Datasets:

molinamarc

/

Cosmere

like 0

still in the cavern's windless air. In the near distance, Spook could hear Sazed—with a large contingent of Goradel's men—working on their project to stanch the flow of water into the cavern. Spook approached Beldre quietly, carrying a mug of warmed tea. It almost seemed to burn his flesh, which meant that it would be just right for normal people. He let his own food and drinks sit out until they cooled to room temperature. He didn't wear his eye bandage. With pewter, he'd found that he could withstand a little lantern-light. She didn't turn as he approached, so he cleared his throat. She jumped slightly. It was no wonder that Quellion worked so hard to shelter the girl—one could not fake Beldre's level of innocence. She wouldn't survive three heartbeats in the underground. Even Allrianne, who did her best to look like a puff, had an edge to her that bespoke an ability to be as hard as necessary in order to survive. Beldre, though . . . She's normal, Spook thought. This is how people would be, if they didn't have to deal with Inquisitors, armies, and assassins. For that, he actually envied her. It was a strange feeling, after so many years spent wishing that he were someone more important. She turned back toward the waters, and he approached and sat beside her. "Here," he said, handing her the mug. "I know it gets a bit chilly down here, with the lake and the water." She paused, then took the mug. "Thank you," she whispered. Spook let her roam free in the cavern—there was very little she could sabotage, though he had warned Goradel's men to keep an eye on her. Either way, there was no way she was going to get out. Spook kept two dozen men guarding the exit, and had ordered the ladder up to the trapdoor above removed, to be replaced only with proper authorization. "Hard to believe this place was beneath your city all along, isn't it?" Spook said, trying to work into a conversation. Oddly, it had seemed easier to speak to her when he was confronting her in her gardens, surrounded by danger. Beldre nodded. "My brother would have loved to find this place. He worries about food supplies. Fewer and fewer fish are being caught in the northern lakes. And crops . . . well, they're not doing so well, I hear." "The mists," Spook said. "They don't let enough sunlight through for most plants." Beldre nodded, looking down at her mug. She hadn't taken a sip yet. "Beldre," Spook said, "I'm sorry. I actually considered kidnapping you from those gardens, but decided against it. However, with you showing up here, alone . . ." "It was just too good an opportunity," she said bitterly. "I understand. It's my own fault. My brother always says I'm too trusting." "There are times that would be an advantage." Beldre sniffed quietly. "I've never known such times as that. It seems my entire life, I've just trusted and been hurt. This is no different."

Spook sat, feeling frustrated with himself. Kelsier, tell me what to say! he thought. Yet, God remained silent. The Survivor didn't seem to have much advice about things that didn't relate to securing the city. It had all seemed so simple when Spook had given the order to capture her. Why, now, was he sitting here with this empty pit in his stomach? "I believed in him, you know," Beldre said. "Your brother?" "No," she said with a slight shake of her head. "The Lord Ruler. I was a good little noblewoman. I always gave my payments to the obligators—paying extra, even, and calling them in to witness the smallest things. I also paid them to come tutor me in the history of the empire. I thought everything was perfect. So neat; so peaceful. And then, they tried to kill me. Turns out I'm half skaa. My father wanted a child so desperately, and my mother was barren. He had two children with one of the maidservants—my mother even approved." She shook her head. "Why would someone do that?" she continued. "I mean, why not pick a noblewoman? No. My father chose the servant woman. I guess he fancied her or something. . . ." She looked down. "For me, it was my grandfather," Spook said. "I never knew him. Grew up on the streets." "Sometimes I wish I had," Beldre said. "Then maybe this would all make sense. What do you do when the priests you've been paying to tutor you since you were a child—men you trusted more than your own parents—come to take you away for execution? I would have died, too. I just went with them. Then . . ." "Then what?" Spook asked. "You saved me," she whispered. "The Survivor's crew. You overthrew the Lord Ruler, and in the chaos, everybody forgot about people like me. The obligators were too busy trying to please Straff." "And then, your brother took over." She nodded quietly. "I thought he'd be a good ruler. He really is a good man! He just wants everything to be stable and secure. Peace for everyone. Yet, sometimes, the things he does to people . . . the things he asks of people . . ." "I'm sorry," Spook said. She shook her head. "And then you came. You rescued that child, right in front of Quellion and me. You came to my gardens, and you didn't even threaten me. I thought . . . maybe he really is as the stories say. Maybe he'll help. And, like the idiot I always am, I just came." "I wish things were simple, Beldre," Spook said. "I wish I could let you go. But, this is for the greater good." "That's just what Quellion always says, you know," she said. Spook paused. "You're a lot alike, you two," she said. "Forceful. Commanding." Spook chuckled. "You really don't know me very well, do you?" She flushed. "You're the Survivor of the Flames. Don't think I haven't heard the rumors—my brother can't keep me out of all of

his conferences." "Rumors," Spook said, "are rarely reliable." "You're a member of the Survivor's crew." Spook shrugged. "That's true. Though, I became a member by accident." She frowned, glancing at him. "Kelsier handpicked the others," Spook said. "Ham, Breeze, Sazed—even Vin. He chose my uncle too. And, by doing so, he got me as a bonus. I . . . I was never really part of it all, Beldre. I was kind of like an observer. They posted me on watch and things like that. I sat in on the planning sessions, and everyone just treated me like an errand boy. I must have refilled Breeze's cup a hundred times during that first year!" A hint of amusement showed on her face. "You make it sound like you were a servant." "Pretty much," Spook said, smiling. "I couldn't talk very well—I'd grown used to speaking in an Eastern street slang, and everything I said came out garbled. I've still got an accent, they tell me. So, I just stayed quiet most of the time, embarrassed. The crew was nice to me, but I knew I was pretty much just ignored." "And now you're in charge of them all." Spook laughed. "No. Sazed's the one really in charge of us here. Breeze ranks me too, but he lets me give orders because he's too lazy to do so. He likes to make people do things without them knowing it. Half the time, I'm certain that the things I'm saying are just ideas he somehow got into my head." Beldre shook her head. "The Terrisman is in charge? But, he looks to you!" "He just lets me do what he doesn't want to," Spook said. "Sazed's a great man—one of the best I've known. But, well, he's a scholar. He's better off studying a project and writing notes than he is giving commands. So, that only leaves me. I'm just doing the job that everyone else is too busy to do." Beldre sat quietly for a moment, then finally took a sip of her tea. "Ah," she said. "It's good!" "The Lord Ruler's own brew, for all we know," Spook said. "We found it down here, with the rest of this stuff." "This is why you came, isn't it?" Beldre asked, nodding to the cavern. "I wondered why your emperor cared about Urteau. We haven't really been an important force in the world since the Venture line moved its center of power to Luthadel." Spook nodded. "This is part of it, though Elend is also worried about the rebellion up here. It's dangerous, having a foe who is slaughtering noblemen controlling one of the major cities just a short distance north of Luthadel. That's all I can really tell you, though. Most of the time, I feel like I'm still just a bystander in all of this. Vin and Elend, they're the ones who really know what's going on. To them, I'm the guy they could spare to spend months spying in Urteau while they did important work in the South." "They are wrong

to treat you so," Beldre said. "No, it's all right," Spook said. "I've kind of enjoyed being up here. I feel like I've been able to do something, finally." She nodded. After a short time, she set down her cup, wrapping her arms around her knees. "What are they like?" she asked. "I've heard so many stories. They say that Emperor Venture always wears white, and that the ash refuses to stick to him! He can quell an army just by looking at them. And his wife, the Survivor's heir. Mistborn . . ." Spook smiled. "Elend is a forgetful scholar—twice as bad as Sazed ever was. He gets lost in his books and forgets about meetings he himself called. He only dresses with any sense of fashion because a Terriswoman bought him a new wardrobe. War has changed him some, but on the inside, I think he's still just a dreamer caught in a world with too much violence. "And Vin . . . well, she really is different. I've never been sure what to make of her. Sometimes, she seems as frail as a child. And then she kills an Inquisitor. She can be fascinating and frightening at the same time. I tried to court her once." "Really?" Beldre said, perking up. Spook smiled. "I gave her a handkerchief. I heard that's how you do it in noble society." "Only if you're a romantic," Beldre said, smiling wistfully. "Well, I gave her one," Spook said. "But I don't think she knew what I meant by it. And, of course, once she did figure it out, she turned me down. I'm not sure what I was thinking, trying to court her. I mean, I'm just Spook. Quiet, incomprehensible, forgettable Spook." He closed his eyes. What am I saying? Women didn't want to hear men talk about how insignificant they were. He'd heard that much. I shouldn't have come to talk to her. I should have just gone about, giving orders. Looking like I was in charge. The damage had been done, however. She knew the truth about him. He sighed, opening his eyes. "I don't think you're forgettable," Beldre said. "Of course, I'd be more likely to think fondly of you if you were to let me go." Spook smiled. "Eventually. I promise." "Are you going to use me against him?" Beldre asked. "Threaten to kill me if he doesn't give in?" "Threats like that are hollow if you know you'll never do what you say," Spook said. "Honestly, Beldre, I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, I've got a feeling you'll be safer here than back in your brother's palace." "Please don't kill him, Spook," Beldre said. "Maybe . . . maybe you can help him somehow, help him see that he's being too extreme." Spook nodded. "I'll . . . try." "Do you promise?" she said. "All right," Spook said. "I promise to at least try to save your brother. If I can." "And the city too." "And the city," Spook said. "Trust me. We've done this before—the

transition will go smoothly." Beldre nodded, and she actually seemed to believe him. What kind of woman is still able to trust people after everything she's been through? If she'd been Vin, she would have stabbed him in the back at the first opportunity, and that would have probably been the right thing to do. Yet, this girl just continued to trust. It was like finding a beautiful plant growing alone in a field of burnt ash. "Once we're done, maybe you could introduce me to the emperor and empress," Beldre said. "They sound like interesting people." "I'll never argue with that statement," Spook said. "Elend and Vin . . . well, they're certainly interesting. Interesting people with heavy burdens. Sometimes, I wish I were powerful enough to do important works like them." Beldre laid a hand on his arm, and he glanced down, a bit surprised. What? "Power can be a terrible thing, Spook," she said quietly. "I'm . . . not pleased with what it's done to my brother. Don't wish so hard for it." Spook met her eyes, then nodded and rose. "If you need anything, ask Sazed. He'll see to your comforts." She looked up. "Where are you going?" "To be seen." "I want primary trade contracts on all the canals," Durn said. "And a title from the emperor." "You?" Spook said. "A title? You think a 'lord' in front of your name is going to make that face any less ugly?" Durn raised an eyebrow. Spook just chuckled. "Both are yours. I cleared it with Sazed and Breeze—they'll even draft you a contract, if you want." Durn nodded appreciatively. "I do. Lords pay attention to things like that." They sat in one of his many backroom chambers—not in his private home, but in a place attached to a particular inn. An old set of drums hung on the wall. Spook had had little trouble sneaking out past Quellion's soldiers standing watch at the front of the Ministry building. Even before he'd gained enhanced abilities with tin, and long before he'd been able to burn pewter, he'd learned to sneak about in the night and spy. A group of soldiers had barely posed an obstacle for him. He couldn't remain cooped up in the cavern like the others. He had too much work to do. "I want the Harrows dammed off," Spook said. "We'll flood the canals during the evening, when the markets are empty. Nobody lives in the streetslots except for those of you here in the slums. If you want to keep this place from flooding, you'll need a good watertight blockade in place." "Already taken care of," Durn said. "When the Harrows were new, we pulled off the lock system from its mouth, but I know where it is. It'll fit back in place well enough to keep the water out, assuming we can install it correctly." "You'd better," Spook said. "I don't want the deaths of half the city's beggar population on my conscience. I'll warn you the day we intend to pull this

off. See if you can get some of the goods out of the market, as well as keep people out of the streetslots. That, plus what you're doing for my reputation, will guarantee you the title you want." Durn nodded, rising. "Well, let's go work on that reputation, then." He led the way out of the back room, bringing Spook out into the commons of the bar. As always, Spook wore his burned cloak—it had become something of a symbol for him. He'd never worn a mistcloak, but somehow, this felt even better. The people rose when he entered. He smiled, motioning for Durn's men to bring out wineskins—stolen from the storage cavern and carried by Spook as he snuck out several nights in a row. "Tonight," he said, "you don't have to pay for Quellion's stolen liquor. That's his way of keeping you happy and content." And that was the only speech he gave. He wasn't Kelsier, able to impress people with his words. Instead—at Breeze's suggestion—he stayed mostly quiet. He visited tables, trying to not be aloof, but also speaking little. He looked thoughtful, and asked the people about their problems. He listened to stories of loss and hardship, and drank with them to the memory of those Quellion had murdered. And, with his pewter, he never got drunk. He already had a reputation for that—the people regarded it mystically, as they did his ability to survive fire. After that bar, they visited another, and another after that, Durn careful to keep him to the safest—and yet most populated—of the locations. Some were in the Harrows, others were above. Through it all, Spook felt an amazing thing: his confidence growing. He really was a little like Kelsier. Vin might have been the one trained by the Survivor, but Spook was the one who was doing just what he'd done—encouraging the people, leading them to rise up for their own sakes. As the evening passed, the various bars became a blur. Spook breathed curses against Quellion, speaking of the murders and of the Allomancers the Citizen retained. Spook didn't spread the rumors that Quellion was himself an Allomancer—he let Breeze do that more carefully. That way, it wouldn't look like Spook was too eager to set the man up. "To the Survivor!" Spook looked up, holding his mug of wine, smiling as the bar patrons cheered. "To the Survivor!" another said, pointing at Spook. "Survivor of the Flames!" "To the death of the Citizen!" Durn said, raising his own mug—though he rarely drank from it. "Down with the man who said he'd let us rule, then took it all for himself!" Spook smiled, taking a drink. He hadn't realized how exhausting it could be to simply sit around and speak to people. His flared pewter kept his body's weariness at bay, but it couldn't prevent the mental fatigue. I wonder what Beldre would think if she saw this, he thought. The men cheering me. She'd be impressed, wouldn't she? She'd forget about how I droned on about how useless I was.

Perhaps the visits to the bars had been fatiguing simply because he had something else he wished he could be doing. It was silly—she was his captive. He'd betrayed her trust. She was obviously just warming up to him in an effort to get him to let her go. Yet, he couldn't help thinking back to their conversation, going over it again and again in his mind. Despite the stupid things he'd said, she'd laid her hand on his arm. That meant something, didn't it? "You all right?" Durn asked, leaning in. "That's your tenth mug tonight." "I'm fine," Spook said. "You were looking a little distant there." "I have a lot on my mind," Spook said. Durn leaned back, frowning, but didn't say anything more. Some things about his conversation with Beldre bothered Spook, even more than his own stupid comments. She seemed to really be worried by the things that her brother had done. When Spook himself was in power, would she see him as she did Quellion? Would that be a bad thing, or a good thing? She already said they were similar. Power can be a terrible thing. . . . He looked up, glancing at the people of the bar as they cheered him again, just as the men had in the other bars. Kelsier had been able to handle adulation like this. If Spook wanted to be like Kelsier, then he'd have to deal with it as well, right? Wasn't it a good thing to be liked? To have people willing to follow him? He could finally break away from the old Spook. He could stop being that boy, the one so insignificant and easily forgotten. He could leave that child behind, and become a man who was respected. And why shouldn't he be respected? He wasn't that boy anymore. He wore his bandages across his eyes, heightening his mystical reputation as a man who did not need light to see. Some even said that anywhere that fire burned, Spook could see. "They love you," Kelsier whispered. "You deserve it." Spook smiled. That was all the confirmation he needed. He stood, raising his arms before the crowd. They cheered in response. It had been a long time coming. And it felt all the sweeter for the wait. Preservation's desire to create sentient life was what eventually broke the stalemate. In order to give mankind awareness and independent thought, Preservation knew that he would have to give up part of himself—his own soul—to dwell within mankind. This would leave him just a tiny bit weaker than his opposite, Ruin. That tiny bit seemed inconsequential, compared with their total vast sums of power. However, over aeons, this tiny flaw would allow Ruin to overcome Preservation, thereby bringing an end to the world. This, then, was their bargain. Preservation got mankind, the only creations that had more Preservation than Ruin in them, rather than a balance. Independent life that could think and feel. In exchange, Ruin was given a promise—and proof—that he could bring an end to all they

had created together. It was the pact. And Preservation eventually broke it. WHEN VIN AWOKE, she was not surprised to find herself bound. She was surprised to feel that she was wearing metal manacles. The first thing she did—even before she opened her eyes—was reach inside for her metals. With steel and iron, perhaps she could use the manacles as weapons. With pewter . . . Her metals were gone. She kept her eyes closed, trying not to display the panic she felt, thinking through what had happened. She'd been in the cavern, trapped with Ruin. Elend's friend had come in, given her the wine, and she'd taken it. Gambled. How long had it been since she'd fallen unconscious? "Your breathing has changed," a voice reported. "You are obviously awake." Vin cursed herself quietly. There was a very easy way to take away an Allomancer's powers—easier, even, than making them burn aluminum. You just had to keep them drugged long enough for them to pass the metals through their body. As she thought about it, her mind shrugging off the effects of extended sleep, she realized this was what must have happened to her. The silence continued. Finally, Vin opened her eyes. She expected to see cell bars. Instead, she saw a sparsely furnished, utilitarian room. She lay on a bench, head cushioned by a hard pillow. Her manacles were connected to a chain several feet long, which was in turn locked to the base of the bench. She tugged on the chain carefully, and determined that it was very well affixed. The motion drew the attention of a pair of guards who stood beside the bench. They jumped slightly, raising staffs and eyeing her warily. Vin smiled to herself; part of her was proud that she could evoke such a response even when chained and metalless. "You, Lady Venture, present something of a problem." The voice came from the side. Vin raised herself up on one arm, looking over the bench's armrest. On the other side of the room—perhaps fifteen feet away—a bald figure in robes stood with his back to her. He stared out a large window, facing west, and the setting sun was a violent crimson blaze around his silhouette. "What do I do?" Yomen asked, still not turning toward her. "A single flake of steel, and you could slaughter my guards with their own buttons. A taste of pewter, and you could lift that bench and smash your way out of the room. The logical thing to do would be to gag you, keep you drugged at all times, or kill you." Vin opened her mouth to reply, but all that came out was a cough. She immediately tried to burn pewter to strengthen her body. The lack of metal was like missing a limb. As she sat up, coughing further and growing dizzy, she found herself craving the metal more than she'd imagined that she ever would. Allomancy wasn't supposed to be addictive, not like certain herbs or poisons. However, at that moment, she could have sworn

that all the scientists and philosophers were flat-out wrong. Yomen made a sharp gesture with one arm, still not turning from the sunset. A servant approached, bearing a cup for Vin. She eyed it uncertainly. "If I wanted to poison you, Lady Venture," Yomen said without turning, "I could do it without guile." Good point, Vin thought wryly, accepting the cup and drinking the water it contained. "Water," Yomen said. "Collected from rain, then strained and purified. You will find no trace metals in it to burn. I specifically ordered it kept in wooden containers only." Clever, Vin thought. Years before she'd become consciously aware of her Allomantic powers, she'd been burning the tiny bits of metal she haphazardly got from groundwater or dining utensils. The water quenched her thirst and stilled her cough. "So," she finally said, "if you're so worried about me eating metals, why leave me ungagged?" Yomen stood quietly for a moment. Finally, he turned, and she could see the tattoos across his eyes and face, his skin reflecting the deep colors of the falling sun outside. On his forehead, he wore his single, silvery bead of atium. "Various reasons," said the obligator king. Vin studied him, then raised the cup to take another drink. The motion jangled her manacles, which she eyed in annoyance as they again restricted her movement. "They're made of silver," Yomen said. "A particularly frustrating metal for Mistborn, or so I am told." Silver. Useless, unburnable silver. Like lead, it was one of the metals that provided no Allomantic powers at all. "An unpopular metal indeed . . ." Yomen said, nodding to the side. A servant approached Vin, bearing something on a small platter. Her mother's earring. It was a dull thing, Allomantically, made of bronze with some silver plating. Much of the gilding had worn off years ago, and the brownish bronze showed through, making the earring look to be the cheap bauble it was. "Which is why," Yomen continued, "I am so curious as to why you would bother with an ornament such as this. I have had it tested. Silver on the outside, bronze on the inside. Why those metals? One useless to Allomancers, the other granting what is considered the weakest of Allomantic powers. Would not an earring of steel or of pewter make more sense?" Vin eyed the earring. Her fingers itched to grab it, if only to feel metal between her fingers. If she'd had steel, she could have Pushed on the earring, using it as a weapon. Kelsier had once told her to keep wearing it for that simple reason. Yet, it had been given to her by her mother. A woman Vin had never known. A woman who had tried to kill her. Vin snatched the earring. Yomen watched curiously as she stuck it in her ear. He seemed . . . wary. As if waiting for something. If I really did have some trick planned, she thought, he'd be dead in an instant. How can he stand there so calmly? Why give me

my earring? Even if it isn't made of useful metals, I might find a way to use it against him. Her instincts told her he was trying an old street ploy—kind of like throwing your enemy a dagger to make him attack. Yomen wanted to spring any traps she was planning. It seemed a silly move. How could he possibly hope to best a Mistborn? Unless he himself is a Mistborn, Vin thought. He feels he can beat me. He has atium, and is ready to burn it when I try something. Vin did nothing; made no attack. She wasn't certain if her instincts about Yomen were right, but that didn't really matter. She couldn't attack, for the earring had no hidden secret. The truth was, she simply wanted it back because it felt comfortable in her ear. She was accustomed to wearing it. "Interesting," Yomen said. "Regardless, you are about to discover one of the reasons I have left you without a gag . . ." With that, he raised a hand toward the door. He clasped his hands behind his back as a servant opened the door, showing in an unarmed soldier in the white and brown of Elend's livery. You should kill him, Ruin whispered in her mind. All of them. "Lady Venture," Yomen said without looking at her. "I must ask you not to speak to this man except when I indicate, and answer only as I request. Otherwise, he will have to be executed, and a fresh messenger sent for from your army." The soldier paled. Vin just frowned, eyeing the obligator king. Yomen was obviously a calm man, and he wanted to appear harsh. How much of it was an act? "You can see that she is alive, as promised," Yomen said to the soldier. "How do we know this is not a kandra in disguise?" the soldier asked. "You can ask your question," Yomen said. "Lady Venture," the soldier said, "what did you have for dinner the night before you went to the party inside the city?" It was a good question to ask. A kandra would have interrogated her about important moments—such as her first meeting with Elend. Something like a meal, however, was so random that no kandra would have thought to ask about it. Now, if Vin could remember. . . . She looked at Yomen. He nodded—she could answer. "Eggs," she said. "Fresh eggs that I bought in the city, during one of my spying trips." The man nodded. "You have your answer, soldier," Yomen said. "Report to your king that his wife is still alive." The soldier withdrew and the servants closed the door. Vin sat back on the bench, waiting for a gag. Yomen remained where he was, looking at her. Vin looked back. Finally, she spoke. "How long do you think that you can keep Elend placated? If you know anything of him at all, then you will realize that he is a king first, and a man second. He will do what he needs to do, even

if it means my death." "Eventually, perhaps," Yomen said. "However, for now, the stall is effective. They say that you are a blunt woman, and appreciate brevity. Therefore, I will be straightforward with you. My purpose in capturing you was not to use you as leverage against your husband." "Is that so," she said flatly. "Why did you capture me, then?" "It is simple, Lady Venture," Yomen said. "I captured you so that I could execute you." If he expected surprise from her, she didn't give it. She just shrugged. "Sounds like an unnecessarily formal term. Why not just cut my throat while I was drugged?" "This city is a place of law," Yomen said. "We do not kill indiscriminately." "This is war," Vin said. "If you wait for 'discrimination' before you kill, you'll have a lot of unhappy soldiers." "Your crime is not one of war, Lady Venture." "Oh? And am I to know this crime, then?" "It is the most simple of all crimes. Murder." Vin raised an eyebrow. Had she killed someone close to this man? Perhaps one of the noble soldiers in Cett's retinue, back a year ago when she'd assaulted Keep Hasting? Yomen met her eyes, and she saw something in them. A loathing that he kept hidden behind the calm front. No, she hadn't killed one of his friends or relatives. She'd killed someone far more important to him. "The Lord Ruler," she said. Yomen turned away again. "You can't honestly intend to try me for that," Vin said. "It's ridiculous." "There will be no trial," Yomen said. "I am the authority in this city, and need no ceremony to give me direction or permission." Vin snorted. "I thought you said this was a place of law." "And I am that law," Yomen said calmly. "I believe in letting a person speak for themselves before I make my decision. I will give you time to prepare your thoughts—however, the men who will be guarding you have orders to kill you if it ever looks like you are putting something unapproved into your mouth." Yomen glanced back at her. "I'd be very careful while I eat or drink, if I were you. Your guards have been told to err on the side of safety, and they know that I will not punish them if they accidentally kill you." Vin paused, cup of water still held lightly in her fingers. Kill him, Ruin's voice whispered. You could do it. Take a weapon from one of those soldiers, then use it on Yomen. Vin frowned. Ruin still used Reen's voice—it was familiar, something that had always seemed a part of her. Discovering that it belonged to that thing . . . it was like finding out that her reflection really belonged to someone else, and that she'd never actually seen herself. She ignored the voice. She wasn't sure why Ruin would want her to try killing Yomen. After all, Yomen had captured her—the obligator king was working on Ruin's side. Plus, Vin doubted her ability to cause the man

any harm. Chained, lacking offensive metals . . . she'd be a fool to attack. She also didn't trust Yomen's comments about keeping her alive so that she could "speak" in her defense. He was up to something. Yet, she couldn't fathom what it might be. Why leave her alive? He was too clever a man to lack a reason. Giving no hint of his motivations, Yomen turned away from her again, looking back out his window. "Take her away." By sacrificing most of his consciousness, Preservation created Ruin's prison, breaking their deal and trying to keep Ruin from destroying what they had created. This event left their powers again nearly balanced—Ruin imprisoned, only a trace of himself capable of leaking out. Preservation reduced to a mere wisp of what he once was, barely capable of thought and action. These two minds were, of course, independent of the raw force of their powers. Actually, I am uncertain of how thoughts and personalities came to be attached to the powers in the first place—but I believe they were not there originally. For both powers could be detached from the minds that ruled them. IT TOOK ELEND MUCH LONGER to get back from the village than it had taken to get there. For one thing, he had left a lot of his coins with the villagers. He wasn't certain how much good money would do them in the coming weeks, but he'd felt that he had to do something. They were going to have a rough time of it the next few months. Their food stores nearly depleted, their homes burned by koloss, their water sources contaminated by ash, their capital—and king—besieged by Elend himself . . . I have to stay focused, he told himself, walking through the falling ash. I can't help every village. I have to worry about the larger picture. A picture that included using a force of koloss to destroy another man's city. Elend gritted his teeth, continuing to walk. The sun was creeping toward the horizon, and the mists had already started to appear, lit by the blazing fire of red sunlight. Behind him tromped some thirty thousand koloss. His new army. That was another reason it took him a bit longer to get back. He wanted to walk with the koloss army, rather than jumping ahead of them, in case their Inquisitor appeared to steal them back. He still couldn't believe that such a large group hadn't been under any kind of direction. I attacked a koloss army on my own, he thought as he slogged through a patch of thigh-deep ash. I did it without Vin's help, intent on defeating their Inquisitor by myself. How had he thought to fight an Inquisitor on his own? Kelsier himself had only barely been able to defeat one of the things. Vin has killed three now, he thought. We took them on together, but she was the one who killed each one. He didn't begrudge her the abilities she had, but he did feel occasional glimmers of envy. That

amused him. It had never bothered him when he'd been an ordinary man, but now that he was Mistborn too, he found himself coveting her skill. And even with her skill, she had been captured. Elend tromped along, feeling a weight he couldn't shake. Everything just seemed wrong to him. Vin imprisoned, while he was free. Mist and ash suffocating the land. Elend, despite all his powers, was unable to do anything to protect the people—and the woman—he loved. And that was the third reason that he walked ploddingly with his koloss, rather than returning immediately to his camp. He needed some time to think. Some time alone. Perhaps that was what had driven him to leave in the first place. He'd known that their work was dangerous, but he'd never really thought that he might lose her. She was Vin. She always got out. She survived. But what if, this time, she didn't? He'd always been the vulnerable one—the common person in a world of Mistborn and koloss. The scholar who couldn't fight, who had to depend on Vin for protection. Even during the last year of fighting, she'd stayed close to him. If she'd been in danger, he'd been in danger, and there hadn't really been time to think about what would happen if he survived and she didn't. He shook his head, pushing through the ash. He could have used koloss to force a trail for him. For the moment, however, he wanted to be apart even from them. So, he walked ahead, a lone figure in black on a field of solid ash backlit by a setting red sun. The ashfalls were getting far worse. Before he'd left the village, he'd spent a day having his koloss clear the streets and rebuild some of the homes. Yet, with the rate at which the ash was falling, the mist and even the possibility of other wandering koloss were becoming secondary problems. The ash. It alone would kill them. Already, it buried trees and hills. It was up to his waist in places. Perhaps if I'd stayed in Luthadel, he thought, working with my scholars, we could have discovered a way to stop this. . . . No, that was foolish. What would they do? Plug the ashmounts? Find a way to wash all of the ash out into the sea? In the distance ahead of him through the evening mists, he could see a red glow in the sky, even though the sun set on the opposite horizon. He could only assume that the light to the east came from fire and lava rising out of the ashmounts. What did he do about a dying sky, ash so thick he could barely move through it, and erupting volcanoes? So far, his way of dealing with these things had been to ignore them. Or, rather, to let Vin worry about them. That's really what has me worried, he thought. Losing the woman I love is bad enough. But, losing the one I trusted to fix all this . . .

that's truly frightening. It was an odd realization. The deep truth was, he really did trust Vin as more than a person. She was more like a force. Almost a god, even? It seemed silly, thinking about that directly. She was his wife. Even if he was a member of the Church of the Survivor, it felt wrong to worship her, to think her divine. And he didn't, not really. But he did trust her. Vin was a person of instinct, while Elend was one of logic and thought. Sometimes, it seemed she could do the impossible simply because she didn't stop to think about how impossible it really was. If Elend came to a cliff, he stopped, gauging the distance to the other side. Vin just jumped. What would happen on the day she didn't reach the other side? What if the events they were tied up in were bigger than two people could hope to solve, even if one of those people was Vin? As he considered it, even the possibility of discovering helpful information in the cache at Fadrex had been a slim hope. We need help, Elend thought with frustration. He stopped in the ash, the darkness closing around him as night proper finally fell. The mists swirled. Help. So, what did that mean? Help from some mysterious god like the ones that Sazed had once preached about? Elend had never known a god other than the Lord Ruler. And he'd never really had faith in that creature—though, meeting Yomen had changed his perspective on how some people worshipped the Lord Ruler. Elend stood, looking up at the sky, watching the flakes of ash fall. Continuing their silent, yet ceaseless, barrage against the land. Like the raven feathers of a soft pillow used to suffocate a sleeping victim. We are doomed, he thought. Behind him, the koloss stopped their march, waiting upon his silent order. That's it. It's all going to end. The realization wasn't crushing. It was gentle, like a final tendril of smoke from a dying candle. He suddenly knew that they couldn't fight—that everything they'd done over the last year had been pointless. Elend slumped to his knees. The ash came up to his chest. Perhaps this was one final reason why he'd wanted to walk home alone. When others were around, he felt as if he had to be optimistic. But, alone, he could face the truth. And there, in the ash, he finally just gave up. Someone knelt down beside him. Elend jumped backward, scrambling to his feet and scattering ash. He flared pewter belatedly, giving himself the tense strength of a Mistborn about to attack. But, there was nobody beside him. He froze, wondering if he'd been imagining things. And then, burning tin and squinting in the darkness of the ashen night, he finally saw it. A creature of mist. It wasn't really composed of mist. Rather, it was outlined in mist. The random shiftings suggested its figure, which was roughly that of a man. Elend had seen this creature twice before.

