ages, and the Well of Ascension. She had worked with him, claiming that her interest was academic, not religious. Sazed suspected that she’d had a different motivation.

  She’d wanted to be with him. She had suppressed her dislike of religion out of a desire to be involved with what he found important. And, now that she was dead, Sazed found himself doing what she’d found important. Tindwyl had studied politics and leadership. She’d loved to read the biographies of great statesmen and generals. Had he unconsciously agreed to become Elend’s ambassador so that he could involve himself in Tindwyl’s studies, just as she—before her death—had given herself over to his?

  He wasn’t certain. In truth, he thought his problems were deeper than that. However, the fact that Spook had been the one to make such an astute observation gave Sazed pause. It was a very clever way of looking at things. Instead of contradicting him, Spook had offered a possible explanation.

  Sazed was impressed. He turned out, looking across the waters for a time and contemplating what Spook had said. Then, he pulled out the next religion in his portfolio and began to consider it. The sooner he got through them, the sooner he could—hopefully—find the truth.

  Allomancy, obviously, is of Preservation. The rational mind will see this. For, in the case of Allomancy, net power is gained. It is provided by an external source—Preservation’s own body.

  32

  “ELEND, IS THAT REALLY YOU?”

  Elend turned with shock. He’d been mingling at the ball, talking with a group of men who had turned out to be distant cousins of his. The voice from behind, however, seemed far more familiar. “Telden?” Elend asked. “What are you doing here!”

  “I live here, El,” Telden said, clasping hands with Elend.

  Elend was dumbfounded. He hadn’t seen Telden since his house had escaped Luthadel in the days of chaos following the death of the Lord Ruler. Once, this man had been one of Elend’s best friends. To the side, Elend’s cousins made a graceful withdrawal. “I thought you were in BasMardin, Tell,” Elend said.

  “No,” Telden said. “That’s where my house settled, but I thought that the area was too dangerous, what with the koloss rampages. I moved inward to Fadrex once Lord Yomen came to power—he quickly gained a reputation for being able to provide stability.”

  Elend smiled. The years had changed his friend. Telden had once been the model of a debonair ladies’ man, his hair and expensive suits intended to draw attention. It wasn’t that the older Telden had grown sloppy, but he obviously didn’t take as much care to appear stylish. He’d always been a large man—tall and kind of rectangular—and the extra weight he’d gained made him look far more . . . ordinary than he once had.

  “Elend,” Telden said, shaking his head. “You know, for the longest time, I refused to believe that you’d really managed to seize power in Luthadel.”

  “You were there at my coronation!”

  “I thought that they had picked you as a puppet, El,” Telden said, rubbing his wide chin. “I thought . . . well, I’m sorry. I guess I just didn’t have much faith in you.”

  Elend laughed. “You were right, my friend. I turned out to be a terrible king.”

  Telden obviously wasn’t sure how to reply to that.

  “I did get better at the job,” Elend said. “I just had to stumble through a few messes first.”

  Partygoers shuffled through the divided ballroom. Though those watching did their best to appear uninterested and aloof, Elend could tell that they were doing the noble equivalent of gawking. He glanced to the side, where Vin stood in her gorgeous black dress, surrounded by a group of women. She seemed to be doing well—she took to the courtly scene far better than she liked to let herself think or admit. She was graceful, poised, and the center of attention.

  She was also alert—Elend could tell by the way she managed to keep her back to a wall or glass partition. She’d be burning iron or steel, watching for sudden movements of metal that might indicate an attacking Coinshot. Elend began burning iron as well, and he made certain to keep burning zinc to Soothe the emotions of those in the room, keeping them from feeling too angry or threatened by his intrusion. Other Allomancers—Breeze, or even
Vin—would have had trouble Soothing an entire room at once. For Elend, with his inordinate power, it barely took any attention.

  Telden still stood nearby, looking troubled. Elend tried to say something to start their conversation again, but he struggled to come up with anything that wouldn’t sound awkward. It had been nearly four years since Telden had left Luthadel. Before that, he had been one of the friends with whom Elend had discussed political theory, planning with the idealism of youth for the day when they would lead their houses. Yet, the days of youth—and their idealistic theories—were gone.

  “So . . .” Telden said. “This is where we end up, is it?”

  Elend nodded.

  “You’re not . . . really going to attack the city, are you?” Telden asked. “You’re just here to intimidate Yomen, right?”

  “No,” Elend said softly. “I will conquer the city if I have to, Telden.”

  Telden flushed. “What happened to you, Elend? Where is the man who talked about rights and legality?”

  “The world caught up with me, Telden,” Elend said. “I can’t be the man I was.”

  “So you become the Lord Ruler instead?”

  Elend hesitated. It felt odd to have another confront him with his own questions and arguments. Part of him felt a stab of fear—if Telden asked these things, then Elend had been right to worry about them. Perhaps they were true.

  Yet, a stronger impulse flared within him. An impulse nurtured by Tindwyl, then refined by a year of struggling to bring order to the shattered remains of the Final Empire.

  An impulse to trust himself.

  “No, Telden,” Elend said firmly. “I’m not the Lord Ruler. A parliamentary council rules in Luthadel, and there are others like it in every city I’ve brought into my empire. This is the first time that I’ve marched on a city with my armies out of a need to conquer, rather than protect—and that is only because Yomen himself took this city from an ally of mine.”