The first time, it had appeared to him in the wilderness of the Northern Dominance. The second time, it had stabbed him in the gut, leaving him to bleed to death. Yet, that had been an attempt to get Vin to take the power at the Well of Ascension and use it to heal Elend. The thing's intentions had been good, even if it had nearly killed Elend. Plus, Vin said that this creature had led her to the bit of metal that had somehow turned Elend into an Allomancer. The mist spirit watched him, its figure barely distinguishable in the patterns of flowing mists. "What?" Elend asked. "What do you want of me?" The mist spirit raised its arm and pointed to the northeast. That's what it did the first time it met me. It just pointed, as if trying to get me to go somewhere. I didn't understand what it meant then either. "Look," Elend said, suddenly feeling exhausted. "If you want to say something, why not just say it?" The mist spirit stood quietly in the mists. "At least write it," Elend said. "The pointing just isn't working." He knew that the creature—whatever it was—had some corporeality. After all, it had managed to stab Elend handily enough. He expected the creature to just continue standing there. However, to Elend's surprise, it followed the command, kneeling down in the ash. It reached out with a misty hand, and began to scratch in the ash. Elend took a step forward, cocking his head to see what the thing was writing. I will kill you, the words said. Death, death, death. "Well . . . that's pleasant," Elend said, feeling an eerie chill. The mist spirit seemed to slump. It knelt in the ash, making no impression in the ground. Such odd words to write, Elend thought, when it seemed to be trying to get me to trust it. . . "It can change your words, can't it?" Elend asked. "The other force. It can rewrite pieces of text on paper, so why not things scratched in ash?" The mist spirit looked up. "That's why you ripped the corners off of Sazed's papers," Elend said. "You couldn't write him a note, because the words would just get changed. So, you had to do other things. More blunt things—like pointing." The creature stood. "So, write more slowly," Elend said. "Use exaggerated motions. I'll watch the movements of your arm, and form the letters in my mind." The mist spirit began immediately, waving its arms about. Elend cocked his head, watching its motions. He couldn't make any sense of them, let alone form letters out of them. "Wait," he said, holding up a hand. "That isn't working. Either it's changing things, or you just don't know your letters." Silence. Wait, Elend thought, glancing at the text on the ground. If the text changed . . . "It's here, isn't it," he said, feeling a sudden and icy chill. "It's here with us now." The mist spirit remained still. "Bounce around for a yes," Elend

said. The mist spirit began to wave its arms as it had before. "Close enough," Elend said, shivering. He glanced around, but could see nothing else in the mists. If the thing Vin had released was there, then it made no impression. Yet, Elend thought he could feel something different. A slight increase in wind, a touch of ice in the air, the mists moving about more agitatedly. Perhaps he was just imagining things. He focused his attention back on the mist spirit. "You're . . . not as solid as you were before." The creature remained still. "Is that a no?" Elend said, frustrated. The creature remained still. Elend closed his eyes. Forcing himself to focus, thinking back to the logic puzzles of his youth. I need to approach this more directly. Use questions that can be answered with a simple yes or no. Why would the mist spirit be harder to see now than before? Elend opened his eyes. "Are you weaker than you were before?" he asked. The thing waved its arms. Yes, Elend thought. "Is it because the world is ending?" Elend asked. More waving. "Are you weaker than the other thing? The thing Vin set free?" Waving. "A lot weaker?" Elend asked. It waved, though it seemed a bit disconsolate this time. Great, Elend thought. Of course, he could have guessed that. Whatever the mist spirit was, it wasn't a magical answer to their problems. If it were, it would have saved them by now. What we lack most is information, Elend thought. I need to learn what I can from this thing. "Are you related to the ash?" he asked. No motion. "Are you causing the ashfalls?" he asked. No motion. "Is the other thing causing the ashfalls?" This time, it waved. Okay. "Is it causing the mists to come in the day too?" No motion. "Are you causing the mists to come in the day?" It seemed to pause in thought at this one, then it waved about less vigorously than before. Is that a "maybe"? Elend wondered. Or a "partially"? The creature fell still. It was getting harder and harder to see it in the mists. Elend flared his tin, but that didn't make the creature any more distinct. It seemed to be . . . fading. "Where was it you wanted me to go?" Elend asked, more for himself than expecting an answer. "You pointed . . . east? Did you want me to go back to Luthadel?" It waved with half-enthusiasm again. "Do you want me to attack Fadrex City?" It stood still. "Do you not want me to attack Fadrex City?" It waved vigorously. Interesting, he thought. "The mists," Elend said. "They're connected to all this, aren't they?" Waving. "They're killing my men," Elend said. It stepped forward, then stood still, somehow looking urgent. Elend frowned. "You reacted to that. You mean to say they aren't killing my men?" It waved. "That's ridiculous. I've seen the men fall dead." It stepped forward, pointing at Elend. He glanced down at his sash.

"The coins?" he asked, looking up. It pointed again. Elend reached into his sash. All that was there were his metal vials. He pulled one out. "Metals?" It waved vigorously. It just continued to wave and wave. Elend looked down at the vial. "I don't understand." The creature fell still. It was getting more and more vague, as if it were evaporating. "Wait!" Elend said, stepping forward. "I have another question. One more before you go!" It stared him in the eyes. "Can we beat it?" Elend asked softly. "Can we survive?" Stillness. Then, the creature waved just briefly. Not a vigorous wave—more of a hesitant one. An uncertain one. It evaporated, maintaining that same wave, the mists becoming indistinct and leaving no sign that the creature had been there. Elend stood in the darkness. He turned and glanced at his koloss army, who waited like the trunks of dark trees in the distance. Then he turned back, scanning for any further signs of the mist spirit. Finally, he just turned and began to tromp his way back to Fadrex. The koloss followed. He felt . . . stronger. It was silly—the mist spirit hadn't really given him any useful information. It had been almost like a child. The things it had told him were mostly just confirmations of what he'd already suspected. Yet, as he walked, he moved with more determination. If only because he knew there were things in the world he didn't understand—and that meant, perhaps, there were possibilities he didn't see. Possibilities for survival. Possibilities to land safely on the other side of the chasm, even when logic told him not to jump. I don't know why Preservation decided to use his last bit of life appearing to Elend during his trek back to Fadrex. From what I understand, Elend didn't really learn that much from the meeting. By then, of course, Preservation was but a shadow of himself—and that shadow was under immense destructive pressure from Ruin. Perhaps Preservation—or, the remnants of what he had been—wanted to get Elend alone. Or, perhaps he saw Elend kneeling in that field, and knew that the emperor of men was very close to just lying down in the ash, never to rise again. Either way, Preservation did appear, and in doing so exposed himself to Ruin's attacks. Gone were the days when Preservation could turn away an Inquisitor with a bare gesture, gone—even—were the days when he could strike a man down to bleed and die. By the time Elend saw the "mist spirit," Preservation must have been barely coherent. I wonder what Elend would have done, had he known that he was in the presence of a dying god—that on that night, he had been the last witness of Preservation's passing. If Elend had waited just a few more minutes on that ashen field, he would have seen a body—short of stature, black hair, prominent nose—fall from the mists and slump dead into the ash. As it was, the corpse was left alone to be buried in ash. The

world was dying. Its gods had to die with it. SPOOK STOOD IN THE DARK CAVERN, looking at his board and paper. He had it propped up, like an artist's canvas, though he wasn't sketching images, but ideas. Kelsier had always outlined his plans for the crew on a charcoal board. It seemed like a good idea, even though Spook wasn't explaining plans to a crew, but rather trying to work them out for himself. The trick was going to be getting Quellion to expose himself as an Allomancer before the people. Durn had told them what to look for, and the crowds would be ready, waiting for confirmation of what they had been told. However, for Spook's plan to work, he'd have to catch the Citizen in a public place, then get the man to use his powers in a way that was obvious to those watching. I can't let him just Push on a distant metal, then, he thought, scratching a note to himself on the charcoal board. I'll need him to shoot into the air, or perhaps blast some coins. Something visible, something we can tell everyone to watch for. That would be tough, but Spook was confident. He had several ideas scratched up on the board, ranging from attacking Quellion at a rally to tricking him into using his powers when he thought nobody was looking. Slowly, the thoughts were jelling into a cohesive plan. I really can do this, Spook thought, smiling. I always felt such awe for Kelsier's leadership abilities. But, it's not as hard as I thought. Or, at least, that was what he told himself. He tried not to think about the consequences of a failure. Tried not to think about the fact that he still held Beldre hostage. Tried not to worry about the fact that when he awoke some mornings—his tin having burned away during the night—his body felt completely numb, unable to feel anything until he got more metal as fuel. Tried not to focus on the riots and incidents his appearances, speeches, and work among the people were causing. Kelsier kept telling him not to worry. That should be enough for him. Shouldn't it? After a few minutes, he heard someone approaching, footsteps quiet—but not too quiet for him—on the stone. The rustle of a dress, yet without perfume, let him know exactly who it was. "Spook?" He lowered the charcoal and turned. Beldre stood at the far side of his "room." He'd made himself an alcove between several of the storage shelves, partitioned off with sheets—his own personal office. The Citizen's sister wore a beautiful noble gown of green and white. Spook smiled. "You like the dresses?" She looked down, flushing slightly. "I . . . haven't worn anything like this in years." "Nobody in this city has," Spook said, setting down the charcoal and wiping his fingers on a rag. "But, then, that makes it pretty easy to get them, if you know which buildings to loot. It looks like I matched your size pretty well, eh?" "Yes,"

she said quietly, drifting forward. The gown really did look good on her, and Spook found it a little difficult to focus as she drew closer. She eyed his charcoal board, then frowned. "Is . . . that supposed to make any sense?" Spook shook himself free of his trance. The charcoal board was a mess of scratches and notations. That, in itself, would have made it difficult enough to read. There was, however, something else that made it even more incomprehensible. "It's mostly written in Eastern street slang," Spook said. "The language you grew up speaking?" she said, fingering the board's edge, careful not to touch the writing itself, lest she smudge it. Spook nodded. "Even the words are different," she said. "Wasing?" "It kind of means 'was doing,' " Spook explained. "You start sentences with it. 'Wasing the run of there' would mean 'I was running to that place.' " "Wasing the where of how of the finds," Beldre said, smiling slightly to herself as she read from the board. "It sounds like gibberish!" "Wasing the how of wanting the doing," Spook said, smiling, falling into a full accent. Then he flushed, turning away. "What?" she asked. Why do I always act so foolish around her? he thought. The others always made fun of my slang—even Kelsier thought it was silly. Now I start speaking it before her? He'd been feeling confident and sure as he studied his plans before she arrived. Why was it that the girl could always make him fall out of his leadership role and go back to being the old Spook? The Spook who had never been important. "You shouldn't be ashamed of the accent," Beldre said. "I think it's kind of charming." "You just said it was gibberish," Spook said, turning back to her. "But that's the best part!" Beldre said. "It's gibberish on purpose, right?" Spook remembered with fondness how his parents had responded to his adoption of the slang. It had been a kind of power, being able to say things that only his friends could understand. Of course, he'd started speaking in it so much that it had been hard to switch back. "So," Beldre said, eyeing the board. "What does it say?" Spook hesitated. "Just random thoughts," he said. She was his enemy—he had to remember that. "Oh," she said. Something unreadable crossed her face, then she turned away from the board. Her brother always banished her from his conferences, Spook thought. Never told her anything important. Left her feeling like she was useless. . . . "I need to get your brother to use his Allomancy in front of the people," Spook found himself saying. "To let them see that he's a hypocrite." Beldre looked back. "The board is filled with my ideas," Spook said. "Most of them aren't very good. I'm kind of leaning toward just attacking him, making him defend himself." "That won't work," Beldre said. "Why not?" "He won't use Allomancy against you. He wouldn't expose himself like that." "If I threaten him strongly enough he

will." Beldre shook her head. "You promised not to hurt him. Remember?" "No," Spook said, raising a finger. "I promised to try to find another way. And, I don't intend to kill him. I just need to make him think that I'd kill him." Beldre fell silent again. His heart lurched. "I won't do it, Beldre," Spook said. "I won't kill him." "You promise that?" Spook nodded. She looked up at him, then smiled. "I want to write him a letter. Perhaps I can talk him into listening to you; we could avoid the need for this in the first place." "All right . . ." Spook said. "But, you realize I'll have to read the letter to make certain you're not revealing anything that could hurt my position." Beldre nodded. Of course, he'd do more than read it. He'd rewrite it on another sheet of paper, changing the line order, and then add a few unimportant words. He'd worked on too many thieving crews to be unaware of ciphers. But, assuming that Beldre was being honest with him, a letter from her to Quellion was a good idea. It couldn't help but strengthen Spook's position. He opened his mouth to ask whether or not her sleeping accommodations were acceptable, but cut himself off as he heard someone approaching. Harder footsteps this time. Captain Goradel, he guessed. Sure enough, the soldier appeared around the corner to Spook's "room" a short time later. "My lord," the soldier said. "You should see this." The soldiers were gone. Sazed looked through the window with the others, inspecting the empty plot of ground where Quellion's troops had been camped for the last few weeks, watching the Ministry building. "When did they leave?" Breeze asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Just now," Goradel explained. The move felt ominous to Sazed for some reason. He stood beside Spook, Breeze, and Goradel—though the others seemed to take the soldiers' retreat as a good sign. "Well, it will make sneaking out easier," Goradel noted. "More than that," Spook said. "It means I can incorporate our own soldiers in the plan against Quellion. We'd never have gotten them out of the building secretly with half an army on our doorstep, but now . . ." "Yes," Goradel said. "But where did they go? Do you think Quellion is suspicious of us?" Breeze snorted. "That, my dear man, sounds like a question for your scouts. Why not have them search out where that army went?" Goradel nodded. But then, to Sazed's slight surprise, the soldier looked toward Spook for a confirmation. Spook nodded, and the captain moved off to give the orders. He looks to the boy over Breeze and I, Sazed thought. He shouldn't have been surprised. Sazed himself had agreed to let Spook take the lead, and to Goradel, all three of them—Sazed, Breeze, Spook—were probably equal. All were in Elend's inner circle, and of the three, Spook was the best warrior. It made sense for Goradel to look to him as a source of authority. It just felt strange to

see Spook giving orders to the soldiers. Spook had always been so quiet during the days of the original crew. And yet, Sazed was beginning to respect the boy too. Spook knew how to give orders in a way that Sazed could not, and he had shown remarkable foresight in his preparations in Urteau, as well as his plans to overthrow Quellion. He had a flair for the dramatic that Breeze kept saying was remarkable. And yet, there was that bandage on the boy's eyes, and the other things he hadn't explained. Sazed knew that he should have pushed harder for answers, but the truth was that he trusted Spook. Sazed had known Spook from the lad's young teenage years, when he'd barely been capable of communicating with others. As Goradel moved off, Spook looked to Sazed and Breeze. "Well?" "Quellion is planning something," Breeze said. "Seems too early to jump to conclusions, though." "I agree," Spook said. "For now, we go forward with the plan." With that, they split up. Sazed turned, making his way back down and over to the far side of the cavern—to where a large group of soldiers worked in an area well lit with lanterns. On his arms, he wore the familiar weight of his copperminds—two on his forearms, two on his upper arms. In them sat the knowledge of engineering he needed to complete the task Spook had assigned him. Lately, Sazed didn't know what to think. Each time he climbed the ladder and looked out over the city, he saw worse signs. The ashfalls were heavier. The earthquakes were growing more and more frequent, and more and more violent. The mists were lingering later and later in the day. The sky grew dark, the red sun more like a vast bleeding scar than a source of light and life. The ashmounts made the horizon red even during the night. It seemed to him that the end of the world should be a time when men found faith, not a time when they lost it. Yet, the little time that he'd devoted to studying the religions in his portfolio had not been encouraging. Twenty more religions eliminated, leaving just thirty potential candidates. He shook his head to himself, moving among the toiling soldiers. Several groups worked on wooden contraptions filled with rocks—weight systems that would fall to block off the water running into the cavern. Others worked on the system of pulleys that would lower the mechanism. After about a half hour or so, Sazed determined that they were all doing their tasks well, and returned to his calculations. However, as he walked to his table, he saw Spook approaching him. "Riots," Spook said, falling into step beside Sazed. "Excuse me, Lord Spook?" "That's where the soldiers went. Some people started a fire, and the soldiers guarding us were needed to put it out before the whole city went up. There's a lot more wood here than there is in Central Dominance cities." Sazed frowned. "Our actions here are becoming dangerous, I fear." Spook shrugged.

"Seems like a good thing to me. This city is on the edge of snapping, Saze. Just like Luthadel was when we took control." "Only the presence of Elend Venture kept that city from destroying itself," Sazed said quietly. "Kelsier's revolution could easily have turned into a disaster." "It will be all right," Spook said. Sazed eyed the young man as the two of them walked through the cavern. Spook seemed to be trying very hard to project an air of confidence. Perhaps Sazed was just growing cynical, but he found it difficult to be as optimistic as Spook. "You don't believe me," Spook said. "I'm sorry, Lord Spook," Sazed said. "It's not that . . . it's just that I seem to have trouble having faith in anything lately." "Oh." They walked silently for a while, eventually finding themselves at the edge of the glassy underground lake. Sazed paused beside the waters, his worries chewing at his insides. He stood for a long moment, feeling frustrated, but not really having an outlet. "Don't you even worry, Spook?" Sazed finally asked. "Worry that we'll fail?" "I don't know," Spook said, shuffling. "And, it's so much more than this," Sazed said, waving back at the work crews. "The very sky seems to be our enemy. The land is dying. Don't you wonder what good any of this is? Why we even struggle? We're all doomed anyway!" Spook flushed. Then, finally, he looked down. "I don't know," he repeated. "I . . . I understand what you're doing, Sazed. You're trying to find out if I doubt myself. I guess you can see through me." Sazed frowned, but Spook wasn't looking. "You're right," the young man said then, wiping his brow, "I do wonder if I'll fail. I guess Tindwyl would be annoyed at me, wouldn't she? She didn't think that leaders should doubt themselves." That gave Sazed pause. What am I doing? he thought, horrified at his outburst. Is this what I've really become? During most of my life, I resisted the Synod, rebelling against my own people. Yet, I was at peace, confident that I was doing the right thing. Now I come here, where people need me most, and I just sit around and snap at my friends, telling them that we're just going to die? "But," Spook said, looking up, "though I doubt myself, I still think we'll be all right." Sazed was surprised at the hope he saw in the boy's eyes. That's what I've lost. "How can you say that?" Sazed asked. "I don't know, really," Spook said. "I just . . . Well, do you remember that question you asked me when you first got here? We were standing by the lake, just over there. You asked me about faith. You asked what good it was, if it just led people to hurt each other, like Quellion's faith in the Survivor has done." Sazed looked out over the lake. "Yes," he said softly. "I remember." "I've been thinking about that ever since," Spook said. "And . .

. I think I might have an answer." "Please." "Faith," Spook said, "means that it doesn't matter what happens. You can trust that somebody is watching. Trust that somebody will make it all right." Sazed frowned. "It means that there will always be a way," Spook whispered, staring forward, eyes glazed, as if seeing things that Sazed could not. Yes, Sazed thought. That is what I have lost. And it's what I need to get back. I have come to see that each power has three aspects: a physical one, which can be seen in the creations made by Ruin and Preservation; a spiritual one in the unseen energy that permeates all of the world; and a cognitive one in the minds which controlled that energy. There is more to this. Much more that even I do not yet comprehend. YOU SHOULD KILL THEM. Vin looked up as she heard a pair of guards pass the door to her cell. There was one good thing about Ruin's voice—it tended to warn her when people were nearby, even if it did always tell her to kill them. A part of her did wonder if, in fact, she was mad. After all, she saw and heard things that nobody else could. However, if she were mad, there would really be no way for her to realize it. So, she simply decided to accept what she heard, and move on. In truth, she was glad for Ruin's voice on occasion. Other than Ruin, she was alone in the cell. All was still. Even the soldiers did not speak—likely at Yomen's orders. Plus, each time Ruin spoke, she felt as if she learned something. For instance, she had learned that Ruin could either manifest in person or affect her from a distance. When its actual presence was not with her in the cell, Ruin's words were far more simple and vague. Take, for instance, Ruin's order that she kill the guards. She couldn't follow that suggestion, not from within the cell. It wasn't so much a specific order as it was an attempt to change her inclinations. Again, that reminded her of Allomancy, which could exert a general influence over a person's emotions. General influence . . . Something suddenly occurred to her. She quested out, and—sure enough—she could still feel the thousand koloss that Elend had given her. They were under her control still, distant, obeying the general orders she'd given them before. Could she use them somehow? Deliver a message to Elend, perhaps? Get them to attack the city and free her? As she considered them, both plans seemed flawed. Sending them to Fadrex would just get them killed, as well as risk upsetting whatever plans Elend had for a potential attack. She could send them to find Elend, but that would probably just get them killed by the camp guards, who would be afraid they were bloodlusting. Plus, what would she have them do if they did get to him? She could order them to take actions, like attack or pick someone up,

but she'd never tried something as delicate as ordering one to speak certain words. She tried forming those words in her head and getting them to the koloss, but all she sensed back was confusion. She'd have to work on that some more. And, as she considered, she wondered if getting a message to Elend would really be the best way to use them. It would let Ruin know about a potential tool she had that, maybe, he hadn't noticed. "I see that he finally found a cell for you," a voice said. Vin looked up, and there he was. Still wearing Reen's form, Ruin stood in the small cell with her. He maintained a straight-backed posture, standing almost benevolently over her. Vin sat up on her cot. She'd never thought that of all her metals, she would miss bronze so much. When Ruin returned to visit in "person," burning bronze had let her feel him via bronzepulses and gave her warning that he had arrived, even if he didn't appear to her. "I'll admit that I'm disappointed in you, Vin," Ruin said. He used Reen's voice, but he imbued it with a sense of . . . age. Of quiet wisdom. The fatherly nature of that voice, mixed with Reen's face and her own knowledge of the thing's desire to destroy, was disturbing. "The last time you were captured and locked away without metals," Ruin continued, "not a night passed before you'd killed the Lord Ruler and overthrown the empire. Now you've been soundly imprisoned for what . . . a week now?" Vin didn't respond. Why come taunt me? Does it expect to learn something? Ruin shook its head. "I would have thought at the very least that you'd have killed Yomen." "Why are you so concerned with his death?" Vin asked. "It seems to me that he's on your side." Ruin shook its head, standing with hands clasped behind its back. "You still don't understand, I see. You're all on my side, Vin. I created you. You're my tools—each and every one of you. Zane, Yomen, you, your dear Emperor Venture . . ." "No. Zane was yours, and Yomen is obviously misguided. But Elend . . . he'll fight against you." "But he can't," Ruin said. "That's what you refuse to understand, child. You cannot fight me, for by the mere act of fighting you advance my goals." "Evil men, perhaps, help you," Vin said. "But not Elend. He's a good person, and not even you can deny that." "Vin, Vin. Why can't you see? This isn't about good or evil. Morality doesn't even enter into it. Good men will kill as quickly for what they want as evil men—only the things they want are different." Vin fell silent. Ruin shook its head. "I keep trying to explain. This process we are engaged in, the end of all things—it's not a fight, but a simple culmination of inevitability. Can any man make a pocket watch that won't eventually wind down? Can you imagine a lantern that won't eventually

burn out? All things end. Think of me as a caretaker—the one who watches the shop and makes certain that the lights are turned out, that everything is cleaned up, once closing time arrives." For a moment, he made her question. There was some truth in his words, and seeing the changes in the land these last few years—changes that started before Ruin was even released—did make her wonder. Yet, something about the conversation bothered her. If what Ruin said was completely true, then why did he care about her? Why return and speak to her? "I guess that you've won, then," she said quietly. "Won?" Ruin asked. "Don't you understand? There was nothing for me to win, child. Things happen as they must." "I see," Vin said. "Yes, perhaps you do," Ruin said. "I think that you just might be able to." It turned and began to walk quietly from one side of the cell toward the other. "You are a piece of me, you know. Beautiful destroyer. Blunt and effective. Of all those I've claimed over this brief thousand years, you are the only one I think just might be able to understand me." Why, Vin thought, it's gloating! That's why Ruin is here—because it wants to make certain that someone understands what it has accomplished! There was a feeling of pride and victory in Ruin's eyes. They were human emotions, emotions that Vin could understand. At that moment, Ruin stopped being an it in her mind, and instead became a he. Vin began to think—for the first time—that she could find a way to beat Ruin. He was powerful, perhaps even incomprehensible. But she had seen humanity in him, and that humanity could be deceived, manipulated, and broken. Perhaps it was this same conclusion that Kelsier had drawn, after looking into the Lord Ruler's eyes that fateful night when he had been captured. She finally felt as if she understood him, and what it must have felt like to undertake something so bold as the defeat of the Lord Ruler. But Kelsier had years to plan, Vin thought. I . . . I don't even know how long I have. Not long, I would guess. Even as she thought, another earthquake began. The walls trembled, and Vin heard guards cursing in the hallway as something fell and broke. And Ruin . . . he seemed to be in a state of bliss, his eyes closed, mouth open slightly and looking pleasured as the building and city rumbled. Eventually, all fell still. Ruin opened his eyes, staring her down. "This work I do, it's about passion, Vin. It's about dynamic events; it's about change! That is why you and your Elend are so important to me. People with passion are people who will destroy—for a man's passion is not true until he proves how much he's willing to sacrifice for it. Will he kill? Will he go to war? Will he break and discard that which he has, all in the name of what he needs?" It's not just that

Ruin feels that he's accomplished something, Vin thought, he feels that he's overcome. Despite what he claims, he feels that he's won—that he's defeated something . . . but who or what? Us? We would be no adversary for a force like Ruin. A voice from the past seemed to whisper to her from long ago. What's the first rule of Allomancy, Vin? Consequence. Action and reaction. If Ruin had power to destroy, then there was something that opposed him. It had to be. Ruin had an opposite, an opponent. Or, he once had. "What did you do to him?" Vin asked. Ruin hesitated, frowning as he turned toward her. "Your opposite," Vin said. "The one who once stopped you from destroying the world." Ruin was silent for a long moment. Then he smiled, and Vin saw something chilling in that smile. A knowledge that he was right. Vin was part of him. She understood him. "Preservation is dead," Ruin said. "You killed him?" Ruin shrugged. "Yes, but no. He gave of himself to craft a cage. Though his throes of agony have lasted several thousand years, now, finally, he is gone. And the bargain has come to its fruition." Preservation, Vin thought, a piece of a gigantic whole clicking into place. The opposite of Ruin. A force like that couldn't have destroyed his enemy, because he would represent the opposite of destruction. But imprisonment, that would be within his powers. Imprisonment that ended when I gave up the power at the Well. "And so you see the inevitability," Ruin said softly. "You couldn't create it yourself, could you?" Vin asked. "The world, life. You can't create, you can only destroy." "He couldn't create either," Ruin said. "He could only preserve. Preservation is not creation." "And so you worked together," Vin said. "Both with a promise," Ruin said. "My promise was to work with him to create you—life that thinks, life that loves." "And his promise?" Vin asked, fearing that she knew the answer. "That I could destroy you eventually," Ruin said softly. "And I have come to claim what was promised me. The only point in creating something is to watch it die. Like a story that must come to a climax, what I have done will not be fulfilled until the end has arrived." It can't be true, Vin thought. Preservation. If he really represents a power in the universe, then he couldn't really have been destroyed, could he? "I know what you are thinking," Ruin said. "You cannot enlist Preservation's power. He is dead. He couldn't kill me, you see. He could only imprison me." Yes. I figured that last part out already. You really can't read my mind, can you? Ruin continued. "It was a villainous act, I must say. Preservation tried to escape our bargain. Would you not call that an evil deed? It is as I said before—good and evil have little to do with ruin or preservation. An evil man will protect that which he desires as surely as a good man." But something is

keeping Ruin from destroying the world now, she thought. For all his words about stories and endings, he is not a force that would wait for an "appropriate" moment. There is more to this, more that I'm not understanding. What is holding him back? "I've come to you," Ruin said, "because I want you, at least, to watch and see. To know. For it has come." Vin perked up. "What? The end?" Ruin nodded. "How long?" Vin asked. "Days," Ruin said. "But not weeks." Vin felt a chill, realizing something. He had come to her, finally revealing himself, because she was captured. He thought that there was no further chance for mankind. He assumed that he had won. Which means that there is a way to beat him, she thought with determination. And it involves me. But I can't do it here, or he wouldn't have come to gloat. And that meant she had to get free. Quickly. Once you begin to understand these things, you can see how Ruin was trapped even though Preservation's mind was gone, expended to create the prison. Though Preservation's consciousness was mostly destroyed, his spirit and body were still in force. And, as an opposite force of Ruin, these could still prevent Ruin from destroying. Or, at least, keep him from destroying things too quickly. Once his mind was "freed" from its prison the destruction accelerated quickly. "THROW YOUR WEIGHT HERE," Sazed said, pointing at a wooden lever. "The counterweights will fall, swinging down all four floodgates and stemming the flow into the cavern. I warn you, however—the explosion of water above will be rather spectacular. We should be able to fill the city's canals in a matter of hours, and I suspect that a portion of the northern city will be flooded." "To dangerous levels?" Spook asked. "I do not think so," Sazed said. "The water will burst out through the conduits in the interchange building beside us. I've inspected the equipment there, and it appears sound. The water should flow directly into the canals, and from there exit the city. Either way, I would not want to be in those streetslots when this water comes. The current will be quite swift." "I've taken care of that," Spook said. "Durn is going to make certain the people know to be clear of the waterways." Sazed nodded. Spook couldn't help but be impressed. The complicated construct of wood, gears, and wire looked like it should have taken months to build, not weeks. Large nets of rocks weighed down the four gates, which hung, ready to block off the river. "This is amazing, Saze," Spook said. "With a sign as spectacular as the reappearance of the canal waters, the people will be certain to listen to us instead of the Citizen." Breeze and Durn's men had been working hard over the last few weeks, whispering to the people to watch for a miracle from the Survivor of the Flames. Something extraordinary, something to prove—once and for all—who was the rightful master of the city. "It is the

best I could do," Sazed said with a modest bow of the head. "The seals won't be perfectly tight, of course. However, that should matter little." "Men?" Spook said, turning to four of Goradel's soldiers. "You understand what you are to do?" "Yes, sir," the lead soldier said. "We wait for a messenger, then throw the lever there." "If no messenger comes," Spook said, "throw the switch at nightfall." "And," Sazed said, raising a finger, "don't forget to twist the sealing mechanism in the other room, plugging the water flow out of this chamber. Otherwise, the lake will eventually empty. Better that we keep this reservoir full, just in case." "Yes, sir," the soldier said with a nod. Spook turned, looking back over the cavern. Soldiers bustled about, preparing. He was going to need most of them for the night's activities. They looked eager—they'd spent too long holed up in the cavern and the building above. To the side, Beldre regarded Sazed's contraption with interest. Spook broke away from the soldiers, approaching her with a quick step. "You're really going to do it?" she said. "Return the water to the canals?" Spook nodded. "I sometimes imagined what it would be like to have the waters back," she said. "The city wouldn't feel as barren—it would become important, like it was during the early days of the Final Empire. All those beautiful waterways. No more ugly gashes in the ground." "It will be a wonderful sight," Spook said, smiling. Beldre just shook her head. "It . . . amazes me that you can be such different people at the same time. How can the man who would do such a beautiful thing for my city also plan such destruction?" "Beldre, I'm not planning to destroy your city." "Just its government." "I do what needs to be done." "Men say that so easily," Beldre said. "Yet, everybody seems to have a different opinion of what 'needs' to be done." "Your brother had his chance," Spook said. Beldre looked down. She still carried with her the letter they'd received earlier in the day—a response from Quellion. Beldre's plea had been heartfelt, but the Citizen had responded with insults, implying that she had been forced to write the words because she was being held prisoner. I do not fear a usurper, the letter read. I am protected by the Survivor himself. You will not have this city, tyrant. Beldre looked up. "Don't do it," she whispered. "Give him more time. Please." Spook hesitated. "There is no more time," Kelsier whispered. "Do what must be done." "I'm sorry," Spook said, turning from her. "Stay with the soldiers—I'm leaving four men to guard you. Not to keep you from fleeing, though they will do that. I want you inside this cavern. I can't promise that the streets will be safe." He heard her sniffle quietly behind him. He left her standing there, then walked toward the gathering group of soldiers. One man brought Spook his dueling canes and singed cloak. Goradel stood at the front of his soldiers,

looking proud. "We're ready, my lord." Breeze walked up beside him, shaking his head, dueling cane tapping the ground. He sighed. "Well, here we go again. . . ." The evening's occasion was a speech Quellion had been publicizing for some time. He had stopped executions recently, as if finally realizing that the deaths were contributing to the instability of his rule. He apparently intended to swing back toward benevolence, holding rallies, emphasizing the wonderful things he was doing for the city. Spook walked alone, a little ahead of Breeze, Allrianne, and Sazed, who chatted behind. Some of Goradel's soldiers followed as well, wearing common Urteau garb. Spook had split their force, sending it by different paths. It wasn't dark yet—to Spook the falling sun was bright, forcing him to wear his blindfold and spectacles. Quellion liked to hold his speeches in the evening, so that the mists arrived during them. He liked the implied connection to the Survivor. A figure hobbled out of a side streetslot next to Spook. Durn walked with a stooped posture, a cloak obscuring his figure. Spook respected the twisted man's insistence on leaving the security of the Harrows, going out to run jobs himself. Perhaps that was why he'd ended up as leader of the city's underground. "People are gathering, as expected," Durn said, coughing quietly. "Some of your soldiers are already there." Spook nodded. "Things are . . . unsettled in the city," Durn said. "It worries me. Segments I can't control have already started looting some of the prohibited noble mansions. My men are all busy trying to get people out of the streetslots." "It will be all right," Spook said. "Most of the populace will be at the speech." Durn was silent for a moment. "Word is that Quellion is going to use his speech to denounce you, then finally order an attack on the Ministry building where you're staying." "It's a good thing we won't be there, then," Spook said. "He shouldn't have withdrawn his soldiers, even if he did need them to keep order in the city." Durn nodded. "What?" Spook said. "I just hope you can handle this, lad. Once this night is through, the city will be yours. Treat it better than Quellion did." "I will," Spook said. "My men will create a disturbance for you at the meeting. Farewell." Durn took the next left, disappearing down another streetslot alleyway. Ahead, the crowds were already gathering. Spook put up the hood of his cloak, keeping his eyes obscured as he wove his way through the crowd. He quickly left Sazed and the others behind, pushing his way up a ramp to the old city square—the place Quellion had chosen for his speech. His men had erected a wooden stage, from which the Citizen could face the crowd. The speech was already in progress. Spook stopped just a short distance away from a guard patrol. Many of Quellion's soldiers surrounded the stage, eyeing the crowd. Minutes passed, and Spook spent them listening to Quellion's voice ring, yet paying no attention

to the words. Ash fell around him, dusting the crowd. Mists began to twist in the air. He listened, listened with ears no other man had. He used Allomancy's strange ability to filter and ignore—hearing through the chatter and whispers and shuffles and coughs, just as he could somehow see through the obscuring mists. He heard the city. Yells in the distance. It was beginning. "Too fast!" a voice whispered, a beggar moving up to Spook's side. "Durn sends word. Riots in the streets, ones he didn't start! Durn cannot control them. My lord, the city is beginning to burn!" "It was a night not unlike this one," another voice whispered. Kelsier's voice. "A glorious night. When I took the city of Luthadel, and made it mine." A disturbance began at the back of the crowd; Durn's men were causing their distraction. Some of Quellion's guards pulled away to quell this nearby riot. The Citizen continued to shout his accusations. Spook heard his own name in Quellion's words, but the context was simply noise. Spook tilted his head back, looking up at the sky. Ash fell toward him, as if he were sailing through it into the air. Like a Mistborn. His hood fell back. Men around him whispered in surprise. A clock rang in the distance. Goradel's soldiers rushed the stage. Around him, Spook could feel a glow rising. The fires of rebellion, burning in the city. Just like the night he had overthrown the Lord Ruler. The torches of revolution. Then the people had put Elend on the throne. This time, it would be Spook they elevated. Weak no more, he thought. Never weak again! The last of Quellion's soldiers rushed away from the stage, moving into combat with Goradel's men. The crowd shied away from the battle, but nobody ran. They had been prepared well for the night's events. Many would be waiting, watching for the signs Spook and Durn had promised—signs revealed just a few hours before, to minimize the risk of Quellion's spies learning Spook's plan. A miracle in the canals, and proof that Quellion was an Allomancer. If the Citizen—or even any of his guards on the stage—shot coins or used Allomancy to leap into the air, the people would see. They would know that they had been deceived. And that would be the end. The crowd surged away from the cursing soldiers, and their withdrawal left Spook standing alone. Quellion's voice finally trailed off. Some of his soldiers were rushing up to get him off the stage. Quellion's eyes found Spook. Only then did they show fear. Spook leaped. He couldn't Steelpush himself, but his legs were fueled by the power of flared pewter. He soared up, easily cresting the lip of the stage, landing in a crouch. He pulled free a dueling cane, then rushed the Citizen. Behind him, people began to cry out. Spook heard his name, Survivor of the Flames. Survivor. He wouldn't just kill Quellion, but destroy him. Undermining his rule, just as Breeze had suggested. At that moment, the Soother

and Allrianne would be manipulating the crowd, keeping them from running away in a panic. Holding them there. So they could watch the show Spook was about to give. The guards at Quellion's side saw Spook too late. He dropped the first one easily, crushing the man's skull inside his helmet. Quellion screamed for more help. Spook swung at another man, but his target moved out of the way, supernaturally quick. Spook pulled to the side just in time to dodge a blow, the weapon grazing the side of his cheek. The man was an Allomancer—a pewter burner. The large brute who carried no sword, but instead an obsidian-edged cudgel. Pewter isn't spectacular enough, Spook thought. The people won't know how to tell if a man is swinging too quickly or enduring too much. I have to make Quellion shoot coins. The Thug backed away, obviously noting Spook's own increased speed. He kept his weapon raised warily, but did not attack. He just had to stall, letting his companion pull Quellion away. The Thug would be no easy fight—he would be more skilled than Spook, and even stronger. "Your family is free," Spook lied quietly. "We saved them earlier. Help us capture Quellion—he no longer has a hold on you." The Thug paused, lowering his weapon. "Kill him!" Kelsier snapped. That hadn't been Spook's plan, but he responded to the prompting. He dodged inside the Thug's reach. The man turned in shock, and as he did, Spook delivered a backhanded blow to the skull. Spook's dueling cane shattered. The Thug stumbled to the ground, and Spook snatched up the man's fallen weapon, the obsidian-lined cudgel. Quellion was at the edge of the stage. Spook jumped, sailing across the wooden platform. It was all right for him to use Allomancy; he hadn't preached against it. Only Quellion the hypocrite needed to fear using his powers. Spook cut down the remaining guard as he landed—the jagged shards of obsidian ripping through flesh. The soldier fell, and Quellion spun. "I don't fear you!" Quellion said, voice shaking. "I'm protected!" "Kill him," Kelsier ordered, appearing visibly on the stage a short distance away. Usually, the Survivor only spoke in his mind; he hadn't actually appeared since that day in the burning building. It meant important things were happening. Spook grabbed the Citizen by the front of his shirt, yanking him forward. Spook raised the length of wood, blood dripping from the obsidian shards onto the side of his hand. "No!" Spook froze at that voice, then glanced to the side. She was there, shoving her way through the crowd, approaching the open space before the stage. "Beldre?" Spook asked. "How did you get out of the cavern?" But, of course, she couldn't hear him. Only Spook's supernatural hearing had allowed him to pick her voice out of the sounds of fear and battle. He met her eyes across the distance, and saw her whispered words more than he heard them. Please. You promised. "Kill him!" Quellion chose that moment to try and pull away. Spook turned,

yanking back again—harder this time, nearly ripping Quellion's shirt free as he threw the man down to the wooden platform. Quellion cried out in pain, and Spook raised his brutal weapon with both hands. Something sparked in the firelight. Spook barely felt the impact, though it shook him. He stumbled, looking down, seeing blood on his side. Something had pierced the flesh of his left arm and shoulder. Not an arrow, though it had moved like one. His arm drooped, and though he couldn't feel the pain, it seemed that his muscles weren't working properly. Something hit me. A . . . coin. He turned. Beldre stood at the front of the crowd, crying, her hand raised toward him. She was there that day I was captured, Spook thought numbly, at her brother's side. He always keeps her near. To protect her, we thought. Or the other way around? Spook stood up straighter, Quellion whimpering in front of him. Spook's arm dripped a trail of blood from where Beldre's coin had hit, but he ignored it, staring at her. "You were always the Allomancer," he whispered. "Not your brother." And then, the crowd began to scream—likely prompted by Breeze. "The Citizen's sister is an Allomancer!" "Hypocrite!" "Liar!" "He killed my uncle, yet left his own sister alive!" Beldre cried out as the people, carefully prepared and planted, saw the proof that Spook had promised them. It didn't have the target he had intended, but the machine he had set in motion could not be halted now. The people gathered around Beldre, yelling in anger, shoving her among themselves. Spook stepped toward her, raising his wounded arm. Then a shadow fell on him. "She was always planning to betray you, Spook," Kelsier said. Spook turned, looking at the Survivor. He stood tall and proud, like the day when he'd faced the Lord Ruler. "You kept waiting for an assassin," Kelsier said. "You didn't realize that Quellion had already sent one. His sister. Didn't it strike you as strange that he'd let her get away from him and enter the enemy's own base? She was sent there to kill you. You, Sazed, and Breeze. The problem is, she was raised a pampered rich girl. She's not used to killing. She never was. You were never really in danger from her." The crowd surged, and Spook spun, worried about Beldre. However, he calmed a bit as he realized that the people were simply pulling her toward the stage. "Survivor!" people were chanting. "Survivor of the Flames!" "King!" They cast Beldre before him, pushing her up onto the platform. Her scarlet clothing was ripped, her figure battered, her auburn hair a mess. To the side, Quellion groaned. Spook appeared to have broken his arm without realizing it. Spook moved to help Beldre. She was bleeding from several small cuts, but she was alive. And she was crying. "She was his bodyguard," Kelsier said, stepping over to Beldre. "That's why she was always with him. Quellion isn't an Allomancer. He never was." Spook knelt beside the girl,

cringing at her bruised form. "Now, you must kill her," Kelsier said. Spook looked up, blood seeping from the cut on the side of his face, where the Thug had grazed him. Blood dripped from his chin. "What?" "You want power, Spook?" Kelsier said, stepping forward. "You want to be a better Allomancer? Well, power must come from somewhere. It is never free. This woman is a Coinshot. Kill her, and you can have her ability. I will give it to you." Spook looked down at the weeping woman. He felt surreal, as if he were not quite there. His breathing was labored, each breath coming as a gasp, his body shaking despite his pewter. People chanted his name. Quellion was mumbling something. Beldre continued to cry. Spook reached up with his bloodied hand, ripping off his blindfold, spectacles tumbling free. He stumbled to his feet, looking out over the city. And saw it burning. The sounds of rioting echoed through the streets. Flames burned in a dozen different spots, lighting the mists, casting a hellish haze over the city. Not the fires of rebellion at all. The fires of destruction. "This is wrong . . ." Spook whispered. "You will take the city, Spook," Kelsier said. "You will have what you always wanted! You'll be like Elend, and like Vin. Better than either! You'll have Elend's titles and Vin's power! You'll be like a god!" Spook turned away from the burning city as something caught his attention. Quellion was reaching out with his good arm, reaching toward . . . Toward Kelsier. "Please," Quellion whispered. It seemed as if he could see the Survivor, though nobody else around them could. "My lord Kelsier, why have you forsaken me?" "I gave you pewter, Spook," Kelsier said angrily, not looking at Quellion. "Will you deny me now? You must pull free one of the steel spikes that support this stage. Then, you must take the girl, and press her to your chest. Kill her with the spike, and drive it into your own body. That is the only way!" Kill her with the spike . . . Spook thought, feeling numb. This all began that day when I nearly died. I was fighting a Thug in the market; I used him as a shield. But . . . the other soldier struck anyway, stabbing through his friend and into me. Spook stumbled away from Beldre, kneeling beside Quellion. The man cried out as Spook forced him down against the wooden planks. "That's right," Kelsier said. "Kill him first." But Spook wasn't listening. He ripped Quellion's shirt, looking at the shoulder and chest. There was nothing odd about either. The Citizen's upper arm, however, had a length of metal piercing it. It appeared to be bronze. Hand shaking, Spook pulled the metal free. Quellion screamed. But so did Kelsier. Spook turned, bloodied bronze spike in his hand. Kelsier was enraged, hands like claws, stepping forward. "What are you?" Spook asked. The thing screamed, but Spook ignored it, looking down at his own chest. He

ripped open his shirt, exposing the mostly healed wound in his shoulder. A glimmer of metal still shone there, the tip of the sword. The sword that had passed through an Allomancer—killing the man—and then entered Spook's own body. Kelsier had told him to leave the broken shard there. As a symbol of what Spook had gone through. The point of the shard protruded from Spook's skin. How had he forgotten about it? How had he ignored such a relatively large piece of metal inside of his body? Spook reached for it. "No!" Kelsier said. "Spook, do you want to go back to being normal? Do you want to be useless again? You'll lose your pewter, and go back to being weak, like you were when you let your uncle die!" Spook wavered. No, Spook thought. Something is wrong. I was supposed to expose Quellion, get him to use his Allomancy, but I just attacked instead. I wanted to kill. I forgot about plans and preparation. I brought destruction to this city. This is not right! He pulled the glass dagger from his boot. Kelsier screamed terribly in his ears, but Spook reached up anyway, slicing the flesh of his chest. He reached in with pewter-enhanced fingers and grabbed the steel shard that was embedded inside. Then, he ripped the bit of metal free, casting it across the stage, crying out at the shock of pain. Kelsier vanished immediately. And so did Spook's ability to burn pewter. It hit him all at once—the fatigue of pushing himself so hard during his time in Urteau. The wounds he'd been ignoring. The sudden explosion of light, sound, smell, and sensation that pewter had let him resist. It overcame him like a physical force, crushing him down. He collapsed to the platform. He groaned, unable to think anymore. He could simply let the blackness take him. . . . Her city is burning. Blackness . . . Thousands will die in the flames. The mists tickled his cheeks. In the cacophony, Spook had let his tin dim, relieving him of sensation, leaving him feeling blissfully numb. It was better that way. You want to be like Kelsier? Really like Kelsier? Then fight when you are beaten! "Lord Spook!" The voice was faint. Survive! With a scream of pain, Spook flared tin. As the metal always did, it brought a wave of sensations—thousands of them, shocking him at once. Pain. Feeling. Hearing. Sounds, smells, lights. And lucidity. Spook forced himself to his knees, coughing. Blood still streamed down his arm. He looked up. Sazed was running toward the platform. "Lord Spook!" Sazed said, puffing as he arrived. "Lord Breeze is trying to damp down riots, but we pushed this city too far, I think! The people will destroy it in their rage." "The flames," Spook croaked. "We have to put out the fires. The city is too dry; it has too much wood. It will burn, with everyone in it." Sazed looked grave. "There is no way. We must get out! This riot will destroy us."

Spook glanced to the side. Beldre was kneeling beside her brother. She'd bound his wound, and then made a makeshift sling for his arm. Quellion glanced at Spook, looking dazed. As if he'd just awoken from a dream. Spook stumbled to his feet. "We won't abandon the city, Sazed." "But—" "No!" Spook said. "I ran from Luthadel and left Clubs to die. I will not run again! We can stop the flames. We just need water." Sazed paused. "Water," Beldre said, standing. "The canals will fill soon," Spook said. "We can organize fire brigades—use the flood to stop the flames." Beldre glanced down. "There will be no flood, Spook. The guards you left . . . I attacked them with coins." Spook felt a chill. "Dead?" She shook her head, hair disheveled, her face scratched. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I didn't look." "The waters have not come yet," Sazed said. "They . . . should have been released by now." "Then we will bring them!" Spook snapped. He spun at Quellion, then stumbled, feeling dizzy. "You!" he said, pointing at the Citizen. "You would be king of this city? Well, lead this people, then. Get control of them and prepare them to put out the fires." "I can't," Quellion said. "They'll kill me for what I've done." Spook wobbled, light-headed. He steadied himself against a beam, holding his head. Beldre took a step toward him. Spook looked up, meeting Quellion's eyes. The fires of the city were so bright that his flared tin made it difficult to see. Yet, he dared not release the metal—only the power of noise, heat, and pain was keeping him conscious. "You will go to them," Spook said. "I don't give a damn if they rip you apart, Quellion. You're going to try to save this city. If you don't, I'll kill you myself. Do you understand?" The Citizen froze, then nodded. "Sazed," Spook said, "take him to Breeze and Allrianne. I'm going to the cache. I'll bring the floodwaters to the canals, one way or another. Have Breeze and the others form fire brigades to douse the flames as soon as there is water." Sazed nodded. "It is a good plan. But Goradel will lead the Citizen. I am coming with you." Spook nodded wearily. Then, as Sazed moved off to get the guard captain—who had apparently established a defensive perimeter around the square—Spook climbed from the stage and forced himself to begin moving toward the cache. Soon, he noticed someone catch up to him. Then, after a few moments, that person passed him and ran on. Part of his mind knew it was a good thing that Sazed had decided to move on—the Terrisman had created the mechanism that would flood the city. He would throw the lever. Spook wasn't needed. Keep moving. He did, walking on, as if each step were in atonement for what he had done to the city. After a short time, he realized that someone was at his side, tying a bandage on his arm. He blinked. "Beldre?"

"I betrayed you," she said, looking down. "But, I didn't have a choice. I couldn't let you kill him. I . . ." "You did the right thing," Spook said. "Something . . . something was interfering, Beldre. It had your brother. It almost had me. I don't know. We have to keep walking, though. The lair is close. Just up the ramp." She supported him as they walked. Spook smelled the smoke before he got there. He saw the light, and felt the heat. He and Beldre climbed up to the top of the ramp, practically crawling, for she was nearly as battered as he was. However, Spook knew what he would find. The Ministry building, like so much of the town, was burning. Sazed stood before it, hand raised before his eyes. To Spook's overenhanced senses, the brilliance of the flames was so great that he had to look away. The heat made him feel as if he were standing just inches from the sun. Sazed tried to get closer to the building, but was forced back. He turned toward Spook, shielding his face. "It's too hot!" he said. "We need to find some water, or perhaps some sand. Put out the fire before we can get below." "Too late . . ." Spook whispered. "It will take too long." Beldre turned, looking over her city. To Spook's eyes, smoke seemed to twist and rise everywhere in the bright sky, reaching up, as if to meet the falling ash. He set his jaw, then stumbled forward, toward the fire. "Spook!" she cried out. But, she needn't have worried. The flames were too hot. The pain was so strong that he had to pull back before he'd crossed even half the distance. He stumbled away, joining Beldre and Sazed, gasping quietly, blinking tears. His heightened senses made it even more difficult for him to approach the flames. "There is nothing we can do here," Sazed said. "We must gather crews and come back." "I've failed," Spook whispered. "No more than any of us," Sazed said. "This is my fault. The emperor put me in command." "We were supposed to bring security to the city," Spook said. "Not destruction. I should be able to stop those fires. But, it hurts too much." Sazed shook his head. "Ah, Lord Spook. You are no god, to command fire at your whim. You are a man, like the rest of us. We're all just . . . men." Spook allowed them to pull him away. Sazed was right, of course. He was just a man. Just Spook. Kelsier had chosen his crew with care. He'd left a note for them, when he died. It had listed the others—Vin, Breeze, Dockson, Clubs, and Ham. He'd spoken of them, of why he'd picked them. But not Spook. The only one who didn't fit in. I named you, Spook. You were my friend. Isn't that enough? Spook froze, forcing the others to stop. Sazed and Beldre looked at him. Spook stared into the night. A night that was

far too bright. The fires burned. The smoke was pungent. "No," Spook whispered, feeling fully lucid for the first time since the evening's violence had started. He pulled himself free of Sazed's grip and ran back toward the burning building. "Spook!" Two voices yelled in the night. Spook approached the flames. His breathing grew forced, and his skin grew hot. The fire was bright—consuming. He dashed right for it. Then, at the moment when the pain became too great, he extinguished his tin. And became numb. It happened just as it had before, when he had been trapped in the building without any metals. Flaring tin for so long had expanded his senses, but now that he wasn't burning it at all, those same senses became dull. His entire body grew deadened, lacking feeling or sensation. He burst through the doorway into the building, flames raining around him. His body burned. But, he couldn't feel the flames, and the pain could not drive him back. The fire was bright enough that even his weakened eyes could still see. He dashed forward, ignoring fire, heat, and smoke. Survivor of the Flames. He knew the fires were killing him. Yet, he forced himself onward, continuing to move long after the pain should have rendered him unconscious. He reached the room at the back, skidding and sliding down the broken ladder. The cavern was dark. He stumbled through it, pushing his way past shelves and furniture, making his way along the wall, moving with a desperation that warned him that his time was short. His body wasn't working right anymore—he had pushed it too far, and he no longer had pewter. He was glad for the darkness. As he finally stumbled against Sazed's machine, he knew that he would have been horrified to see what the flames had done to his arms. Groaning quietly, he felt for and found the lever—or, through numb hands, what he hoped was the lever. His fingers no longer worked. So, he simply threw his weight against it, moving the gears as required. Then he slid down to the ground, feeling only cold and dark. I do not know what went on in the minds of the koloss—what memories they retained, what human emotions they truly still knew. I do know that our discovery of the one creature, who named himself Human, was tremendously fortunate. Without his struggle to become human again, we might never have understood the link between the koloss, Hemalurgy, and the Inquisitors. Of course, there was another part for him to play. Granted, not large, but still important, all things considered. URTEAU HAD SEEN BETTER DAYS. Vin certainly did her work here well, TenSoon thought as he padded through the city, shocked at the destruction. About two years ago—before he'd been sent to spy on Vin—he had been Straff Venture's kandra, and had often visited Urteau. While it had never matched Luthadel's noble majesty or sprawling poverty, it had been a fine city, worthy of being the seat of a Great House. Now, a good third

of the city was a burned ruin. Those buildings that hadn't burned down were either abandoned or overcrowded—an odd mixture, in TenSoon's opinion. Apparently, noble homes were avoided, while skaa buildings were overpacked. More remarkable, however, were the canals. They had been refilled somehow. TenSoon sat on his haunches, watching the occasional makeshift boat push its way through a canal, displacing the patina of ash that covered the water. Here and there, debris and refuse clogged the waterways, but they were passable in most places. He rose, shaking his canine head, continuing on his way. He'd stowed the bag with Kelsier's bones outside, not wanting to look odd carrying a pack on his back. What had been the purpose of burning the city, then restoring its canals? He would likely have to wait to find the answer. He'd seen no army camped outside; if Vin had been here, she'd already moved on to another location. His goal now was to find what passed for leadership in the remains of the city, then continue on his way, hunting down the Hero of Ages. As he walked, he heard the people talking—speaking of how they'd managed to survive the fires that had claimed much of the city. They actually seemed cheerful. There was despair, too, but there seemed an inordinate amount of happiness. This was not a city whose people had been conquered. They feel they defeated the fire, TenSoon thought, making his way along a more crowded street. They don't see losing a third of the city as a disaster—they see saving two-thirds of it as a miracle. He followed the flow of traffic toward the center of town, where he finally found the soldiers he'd expected. They were definitely Elend's, bearing the spear and the scroll on the arms of their uniforms. However, they defended an unlikely location: a Ministry building. TenSoon sat back on his haunches, cocking his head. The building was obviously a center of operations. People bustled about under the eyes of the watchful soldiers, moving in and out. If he wanted answers, he'd need to get inside. He briefly considered going to fetch Kelsier's bones from outside the city. However, he discarded that thought. He wasn't certain if he wanted to deal with the ramifications of making the Survivor appear again. There was another way to get in—equally shocking, perhaps, but far less theologically disturbing. He padded over to the front of the building and walked up the steps, drawing a few startled looks. As he approached the front doors, one of the guards shouted at him, waving the butt of a spear his direction. "Here now!" the man said. "This is no place for dogs. Whose hound is this?" TenSoon sat back on his haunches. "I belong to no man," he said. The guard jumped back in shock, and TenSoon got a twisted sense of pleasure. He immediately chided himself. The world was ending, and he went about startling random soldiers. Still, it was an advantage of wearing a dog's body that he'd never considered. . .

. "Wha . . ." the soldier said, looking around to see if he were the victim of some joke. "I said," TenSoon repeated, "that I belong to no man. I am my own master." It was a strange concept—the weight of which, undoubtedly, the guard could never grasp. TenSoon, a kandra, was outside of the Homeland without a Contract. As far as he knew, he was the first of his people to do such a thing in seven hundred years. It felt oddly . . . satisfying. Several people were staring at him now. Other guards had approached, looking to their comrade for an explanation. TenSoon gambled. "I've come from Emperor Venture," he said. "I bear a message for your leaders here." To TenSoon's satisfaction, several of the other guards jumped. The first one, however—now an old hand when it came to talking dogs—raised a hesitant finger, pointing into the building. "In there." "Thank you," TenSoon said, rising and walking through a now-quiet crowd as he made his way into the Ministry offices. He heard comments about "trick" and "well-trained" behind him, and noticed several guards running past him, faces urgent. He wound his way through groups and lines of people, all ignorant of the odd occurrence at the entrance to the building. At the end of the lines, TenSoon found . . . Breeze. The Soother sat in a throne-like chair, holding a cup of wine, looking very pleased with himself as he made proclamations and settled disputes. He looked much as he had when TenSoon had served as Vin's servant. One of the guards stood whispering to Breeze. Both eyed TenSoon as he padded up to the front of the line. The guard paled slightly, but Breeze just leaned forward, smiling. "So," he said, tapping his cane lightly against the marble floor. "Were you always a kandra, or did you eat the bones of Vin's hound recently?" TenSoon sat. "I was always a kandra." Breeze nodded. "I knew there was something odd about you—far too well behaved for a wolfhound." He smiled, sipping his wine. "Lord Renoux, I presume? It's been a while." "I'm not him, actually," TenSoon said. "I'm a different kandra. It's . . . complicated." That gave Breeze pause. He eyed TenSoon, and TenSoon felt just a moment of panic. Breeze was a Soother—and, like all Soothers, he held the power to take control of TenSoon's body. The Secret. No, TenSoon told himself forcefully. Allomancers are weaker now than they once were. Only with duralumin could they take control of a kandra, and Breeze is only a Misting—he can't burn duralumin. "Drinking on the job, Breeze?" TenSoon asked, raising a canine eyebrow. "Of course," Breeze said, raising the cup. "What good is being in charge if you can't set your own working conditions?" TenSoon snorted. He hadn't ever really liked Breeze—though perhaps that came from his bias against Soothers. Or, perhaps, his bias against all humans. Regardless, he wasn't inclined toward small talk. "Where is Vin?" he asked. Breeze frowned. "I thought you brought a message

from her?" "I lied to the guards," TenSoon said. "I've actually come searching for her. I bring news she needs to hear—news regarding the mists and ash." "Well, then, my dear man . . . um . . . I suppose I mean my dear doggie. Anyway, let us retire; you can talk to Sazed. He's far more useful than I am regarding these sorts of things." ". . . and, with Spook barely having survived the ordeal," said the Terrisman, "I thought it best to let Lord Breeze take command. We set up shop in a different Ministry building—it seemed equipped to be a bureaucratic center—and had Breeze start listening to petitions. He is better at dealing with people than I am, I think, and seems to enjoy taking care of the day-to-day concerns of the citizenry." The Terrisman sat in his chair, a portfolio open on the desk before him, a pile of notes beside it. Sazed looked different to TenSoon for some reason that he couldn't pin down. The Keeper wore the same robes, and had the same Feruchemical bracers on his arms. There was something missing, however. That, however, was the least of TenSoon's problems. "Fadrex City?" TenSoon asked, sitting on his own chair. They were in one of the smaller rooms at the Ministry building—one that had once been an obligator's sleeping quarters. Now, it simply held a desk and chairs, the walls and floor as austere as one might expect for Ministry furnishings. Sazed nodded. "She and the emperor hoped to find another of these storage caverns there." TenSoon slumped. Fadrex was halfway across the empire. Even with the Blessing of Potency, it would take weeks for him to get there. He had a very, very long run ahead of him. "Might I ask what business you have with Lady Vin, kandra?" Sazed asked. TenSoon paused. It felt very odd, in a way, to speak so openly with Breeze, and now Sazed. These were men that TenSoon had watched for months while he acted like a dog. They'd never known him, yet he felt as if he knew them. He knew, for instance, that Sazed was dangerous. The Terrisman was a Keeper—a group that TenSoon and his brethren had been trained to avoid. Keepers were always prying for rumors, legends, and tales. The kandra had many secrets; if the Keepers were ever to discover the riches of kandra culture, it could be disastrous. They'd want to study, ask questions, and record what they found. TenSoon opened his mouth to say "Nothing." However, he stopped. Didn't he want someone to help with kandra culture? Someone who focused on religions, and who—perhaps—knew much of theology? Someone who knew about the legends of the Hero of Ages? Of all the members of the crew other than Vin, TenSoon had held Sazed in the highest regard. "It has to do with the Hero of Ages," TenSoon said carefully. "And the advent of the world's end." "Ah," Sazed said, rising. "Very well then. I shall give you whatever provisions you need.

Will you be starting out immediately? Or, will you be staying here to rest for a time?" What? TenSoon thought. Sazed hadn't even twitched at the mention of religious matters. It didn't seem like him at all. Yet, Sazed continued speaking, as if TenSoon hadn't just hinted at one of the greatest religious secrets of their age. I'll never understand humans, he thought, shaking his head. The prison Preservation created for Ruin was not created out of Preservation's power, though it was of Preservation. Rather, Preservation sacrificed his consciousness—one could say his mind—to fabricate that prison. He left a shadow of himself, but Ruin, once escaped, began to suffocate and isolate this small remnant vestige of his rival. I wonder if Ruin ever thought it strange that Preservation had cut himself off from his own power, relinquishing it and leaving it in the world, to be gathered and used by men. In Preservation's gambit, I see nobility, cleverness, and desperation. He knew that he could not defeat Ruin. He had given too much of himself and, beyond that, he was the embodiment of stasis and stability. He could not destroy, not even to protect. It was against his nature. Hence the prison. Mankind, however, had been created by both Ruin and Preservation—with a hint of Preservation's own soul to give them sentience and honor. In order for the world to survive, Preservation knew he had to depend upon his creations. To give them his trust. I wonder what he thought when those creations repeatedly failed him. THE BEST WAY TO FOOL SOMEONE, in Vin's estimation, was to give them what they wanted. Or, at the very least, what they expected. As long as they assumed that they were one step ahead, they wouldn't look back to see if there were any steps that they'd completely missed. Yomen had designed her prison well. Any metal used in the construction of her cot or facilities was Allomantically useless. Silver, while expensive, seemed the metal of choice—and there was very little even of that. Just a few screws in the cot that Vin managed to work free with her fingernails. Her meals—a greasy, flavorless gruel—were served in wooden bowls, with wooden spoons. The guards were hazekillers: men who carried staves and wore no metal on their bodies, and who had been trained to fight Allomancers. Her room was a simple stone construction with a solid wooden door, its hinges and bolts made of silver. She knew from her guards' behavior that they expected something from her. Yomen had prepared them well, and so when they slid her food through the slit, she could see the tension in their bodies and the speed of their retreat. It was like they were feeding a viper. So, the next time they came to take her to Yomen, she attacked. She moved as soon as the door opened, wielding a wooden leg she'd pulled off her cot. She dropped the first guard with a club to the arm, then a second hit on the back of his head. Her

blows felt weak without pewter, but it was the best she could manage. She scrambled past the second guard in line, then slammed her shoulder into the stomach of the third. She didn't weigh much, but it was enough to get him to drop his staff—which she immediately grabbed. Ham had spent a long time training her with the staff, and he'd often made her fight without Allomancy. Even with all of their preparation, the guards were obviously surprised to see a metalless Allomancer make so much trouble, and she dropped two more of them as she scurried to escape. Unfortunately, Yomen was not a fool. He had sent so many guards to bring her that even dropping four of them made little difference. There had to be at least twenty men in the hallway outside her cell, clogging her exit, if nothing else. Her goal was to give them what they expected, not get herself killed. So, as soon as she confirmed that her "escape attempt" really was doomed, she let one of the soldiers hit her on the shoulder and she dropped her staff with a grunt. Disarmed, she raised her hands and backed away. The soldiers, of course, swept her feet out from beneath her and piled on top of her, holding her down while one manacled her arms. Vin suffered the treatment, shoulder pulsing with pain. How long would she have to go without metal before she'd stop instinctively trying to burn pewter? She hoped she'd never actually find out. Eventually, the soldiers pulled her to her feet and pushed her down the hallway. The three she'd knocked down—not to mention the one that she'd disarmed—grumbled a bit, rubbing their wounds. All twenty men regarded her even more warily, if that was possible. She didn't give them any trouble until they got her into Yomen's audience chamber. When they moved to chain her manacles to the bench, she squirmed a bit, earning herself a knee in the stomach. She gasped, then slumped to the floor beside the bench. There, groaning, she rubbed her hands and wrists with the gruel grease that she'd soaked into her undershirt. It was smelly and grimy, but it was very slick—and the guards, distracted by her escape attempt, had completely forgotten to search her. "Surely you didn't think to escape without any metals to burn," Yomen asked. Vin lifted her head. He stood with his back to her again, though this time he was looking out a dark window. Vin found it very odd to see the mists curling up against the window glass. Most skaa couldn't afford glass, and most noblemen chose the colored kind. The darkness outside of Yomen's window seemed a waiting beast, the mists its fur brushing against the glass as it shifted. "I would think that you'd be flattered," Yomen continued. "I didn't know if you were really as dangerous as reported, but I decided to assume that you were. You see, I—" Vin didn't give him any more time. There were only two ways she could escape

from the city: the first would be to find some metals, the second would be to take Yomen captive. She planned to try both. She yanked her greased hands free from the manacles, which had been fastened to her arms when they were squirming and flexed. She ignored the pain and the blood as the manacles scraped her hands, then she leaped to her feet, reaching into a fold in her shirt and pulling out the silver screws that she'd taken from her cot. These, she threw at the soldiers. The men, of course, yelled in surprise and threw themselves to the ground, ducking her presumed Steelpush. Their own preparation and worry worked against them—for Vin had no steel. The screws bounced against the wall ineffectively, and the guards lay confused by her feint. She was halfway to Yomen before the first one thought to scramble back to his feet. Yomen turned. As always, he wore the little drop of atium at his forehead. Vin lunged for it. Yomen stepped casually out of the way. Vin lunged again, this time feinting, then trying to elbow him in the stomach. Her attack didn't land, however, as Yomen—hands still clasped behind his back—sidestepped her again. She knew that look on his face—that look of complete control, of power. Yomen obviously had very little battle training, but he dodged her anyway. He was burning atium. Vin stumbled to a halt. No wonder he wears that bit on his forehead, she thought. It's for emergencies. She could see in his smile that he really had anticipated her. He'd known that she would try something, and he'd baited her, letting her get close. But, he'd never really been in danger. The guards finally caught up with her, but Yomen raised a hand, waving them back. Then he gestured toward the bench. Quietly, Vin returned and sat down. She had to think, and she certainly wasn't going to get anywhere with Yomen burning atium. As she sat, Ruin appeared next to her—materializing as if from dark smoke, wearing Reen's body. None of the others reacted; they obviously couldn't see him. "Too bad," Ruin said. "In a way, you almost had him. But . . . then, in a way, you were never really close, either." She ignored Ruin, looking up at Yomen. "You're Mistborn." "No," he said, shaking his head. He didn't turn back toward his window, however. He stood facing her, wary. He'd probably turned off his atium—it was far too valuable to leave burning—but he'd have it in reserve, careful to watch her for signs of another attack. "No?" Vin said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "You were burning atium, Yomen. I saw that much." "Believe as you wish," Yomen said. "But know this, woman: I do not lie. I've never needed lies, and I find that is particularly true now, when the entire world is in chaos. People need truth from those they follow." Vin frowned. "Regardless, it is time," Yomen said. "Time?" Vin asked. Yomen nodded. "Yes. I apologize for leaving you for so long

in your cell. I have been . . . distracted." Elend, Vin thought. What has he been doing? I feel so blind! She glanced at Ruin, who stood on the other side of the bench, shaking his head as if he understood far more than he was telling her. She turned back to Yomen. "I still don't understand," she said. "Time for what?" Yomen met her eyes. "Time for me to make a decision about your execution, Lady Venture." Oh, she thought. Right. Between her dealings with Ruin and her plans to escape, she'd nearly forgotten Yomen's declaration that he intended to let her "defend" herself before he executed her. Ruin walked across the room, circling Yomen in a leisurely stroll. The obligator king stood, still meeting Vin's eyes. If he could see Ruin, he didn't show it. Instead, he waved to a guard, who opened a side door, leading in several obligators in gray robes. They seated themselves on a bench across the room from Vin. "Tell me, Lady Venture," Yomen said, turning back to her, "why did you come to Fadrex City?" Vin cocked her head. "I thought this wasn't to be a trial. You said that you didn't need that sort of thing." "I would think," Yomen replied, "that you would be pleased with any delay in the process." A delay meant more time to think—more time to possibly escape. "Why did we come?" Vin asked. "We knew you had one of the Lord Ruler's supply caches beneath your city." Yomen raised an eyebrow. "How did you know about it?" "We found another one," Vin said. "It had directions to Fadrex." Yomen nodded to himself. She could tell that he believed her, but there was something . . . else. He seemed to be making connections that she didn't understand, and probably didn't have the information to understand. "And the danger my kingdom posed to yours?" Yomen asked. "That didn't have anything at all to do with your invasion of my lands?" "I wouldn't say that," Vin said. "Cett had been pushing Elend to move into this dominance for some time." The obligators conferred quietly at this comment, though Yomen stood aloof, arms folded as he regarded her. Vin found the experience unnerving. It had been years—from her days in Camon's crew—since she had felt so much in another's power. Even when she'd faced the Lord Ruler, she'd felt differently. Yomen seemed to see her as a tool. But a tool to do what? And, how could she manipulate his needs so that he kept her alive long enough for her to escape? Make yourself indispensable, Reen had always taught. Then a crewleader can't get rid of you without losing power himself. Even now, the voice of her brother still seemed to whisper the words in her mind. Were they memories, interpretations of his wisdom, or effects of Ruin's influence? Regardless, it seemed like good advice at the moment. "So, you came with the express purpose of invasion?" Yomen asked. "Elend intended to try diplomacy first," Vin said carefully.

"However, we both knew that it's a bit hard to play the diplomat when you camp an army outside of someone's city." "You admit to being conquerors, then," Yomen said. "You are more honest than your husband." "Elend is more sincere than either of us, Yomen," Vin snapped. "Just because he interprets things differently from you or me does not mean he's being dishonest when he expresses his view." Yomen raised an eyebrow, perhaps at the quickness of her response. "A valid point." Vin sat back on the bench, wrapping her cut hands with a bit of clean cloth from her shirt. Yomen stood beside the windows of the large, stark room. It felt very odd to be speaking to him. On one hand, she and he seemed very different. He was a bureaucrat obligator whose lack of muscle or warrior's grace proved that he'd spent his life concerned with forms and records. She was a child of the streets and an adult practiced in war and assassination. Yet, his mannerisms, his way of speaking, seemed to resemble her own. Is this what I might have been more like, she wondered, had I not been born a skaa? A blunt bureaucrat rather than a terse warrior? As Yomen contemplated her, Ruin walked in a slow circle around the obligator king. "This one is a disappointment," Ruin said quietly. Vin glanced at Ruin just briefly. He shook his head. "Such destruction this one could have caused, had he struck out, rather than staying huddled in his little city, praying to his dead god. Men would have followed him. I could never get through to him on the long term, unfortunately. Not every ploy can be successful, particularly when the will of fools like him must be accounted for." "So," Yomen said, drawing her attention back to him, "you came to take my city because you heard of my stockpile, and because you feared a return of the Lord Ruler's power." "I didn't say that," Vin said, frowning. "You said that you feared me." "As a foreign power," Vin said, "with a proven ability to undermine a government and take it over." "I didn't take over," Yomen said. "I returned this city, and the dominance, to its rightful rule. But that is beside the point. I want you to tell me of this religion your people preach." "The Church of the Survivor?" "Yes," Yomen said. "You are one of its heads, correct?" "No," Vin said. "They revere me. But I've never felt that I properly fit as part of the religion. Mostly, it's focused around Kelsier." "The Survivor of Hathsin," Yomen said. "He died. How is it that people worship him?" Vin shrugged. "It used to be common to worship gods that one couldn't see." "Perhaps," Yomen said. "I have . . . read of such things, though I find them difficult to understand. Faith in an unseen god—what sense does that make? Why reject the god that they lived with for so long—the one that they could see, and feel—in favor of one

that died? One that the Lord Ruler himself struck down?" "You do it," Vin said. "You're still worshipping the Lord Ruler." "He's not gone," Yomen said. Vin paused. "No," Yomen said, apparently noting her confusion. "I haven't seen or heard of him since his disappearance. However, neither do I put any credence in reports of his death." "He was rather dead," Vin said. "Trust me." "I don't trust you, I'm afraid," Yomen said. "Tell me of that evening. Tell me precisely what happened." So Vin did. She told him of her imprisonment, and of her escape with Sazed. She told him of her decision to fight the Lord Ruler, and of her reliance on the Eleventh Metal. She left out her strange ability to draw upon the power of the mists, but she explained pretty much everything else—including Sazed's theory that the Lord Ruler had been immortal through the clever manipulation of his Feruchemy and Allomancy in combination. And Yomen actually listened. Her respect for the man increased as she spoke, and as he didn't interrupt her. He wanted to hear her story, even if he didn't believe it. He was a man who accepted information for what it was—another tool to be used, yet to be trusted no more than any other tool. "And so," Vin finished, "he is dead. I stabbed him through the heart myself. Your faith in him is admirable, but it can't change what happened." Yomen stood silently. The older obligators—who still sat on their benches—had grown white in the face. She knew that her testimony might have damned her, but for some reason she felt that honesty—plain, blunt honesty—would serve her better than guile. That's how she usually felt. An odd conviction for one who grew up in thieving crews, she thought. Ruin had apparently grown bored during her account, and had walked over to look out the window. "What I need to find out," Yomen finally said, "is why the Lord Ruler thought it necessary for you to think that you had killed him." "Didn't you listen to what just I said?" Vin demanded. "I did," Yomen said calmly. "And do not forget that you are a prisoner here—one who is very close to death." Vin forced herself to be quiet. "You find my words ridiculous?" Yomen said. "More ridiculous than your own? Think of how I see you, claiming to have slain a man I know to be God. Is it not plausible that he wanted this to happen? That he's out there, still, watching us, waiting . . ." That's what this is all about, she realized. Why he captured me, why he's so eager to speak with me. He's convinced that the Lord Ruler is still alive. He just wants to figure out where I fit into all of this. He wants me to give him the proof that he's so desperately wishing for. "Why don't you think you should be part of the skaa religion, Vin?" Ruin whispered. She turned, trying not to look directly at him, lest Yomen see her

staring into empty space. "Why?" Ruin asked. "Why don't you want them worshipping you? All of those happy skaa? Looking toward you for hope?" "The Lord Ruler must be behind all of this," Yomen mused out loud. "That means that he wanted the world to see you as his killer. He wanted the skaa to worship you." "Why?" Ruin repeated. "Why be so uncomfortable? Is it because you know you can't offer them hope? What is it they call him, the one you are supposed to have replaced? The Survivor? A word of Preservation, I think. . . ." "Perhaps he intends to return dramatically," Yomen said. "To depose you and topple you, to prove that faith in him is the only true faith." Why don't you fit? Ruin whispered in her head. "Why else would he want them to worship you?" Yomen asked. "They're wrong!" Vin snapped, raising hands to her head, trying to stop the thoughts. Trying to stop the guilt. Yomen paused. "They're wrong about me," Vin said. "They don't worship me, they worship what they think I should be. But I'm not the Heir of the Survivor. I didn't do what Kelsier did. He freed them." You conquered them, Ruin whispered. "Yes," Vin said, looking up. "You're looking in the wrong direction, Yomen. The Lord Ruler won't return." "I told you that—" "No," Vin said, standing. "No, he's not coming back. He doesn't need to. I took his place." Elend had worried that he was becoming another Lord Ruler, but his concern had always seemed flawed to Vin. He hadn't been the one to conquer and reforge an empire, she had. She'd been the one who made the other kings submit. She'd done exactly as the Lord Ruler had. A Hero had risen up, and the Lord Ruler had killed him, then taken the power of the Well of Ascension. Vin had killed the Lord Ruler, then taken that same power. She'd given up the power, true, but she'd filled the same role. It all came to a head. The reason why the skaa worshipping her, calling her their savior, felt so wrong. Suddenly, her real role in it all seemed to snap into place. "I'm not the Survivor's Heir, Yomen," she said sickly. "I'm the Lord Ruler's." He shook his head dismissively. "When you first captured me," she said, "I wondered why you kept me alive. An enemy Mistborn? Why not just kill me and be done with it? You claimed that you wanted to give me a trial, but I saw through that. I knew you had another motive. And now I know what it is." She looked him in the eyes. "You said earlier that you planned to execute me for the Lord Ruler's murder, but you just admitted that you think he's still alive. You say that he'll return to topple me from my place, so you can't kill me, lest you interfere with your god's plans." Yomen turned away from her. "You can't kill me," she said. "Not until you're certain of my

place in your theology. That's why you kept me alive, and that's why you risk bringing me in here to talk. You need information only I can give—you have to get testimony from me in a trial of sorts because you want to know what happened that night. So you can try to convince yourself that your god still lives." Yomen didn't respond. "Admit it. I'm in no danger here." She stepped forward. And Yomen moved. His steps suddenly became more fluid—he didn't have the grace of pewter or the knowledge of a warrior, but he moved just right. She dodged instinctively, but his atium let him anticipate her, and before she could so much as think, he'd thrown her to the floor, holding her pinned with a knee against her back. "I may not kill you yet," he said calmly, "but that hardly means that you're in 'no danger,' Lady Venture." Vin grunted. "I want something from you," he said. "Something more than what we've discussed. I want you to tell your husband to send his army away." "Why would I do that?" Vin said, face pressed against the cold stone of the floor. "Because," Yomen said, "you claim to want my storage cache, yet you claim to be good people. You now know that I will use the food in it wisely, to feed my people. If your Elend really is as altruistic as you claim, he certainly won't be so selfish as to throw away lives to war, just so you can steal away our food and use it to feed your own." "We can grow crops," Vin said. "We get enough light in the Central Dominance, while you don't. The seed stock you have will be useless to you!" "Then trade me for it." "You won't talk to us!" Yomen stepped back, releasing the pressure on her back. She rubbed her neck, sitting up, feeling frustrated. "It's about more than the food in that cache, Yomen," she said. "We control the other four of them. The Lord Ruler, he left clues in them. There is something to the whole group that can save us." Yomen snorted. "You were down there all that time, and you didn't read the plaque that the Lord Ruler left?" "Of course I did." "Then you know that there is nothing more in those caches," Yomen said. "They're all part of his plan, true. And for some reason that plan requires that men think he is dead. Regardless, you know now what he said. So, why take the city from me?" Why take the city from me? The real reason itched inside of Vin. Elend had always found it an unimportant one, but to her, it held powerful appeal. "You know full well why we have to take the city," Vin said. "As long as you have it, we have reason to conquer you." "It?" Yomen asked. Ruin stepped forward, curious. "You know what I mean. The atium. The Lord Ruler's supply." "That?" Yomen asked, laughing. "This is all about the atium? Atium is

worthless!" Vin frowned. "Worthless? It's the single most valuable commodity in the Final Empire!" "Oh?" Yomen asked. "And how many people are there around to burn it? How many noble houses remain to play petty politics and vie for power by showing how much atium they can leach from the Lord Ruler? The value of atium was based in the economy of an empire, Lady Venture. Without the trappings of a reserve system and an upper class giving the metal implied worth, atium has no real value." Yomen shook his head. "To a starving man, what is more important—a loaf of bread, or an entire jar of atium he can't use, eat, or sell?" He waved for the guards to take her. They pulled her to her feet, and she struggled, holding Yomen's eyes. Yomen turned away from her again. "Those lumps of metal do me no good, save—perhaps—to keep you in check. No, the food was the real resource. The Lord Ruler left me the riches I required to establish his power again. I just need to figure out what he wants me to do next." The soldiers finally succeeded in pulling her away. I don't wonder that we focused far too much on the mists during those days. But from what I now know of sunlight and plant development, I realize that our crops weren't in as much danger from misty days as we feared. We might very well have been able to find plants to eat that did not need as much light to survive. True, the mists did also cause some deaths in those who went out in them, but the number killed was not a large enough percentage of the population to be a threat to our survival as a species. The ash, that was our real problem. The smoke filling the atmosphere, the black flakes covering up everything beneath, the eruptions of the volcanic ashmounts . . . Those were what would kill the world. "ELEND!" HAM CALLED, rushing up to him. "You're back!" "Surprised?" Elend asked, reading his friend's expression. "Of course not," Ham said, a little too quickly. "The scouts reported your approach." My arrival may not surprise you, Elend thought tiredly, but the fact that I'm still alive does. Did you think I'd run off to get myself killed, or did you simply think that I'd wander away and abandon you? It wasn't a line of reasoning he wanted to pursue. So, he simply smiled, resting a hand on Ham's shoulder and looking toward the camp. It looked strange, bunkered down as it was, ash piled up outside of it. It looked a little like it was dug into the ground several feet. There was so much ash. . . . I can't worry about everything at once, Elend thought with determination. I just have to trust. Trust in myself and keep going. He had pondered the mist spirit the rest of his trip. Had it really told him not to attack Fadrex, or was Elend simply misinterpreting its gestures? What had it

wanted him to learn by pointing at his vial of metals? Beside him, Ham was regarding the mass of new koloss. To the side of the army, his other koloss sat—still under his control. Though he had grown increasingly adept at keeping a hold on the creatures, it was still nice to be back close to them. It made him feel more comfortable. Ham whistled quietly. "Twenty-eight thousand?" he asked. "Or, at least, that's what the scouts say." Elend nodded. "I hadn't realized how large the group was," Ham said. "With that many . . ." Thirty-seven thousand total, Elend thought. More than enough to storm Fadrex. He began to walk down the incline, toward the camp. Though he hadn't needed much pewter to help him through the hike, he was still tired. "Any news of Vin?" he said hopefully, though he knew that if she'd managed to escape, she would have already found him. "We sent a messenger into the city while you were gone," Ham said as they began to walk. "Yomen said a soldier could come and confirm that Vin was still alive, and so we complied in your name, thinking it best if Yomen thought you were here." "You did well," Elend said. "It's been a while since then," Ham said. "We haven't heard anything of her since." "She's still alive," Elend said. Ham nodded. "I believe so too." Elend smiled. "It's not just faith, Ham," he said, nodding toward the koloss that had remained behind. "Before she was captured, I gave some of those to her. If she'd died, then they would have gone out of control. As long as she lives—whether or not she has metals—she will remain bonded to them." Ham paused. "That . . . would have been something good to tell us earlier, El." "I know," Elend said. "It's too easy to forget how many I'm controlling—I didn't even think that not all of those are mine. Post scouts, keep an eye on them. I'll take them back if they go wild." Ham nodded. "Could you contact her through them?" Elend shook his head. How did he explain? Controlling the koloss wasn't a subtle thing—their minds were too dull for much beyond simple commands. He could order them to attack, or to freeze, or to follow and carry things. But he couldn't direct them precisely, couldn't instruct them to speak a message or even how to accomplish a goal. He could only say "Do this" and watch them go. "We've had scout reports from the Central Dominance, El," Ham said, voice troubled. Elend looked at him. "Most of our scouts didn't return. Nobody knows what happened to Demoux and the men you sent—we hope they reached Luthadel, but the capital is in bad shape. The scouts who have returned bear some pretty frustrating news. We've lost many of the cities you conquered during this last year. The people are starving, and a lot of villages are empty save for the dead. Those who can flee to Luthadel, leaving trails of corpses on the

road, buried in ash." Elend closed his eyes. But Ham wasn't done. "There are tales of cities swallowed by the rumbling earth," Ham said, voice almost a whisper. "King Lekal and his city fell to lava from one of the ashmounts. We haven't heard from Janarle in weeks; his entire retinue seems to have vanished, and the Northern Dominance is in chaos. The entire Southern Dominance is said to be burning. . . . Elend, what do we do?" Elend continued to stride forward, walking onto an ash-free pathway and then into the camp proper. Soldiers were gathering about, whispering, looking at him. He didn't know how to answer Ham's question. What did he do? What could he do? "We'll help them, Ham," he said. "We won't give up." Ham nodded, looking slightly bolstered. "Though, before you do anything else, what you should probably do is go change your clothing. . . ." Elend glanced down, remembering that he was still wearing the black uniform, bloodied from killing koloss, then stained by ash. His appearance caused quite a stir in the men. They've only seen me in the white, pristine outfit. Many of them have never even seen me fight—never seen me bloodied, never seen me dirtied by ash. He wasn't certain what bothered him about that. Ahead, Elend could see a bearded figure sitting in a chair beside the pathway, as if he were simply out there for an afternoon repast. Cett eyed him as he passed. "More koloss?" Elend nodded. "We're going to attack, then?" Cett asked. Elend stopped. The mist spirit apparently didn't want him to attack. But, he couldn't be certain what it had wanted him to know or think—he didn't even know if he should trust it. Could he base the future of his empire on vague impressions he got from a ghost in the mists? He had to get into that storage, and he couldn't afford to wait in siege—not any longer. Plus, attacking seemed the best way to get Vin back safely. Yomen would never return her—Elend either had to sit around and wait, or he had to attack, hoping that in the chaos of battle, Yomen would leave her in a dungeon somewhere. True, attacking risked an execution, but letting Yomen use her as a bargaining chip seemed just as dangerous for her. I have to be the man who makes the hard decisions, he told himself. It's what Vin was trying to teach me at the ball—that I can be both Elend the man, and Elend the king. I took these koloss for a purpose. Now I need to use them. "Inform the soldiers," Elend said. "But don't have them form ranks. We attack in the morning, but do so in surprise—koloss first, breaking through their defenses. The men can form up after that, then go in and seize control." We'll rescue Vin, get into that cavern, then get back to Luthadel with the food supplies. And survive as long as we can. I suspect that Alendi, the man Rashek killed, was himself

a Misting—a Seeker. Allomancy, however, was a different thing in those days, and much more rare. The Allomancers alive in our day are the descendants of the men who ate those few beads of Preservation's power. They formed the foundation of the nobility, and were the first to name him emperor. The power in these few beads was so concentrated that it could last through ten centuries of breeding and inheritance. SAZED STOOD OUTSIDE THE ROOM, looking in. Spook lay in his bed, still swaddled in bandages. The boy had not awakened since his ordeal, and Sazed wasn't certain if he ever would. Even if he did live, he'd be horribly scarred for the rest of his life. Though, Sazed thought, this proves one thing. The boy doesn't have pewter. If Spook had been able to burn pewter, then he would have healed far more quickly. Sazed had administered a vial of pewter just in case, and it had made no difference. The boy hadn't mystically become a Thug. It was comforting, in a way. It meant that Sazed's world still made sense. Inside the room, the girl—Beldre—sat at Spook's side. She came every day to spend time with the lad. More time, even, than she spent with her brother, Quellion. The Citizen had a broken arm and some other wounds, but nothing lethal. Though Breeze ruled in Urteau, Quellion was still an authority, and he seemed to have grown far more . . . civil. He now seemed willing to consider an alliance with Elend. It seemed strange to Sazed that Quellion would become so accommodating. They had entered his city, sown chaos, and nearly killed him. Now he listened to their offers of peace? Sazed was suspicious, to be sure. Time would tell. Inside, Beldre turned slightly, finally noticing Sazed at the doorway. She smiled, standing. "Please, Lady Beldre," he said, entering. "Don't stand." She seated herself again as Sazed walked forward. He surveyed his bandage work on Spook, checking the young man's condition, comparing notes from inside the medical texts of his copperminds. Beldre watched quietly. Once he was finished, he turned to leave. "Thank you," Beldre said from behind. Sazed stopped. She glanced at Spook. "Do you think . . . I mean, has his condition changed?" "I am afraid that it has not, Lady Beldre. I cannot promise anything in regard to his recovery." She smiled faintly, turning back toward the wounded lad. "He'll make it," she said. Sazed frowned. "He's not just a man," Beldre said. "He's something special. I don't know what he did to bring my brother back, but Quellion is just like his old self—the way he was before all of this insanity began. And the city. The people have hope again. That's what Spook wanted." Hope . . . Sazed thought, studying the girl's eyes. She really does love him. It seemed, in a way, silly to Sazed. How long had she known the boy? A few weeks? During that short time, Spook had not only earned Beldre's love, but had become

a hero to the people of an entire city. She sits and hopes, having faith that he will recover, Sazed thought. Yet, upon seeing him, the first thing I thought of was how relieved I was that he wasn't a Pewterarm. Had Sazed really become that callous? Just two years before, he had been willing to fall hopelessly in love with a woman who had spent most of her life chastising him. A woman with whom he had only had a few precious days. He turned and left the room. Sazed walked to his quarters in the nobleman's mansion they had taken, their new home now that their former residence was a burned-out ruin. It was nice to have ordinary walls and steps again, rather than endless shelves bounded by cavern walls. On his desk sat the open portfolio, its cloth-wrapped coverboard stained with ash. One stack of pages sat to its left, and one stack sat to its right. There were only ten pages left in the right stack. Taking a deep breath, Sazed approached and sat down. It was time to finish. It was late morning the next day before he set the final sheet onto the top of the left stack. He'd moved quickly through these last ten, but he'd been able to give them his undivided attention, not being distracted by riding as he worked or other concerns. He felt that he'd given each one due consideration. He sat for a time, feeling fatigued, and not just from lack of sleep. He felt . . . numb. His task was done. After a year's work, he'd sifted through each and every religion in his stack. And he'd eliminated every one. It was odd, how many common features they all had. Most claimed ultimate authority, denouncing other faiths. Most taught of an afterlife, but could offer no proof. Most taught about a god or gods, yet—again—had little justification for their teachings. And every single one of them was riddled with inconsistencies and logical fallacies. How did men believe in something that preached love on one hand, yet taught destruction of unbelievers on the other? How did one rationalize belief with no proof? How could they honestly expect him to have faith in something that taught of miracles and wonders in the far past, but carefully gave excuses for why such things didn't occur in the present day? And then, of course, there was the final flake of ash on the pile—the thing that each and every faith had, in his opinion, failed to prove. All taught that believers would be blessed. And all had absolutely no answer as to why their gods had allowed the faithful to be captured, imprisoned, enslaved, and slaughtered by a heretic known as Rashek, the Lord Ruler. The stack of pages sat face down on the desk before him. They meant that there was no truth. No faith that would bring Tindwyl back to him. Nothing watching over men, contrary to what Spook had affirmed so strongly. Sazed ran his fingers across the final

page, and finally, the depression he'd been fighting—barely holding at bay for so long—was too strong for him to overcome. The portfolio had been his final line of defense. It was pain. That's what the loss felt like. Pain and numbness at the same time; a barb-covered wire twisting around his chest combined with an absolute inability to do anything about it. He felt like huddling in a corner, crying, and just letting himself die. No! he thought. There must be something. . . . He reached under his desk, trembling fingers seeking his sack of metalminds. However, he didn't pull one of these out, but instead removed a large, thick tome. He put it on the table beside his portfolio, then opened it to a random page. Words written in two different hands confronted him. One was careful and flowing. His own. The other was terse and determined. Tindwyl's. He rested his fingers on the page. He and Tindwyl had compiled this book together, deciphering the history, prophecies, and meanings surrounding the Hero of Ages. Back before Sazed had stopped caring. That's a lie, he thought, forming a fist. Why do I lie to myself? I still care. I never stopped caring. If I'd stopped caring, then I wouldn't still be searching. If I didn't care so much, then being betrayed wouldn't feel so painful. Kelsier had spoken of this. Then Vin had done the same. Sazed had never expected to have similar feelings. Who was there that could hurt him so deeply that he felt betrayed? He was not like other men. He acknowledged that not out of arrogance, but out of simple self-knowledge. He forgave people, perhaps to a fault. He simply wasn't the type to feel bitter. He'd assumed, therefore, that he would never have to deal with these emotions. That's why he'd been so unprepared to be betrayed by the only thing he couldn't accept as being flawed. He couldn't believe. If he believed, it meant that God—or the universe, or whatever it was that watched over man—had failed. Better to believe that there was nothing at all. Then, all of the world's inadequacies were simply mere chance. Not caused by a god who had failed them. Sazed glanced at his open tome, noticing a little slip of paper sticking out between its pages. He pulled it free, surprised to find the picture of a flower that Vin had given him, the one that Kelsier's wife had carried. The one she'd used to give herself hope. To remind her of a world that had existed before the coming of the Lord Ruler. He glanced upward. The ceiling was of wood, but red sunlight—refracted by the window—sprayed across it. "Why?" he whispered. "Why leave me like this? I studied everything about you. I learned the religions of five hundred different peoples and sects. I taught about you when other men had given up a thousand years before. "Why leave me without hope, when others can have faith? Why leave me to wonder? Shouldn't I be more certain than

any other? Shouldn't my knowledge have protected me?" And yet, his faith had made him even more susceptible. That's what trust is, Sazed thought. It's about giving someone else power over you. Power to hurt you. That's why he'd given up his metalminds. That's why he had decided to sort through the religions one at a time, trying to find one that had no faults. Nothing to fail him. It just made sense. Better to not believe, rather than be proven wrong. Sazed looked back down. Why did he think to talk to the heavens? There was nothing there. There never had been. Outside, in the hallway, he could hear voices. "My dear doggie," Breeze said, "surely you'll stay for another day." "No," said TenSoon the kandra, speaking in his growling voice. "I must find Vin as soon as possible." Even the kandra, Sazed thought. Even an inhuman creature has more faith than I. And yet, how could they understand? Sazed closed his eyes tight, feeling a pair of tears squeeze from the corners. How could anyone understand the pain of a faith betrayed? He had believed. And yet, when he had needed hope the most, he had found only emptiness. He picked up the book, then snapped closed his portfolio, locking the inadequate summaries inside. He turned toward the hearth. Better to simply burn it all. Belief . . . He remembered a voice from the past. His own voice, speaking to Vin on that terrible day after Kelsier's death. Belief isn't simply a thing for fair times and bright days, I think. What is belief—what is faith—if you don't continue in it after failure. . . . How innocent he had been. Better to trust and be betrayed, Kelsier seemed to whisper. It had been one of the Survivor's mottos. Better to love and be hurt. Sazed gripped the tome. It was such a meaningless thing. Its text could be changed by Ruin at any time. And do I believe in that? Sazed thought with frustration. Do I have faith in this Ruin, but not in something better? He stood quietly in the room, holding the book, listening to Breeze and Ten-Soon outside. The book was a symbol to him. It represented what he had once been. It represented failure. He glanced upward again. Please, he thought. I want to believe. I really do. I just . . . I just need something. Something more than shadows and memories. Something real. Something true. Please? "Farewell, Soother," TenSoon said. "Give my regards to the Announcer." Then, Sazed heard Breeze thump away. TenSoon padded down the hallway on his quieter dog's feet. Announcer. . . . Sazed froze. That word. . . . Sazed stood, stunned for a moment. Then, he threw his door open and burst into the hallway. The door slammed back against the wall, making Breeze jump. TenSoon stopped at the end of the hallway, near the stairs. He turned back, looking at Sazed. "What did you call me?" Sazed demanded. "The Announcer," TenSoon said. "You are, are you

not, the one who pointed out Lady Vin as the Hero of Ages? That, then, is your title." Sazed fell to his knees, slapping his tome—the one he had written with Tindwyl—on the floor before him. He flipped through the pages, locating one in particular, penned in his own hand. I thought myself the Holy Witness, it said, the prophet foretold to discover the Hero of Ages. They were the words of Kwaan, the man who had originally named Alendi the Hero. From these writings, which were their only clues about the original Terris religion, Sazed and the others had gleaned what little they knew of the prophecies about the Hero of Ages. "What is this?" Breeze asked, leaning down, scanning the words. "Hum. Looks like you've got the wrong term, my dear doggie. Not 'Announcer' at all, but 'Holy Witness.' " Sazed looked up. "This is one of the passages that Ruin changed, Breeze," he said quietly. "When I wrote it, it read differently—but Ruin altered it, trying to trick me and Vin into fulfilling his prophecies. The skaa had started to call me the Holy Witness, their own term. So Ruin retroactively changed Kwaan's writings so that they seemed prophetic and reference me." "Is that so?" Breeze asked, rubbing his chin. "What did it say before?" Sazed ignored the question, instead meeting TenSoon's canine eyes. "How did you know?" he demanded. "How do you know the words of the ancient Terris prophecies?" TenSoon fell back on his haunches. "It strikes me as odd, Terrisman. There's one great inconsistency in this all, a problem no one has ever thought to point out. What happened to the packmen who traveled with Rashek and Alendi up to the Well of Ascension?" Rashek. The man who had become the Lord Ruler. Breeze stood up straight. "That's easy, kandra," he said, waving his cane. "Everyone knows that when the Lord Ruler took the throne of Khlennium, he made his trusted friends into noblemen. That's why the nobility of the Final Empire were so pampered—they were the descendants of Rashek's good friends." TenSoon sat quietly. No, Sazed thought with wonder. No . . . that couldn't be! "He couldn't have made those packmen into nobles." "Why ever not?" Breeze asked. "Because the nobility gained Allomancy," Sazed said, standing. "Rashek's friends were Feruchemists. If he'd made them into noblemen, then . . ." "Then they could have challenged him," TenSoon said. "They could have become both Allomancers and Feruchemists as he was, and had his same powers." "Yes," Sazed said. "He spent ten centuries trying to breed Feruchemy out of the Terris population—all in fear that someday someone would be born with both Feruchemy and Allomancy! His friends who went to the Well with him would have been dangerous, since they were obviously powerful Feruchemists, and they knew what Rashek had done to Alendi. Rashek would have had to do something else with them. Something to sequester them, perhaps even kill them. . . ." "No," TenSoon said. "He didn't kill them. You call the Father a

monster, but he was not an evil man. He didn't kill his friends, though he did recognize the threat their powers posed to him. So, he offered them a bargain, speaking directly to their minds while he was holding the power of creation." "What bargain?" Breeze asked, obviously confused. "Immortality," TenSoon said quietly. "In exchange for their Feruchemy. They gave it up, along with something else." Sazed stared at the creature in the hallway, a creature who thought like a man but had the form of a beast. "They gave up their humanity," Sazed whispered. TenSoon nodded. "They live on?" Sazed asked, stepping forward. "The Lord Ruler's companions? The very Terrismen who climbed to the Well with him?" "We call them the First Generation," TenSoon said. "The founders of the kandra people. The Father transformed every living Feruchemist into a mistwraith, beginning that race. His good friends, however, he returned to sentience with a few Hemalurgic spikes. You've done your work poorly, Keeper. I expected that you'd drag this out of me long before I had to leave." I've been a fool, Sazed thought, blinking away tears. Such a fool. "What?" Breeze asked, frowning. "What's going on? Sazed? My dear man, why are you so flustered? What do this creature's words mean?" "They mean hope," Sazed said, pushing into his room, hurriedly throwing some of his clothing into a travel pack. "Hope?" Breeze asked, peeking in. Sazed looked back, toward where Breeze stood. The kandra had walked up, and stood behind him in the hallway. "The Terris religion, Breeze," Sazed said. "The thing my sect was founded for, the thing my people have spent lifetimes searching to discover. It lives on. Not in written words that can be corrupted or changed. But in the minds of men who actually practiced it. The Terris faith is not dead!" There was one more religion to add to his list. His quest was not yet over. "Quickly, Keeper," TenSoon said. "I was prepared to go without you, since everyone agreed that you had stopped caring about these things. However, if you will come, I will show you the way to my Homeland—it is along the path I must travel to find Vin. Hopefully, you will be able to convince the First Generation of the things I have not." "And that is?" Sazed asked, still packing. "That the end has arrived." Ruin tried many times to get spikes into other members of the crew. Though some of what happened makes it seem like it was easy for him to gain control of people, it really was not. Sticking the metal in just the right place—at the right time—was incredibly difficult, even for a subtle creature like Ruin. For instance, he tried very hard to spike both Elend and Yomen. Elend managed to avoid it each time, as he did on the field outside of the small village that contained the next-to-last storage cache. Ruin did actually manage to get a spike into Yomen, once. Yomen, however, removed the spike before Ruin got a firm grip on

him. It was much easier for Ruin to get a hold on people who were passionate and impulsive than it was for him to hold on to people who were logical and prone to working through their actions in their minds. "WHAT I DON'T UNDERSTAND," Vin said, "is why you chose me. You had a thousand years and hundreds of thousands of people to choose from. Why lead me to the Well of Ascension to free you?" She was in her cell, sitting on her cot—which now lay legless on the floor, having collapsed when she removed the screws. She'd asked for a new one. She'd been ignored. Ruin turned toward her. He came often, wearing Reen's body, still indulging himself in what Vin could only assume was a kind of gloating. As he often did, however, he ignored her question. Instead, he turned to the east, eyes seeming as if they could see directly through the cell wall. "I wish you could see it," he said. "The ashfalls have grown beautiful and deep, as if the sky itself has shattered, raining down shards of its corpse in flakes of black. You feel the ground tremble?" Vin didn't respond. "Those quakes are the earth's final sighs," Ruin said. "Like an old man, moaning as he dies, calling for his children so that he can pass on his last bits of wisdom. The very ground is pulling itself apart. The Lord Ruler did much of this himself. You can blame him, if you wish." Vin perked up. She didn't draw attention to herself by asking more questions, but instead just let Ruin ramble on. Again, she noted just how human some of his mannerisms seemed. "He thought he could solve the problems himself," Ruin continued. "He rejected me, you know." And that happened exactly a thousand years ago, Vin thought. A thousand years has passed since Alendi failed in his quest; a thousand years since Rashek took the power for himself and became the Lord Ruler. That's part of the answer to my question. The glowing liquid at the Well of Ascension—it was gone by the time I finished freeing Ruin. It must have disappeared after Rashek used it too. A thousand years. Time for the Well to regenerate its power? But what was that power? Where did it come from? "The Lord Ruler didn't really save the world," Ruin continued. "He just postponed its destruction—and, in doing so, he helped me. That's the way it must always be, as I told you. When men think they are helping the world, they actually do more harm than good. Just like you. You tried to help, but you just ended up freeing me." Ruin glanced at her, then smiled in a fatherly way. She didn't react. "The ashmounts," Ruin continued, "the dying landscape, the broken people—those were all Rashek's. The twisting of men to become koloss, kandra, and Inquisitor, all his . . ." "But, you hated him," Vin said. "He didn't free you—so you had to wait another thousand years." "True," Ruin said.

"But a thousand years is not much time. Not much time at all. Besides, I couldn't refuse to help Rashek. I help everyone, for my power is a tool—the only tool by which things can change." It's all ending, Vin thought. It really is. I don't have time to sit and wait. I need to do something. Vin stood, causing Ruin to glance toward her as she walked to the front of the cell. "Guards!" she called. Her voice echoed in her own chamber. "Guards!" she repeated. Eventually, she heard a thump outside. "What?" a rough voice demanded. "Tell Yomen that I want to deal." There was a pause. "Deal?" the guard finally asked. "Yes," Vin said. "Tell him I have information that I want to give him." She wasn't certain how to read the guard's response, since it was simply more silence. She thought she heard him walking away, but without tin, she couldn't tell. Eventually, however, the guard returned. Ruin watched her, curious, as the door unlocked and then opened. The customary troop of soldiers stood outside. "Come with us." * * * As Vin entered Yomen's audience chamber, she was immediately struck by the differences in the man. He looked much more haggard than he had the last time they'd met, as if he'd gone far too long without sleep. But . . . he's Mistborn, Vin thought with confusion. That means he could burn pewter to keep that fatigue out of his eyes. Why doesn't he? Unless . . . he can't burn it. Unless there's only one metal available to him. She'd always been taught that there was no such thing as an atium Misting. But, more and more, she was realizing that the Lord Ruler perpetuated a lot of misinformation to keep himself in control and in power. She had to learn to stop depending on what she'd been told was true, and focus on the facts as she found them. Yomen watched her as she entered, guards surrounding her. She could read the expectation of a trick in his eyes—yet, as always, he waited for her to act first. Hovering very close to the edge of danger seemed his way. The guards took stations at the doors, leaving her standing in the middle of the room. "No manacles?" she asked. "No," Yomen said. "I don't expect you to be here long. The guards tell me that you've offered information." "I have." "Well," Yomen said, arms clasped behind his back, "I told them to bring you to me if they even so much as suspected a trick. Apparently, they didn't believe your pleas that you want to deal. I wonder why." He raised an eyebrow toward her. "Ask me a question," Vin said. To the side, Ruin trailed through the wall, stepping with an idle, unconcerned gait. "Very well," Yomen said. "How does Elend control the koloss?" "Allomancy," Vin said. "Emotional Allomancy, when used on a koloss, will bring them under the Allomancer's control." "I find that hard to believe," Yomen said flatly. "If it were

that simple, someone other than yourself would have discovered it." "Most Allomancers are too weak to manage it," Vin said. "You need to use a metal that enhances your power." "There is no such metal." "You know of aluminum?" Yomen paused, but Vin could see in his eyes that he did. "Duralumin is the Allomantic alloy of aluminum," Vin said. "Where aluminum dampens the power of other metals, duralumin enhances them. Mix duralumin and zinc or brass, then Pull on the emotions of a koloss, and he will be yours." Yomen didn't dismiss her comments as lies. Ruin, however, strolled forward, walking around Vin in a circle. "Vin, Vin. What is your game now?" Ruin asked, amused. "Lead him on with little tidbits, then betray him?" Yomen apparently came to the same conclusion. "Your facts are interesting, Empress, but completely unprovable in my present situation. Therefore, they are—" "There were five of these storage caverns," Vin said, stepping forward. "We found the others. They led us here." Yomen shook his head. "And? Why should I care?" "Your Lord Ruler planned something for those caverns—you can tell that much from the plate he left here in this one. He says that he came up with no way to fight what is happening to us in the world, but do you believe that? I feel there has to be more, some clue hidden in the text of all five plaques." "You expect me to believe that you care what the Lord Ruler wrote?" Yomen asked. "You, his purported murderer?" "I couldn't care less about him," Vin admitted. "But Yomen, you have to believe that I care what happens to the people of the empire! If you've gathered any intelligence about Elend or myself, you know that is true." "Your Elend is a man who thinks far too highly of himself," Yomen said. "He has read many books, and assumes that his learning makes him capable of being a king. You . . . I still don't know what to think about you." His eyes showed a bit of the hatred she had seen in him during their last meeting. "You claim to have killed the Lord Ruler. Yet . . . he couldn't really have died. You're part of all this, somehow." That's it, Vin thought. That's my in. "He wanted us to meet," Vin said. She didn't believe it, but Yomen would. Yomen raised an eyebrow. "Can't you see?" Vin said. "Elend and I discovered the other storage caverns, the first one under Luthadel itself. Then, we came here. This was the last of the five. The end of the trail. For some reason, the Lord Ruler wanted to lead us here. To you." Yomen stood for a few moments. To the side, Ruin mimed applause. "Send for Lellin," Yomen said, turning toward one of his soldiers. "Tell him to bring his maps." The soldier saluted and left. Yomen turned to Vin, still frowning. "This is not to be an exchange. You will give me the information I request, then I will decide

what to do with it." "Fine," Vin said. "But, you yourself just said that I was connected to all of this. It's all connected, Yomen. The mists, the koloss, me, you, the storage caverns, the ash . . ." He flinched slightly as Vin mentioned that last one. "The ash is getting worse, isn't it?" she asked. "Falling more thickly?" Yomen nodded. "We were always worried about the mists," Vin said. "But the ash, it's going to be what kills us. It will block the sunlight, bury our cities, cover our streets, choke our fields. . . ." "The Lord Ruler won't let that happen," Yomen said. "And if he really is dead?" Yomen met her eyes. "Then you have doomed us all." Doomed. . . . The Lord Ruler had said something similar right before Vin had killed him. She shivered, waiting in awkward silence, suffering Ruin's smiling stare until a scribe scuttled into the room, bearing several rolled maps. Yomen took one of the maps, waving the man away. He spread it out on a table, waving Vin forward. "Show me," he said, stepping back to keep out of her reach as she approached. She picked up a piece of charcoal, then began to mark the locations of the storage caverns. Luthadel. Satren. Vetitan. Urteau. All five that she had found—all near the Central Dominance, one in the center, the other four forming a box around it. She put a final "X" beside Fadrex City. Then, with charcoal gripped in her fingers, she noticed something. Sure are a lot of mines shown on this map around Fadrex, she thought. A lot of metal in the area. "Step back," Yomen said. Vin moved away. He approached, scanning the map. Vin stood in silence, thinking. Elend's scribes could never find a pattern to the cache locations. Two were in small cities, two in large ones. Some near canals, others not. The scribes claimed that they just didn't have a large enough set from which to determine patterns. "This seems completely random," Yomen said, echoing her own thoughts. "I didn't make up those locations, Yomen," she said, folding her arms. "Your spies can confirm where Elend has taken his armies and sent his emissaries." "Not all of us have the resources for extensive spy networks, Empress," Yomen said flatly, looking back at the map. "There should be some pattern. . . ." Vetitan, Vin thought. The place where we found the cavern just before this one. It was a mining town as well. And Urteau too. "Yomen?" she said, looking up. "Does one of those maps list mineral deposits?" "Of course," he said distractedly. "We are the Canton of Resource, after all." "Get it out." Yomen raised an eyebrow, indicating what he thought of her giving him orders. However, he waved for his scribe to do as she had requested. A second map overlaid the first, and Vin walked forward. Yomen immediately shied backward, keeping out of reach. He has good instincts, for a bureaucrat, she thought, slipping the charcoal out from underneath

the map. She quickly made her five marks again. With each one, her hand grew more tense. Each cavern was in a rocky area, near metal mines. Even Luthadel bore rich mineral deposits. Lore said that the Lord Ruler had constructed his capital in that location because of the mineral content in the area, particularly the groundwater. That much the better for Allomancers. "What are you trying to imply?" Yomen asked. He'd edged close enough to see what she'd marked. "This is the connection," Vin said. "He built his storages near sources of metal." "Or, it was simple chance." "No," Vin said, looking up, glancing at Ruin. "No, metal equals Allomancy, Yomen. There's a pattern here." Yomen waved her away again, approaching the map. He snorted. "You've included marks near each of the most productive mines in the inner empire. You expect me to believe that you're not just playing me, offering some phantom 'evidence' that these really are the locations of the storage caverns?" Vin ignored him. Metal. The words of Kwaan were written in metal, because he said they were safe. Safe. Safe from being changed, we assumed. Or, did he mean safe from being read? The Lord Ruler had drawn his maps on metal plates. So, what if Ruin couldn't find the storages on his own because of the metal shielding them? He would have needed someone to lead him. Someone to visit each one, read the map it contained, then lead him on. . . . Lord Ruler! We've made the same mistake again! We did exactly what he wanted. No wonder he's let us live! However, instead of feeling ashamed, this time Vin felt herself growing angry. She glanced over at Ruin, who stood there with his air of cosmic wisdom. His knowing eyes, his fatherly tone, and his deific arrogance. Not again, Vin thought, gritting her teeth. This time, I'm on to him. That means I can trick him. But . . . I need to know why. Why was he so interested in the storages? What is it he needs before he wins this battle? What is the reason he's waited so long? Suddenly, the answer seemed obvious to her. As she examined her feelings, she realized that one of her main reasons for searching out the caches had repeatedly been discredited by Elend. Yet, Vin had continued to pursue the caches, searching for this one thing. She'd felt, for reasons she couldn't explain, that it was important. The thing that had driven the imperial economy for a thousand years. The most powerful of Allomantic metals. Atium. Why had she been so infatuated with it? Elend and Yomen were both right—atium was of little importance in the current world. But, her feelings denied that. Why? Was it because Ruin wanted it, and Vin had some unexplained connection to him? The Lord Ruler had said Ruin couldn't read her mind. But she knew that he could affect her emotions. Change how she regarded things, push her forward. Drive her to search out the thing he wanted.

Looking at the emotions that had affected her, she could see Ruin's plan, the way he had manipulated her, the way he thought. Ruin wanted the atium! And, with a chill of terror, Vin realized that she had led him right to it. No wonder he was so smug before! Vin thought. No wonder he assumed that he'd won! Why would a god-like force be so interested in a simple thing like an Allomantic metal? The question made her doubt her conclusions slightly. But at that moment, the doors to the chamber burst open. And an Inquisitor stood beyond them. Immediately, Yomen and the soldiers all fell to one knee. Vin took an involuntary step backward. The creature stood tall, like most of its kind, and still wore the gray robes of its pre-Collapse office. The bald head was wrinkled with intricate tattoos, mostly black, one stark red. And, of course, there were the spikes driven point-first through its eyes. One of the spikes had been pounded in farther than the other, crushing the socket around the spikehead. The creature's face, twisted by an inhuman sneer, had once been familiar to Vin. "Marsh?" Vin whispered in horror. "My lord," Yomen said, spreading his hands out. "You have finally come! I sent messengers, searching for—" "Silence," Marsh said in a grating voice, striding forward. "On your feet, obligator." Yomen hastily stood. Marsh glanced at Vin, smiled slightly, but then pointedly ignored her. He did, however, look directly at Ruin and bow his head in subservience. Vin shivered. Marsh's features, even twisted as they were, reminded her of his brother. Kelsier. "You are about to be attacked, obligator," Marsh said, sweeping forward, throwing open the large window at the other side of the room. Through it, Vin could see over the rocky shelves to where Elend's army camped beside the canal. Except, there was no canal. There were no rocky shelves. Everything was just a uniform black. Ash filled the sky, as thick as a snowstorm. Lord Ruler! Vin thought. It's gotten so bad! Yomen hurried over to the window. "Attacked, my lord? But, they haven't even broken camp!" "The koloss will attack in surprise," the Inquisitor said. "They don't need to form up ranks—they will simply charge." Yomen froze for a second, then turned to his soldiers. "Hasten to the defenses. Gather the men on the forward rises!" Soldiers scuttled from the room. Vin stood quietly. The man I know as Marsh is dead, she thought. He tried to kill Sazed, now he's fully one of them. Ruin has . . . Has taken control of him. . . . An idea began to spark in her mind. "Quickly, obligator," Marsh said. "I did not come to protect your foolish little city. I've come for the thing you discovered in that cache." "My lord?" Yomen said, surprised. "Your atium, Yomen," the Inquisitor said. "Give it to me. It cannot be in this city when that attack comes, just in case you fall. I shall take it someplace safe." Vin closed her eyes. "My

. . . lord?" Yomen finally said. "You are, of course, welcome to anything I possess. But, there was no atium in the storage cache. Just the seven beads I had gathered myself, held as a reserve for the Canton of Resource." Vin opened her eyes. "What?" "Impossible!" Marsh roared. "But, you told the girl earlier that you had it!" Yomen paled. "Misdirection, my lord. She seemed convinced that I had some wealth of atium, so I let her think that she was right." "NO!" Vin jumped at the sudden yell. However, Yomen didn't even flinch—and a second later, she realized why. Ruin was the one who had screamed. He had become indistinct, losing Reen's form, his figure blossoming outward in a kind of tempest of whirling darkness. Almost like mist, only far, far blacker. She'd seen that blackness before. She'd walked through it, in the cavern beneath Luthadel, on her way to the Well of Ascension. A second later, Ruin was back. He looked like Reen again. He folded his arms behind his back, and didn't look at her, as if trying to pretend that he had not lost control. In his eyes, however, she could see frustration. Anger. She edged away from him—edging closer to Marsh. "You fool!" Marsh said, walking away from her, speaking to Yomen. "You idiot!" Damn, Vin thought in annoyance. "I . . ." Yomen said, confused. "My lord, why do you care for atium? It is worthless without Allomancers and house politicians to pay for it." "You know nothing," Marsh snapped. Then, he smiled. "But you are doomed. Yes . . . doomed indeed. . . ." Outside, she could see that Elend's army was breaking camp. Yomen turned back to the window, and Vin edged closer, ostensibly to give herself a better look. Elend's forces were gathering—men and koloss. Most likely, they had noticed the buildup of city defenses, and had realized that they'd lost any opportunity for surprise. "He's going to ravage this city," Ruin said, stepping up beside Vin. "Your Elend is a good servant, child. One of my finest. You should be proud of him." "So many koloss . . ." she heard Yomen whisper. "My lord, there is no way we can fight so many. We need your help." "Why should I help you?" Marsh asked. "You who fail to deliver to me what I need?" "But I've remained faithful," Yomen said. "When all others abandoned the Lord Ruler, I have continued to serve him." "The Lord Ruler is dead," Marsh said with a snort. "He was an unprofitable servant as well." Yomen paled. "Let this city burn before the wrath of forty thousand koloss," Marsh said. Forty thousand koloss, Vin thought. He'd found more, somewhere. Attacking seemed the logical thing to do—he could finally capture the city, perhaps giving Vin a chance to escape in the chaos. Very logical, very smart. And yet, suddenly, Vin became sure of one thing. "Elend won't attack," she announced. Six eyes—two steel, two flesh, and two incorporeal—turned toward her. "Elend won't loose that

many koloss upon the city," she said. "He's trying to intimidate you, Yomen. And you should listen. Would you still obey this creature, this Inquisitor? He disdains you. He wants you to die. Join with us instead." Yomen frowned. "You could fight him with me," Vin said. "You're an Allomancer. These monsters can be defeated." Marsh smiled. "Idealism from you, Vin?" "Idealism?" she asked, facing the creature. "You think it's idealistic to believe I can kill an Inquisitor? You know I've done it before." Marsh waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not talking about your foolish threats. I'm talking about him." He nodded toward the army outside. "Your Elend belongs to Ruin, just as I do—just as you do. We all resist, but we all bow before him eventually. Only then do we understand the beauty there is in destruction." "Your god does not control Elend," Vin said. "He keeps trying to claim that he does, but that only makes him a liar. Or, perhaps, something of an idealist himself." Yomen watched, confused. "And if he does attack?" Marsh asked with a quiet, eager voice. "What would that mean, Vin? What if he does send his koloss against this city in a blood frenzy, sends them to slaughter and kill, all so that he can get what he thinks he needs so badly? Atium and food couldn't get him to come in . . . but you? How would that make you feel? You killed for him. What makes you think that Elend won't do the same for you?" Vin closed her eyes. Memories of her assault upon Cett's tower returned to her. Memories of wanton killing, Zane at her side. Memories of fire, and death, and an Allomancer loosed. She'd never killed like that again. She opened her eyes. Why wouldn't Elend attack? Attacking made so much sense. He knew he could take the city easily. However, he also knew he had trouble controlling the koloss when they reached too great a frenzy. . . . "Elend won't attack," she said quietly. "Because he's a better person than I am." One might notice that Ruin did not send his Inquisitors to Fadrex until after Yomen had—apparently—confirmed that the atium was there in the city. Why not send them as soon as the final cache was located? Where were his minions in all of this? One must realize that, in Ruin's mind, all men were his minions, particularly those whom he could manipulate directly. He didn't send an Inquisitor because they were busy doing other tasks. Instead, he sent someone who—in his mind—was exactly the same thing as an Inquisitor. He tried to spike Yomen, failed, and by that time, Elend's army had arrived. So, he used a different pawn to investigate the cache for him and discover if the atium really was there or not. He didn't commit too many resources to the city at first, fearing a deception on the Lord Ruler's part. Like him, I still wonder if the caches were, in part, intended for just that purpose—to distract Ruin

and keep him occupied. ". . . AND THAT'S WHY YOU ABSOLUTELY must get that message sent, Spook. The pieces of this thing are all spinning about, cast to the wind. You have a clue that nobody else does. Send it flying for me." Spook nodded, feeling fuzzy. Where was he? What was going on? And why, suddenly, did everything hurt so much? "Good lad. You did well, Spook. I'm proud." He tried to nod again, but everything was fuzz and blackness. He coughed, prompting some gasps from a place far off. He groaned. Parts of him hurt quite sharply, though others just tingled. Still others . . . well, those he couldn't feel at all, though he thought he should have been able to. I was dreaming, he realized as he slowly came to consciousness. Why have I been asleep? Was I on watch? Should I go on watch? The shop . . . His thoughts trailed off as he opened his eyes. There was someone standing above him. A face. One . . . quite a bit uglier than the face he'd hoped to see. "Breeze?" he tried to say, though it came out as a croak. "Ha!" Breeze said with uncharacteristic tears in his eyes. "He is waking!" Another face hovered over him, and Spook smiled. That's the one he'd been waiting for. Beldre. "What's going on?" Spook whispered. Hands brought something to his lips—a water skin. They poured carefully, giving him a drink. He coughed, but got it down. "Why . . . why can't I move?" Spook asked. The only thing he seemed able to twitch was his left hand. "Your body is being held in casts and bandages, Spook," Beldre said. "Sazed's orders." "The burns," Breeze said. "Well, they aren't that bad, but . . ." "To hell with the burns," Spook croaked. "I'm alive. I wasn't expecting that." Breeze looked up at Beldre, smiling. Send it flying. . . . "Where is Sazed?" Spook asked. "You should really try to rest," Beldre said, rubbing his cheek softly. "You've been through a lot." "And slept through more, I expect," Spook said. "Sazed?" "Gone, my dear boy," Breeze said. "He went off south with Vin's kandra." Vin. Feet clomped across the floor, and a second later, Captain Goradel's face appeared beside the other two. The square-jawed soldier smiled broadly. "Survivor of the Flames indeed!" You have a clue that nobody else does. . . . "How is the city?" Spook asked. "Mostly safe," Beldre said. "The canals flooded, and my brother organized fire brigades. Most of the buildings that burned weren't inhabited anyway." "You saved it, my lord," Goradel said. I'm proud. . . . "The ash is falling even more thickly, isn't it?" Spook asked. The three above shared looks. Their troubled expressions were enough of a confirmation. "We're getting a lot of refugees into the city," Beldre said. "From surrounding cities and villages, some as far as Luthadel. . . ." "I need to send a message," Spook said. "To Vin." "All right," Breeze said

soothingly. "We'll do that as soon as you are better." "Listen to me, Breeze," Spook said, staring up at the ceiling, unable to do much more than twitch. "Something was controlling me and the Citizen. I saw it—the thing that Vin released at the Well of Ascension. The thing that is bringing ash down to destroy us. It wanted this city, but we fought it off. Now, I need to warn Vin." That's what he'd been sent to do in Urteau. Find information, then report it back to Vin and Elend. He was only just beginning to understand how important a duty that could be. "Travel is difficult right now, my boy," Breeze said. "It isn't exactly perfect conditions for sending messages." "Rest some more," Beldre said. "We'll worry about it when you're healed." Spook gritted his teeth in frustration. You must get that message sent, Spook. . . . "I'll take it," Goradel said quietly. Spook looked to the side. Sometimes, it was easy to ignore the soldier, with his simple, straightforward manner and his pleasant demeanor. However, the determination in his voice made Spook smile. "Lady Vin saved my life," Goradel said. "The night of the Survivor's rebellion, she could have left me to die at the hands of the mob. She could have killed me herself. But she took the time to tell me that she understood what I'd been through, and convinced me to switch sides. If she needs this information, Survivor, then I will get it to her, or I will die trying." Spook tried to nod, but his head was held tight by the bandages and wrappings. He flexed his hand. It seemed to work . . . or, at least, work well enough. He met Goradel's eyes. "Go to the armory and have a sheet of metal pounded thin," Spook said. "Then, return here with something I can use to scratch the metal. These words must be written in steel, and I cannot speak them aloud." In those moments when the Lord Ruler both held the power at the Well and was feeling it drain away from him, he understood a great many things. He saw the power of Feruchemy, and rightly feared it. Many of the Terris people, he knew, would reject him as the Hero, for he didn't fulfill their prophecies well. They'd see him as a usurper who killed the Hero they sent. Which, in truth, he was. I think, over the years, Ruin would subtly twist him and make him do terrible things to his own people. But at the beginning, I suspect his decision against them was motivated more by logic than emotion. He was about to unveil a grand power in the Mistborn. He could have, I suppose, kept Allomancy secret and used Feruchemists as his primary warriors and assassins. However, I think he was wise to choose as he did. Feruchemists, by the nature of their powers, have a tendency toward scholarship. With their incredible memories, they would have been very difficult to control over the centuries. Indeed,

they were difficult to control, even when he suppressed them. Allomancy not only provided a spectacular new ability without that drawback, it offered a mystical power he could use to bribe kings to his side. ELEND STOOD UPON A SMALL ROCK outcropping to look over his troops. Below, the koloss stalked forward, stomping a pathway in the ash for his humans to use after the initial koloss assault. Elend waited, Ham standing just a few steps below. I wear white, Elend thought. The color of purity. I try to represent what is good and right. For my men. "The koloss should have no trouble with those fortifications," Ham said quietly. "They can leap to the top of city walls; they'll be able to climb those broken stone ridges." Elend nodded. There probably wouldn't be any need for the human soldiers to attack. With his koloss alone, Elend had the numerical advantage, and it was unlikely Yomen's soldiers had ever fought the creatures before. The koloss sensed a fight. He could feel them getting excited. They strained against him, wishing to attack. "Ham," he said, glancing down. "Is this right?" Ham shrugged. "This move does make sense, El," he said, rubbing his chin. "Attacking is our only real chance of saving Vin. And, we can't hold the siege—not any longer." Ham paused, then shook his head, his tone of voice taking on that uncertain quality it always did when he considered one of his logic problems. "Yet, loosing a group of koloss on a city does seem immoral. I wonder if you'll be able to control them, once they begin to rampage. Is saving Vin worth the possibility of killing even one innocent child? I don't know. Then again, maybe we'll save more children by bringing them into our empire. . . ." I shouldn't have bothered to ask Ham, Elend thought. He never has been able to give a straight answer. He looked out over the field, blue koloss against a plain of black. With tin, he could see men cowering on the tops of the Fadrex City ridges. "No," Ham said. Elend glanced down at the Thug. "No," Ham repeated. "We shouldn't attack." "Ham?" Elend said, feeling a surreal amusement. "Did you actually come to a conclusion?" Ham nodded. "Yes." He didn't offer explanation or rationalization. Elend looked up. What would Vin do? His first instinct was to think that she'd attack. But then, he remembered when he had discovered her years before, after she'd assaulted Cett's tower. She'd been huddled up in a corner, crying. No, he thought. No, she wouldn't do this thing. Not to protect me. She's learned better. "Ham," he said, surprising himself. "Tell the men to pull back and disassemble camp. We're returning to Luthadel." Ham looked back, surprised—as if he hadn't expected Elend to come to the same conclusion he had. "And Vin?" "I'm not going to attack this city, Ham," Elend said. "I won't conquer these people, even if it is for their own good. We'll find another way to get Vin free." Ham

smiled. "Cett's going to be furious." Elend shrugged. "He's a paraplegic. What's he going to do? Bite us? Come on, let's get down off this rock and go deal with Luthadel." "They're pulling back, my lord," the soldier said. Vin sighed in relief. Ruin stood, expression unreadable, hands folded behind his back. Marsh stood with one hand claw-like on Yomen's shoulder, both watching out the window. Ruin brought in an Inquisitor, she thought. He must have grown tired of my efforts to get the truth out of Yomen, and instead brought in someone he knew the obligator would obey. "This is very odd," Ruin finally said. Vin took a breath, then gambled. "Don't you see?" she asked quietly. Ruin turned toward her. She smiled. "You really don't understand, do you?" This time, Marsh turned as well. "You think I didn't realize?" Vin asked. "You think I didn't know you were after the atium all along? That you were following us from cavern to cavern, Pushing on my emotions, forcing me to search it out for you? You were so obvious. Your koloss always drew close to a city only after we discovered that it was the next in line. You moved in to threaten us, make us move more quickly, but you never got your koloss there too fast. The thing is, we knew all along." "Impossible," Ruin whispered. "No," Vin said. "Quite possible. Atium is metal, Ruin. You can't see it. Your vision gets fuzzy when too much of it is around, doesn't it? Metal is your power; you use it to make Inquisitors, but it's like light to you—blinding. You never saw when we actually discovered the atium. You just followed along with our ruse." Marsh let go of Yomen, then rushed across the room, grabbing Vin by the arms. "WHERE IS IT!" the Inquisitor demanded, lifting her, shaking her. She laughed, distracting Marsh as she carefully reached for his sash. Marsh shook her too much, however, and her fingers couldn't find their mark. "You will tell me where the atium is, child," Ruin said calmly. "Haven't I explained this? There is no fighting against me. You think yourself clever, perhaps, but you really don't understand. You don't even know what that atium is." Vin shook her head. "You think I'd actually lead you to it?" Marsh shook her again, rattling her, making her grit her teeth. When he stopped, her vision swam. To the side, she could barely make out Yomen watching with a frown. "Yomen," she said. "Your people are safe now—can you not finally trust that Elend is a good man?" Marsh tossed her aside. She hit hard, rolling. "Ah, child," Ruin said, kneeling down beside her. "Must I prove that you cannot fight me?" "Yomen!" Marsh said, turning. "Prepare your men. I want you to order an assault!" "What?" Yomen said. "My lord, an assault?" "Yes," Marsh said. "I want you to take all of your soldiers and have them attack Elend Venture's position." Yomen paled. "Leave behind our fortifications? Charge an army of koloss?" "That

is my order," Marsh said. Yomen stood quietly for a moment. "Yomen . . ." Vin said, crawling to her knees. "Don't you see that he's manipulating you?" Yomen didn't respond. He looked troubled. What would make him even consider an order like that? "You see," Ruin whispered. "You see my power? You see how I manipulate even their faith?" "Give the order," Yomen said, turning from Vin, facing his soldier captains. "Have the men attack. Tell them that the Lord Ruler will protect them." "Well," Ham said, standing beside Elend in the camp. "I didn't expect that." Elend nodded slowly, watching the flood of men pour through the Fadrex gateway. Some stumbled in the deep ash; others pushed their way forward, their charge hampered to a slow crawl. "Some stayed back," Elend said, pointing up at the wall top. Not having tin, Ham wouldn't be able to see the men who lined the wall, but he'd trust Elend's words. Around them, Elend's human soldiers were breaking camp. The koloss still waited silently in their positions, surrounding the camp. "What is Yomen thinking?" Ham asked. "He's throwing an inferior force against an army of koloss?" Like we did, attacking the koloss camp back in Vetitan. Something about it made Elend very uncomfortable. "Retreat," Elend said. "Huh?" Ham asked. "I said sound the retreat!" Elend said. "Abandon position. Pull the soldiers back!" At his silent command, the koloss began to charge away from the city. Yomen's soldiers were still pushing their way through the ash. Elend's koloss, however, would clear the way for his men. They should be able to stay ahead. "Strangest retreat I've ever seen," Ham noted, but moved back to give the orders. That's it, Elend thought in annoyance. It's time to figure out what the hell is going on in that city. Yomen was crying. They were small, quiet tears. He stood straight-backed, not facing the window. He fears that he's ordered his men to their deaths, Vin thought. She moved up to him, limping slightly from where she'd hit the ground. Marsh stood watching out the window. Ruin eyed her curiously. "Yomen," she said. Yomen turned toward her. "It's a test," he said. "The Inquisitors are the Lord Ruler's most holy priests. I'll do as commanded, and the Lord Ruler will protect my men and this city. Then you will see." Vin gritted her teeth. Then, she turned and forced herself to walk up beside Marsh. She glanced out the window—and was surprised to see that Elend's army was retreating away from Yomen's soldiers. Yomen's force wasn't running with very much conviction. Obviously, they were content to let their superior enemy run away before them. The sun was finally setting. Marsh did not seem to find Elend's retreat amusing. That was enough to make Vin smile—which made Marsh grab her again. "You think you have won?" Marsh asked, leaning down, his uneven spikeheads hanging just before Vin's face. Vin reached for his sash. Just a little farther. . . . "You claim to have been playing with me,

child," Ruin said, stepping up next to her. "But you are the one who has been played. The koloss who serve you, they get their strength from my power. You think that I would let you control them if it weren't for my eventual gain?" Vin felt a moment of chill. Oh, no. . . . Elend felt a terrible ripping sensation. It was like a part of his innards had been suddenly, and forcibly, pulled away from him. He gasped, releasing his Steelpush. He fell through the ash-filled sky, and landed unevenly on a rock shelf outside of Fadrex City. He gasped, breathing in and out, trembling. What in the hell was that? he thought, standing up, holding his thumping head. And then he realized it. He couldn't feel the koloss anymore. In the distance, the massive blue creatures stopped running away. And then, to Elend's horror, he watched them turn around. They began to charge his men. Marsh held her. "Hemalurgy is his power, Vin!" he said. "The Lord Ruler used it unwittingly! The fool! Each time he built an Inquisitor or a koloss, he made another servant for his enemy! Ruin waited patiently, knowing that when he finally broke free, he'd have an entire army waiting for him!" Yomen was at another window. He gasped quietly, watching. "You did deliver my men!" the obligator said. "The koloss have turned to attack their own army!" "They'll come after your men next, Yomen," Vin said, dizzily. "Then they'll destroy your city." "It is ending," Ruin whispered. "Everything needs to fit into place. Where is the atium? It's the last piece." Marsh shook her. She finally managed to reach his sash—and slipped her fingers into it. Fingers trained by her brother, and by a lifetime on the street. The fingers of a thief. "You can't fool me, Vin," Ruin said. "I am God." Marsh raised one hand—releasing her arm—then raised a fist as if to hit her. He moved with power, pewter obviously burning inside of him. He was an Allomancer, like all Inquisitors. Which meant he tended to keep metals on his person. Vin flipped her hand up and downed the vial of metals she'd stolen from his sash. Marsh froze, and Ruin fell silent. Vin smiled. Pewter flared in her stomach, restoring her to life. Marsh moved to complete his slap, but she pulled out of the way, then yanked him off balance by pulling her other arm—which he still held—to the side. He hung on, barely, but when he turned to face Vin, he found her holding her earring in one hand. And she duralumin-Pushed it directly into his forehead. It was a tiny bit of metal, but it threw up a drop of blood as it hit, ripping through his head and passing out the other side. Marsh dropped, and Vin was thrown backward by her own Push. She crashed into the wall, causing soldiers to scatter and yell, raising weapons. Yomen turned toward her, surprised. "Yomen!" she said. "Bring your men back! Fortify the city!" Ruin had

disappeared in the chaos of her escape. Perhaps he was out overseeing the control of the koloss. Yomen seemed indecisive. "I . . . No. I will not lose faith. I must be strong." Vin gritted her teeth, climbing to her feet. Nearly as frustrating as Elend is at times, she thought, scrambling over to Marsh's body. She reached into his sash, pulling out the second—and final—vial he had stored there. She downed this, restoring the metals she'd lost to duralumin. Then, she hopped up on the windowsill. Mist puffed around her—the sun was still up, but the mists were arriving earlier and earlier. Outside, she could see Elend's forces beleaguered by rampaging koloss on one side, Yomen's soldiers not attacking—yet blocking retreat—on the other. She moved to jump out and join the fight, and then she noticed something. A small group of koloss. A thousand in number, small enough to apparently have been ignored by both Elend's forces and Yomen's. Even Ruin appeared to have paid them no heed, for they simply stood in the ash, partially buried, like a collection of quiet stones. Vin's koloss. The ones that Elend had given her, Human at their lead. With a devious smile, she ordered them forward. To attack Yomen's men. "I'm telling you, Yomen," she said, hopping off of the windowsill and back into the room. "Those koloss don't care which side the humans are on—they'll kill anyone. The Inquisitors have gone mad, now that the Lord Ruler is dead. Didn't you pay any attention to what this one said?" Yomen looked thoughtful. "He even admitted that the Lord Ruler was dead, Yomen," Vin said with exasperation. "Your faith is commendable. But sometimes, you just have to know when to give up and move on!" One of the soldier captains yelled something, and Yomen spun back toward the window. He cursed. Immediately, Vin felt something. Something Pulling on her koloss. She cried out as they were yanked away from her, but the damage had been done. Yomen looked troubled. He'd seen the koloss attack his soldiers. He looked into Vin's eyes, silent for a moment. "Retreat into the city!" he finally yelled, turning to his messengers. "And order the men to allow Venture's soldiers refuge inside as well!" Vin sighed in relief. And then, something grabbed her leg. She looked down with shock as Marsh climbed to his knees. She had sliced through his brain itself, but the amazing Inquisitor healing powers seemed to be able to deal even with that. "Fool," Marsh said, standing. "Even if Yomen turns against me, I can kill him, and his soldiers will follow me. He's given them a belief in the Lord Ruler, and I hold that belief by right of inheritance." Vin took a deep breath, then hit Marsh with a duralumin-Soothing. If it worked on koloss and kandra, why not Inquisitors? Marsh stumbled. Vin's Push lasted a brief moment, but during it she felt something. A wall, like she'd felt the first time she'd tried to control TenSoon or the first time she'd

taken control of a group of koloss. She Pushed, Pushed with everything she had. In a burst of power, she came close to seizing control of Marsh's body, but not close enough. The wall within his mind was too strong, and she only had one vial's worth of metal to use. The wall shoved her back. She cried out in frustration. Marsh reached out, growling, and grabbed her by the neck. She gasped, eyes widening as Marsh began to grow in size. Getting stronger, like . . . A Feruchemist, she realized. I'm in serious trouble. People in the room were yelling, but she couldn't hear them. Marsh's hand—now large and beefy—gripped her throat, strangling her. Only flared pewter was keeping her alive. She flashed back to the day, many years ago, when she'd been held by another Inquisitor. Standing in the Lord Ruler's throne room. On that day, Marsh himself had saved her life. It seemed a twisted irony that she would struggle now, being strangled by him. Not. Yet. The mists began to swirl around her. Marsh started, though he continued to hold her. Vin drew upon the mists. It happened again. She didn't know how, or why, but it just happened. She breathed the mists into her body, as she had on that day so long ago when she'd killed the Lord Ruler. She somehow pulled them into her and used them to fuel her body with an incredible Allomantic surge of power. And, with that power, she Pushed on Marsh's emotions. The wall inside of him cracked, then burst. For a moment, Vin felt a sense of vertigo. She saw things through Marsh's eyes—indeed, she felt like she understood him. His love of destruction, and his hatred of himself. And through him, she caught a brief glimpse of something. A hateful, destructive thing that hid behind a mask of civility. Ruin was not the same thing as the mists. Marsh cried out, dropping her. Her strange burst of power dissipated, but it didn't matter, for Marsh fled out the window and Pushed himself away through the mists. Vin picked herself up, coughing. I did it. I drew upon the mists again. But why now? Why, after all the trying, did it happen now? There was no time to consider it at the moment—not with the koloss attacking. She turned to the baffled Yomen. "Continue to retreat into the city!" she said. "I'm going out to help." Elend fought desperately, cutting down koloss after koloss. It was difficult, dangerous work, even for him. These koloss couldn't be controlled—no matter how he Pushed or Pulled on their emotions, he couldn't bring even one of them under his power. That only left fighting. And, his men weren't prepared for battle—he'd forced them to abandon camp too quickly. A koloss swung, its sword whooshing dangerously close to Elend's head. He cursed, dropping a coin and Pushing himself backward through the air, over his fighting men and back into camp. They'd managed to retreat back to the positioning of their original fortification, which

meant that they had a small hill for defense and didn't have to fight in ash. A group of his Coinshots—he only had ten—stood firing wave after wave of coins into the main bulk of the koloss, and archers threw similar volleys. The main line of soldiers was supported by Lurchers from behind, who would Pull on koloss weapons and throw them off balance, giving the regular men extra openings. Thugs ran around the perimeter in groups of two or three, shoring up weak spots and acting as reserves. Even with all of that, they were in serious trouble. Elend's army couldn't stand against so many koloss any more easily than Fadrex could have. Elend landed in the middle of the half-disassembled camp, breathing heavily, covered in koloss blood. Men yelled as they fought a short distance away, holding the camp perimeter with the help of Elend's Allomancers. The bulk of the koloss army was still bunched around the northern section of camp, but Elend couldn't pull his men back any farther toward Fadrex without exposing them to Yomen's archers. Elend tried to catch his breath as a servant rushed up with a cup of water for him. Cett sat a short distance away, directing the battle tactics. Elend tossed aside the empty cup and moved over to the general, who sat at a small table. It held a map of the area, but hadn't been marked on. The koloss were so close, the battle happening just yards away, that it wasn't really necessary to keep an abstract battle map. "Never did like having those things in the army," Cett said as he downed a cup of water himself. A servant moved over, leading a surgeon, who pulled out a bandage to begin working on Elend's arm—which, up until that moment, he hadn't noticed was bleeding. "Well," Cett noted, "at least we'll die in battle, rather than of starvation!" Elend snorted, picking up his sword again. The sky was nearly dark. They didn't have much time before— A figure landed on the table in front of Cett. "Elend!" Vin said. "Retreat to the city. Yomen will let you in." Elend started. "Vin!" Then, he smiled. "What took you so long?" "I got delayed by an Inquisitor and a dark god," she said. "Now, hustle. I'll go see if I can distract some of those koloss." Inquisitors had little chance of resisting Ruin. They had more spikes than any of his other Hemalurgic creations, and that put them completely under his domination. Yes, it would have taken a man of supreme will to resist Ruin even slightly while bearing the spikes of an Inquisitor. SAZED TRIED NOT TO THINK about how dark the ash was in the sky, or how terrible the land looked. I've been such a fool, he thought, riding in the saddle. Of all the times that the world needed something to believe in, this is it. And I wasn't there to give it to them. He hurt from so much riding, yet he clung to the saddle, still somewhat

amazed at the creature who ran beneath him. When Sazed had first decided to go with TenSoon south, he had despaired at making the trip. Ash fell like the snows of a blizzard, and it had piled terribly high in most places. Sazed had known travel would be difficult, and he'd feared slowing TenSoon, who could obviously travel far more quickly as a wolfhound. TenSoon considered this concern, then had ordered a horse and a large hog to be brought to him. TenSoon first ingested the hog to give himself extra mass, then molded his gel-like flesh around the horse to digest it as well. Within an hour, he'd formed his body into a replica of the horse—but one with enhanced muscles and weight, creating the enormous, extra-strong marvel which Sazed now rode. They'd been running nonstop since then. Fortunately, Sazed had some wakefulness he'd stored in a metalmind a year ago, after the siege of Luthadel. He used this to keep himself from falling asleep. It still amazed him that TenSoon could enhance a horse's body so well. It moved with ease through the thick ash, where a real horse—and certainly a human—would have balked at the difficulty. Another thing I've been a fool about. These last few days, I could have been interrogating TenSoon about his powers. How much more is there that I don't know? Despite his shame, however, Sazed felt something of peace within himself. If he'd continued to teach about religions after he'd stopped believing in them, then he would have been a true hypocrite. Tindwyl had believed in giving people hope, even if one had to tell them lies to do so. That's the credit she had given to religion: lies that made people feel better. Sazed couldn't have acted the same way—at least, he couldn't have done so and remained the person he wanted to be. However, he now had hope. The Terris religion was the one that had taught about the Hero of Ages in the first place. If any contained the truth, it would be this one. Sazed needed to interrogate the First Generation of kandra and discover what they knew. Though, if I do find the truth, what will I do with it? The trees they passed were stripped of leaves. The landscape was covered in a good four feet of ash. "How can you keep going like this?" Sazed asked as the kandra galloped over a hilltop, shoving aside ash and ignoring obstructions. "My people are created from mistwraiths," TenSoon explained, not even sounding winded. "The Lord Ruler turned the Feruchemists into mistwraiths, and they began to breed true as a species. You add a Blessing to a mistwraith, and they become awakened, turning into a kandra. One such as I, created centuries after the Ascension, was born as a mistwraith but became awakened when I received my Blessing." ". . . Blessing?" Sazed asked. "Two small metal spikes, Keeper," TenSoon said. "We are created like Inquisitors, or like koloss. However, we are more subtle creations than either of those. We

were made third and last, as the Lord Ruler's power waned." Sazed frowned, leaning low as the horse ran beneath some skeletal tree branches. "What is different about you?" "We have more independence of will than the other two," TenSoon said. "We only have two spikes in us, while the others have more. An Allomancer can still take control of us, but free we remain more independent of mind than koloss or Inquisitors, who are both affected by Ruin's impulses even when he isn't directly controlling them. Did you never wonder why both of them are driven so powerfully to kill?" "That doesn't explain how you can carry me, all our baggage, and still run through this ash." "The metal spikes we carry grant us things," TenSoon said. "Much as Feruchemy gives you strength, or Allomancy gives Vin strength, my Blessing gives me strength. It will never run out, but it isn't as spectacular as the bursts your people can create. Still, my Blessing—mixed with my ability to craft my body as I wish—allows me a high level of endurance." Sazed fell silent. They continued to gallop. "There isn't much time left," TenSoon noted. "I can see that," Sazed said. "It makes me wonder what we can do." "This is the only time in which we could succeed," TenSoon said. "We must be poised, ready to strike. Ready to aid the Hero of Ages when she comes." "Comes?" "She will lead an army of Allomancers to the Homeland," TenSoon said, "and there will save all of us—kandra, human, koloss, and Inquisitor." An army of Allomancers? "Then . . . what am I to do?" "You must convince the kandra how dire the situation is," TenSoon explained, slowing to a stop in the ash. "For there is . . . something they must be prepared to do. Something very difficult, yet necessary. My people will resist it, but perhaps you can show them the way." Sazed nodded, then climbed off of the kandra to stretch his legs. "Do you recognize this location?" TenSoon asked, turning to look at him with a horse's head. "I do not," Sazed said. "With the ash . . . well, I haven't really been able to follow our path for days." "Over that ridge, you will find the place where the Terris people have set up their refugee camp." Sazed turned with surprise. "The Pits of Hathsin?" TenSoon nodded. "We call it the Homeland." "The Pits?" Sazed asked with shock. "But . . ." "Well, not the Pits themselves," TenSoon said. "You know that this entire area has cave complexes beneath it?" Sazed nodded. The place where Kelsier had trained his original army of skaa soldiers was just a short trip to the north. "Well, one of those cave complexes is the kandra Homeland. It abuts the Pits of Hathsin—in fact, several of the kandra passages run into the Pits, and had to be kept closed off, lest workers in the Pits find their way into the Homeland." "Does your Homeland grow atium?" Sazed asked. "Grow it? No,

it does not. That is, I suppose, what separates the Homeland from the Pits of Hathsin. Either way, the entrance to my people's caverns is right there." Sazed turned with a start. "Where?" "That depression in the ash," TenSoon said, nodding his large head toward it. "Good luck, Keeper. I have my own duties to attend to." Sazed nodded, feeling shocked that they had traveled so far so quickly, and untied his pack from the kandra's back. He left the bag containing bones—those of the wolfhound, and another set that looked human. Probably a body TenSoon carried to use should he need it. The enormous horse turned to go. "Wait!" Sazed said, raising a hand. TenSoon looked back. "Good luck," Sazed said. "May . . . our god preserve you." TenSoon smiled with a strange equine expression, then took off, galloping through the ash. Sazed turned to the depression in the ground. Then, he hefted his pack—filled with metalminds and a solitary tome—and walked forward. Even moving that short distance in the ash was difficult. He reached the depression and—taking a breath—began to dig his way into the ash. He didn't get far before he slid down into a tunnel. It didn't open straight down, fortunately, and he didn't fall far. The cavern around him came up at an incline, opening to the outside world in a hole that was half pit, half cave. Sazed stood up in the cavern, then reached into his pack and pulled out a tinmind. With this, he tapped eyesight, improving his vision as he walked into the darkness. A tinmind didn't work as well as an Allomancer's tin—or, rather, it didn't work in the same way. It could allow one to see very great distances, but it was of far less help in poor illumination. Soon, even with his tinmind, Sazed was walking in darkness, feeling his way along the tunnel. And then, he saw light. "Halt!" a voice called. "Who returns from Contract?" Sazed continued forward. A part of him was frightened, but another part was just curious. He knew a very important fact. Kandra could not kill humans. Sazed stepped up to the light, which turned out to be a melon-sized rock atop a pole, its porous material coated with some kind of glowing fungus. A pair of kandra blocked his path. They were easily identifiable as such since they wore no clothing and their skins were translucent. They appeared to have bones carved from rock. Fascinating! Sazed thought. They make their own bones. I really do have a new culture to explore. A whole new society—art, religion, mores, gender interactions. . . . The prospect was so exciting that, for a moment, even the end of the world seemed trivial by comparison. He had to remind himself to focus. He needed to investigate their religion first. Other things were secondary. "Kandra, who are you? Which bones do you wear?" "You are going to be surprised, I think," Sazed said as gently as he could. "For, I am no kandra. My name is Sazed,

Keeper of Terris, and I have been sent to speak with the First Generation." Both kandra guards started. "You don't have to let me pass," Sazed said. "Of course, if you don't take me into your Homeland, then I'll have to leave and tell everyone on the outside where it is. . . ." The guards turned to each other. "Come with us," one of them finally said. Koloss also had little chance of breaking free. Four spikes, and their diminished mental capacity, left them fairly easy to dominate. Only in the throes of a blood frenzy did they have any form of autonomy. Four spikes also made them easier for Allomancers to control. In our time, it required a duralumin Push to take control of a kandra. Koloss, however, could be taken by a determined regular Push, particularly when they were frenzied. ELEND AND VIN STOOD ATOP the Fadrex City fortifications. The rock ledge had once held the bonfires they'd watched in the night sky—she could see the blackened scar from one of them just to her left. It felt good to be held by Elend again. His warmth was a comfort, particularly when looking out of the city, over the field that Elend's army had once occupied. The koloss army was growing. It stood silently in the blizzard-like ash, thousands strong. More and more of the creatures were arriving each day, amassing to an overwhelming force. "Why don't they just attack?" Yomen asked with annoyance. He was the only other one who stood on the overlook; Ham and Cett were down below, seeing to the army's preparation. They'd need to be ready to defend the moment that the koloss assaulted the city. "He wants us to know just how soundly he's going to beat us," Vin said. Plus, she added in her mind, he's waiting. Waiting on that last bit of information. Where is the atium? She'd fooled Ruin. She'd proven to herself that it could be done. Yet, she was still frustrated. She felt like she'd spent the last few years of her life reacting to every wiggle of Ruin's fingers. Each time she thought herself clever, wise, or self-sacrificing, she discovered that she'd simply been doing his will the entire time. It made her angry. But what could she do? I have to make Ruin play his hand, she thought. Make him act, expose himself. For a brief moment, back in Yomen's throne room, she had felt something amazing. With the strange power she'd gained from the mists, she'd touched Ruin's own mind—via Marsh—and seen something therein. Fear. She remembered it, distinct and pure. At that moment, Ruin had been afraid of her. That's why Marsh had fled. Somehow, she'd taken the power of the mists into her, then used them to perform Allomancy of surpassing might. She'd done it before, when fighting the Lord Ruler in his palace. Why could she only draw on that power at random, unpredictable times? She'd wanted to use it against Zane, but had failed. She'd tried a dozen times during the

last few days, just as she'd tried during the days following the Lord Ruler's death. She'd never been able to access even a hint of that power. It struck like a thunderclap. A massive, overpowering quake rolled across the land. The rock ledges around Fadrex broke, some of them tumbling to the ground. Vin remained on her feet, but only with the help of pewter, and she barely snatched Yomen by the front of his obligator robes as he careened and almost fell from their ledge. Elend grabbed her arm, reinforcing her as the sudden quake shook the land. Inside the city, several buildings fell. Then, all went still. Vin breathed heavily, forehead slicked with sweat, Yomen's robes clutched in her grip. She glanced at Elend. "That one was far worse than the previous ones," he said, cursing quietly to himself. "We're doomed," Yomen said softly, forcing himself to his feet. "If the things you say are true, then not only is the Lord Ruler dead, but the thing he spent his life fighting has now come to destroy the world." "We've survived this long," Elend said firmly. "We'll make it yet. Earthquakes may hurt us, but they hurt the koloss too—look, and you'll see that some of them were crushed by toppling rocks. If things get rough up here, we can retreat inside the cavern." "And will it survive quakes like that one?" Yomen asked. "Better than the buildings up here will. None of this was built for earthquakes—but if I know the Lord Ruler, he anticipated the quakes, and picked caverns that were solid and capable of withstanding them." Yomen seemed to take little comfort in the words, but Vin smiled. Not because of what Elend said, but because of how he said it. Something about him had changed. He seemed confident in a way he'd never been before. He had some of the same idealistic air he'd expressed when he'd been a youth at court—yet he also had the hardness of the man who'd led his people in war. He'd finally found the balance. And, oddly enough, it had come from deciding to retreat. "He does have a point, however, Vin," Elend said in a softer tone. "We need to figure out our next step. Ruin obviously intended to defeat us here, but he has been pushed back for a time, at least. What now?" We have to trick him, she thought. Perhaps . . . use the same strategy Yomen used on me? She paused, considering the idea. She reached up, fingering her earring. It had been mangled after its trip through Marsh's head, of course, but it had been a simple matter to have a smith bend it back into shape. The first time she'd met with Yomen, he'd given her back the earring. It had seemed like a strange move, giving metal to an Allomancer. Yet, in a controlled environment, it had been very clever. He'd been able to test and see if she had any hidden metals—all the while reserving the fact that he could

burn atium and protect himself. Later, he'd been able to get her to reveal her hand, to attack and show him what she was planning, so that he could defuse it in a situation where he was in power. Could she do the same to Ruin? That thought mixed with another one. Both times when the mists had helped her, they had come in a moment of pure desperation. It was as if they reacted to her need. So, was there a way to put herself in a situation where her need was even greater than before? It was a thin hope, but—mixed with her desire to force Ruin's hand—it formed a plan in her head. Put herself in danger. Make Ruin bring his Inquisitors, putting Vin in a situation where the mists had to help her. If that didn't work, maybe she could get Ruin to play his hand or spring any hidden traps he had waiting for her. It was incredibly risky, but she could feel that she didn't have much time. Ruin would win soon—very soon—unless she did something. And, this was all she could think of to do. But, how could she make it happen without explaining it to Elend? She couldn't speak of the plan, lest she reveal to Ruin what she was doing. She looked up at Elend, a man she seemed to know better than herself. He hadn't needed to tell her that he'd reconciled the two halves of himself, she'd simply been able to tell it from looking at him. With a person like that, did she even really need to speak her plans? Perhaps . . . "Elend," she said, "I think there's only one way to save this city." "And that is?" he said slowly. "I have to go get it." Elend frowned, then opened his mouth. She looked into his eyes, hoping. He paused. "The . . . atium?" he guessed. Vin smiled. "Yes. Ruin knows that we have it. He'll find it even if we don't use it. But, if we bring it here, at least we can fight." "It would be safer here anyway," Elend said slowly, eyes confused, but trusting her. "I'd rather have an army between those riches and our enemies. Perhaps we could use it to bribe some local warlords to help us." It seemed a flimsy ruse to her. And yet, she knew that was because she could see Elend's confusion, could read his lies in his eyes. She understood him, as he understood her. It was an understanding that required love. And she suspected that was something that Ruin would never be able to comprehend. "I need to leave, then," she said, embracing him tightly, closing her eyes. "I know." She held him close for a few moments longer, feeling the ash fall around her, blow against her skin and cheek. Feeling Elend's heart beat beneath her ear. She leaned up and kissed him. Finally, she pulled back, then checked her metals. She met his eyes, and he nodded, so she jumped down into

the city to gather some horseshoes. A few moments later, she was shooting through the ashy air toward Luthadel, a maelstrom of metal around her. Elend stood silently behind, on the rock ledge, watching her go. Now, she thought to Ruin, who she knew was watching her carefully, even though he hadn't revealed himself since she'd drawn upon the mists. Let's have a chase, you and I. When the Lord Ruler offered his plan to his Feruchemist friends—the plan to change them into mistwraiths—he was making them speak on behalf of all the land's Feruchemists. Though he changed his friends into kandra to restore their minds and memories, the rest he left as nonsentient mistwraiths. These bred more of their kind, living and dying, becoming a race unto themselves. From these children of the original mistwraiths, he made the next generations of kandra. However, even gods can make mistakes, I have learned. Rashek, the Lord Ruler, thought to transform all of the living Feruchemists into mistwraiths. However, he did not think of the genetic heritage left in the other Terris people, whom he left alive. So it was that Feruchemists continued being born, if only rarely. This oversight cost him much, but gained the world so much more. SAZED WALKED IN WONDER, led by his guards. He saw kandra after kandra, each one with a more interesting body than the one before. Some were tall and willowy, with bones made of white wood. Others were stocky, with bones thicker than any human's. All stuck generally to human body shapes, however. They used to be human, he reminded himself. Or, at least, their ancestors were. The caverns around him felt old. The pathways were worn smooth, and while there were no real "buildings," he passed many smaller caverns, varied drapery hanging in front of their openings. There was a sense of exquisite craftsmanship to it all, from the carved poles that held the fungus lights, to the very bones of the people around him. It wasn't the detailed ornamentation of a nobleman's keep, for there were no patterns, leaves, or knots carved into the stonework or bones. Instead, things were polished smooth, carved with rounded sides, or woven in broad lines and shapes. The kandra seemed afraid of him. It was a strange experience for Sazed. He had been many things in his life: rebel, servant, friend, scholar. However, never before had he found himself an object of fear. Kandra ducked around corners, peeking at him. Others stood in shock, watching him pass. Obviously, news of his arrival had spread quickly, otherwise they would have just assumed him to be a kandra wearing human bones. His guards led him to a steel door set into a large cavern wall. One of them moved inside, while the other guarded Sazed. Sazed noticed shards of metal twinkling in the kandra's shoulders. They appeared to be spikes, one in each shoulder. Smaller than Inquisitor spikes, Sazed thought. But still very effective. Interesting. "What would you do if I were to run?" Sazed asked. The kandra started.

"Um . . ." "Can I assume from your hesitance that you are still forbidden to harm, or at least kill, a human?" Sazed asked. "We follow the First Contract." "Ah," Sazed said. "Very interesting. And, with whom did you make the First Contract?" "The Father." "The Lord Ruler?" Sazed asked. The kandra nodded. "He is, unfortunately and truly, dead. So, is your Contract no longer valid?" "I don't know," the kandra said, looking away. So, Sazed thought, not all of them are as forceful of personality as TenSoon. Even when he was playing the part of a simple wolfhound, I found him to be intense. The other soldier returned. "Come with me," he said. They led Sazed through the open metal doors. The room beyond had a large metal pedestal a few feet high. The guards did not step on it, but led Sazed around it toward a place before a group of stone lecterns. Many of the lecterns were empty, though kandra with twinkling bones stood behind two of them. These creatures were tall—or, at least, they used tall bones—and very fine-featured. Aristocrats, Sazed thought. He had found that class of people very easy to identify, no matter what the culture or—apparently—species. Sazed's guards gestured for him to stand before the lecterns. Sazed ignored the gestures, walking in a circle around the room. As he had expected, his guards didn't know what to do—they followed, but refrained from putting their hands on him. "There is metal plating surrounding the entire chamber," Sazed noted. "Is it ornamental, or does it serve a function?" "We will be asking the questions here, Terrisman!" said one of the aristocratic kandra. Sazed paused, turning. "No," he said. "No, you will not. I am Sazed, Keeper of Terris. However, among your people, I have another name. Holy Announcer." The other kandra leader snorted. "What does an outsider know of such things?" "An outsider?" Sazed asked. "You should better learn your own doctrine, I think." He began to walk forward. "I am Terris, as are you. Yes, I know your origins. I know how you were created—and I know the heritage you bring with you." He stopped before their lecterns. "I announce to you that I have discovered the Hero. I have lived with her, worked with her, and watched her. I handed her the very spear she used to slay the Lord Ruler. I have seen her take command of kings, watched her overcome armies of both men and koloss. I have come to announce this to you, so that you may prepare yourselves." He paused, eyeing them. "For the end is here," he added. The two kandra stood quietly for a few moments. "Go get the others," one finally said, his voice shaking. Sazed smiled. As one of the guards ran off, Sazed turned to face down the second soldier. "I shall require a table and chair, please. Also, something with which to write." A few minutes later, all was ready. His kandra attendants had swelled from four to over twenty—twelve of them being the

aristocratic ones with the twinkling bones. Some attendants had set up a small table for Sazed, and he seated himself as the kandra nobles spoke together in anxious whispers. Carefully, Sazed placed his pack on the table and began to remove his metal-minds. Small rings, smaller earrings and studs, and large bracers soon lined the table. He pushed up his sleeves, then clasped on his copperminds—two large bracers on the upper arms, then two bracers on the forearms. Finally, he removed his tome from the pack and set it on the table. Some kandra approached with thin plates of metal. Sazed watched curiously as they arranged them for him, along with what appeared to be a steel pen, capable of making indentations in the soft writing metal. The kandra servants bowed and withdrew. Excellent, Sazed thought, picking up the metal pen and clearing his throat. The kandra leaders turned toward him. "I assume," Sazed said, "that you are the First Generation?" "We are the Second Generation, Terrisman," one of the kandra said. "Well, I apologize for taking your time, then. Where can I find your superiors?" The lead kandra snorted. "Do not think you have us quelled just because you were able to draw us together. I see no reason for you to speak with the First Generation, even if you can blaspheme quite accurately." Sazed raised an eyebrow. "Blaspheme?" "You are not the Announcer," the kandra said. "This is not the end." "Have you seen the ash up above?" Sazed said. "Or, has it stopped up the entrances to this cavern complex so soundly that nobody can escape to see that the world is falling apart?" "We have lived a very long time, Terrisman," one of the other kandra said. "We have seen periods where the ash fell more copiously than others." "Oh?" Sazed asked. "And you have, perhaps, seen the Lord Ruler die before as well?" Some of the kandra looked uncomfortable at this, though the one at the lead shook his head. "Did TenSoon send you?" "He did," Sazed admitted. "You can make no arguments other than those he has already made," the kandra said. "Why would he think that you—an outsider—could persuade us, when he could not?" "Perhaps because he understood something about me," Sazed said, tapping his book with his pen. "Are you aware of the ways of Keepers, kandra?" "My name is KanPaar," the kandra said. "And yes, I understand what Keepers do—or, at least, what they did, before the Father was killed." "Then," Sazed said, "perhaps you know that every Keeper has an area of specialty. The intention was that when the Lord Ruler finally did fall, we would already be divided into specialists who could teach our knowledge to the people." "Yes," KanPaar said. "Well," Sazed said, rubbing fingers over his book. "My specialty was religion. Do you know how many religions there were before the Lord Ruler's Ascension?" "I don't know. Hundreds." "We have record of five hundred and sixty-three," Sazed said. "Though that includes sects of the same religions. In a more

strict count, there were around three hundred." "And?" KanPaar asked. "Do you know how many of these survived until this day?" Sazed asked. "None?" "One," Sazed said, holding up a finger. "Yours. The Terris religion. Do you think it a coincidence that the religion you follow not only still exists, but also foretells this exact day?" KanPaar snorted. "You are saying nothing new. So my religion is real, while others were lies. What does that explain?" "That you should listen, perhaps, to members of your faith who bring you tidings." Sazed began to flip through his book. "At the very least, I would think that you'd be interested in this book, as it contains the collected information about the Hero of Ages that I was able to discover. Since I knew little of the true Terris religion, I had to get my information from secondhand accounts—from tales and stories, and from texts written during the intermediate time. "Unfortunately," Sazed continued, "much of this text was changed by Ruin when he was trying to persuade the Hero to visit the Well of Ascension and set him free. Therefore, it is quite well corrupted and tainted by his touch." "And why would I be interested?" KanPaar asked. "You just told me that your information is corrupt and useless." "Useless?" Sazed asked. "No, not useless at all. Corrupt, yes. Changed by Ruin. My friend, I have a tome here filled with Ruin's lies. You have a mind filled with the original truths. Apart, we know very little. However, if we were to compare—discovering precisely which items Ruin changed—would it not tell us exactly what his plan is? At the very least, it would tell us what he didn't want us to focus on, I think." The room fell silent. "Well," KanPaar finally said, "I—" "That will be enough, KanPaar," a voice said. Sazed paused, cocking his head. The voice hadn't come from any of those beside the pedestals. Sazed glanced around the room, trying to discover who had spoken. "You may leave, Seconds," another voice said. One of the Seconds gasped. "Leave? Leave you with this one, an outsider?" "A descendant," one of the voices said. "A Worldbringer. We will hear him." "Leave us," said another voice. Sazed raised an eyebrow, sitting as the Second Generationers—looking rattled—left their lecterns and quietly made their way from the room. A pair of guards pushed the doors shut, blocking the view of those kandra who had been watching outside. Sazed was left alone in the room with the phantoms who had spoken. Sazed heard a scraping sound. It echoed through the steel-lined chamber, and then a door opened at the back of the room. From this came what he assumed was the First Generation. They looked . . . old. Their kandra flesh literally hung from their bodies, drooping, like translucent tree moss dripping from bone branches. They were stooped, seeming older than the other kandra he had seen, and they didn't walk so much as shuffle. They wore simple robes, with no sleeves, but the garments still

looked odd on the creatures. In addition, beneath their translucent skin, he could see that they had white, normal skeletons. "Human bones?" Sazed asked as the elderly creatures made their way forward, walking with canes. "Our own bones," one of them said, speaking with a tired near-whisper of a voice. "We hadn't the skill or knowledge to form True Bodies when this all began, and so took our original bones again when the Lord Ruler gave them to us." The First Generation appeared to have only ten members. They arranged themselves on the benches. And, out of respect, Sazed moved his table so that he was seated before them, like a presenter before an audience. "Now," he said, raising his metal scratching pen. "Let us begin—we have much work to do." The question remains, where did the original prophecies about the Hero of Ages come from? I now know that Ruin changed them, but did not fabricate them. Who first taught that a Hero would come, one who would be an emperor of all mankind, yet would be rejected by his own people? Who first stated he would carry the future of the world on his arms, or that he would repair that which had been sundered? And who decided to use the neutral pronoun, so that we wouldn't know if the Hero was a woman or a man? MARSH KNELT IN A PILE OF ASH, hating himself and the world. The ash fell without cease, drifting onto his back, covering him, and yet he did not move. He had been cast aside, told to sit and wait. Like a tool forgotten in the yard, slowly being covered in snow. I was there, he thought. With Vin. Yet . . . I couldn't speak to her. Couldn't tell her anything. Worse . . . he hadn't wanted to. During his entire conversation with her, his body and mind had belonged to Ruin completely. Marsh had been helpless to resist, hadn't been able to do anything that might have let Vin kill him. Except for a moment. A moment near the end, when she'd almost taken control of him. A moment when he'd seen something inside of his master—his god, his self—that gave him hope. For in that moment, Ruin had feared her. And then, Ruin had forced Marsh to run, leaving behind his army of koloss—the army that Marsh had been ordered to let Elend Venture steal, then bring to Fadrex. The army that Ruin had eventually stolen back. And now Marsh waited in the ash. What is the point? he thought. His master wanted something . . . needed something . . . and he feared Vin. Those two things gave Marsh hope, but what could he do? Even in Ruin's moment of weakness, Marsh had been unable to take control. Marsh's plan—to wait, keeping the rebellious sliver of himself secret until the right moment, then pull out the spike in his back and kill himself—seemed increasingly foolish. How could he hope to break free, even for that long? Stand. The

command came wordlessly, but Marsh reacted instantly. And Ruin was back, controlling his body. With effort, Marsh retained some small control of his mind, though only because Ruin seemed distracted. Marsh started dropping coins, Pushing off them, using and reusing them in the same way Vin used horseshoes. Horseshoes—which had far more metal—would have been better, for they would have let him Push farther with each one. But, he made coins work. He propelled himself through the late-afternoon sky. The red air was unpleasantly abrasive, so crowded with ash. Marsh watched it, trying to keep himself from seeing beauty in the destruction without alerting Ruin that he wasn't completely dominated. It was difficult. After some time—after night had long since fallen—Ruin commanded Marsh to the ground. He descended quickly, robes flapping, and landed atop a short hill. The ash came up to his waist, and he was probably standing on a few feet of packed ash underneath. In the distance, down the slope, a solitary figure pushed resolutely through the ash. The man wore a pack and led an exhausted horse. Who is this? Marsh thought, looking closer. The man had the build of a soldier, with a square face and balding head, his jaw bearing several days' worth of beard. Whoever he was, he had an impressive determination. Few people would brave the mists—yet this man not only walked through them, but forged his way through ash that was as high as his chest. The man's uniform was stained black, as was his skin. Dark . . . ashen . . . Beautiful. Marsh launched himself from the hilltop, hurling through the mist and ash on a Push of steel. The man below must have heard him coming, for he spun, reaching anxiously for the sword at his side. Marsh landed atop the horse's back. The creature cried out, rearing, and Marsh jumped, placing one foot on the beast's face as he flipped over it and landed in the ash. The soldier had worn a path straight ahead, and Marsh felt as if he were looking down a tight, black corridor. The man whipped his sword free. The horse whinnied nervously, stamping in the ash. Marsh smiled, and pulled an obsidian axe from the sheath by his side. The soldier backed away, trying to clear room in the ash for a fight. Marsh saw the worry in the man's eyes, the dreadful anticipation. The horse whinnied again. Marsh spun and sheared off its front legs, causing it to scream in pain. Behind, the soldier moved. And—surprisingly—instead of running, he attacked. The man rammed his sword through Marsh's back. It hit a spike, veering to the side, but still impaled him. Marsh turned, smiling, and tapped healing to keep himself standing. The man kept moving, reaching up for Marsh's back, obviously intending to try and pull free the back spike. Marsh burned pewter, however, and spun out of the way, ripping away the soldier's weapon. Should have let him grab it . . . the free sliver said, struggling, yet useless. Marsh

swung for the man's head, intending to take it off with a single sweep of the axe, but the soldier rolled in the ash, whipping a dagger from his boot and swiping in an attempt to hamstring Marsh. A clever move, which would have left Marsh on the ground, healing power or not. However, Marsh tapped speed. He suddenly moved several times faster than a normal person, and he easily dodged the slice, instead planting a kick in the soldier's chest. The man grunted as his ribs cracked. He fell in the ash, rolling and coughing, blood on his lips. He came to a stop, covered in ash. Weakly, he reached for his pocket. Another dagger? Marsh thought. However, the man pulled out a folded sheet. Metal? Marsh had a sudden and overpowering desire to grab that sheet of metal. The soldier struggled to crumple the thin sheet, to destroy its contents, but Marsh screamed and brought his axe down on the man's arm, shearing it off. Marsh raised the axe again, and this time took off the man's head. He didn't stop, however, the blood fury driving him to slam his axe into the corpse over and over again. In the back of his head, he could feel Ruin exulting in the death—yet, he could also sense frustration. Ruin tried to pull him away from the killing, to make him grab that slip of metal, but in the grip of the bloodlust, Marsh couldn't be controlled. Just like koloss. Couldn't be controlled. . . . That's— He froze, Ruin taking control once again. Marsh shook his head, the man's blood rolling down his face, dripping from his chin. He turned and glanced at the dying horse, which screamed in the quiet night. Marsh stumbled to his feet, then reached for the disembodied arm, pulling free the sheet of metal the soldier had tried to destroy with his dying strength. Read it! The words were distinct in Marsh's mind. Rarely did Ruin bother to address him—it just used him like a puppet. Read it aloud! Marsh frowned, slowly unfolding the letter, trying to give himself time to think. Why would Ruin need him to read it? Unless . . . Ruin couldn't read? But, that didn't make sense. The creature had been able to change the words in books. It had to be able to read. Then, was it the metal that stopped Ruin? He had the flap of metal unfolded. There were indeed words scratched into its inside surface. Marsh tried to resist reading the words. In fact, he longed to grab his axe from where it had fallen dripping blood in the ash, then use it to kill himself. But, he couldn't manage. He didn't even have enough freedom to drop the letter. Ruin pushed and pulled, manipulating Marsh's emotions, eventually getting him so that . . . Yes. Why should he bother disagreeing? Why argue with his god, his lord, his self? Marsh held the sheet up, flaring his tin to get a better look at its contents in

the darkness. " 'Vin,' " he read. " 'My mind is clouded. A part of me wonders what is real anymore. Yet, one thing seems to press on me again and again. I must tell you something. I don't know if it will matter, but I must say it nonetheless. " 'The thing we fight is real. I have seen it. It tried to destroy me, and it tried to destroy the people of Urteau. It got control of me through a method I wasn't expecting. Metal. A little sliver of metal piercing my body. With that, it was able to twist my thoughts. It couldn't take complete control of me, like you control the koloss, but it did something similar, I think. Perhaps the piece of metal wasn't big enough. I don't know. " 'Either way, it appeared to me, taking the form of Kelsier. It did the same thing to the king here in Urteau. It is clever. It is subtle. " 'Be careful, Vin. Don't trust anyone pierced by metal! Even the smallest bit can taint a man. " 'Spook.' " Marsh, again completely controlled by Ruin, crumpled the metal up until its scratchings were unreadable. Then, he tossed it into the ash and used it as an anchor to Push himself into the air. Toward Luthadel. He left the corpses of horse, man, and message to lie dead in the ash, slowly being buried. Like forgotten tools. Quellion actually placed his spike himself, as I understand it. The man was never entirely stable. His fervor for following Kelsier and killing the nobility was enhanced by Ruin, but Quellion had already had the impulses. His passionate paranoia bordered on insanity at times, and Ruin was able to prod him into placing that crucial spike. Quellion's spike was bronze, and he made it from one of the first Allomancers he captured. That spike made him a Seeker, which was one of the ways he was able to find and blackmail so many Allomancers during his time as king of Urteau. The point, however, is that people with unstable personalities were more susceptible to Ruin's influence, even if they didn't have a spike in them. That, indeed, is likely how Zane got his spike. "I STILL DON'T SEE what good this does," Yomen said, walking beside Elend as they passed Fadrex's gate. Elend ignored the comment, waving a greeting to a group of soldiers. He stopped beside another group—not his, but Yomen's—and inspected their weapons. He gave them a few words of encouragement, then moved on. Yomen watched quietly, walking at Elend's side as an equal, not a captured king. The two had an uneasy truce, but the field of koloss outside was more than enough of a motivation to keep them working together. Elend had the larger army of the two, but not by much—and they were growing increasingly outnumbered as more and more koloss arrived. "We should be working on the sanitation problem," Yomen continued once they were out of the men's earshot. "An army exists on two principles:

health and food. Provide those two things, and you will be victorious." Elend smiled, recognizing the reference. Trentison's Supplying in Scale. A few years earlier, he would have agreed with Yomen, and the two would probably have spent the afternoon discussing the philosophy of leadership in Yomen's palace. However, Elend had learned things in the last few years that he simply hadn't been able to get from his studies. Unfortunately, that meant he really couldn't explain them to Yomen—particularly not in the time they had. So, instead, he nodded down the street. "We can move on to the infirmary now, if you wish, Lord Yomen." Yomen nodded, and the two turned toward another section of the city. The obligator had a no-nonsense approach to just about everything. Problems should be dealt with quickly and directly. He had a good mind, despite his fondness for making snap judgments. As they walked, Elend was careful to keep an eye out for soldiers—on duty or off—in the streets. He nodded to their salutes, met their eyes. Many were working to repair the damages caused by the increasingly powerful earthquakes. Perhaps it was just in Elend's mind, but it seemed that the soldiers walked a little taller after he passed. Yomen frowned slightly as he watched Elend do this. The obligator still wore the robes of his station, despite the little bead of atium at his brow that he used to mark his kingship. The tattoos on the man's forehead almost seemed to curl toward the bead, as if they had been designed with it in mind. "You don't know much about leading soldiers, do you, Yomen?" Elend asked. The obligator raised an eyebrow. "I know more than you ever will about tactics, supply lines, and the running of armies between distinct points." "Oh?" Elend said lightly. "So, you've read Bennitson's Armies in Motion, have you?" The "distinct points" line was a dead giveaway. Yomen's frown deepened. "One thing that we scholars tend to forget about, Yomen, is the impact emotion can have on a battle. It isn't just about food, shoes, and clean water, necessary as those are. It's about hope, courage, and the will to live. Soldiers need to know that their leader will be in the fight—if not killing enemies, then directing things personally from behind the lines. They can't think of him as an abstract force up on a tower somewhere, watching out a window and pondering the depths of the universe." Yomen fell silent as they walked through streets that, despite being cleaned of ash, had a forlorn cast to them. Most of the people had retreated to the back portions of the city, where the koloss would go last, if they broke through. They were camping outside, since buildings were unsafe in the quakes. "You are an . . . interesting man, Elend Venture," Yomen finally said. "I'm a bastard," Elend said. Yomen raised an eyebrow. "In composition, not in temperament or by birth," Elend said with a smile. "I'm an amalgamation of what I've needed to be. Part scholar,

part rebel, part nobleman, part Mistborn, and part soldier. Sometimes, I don't even know myself. I had a devil of a time getting all those pieces to work together. And, just when I'm starting to get it figured out, the world up and ends on me. Ah, here we are." Yomen's infirmary was a converted Ministry building—which, in Elend's opinion, showed that Yomen was willing to be flexible. His religious buildings weren't so sacred to him that he couldn't acknowledge that they were the best facilities for taking care of the sick and wounded. Inside, they found physicians tending those who had survived the initial clash with the koloss. Yomen bustled off to speak with the infirmary bureaucrats—apparently, he was worried about the number of infections that the men had suffered. Elend walked over to the section with the most serious cases, and began visiting them, offering encouragement. It was tough work, looking at the soldiers who had suffered because of his foolishness. How could he have missed seeing that Ruin could take the koloss back? It made so much sense. And yet, Ruin had played its hand well—it had misled Elend, making him think that the Inquisitors were controlling the koloss. Making him feel the koloss could be counted on. What would have happened, he thought, if I'd attacked this city with them as originally planned? Ruin would have ransacked Fadrex, slaughtering everyone inside, and then turned the koloss on Elend's soldiers. Now the fortifications defended by Elend and Yomen's men had given Ruin enough pause to make it build up its forces before attacking. I have doomed this city, Elend thought, sitting beside the bed of a man who had lost his arm to a koloss blade. It frustrated him. He knew he'd made the right decision. And, in truth, he'd rather be inside the city—almost certainly doomed—than be outside besieging it, and winning. For he knew that the winning side wasn't always the right side. Still, it came back to his continuing frustration at his inability to protect his people. And, despite Yomen's rule of Fadrex, Elend considered its people to be his people. He'd taken the Lord Ruler's throne, named himself emperor. The entirety of the Final Empire was his to care for. What good was a ruler who couldn't even protect one city, let alone an empire full of them? A disturbance at the front of the infirmary room caught his attention. He cast aside his dark thoughts, then bid farewell to the soldier. He rushed to the front of the hospital, where Yomen had already appeared to see what the ruckus was about. A woman stood holding a young boy, who was shaking uncontrollably with the fits. One of the physicians rushed forward, taking the boy. "Mistsickness?" he asked. The woman, weeping, nodded. "I kept him inside until today. I knew! I knew that it wanted him! Oh, please . . ." Yomen shook his head as the physician took the boy to a bed. "You should have listened to me, woman," he said firmly. "Everyone

in the city was to have been exposed to the mists. Now your son will take a bed that we may need for wounded soldiers." The woman slumped down, still crying. Yomen sighed, though Elend could see the concern in the man's eyes. Yomen was not a heartless man, just a pragmatic one. In addition, his words made sense. It was no use hiding someone inside all of their lives, just because of the possibility that they might fall to the mists. Fall to the mists . . . Elend thought idly, glancing at the boy in bed. He had stopped convulsing, though his face was twisted in an expression of pain. It looked like he hurt so much. Elend had only hurt that much once in his life. We never did figure out what this mistsickness was all about, he thought. The mist spirit had never returned to him. But, perhaps Yomen knew something. "Yomen," he said, walking up to the man, distracting him from his discussion with the surgeons. "Did any of your people ever figure out the reason for the mist-sickness?" "Reason?" Yomen asked. "Does there need to be a reason for a sickness?" "There does for one this strange," Elend said. "Did you realize that it strikes down exactly sixteen percent of the population? Sixteen percent—to the man." Instead of being surprised, Yomen just shrugged. "Makes sense." "Sense?" Elend asked. "Sixteen is a powerful number, Venture," Yomen said, looking over some reports. "It was the number of days it took the Lord Ruler to reach the Well of Ascension, for instance. It figures prominently in Church doctrine." Of course, Elend thought. Yomen wouldn't be surprised to find order in nature—he believes in a god who ordered that nature. "Sixteen . . ." Elend said, glancing at the sick boy. "The number of original Inquisitors," Yomen said. "The number of Precepts in each Canton charter. The number of Allomantic metals. The—" "Wait," Elend said, looking up. "What?" "Allomantic metals," Yomen said. "There are only fourteen of those." Yomen shook his head. "Fourteen we know of, assuming your lady was right about the metal paired to aluminum. However, fourteen is not a number of power. Allomantic metals come in sets of two, with groupings of four. It seems likely that there are two more we haven't discovered, bringing the number to sixteen. Two by two by two by two. Four physical metals, four mental metals, four enhancement metals, and four temporal metals." Sixteen metals . . . Elend glanced at the boy again. Pain. Elend had known such pain once—the day his father had ordered him beaten. Beaten to give him such pain that he thought he might die. Beaten to bring his body to a point near death, so that he would Snap. Beaten to discover if he was an Allomancer. Lord Ruler! Elend thought with shock. He dashed away from Yomen, pushing back into the soldiers' section of the infirmary. "Who here was taken by the mists?" Elend demanded. The wounded regarded him with quizzical looks. "Did any

of you get sick?" Elend asked. "When I made you stand out in the mists? Please, I must know!" Slowly, the man with one arm raised his remaining hand. "I was taken, my lord. I'm sorry. This wound is probably punishment for—" Elend cut the man off, rushing forward, pulling out his spare metal vial. "Drink this," he commanded. The man paused, then did as asked. Elend knelt beside the bed eagerly, waiting. His heart pounded in his chest. "Well?" he finally asked. "Well . . . what, my lord?" the soldier asked. "Do you feel anything?" Elend asked. The soldier shrugged. "Tired, my lord?" Elend closed his eyes, sighing. It was a silly— "Well, that's odd," the soldier suddenly said. Elend snapped his eyes open. "Yes," the soldier said, looking a bit distracted. "I . . . I don't know what to make of that." "Burn it," Elend said, turning on his bronze. "Your body knows how, if you let it." The soldier's frown deepened, and he cocked his head. Then, he began to thump with Allomantic power. Elend closed his eyes again, exhaling softly. Yomen was walking up behind Elend. "What is this?" "The mists were never our enemy, Yomen," Elend said, eyes still closed. "They were just trying to help." "Help? Help how? What are you talking about?" Elend opened his eyes, turning. "They weren't killing us, Yomen. They weren't making us sick. They were Snapping us. Bringing us power. Making us able to fight." "My lord!" a voice suddenly called. Elend turned as a frazzled soldier stumbled into the room. "My lords! The koloss are attacking! They're charging the city!" Elend felt a start. Ruin. It knows what I just discovered—it knows it needs to attack now, rather than wait for more troops. Because I know the secret! "Yomen, gather every bit of powdered metal you can find in this city!" Elend yelled. "Pewter, tin, steel, and iron! Get it to anyone who has been stricken by the mists! Make them drink it down!" "Why?" Yomen said, still confused. Elend turned, smiling. "Because they are now Allomancers. This city isn't going to fall as easily as everyone assumed. If you need me, I'll be on the front lines!" There is something special about the number sixteen. For one thing, it was Preservation's sign to mankind. Preservation knew, even before he imprisoned Ruin, that he wouldn't be able to communicate with humankind once he diminished himself. And so, he left clues—clues that couldn't be altered by Ruin. Clues that related back to the fundamental laws of the universe. The number was meant to be proof that something unnatural was happening, and that there was help to be found. It may have taken us long to figure this out, but when we eventually did understand the clue—late though it was—it provided a much-needed boost. As for the other aspects of the number . . . well, even I am still investigating that. Suffice it to say that it has great ramifications regarding how the world, and the universe itself, works.

SAZED TAPPED HIS PEN against the metal paper, frowning slightly. "Very little of this last chunk is different from what I knew before," he said. "Ruin changed small things—perhaps to keep me from noticing the alterations. It's obvious that he wanted to make me realize that Vin was the Hero of Ages." "He wanted her to release him," said Haddek, leader of the First Generation. His companions nodded. "Perhaps she was never the Hero," one of the others offered. Sazed shook his head. "I believe that she is. These prophecies still refer to her—even the unaltered ones that you have told me. They talk of one who is separate from the Terris people, a king of men, a rebel caught between two worlds. Ruin just emphasized that Vin was the one, since he wanted her to come and free him." "We always assumed that the Hero would be a man," Haddek said in his wheezing voice. "So did everyone else," Sazed said. "But, you said yourself that all the prophecies use gender-neutral pronouns. That had to be intentional—one does not use such language in old Terris by accident. The neutral case was chosen so that we wouldn't know whether the Hero was male or female." Several of the ancient Terrismen nodded. They worked by the quiet blue light of the glowing stones, still sitting in the chamber with the metal walls—which, from what Sazed had been able to gather, was something of a holy place for the kandra. He tapped his pen, frowning. What was bothering him? They say I will hold the future of the entire world on my arms. . . . Alendi's words, from his logbook written so long ago. The words of the First Generation confirmed that was true. There was still something for Vin to do. Yet, the power at the Well of Ascension was gone. Used up. How could she fight without it? Sazed looked up at his audience of ancient kandra. "What was the power at the Well of Ascension, anyway?" "Even we are not certain of that, young one," Haddek said. "By the time we lived as men, our gods had already passed from this world, leaving the Terris with only the hope of the Hero." "Tell me of this thing," Sazed said, leaning forward. "How did your gods pass from this world?" "Ruin and Preservation," said one of the others. "They created our world, and our people." "Neither could create alone," Haddek said. "No, they could not. For, to preserve something is not to create it—and neither can you create through destruction only." It was a common theme in mythology—Sazed had read it in dozens of the religions he'd studied. The world being created out of a clash between two forces, sometimes rendered as chaos and order, sometimes named destruction and protection. That bothered him a little bit. He was hoping to discover something new in the things men were telling him. And yet . . . just because something was common, did that make it false? Or, could all of those mythologies

have a shared, and true, root? "They created the world," Sazed said. "Then left?" "Not immediately," Haddek said. "But, here is the trick, young one. They had a deal, those two. Preservation wanted to create men—to create life capable of emotion. He obtained a promise from Ruin to help make men." "But at a cost," one of the others whispered. "What cost?" Sazed asked. "That Ruin could one day be allowed destroy the world," Haddek replied. The circular chamber fell silent. "Hence the betrayal," Haddek said. "Preservation gave his life to imprison Ruin, to keep him from destroying the world." Another common mythological theme—the martyr god. It was one that Sazed himself had witnessed in the birth of the Church of the Survivor. Yet . . . this time it's my own religion, he thought. He frowned, leaning back, trying to decide how he felt. For some reason, he had assumed that the truth would be different. The scholarly side of him argued with his desire for belief. How could he believe in something so filled with mythological clichés? He'd come all this way, believing that he'd been given one last chance to find the truth. Yet, now that he studied it, he was finding that it was shockingly similar to religions he had rejected as false. "You seem disturbed, child," Haddek said. "Are you that worried about the things we say?" "I apologize," Sazed said. "This is a personal problem, not related to the fate of the Hero of Ages." "Please, speak," one of the others said. "It is complicated," Sazed said. "For some time now, I have been searching through the religions of mankind, trying to ascertain which of their teachings were true. I had begun to despair that I would ever find a religion that offered the answers I sought. Then, I learned that my own religion still existed, protected by the kandra. I came here, hoping to find the truth." "This is the truth," one of the kandra said. "That's what every religion teaches," Sazed said, frustration mounting. "Yet, in each of them I find inconsistencies, logical leaps, and demands of faith I find impossible to accept. "It sounds to me, young one," Haddek said, "that you're searching for something that cannot be found." "The truth?" Sazed said. "No," Haddek replied. "A religion that requires no faith of its believers." Another of the kandra elders nodded. "We follow the Father and the First Contract, but our faith is not in him. It's in . . . something higher. We trust that Preservation planned for this day, and that his desire to protect will prove more powerful than Ruin's desire to destroy." "But you don't know," Sazed said. "You are offered proof only once you believe, but if you believe, you can find proof in anything. It is a logical conundrum." "Faith isn't about logic, son," Haddek said. "Perhaps that's your problem. You cannot 'disprove' the things you study, any more than we can prove to you that the Hero will save us. We simply must believe it, and

accept the things Preservation has taught us." It wasn't enough for Sazed. However, for the moment, he decided to move on. He didn't have all the facts about the Terris religion yet. Perhaps once he had them, he would be able to sort this all out. "You spoke of the prison of Ruin," Sazed said. "Tell me how this relates to the power that Lady Vin used." "Gods don't have bodies like those of men," Haddek said. "They are . . . forces. Powers. Preservation's mind passed, but he left his power behind." "In the form of a pool of liquid?" Sazed said. The members of the First Generation nodded. "And the dark black smoke outside?" Sazed asked. "Ruin," Haddek said. "Waiting, watching, during his imprisonment." Sazed frowned. "The cavern of smoke was very much larger than the Well of Ascension. Why the disparity? Was Ruin that much more powerful?" Haddek snorted quietly. "They were equally powerful, young one. They were forces, not men. Two aspects of a single power. Is one side of a coin more 'powerful' than the other? They pushed equally upon the world around them." "Though," one of the others added, "there is a story that Preservation gave too much of himself to make mankind, to create something that had more of Preservation in them than they had of Ruin. Yet, it would be only a small amount in each individual. Tiny . . . easy to miss, except over a long, long time . . ." "So, why the difference in size?" Sazed asked. "You aren't seeing, young one," Haddek said. "The power in that pool, that wasn't Preservation." "But, you just said—" "It was part of Preservation, to be sure," Haddek continued. "But, he was a force—his influence is everywhere. Some of it, perhaps, concentrated into that pool. The rest is . . . elsewhere and everywhere." "But Ruin, his mind was focused there," another kandra said. "And so, his power tended to coalesce there. Much more of it, at least, than that of Preservation." "But not all of it," another one said, laughing. Sazed cocked his head. "Not all of it? It, too, was spread out across the world, I assume?" "In a way," Haddek said. "We now speak of things in the First Contract," one of the other kandra warned. Haddek paused, then turned, studying Sazed's eyes. "If what this man says is true, then Ruin has escaped. That means he will be coming for his body. His . . . power." Sazed felt a chill. "It's here?" he asked quietly. Haddek nodded. "We were to gather it. The First Contract, the Lord Ruler named it—our charge in this world." "The other Children had a purpose," another kandra added. "The koloss, they were created to fight. The Inquisitors, they were created to be priests. Our task was different." "Gather the power," Haddek said. "And protect it. Hide it. Keep it. For the Father knew Ruin would escape one day. And on that day, he would begin searching for his body." The group of aged

kandra looked past Sazed. He frowned, turning to follow their eyes. They were looking toward the metal dais. Slowly, Sazed stood, walking across the stone floor. The dais was large—perhaps twenty feet across—but not very high. He stepped onto it, causing one of the kandra behind him to gasp. Yet, none of them called out to stop him. There was a seam down the middle of the circular platform, and a hole—perhaps the size of a large coin—at the center. Sazed peered through the hole, but it was too dark to see anything. He stepped back. I should have a little left, he thought, glancing toward his table, with its metal-minds. I refilled that ring for a few months before I gave up on my metalminds. He walked over quickly, selecting a small pewter ring off of the table. He slipped it on, then looked up at the members of the First Generation. They turned from his querying look. "Do what you must, child," Haddek said, his aged voice echoing in the room. "We could not stop you if we wished." Sazed walked back to the dais, then tapped his pewtermind for the strength he had stored in it over a year ago. His body immediately grew several times stronger than normal, and his robes suddenly felt tight. With hands now thick with muscles, he reached down and—bracing himself against the rough floor—shoved against one side of the disk on the floor. It ground against stone as it moved, uncovering a large pit. Something glittered beneath. Sazed froze, his strength—and body—deflating as he released his pewtermind. His robes became loose again. The room was silent. Sazed stared at the half-covered pit, and at the enormous pile of nuggets hidden in the floor. "The Trust, we call it," Haddek said with a soft voice. "Given for our safekeeping by the Father." Atium. Thousands upon thousands of beads of it. Sazed gasped. "The Lord Ruler's atium stockpile . . . It was here all along." "Most of that atium never left the Pits of Hathsin," Haddek said. "There were obligators on staff at all times—but never Inquisitors, for the Father knew that they could be corrupted. The obligators broke the geodes in secret, inside of a metal room constructed for the purpose, then took out the atium. The noble family then transported the empty geodes to Luthadel, never knowing that they didn't have any atium in their possession at all. What atium the Lord Ruler did get, and distribute, to the nobility was brought in by the obligators. They disguised the atium as Ministry funds and hid the beads in piles of coins so that Ruin wouldn't see them as they were transported in convoys full of new acolytes to Luthadel." Sazed stood, dumbstruck. Here . . . all along. Just a short distance from the very caves where Kelsier raised his army. A short journey from Luthadel, completely unprotected all these years. Yet hidden so well. "You worked for atium," Sazed said, looking up. "The kandra Contracts, they were paid in atium." Haddek

nodded. "We were to gather all of it we could. What didn't end up in our hands, the Mistborn burned away. Some of the houses kept small stockpiles, but the Father's taxes and fees kept most of the atium flowing back to him as payments. And, eventually, almost all of it ended up here." Sazed looked down. Such a fortune, he thought. Such . . . power. Atium never had fit in with the other metals. Every one of them, even aluminum and duralumin, could be mined or created through natural processes. Atium, however—it had only ever come from a single place, its appearance mysterious and strange. Its power had allowed one to do something unlike anything else in Allomancy or Feruchemy. It let one see the future. Not a thing of men at all, more . . . a thing of gods. TenSoon pushed toward the crest of the hill, moving through ash that was so high that he was glad he had switched to the horse's body, for a wolfhound could never have moved through piles so deep. The ash fell strongly where he was, limiting his visibility. I will never make it to Fadrex at this rate, he thought with anger. Even pushing hard, moving in the massive horse's body, he was moving too slowly to get far from the Homeland. He finally crested the hill, his breath coming in puffing snorts out the horse's snout. At the top of the hill he froze, shocked. The landscape before him was burning. Tyrian, closest of the ashmounts to Luthadel, stood in the near distance, half of its top blown free from some violent eruption. The air itself seemed to burn with tongues of flame, and the broad plain in front of TenSoon was clogged with flowing lava. It was a deep, powerful red. Even from a distance, he could feel the heat pushing against him. He stood for a long moment, deep in ash, gazing upon a landscape that had once contained villages, forests, and roads. All was now gone, burnt away. The earth had cracked in the distance, and more lava seemed to be spilling out of it. By the First Contract, he thought with despair. He could detour to the south, continue on to Fadrex as if he'd come in a straight line from Luthadel, but for some reason, he found it hard to get up the motivation. It was too late. Yes, there are sixteen metals. I find it highly unlikely that the Lord Ruler did not know of them all. Indeed, the fact that he spoke of several on the plates in the storage caches meant that he knew at least of those. I must assume that he did not tell mankind of them earlier for a reason. Perhaps he held them back to give him a secret edge, much as he kept back the single nugget of Preservation's body that made men into Mistborn. Or, perhaps he simply decided that mankind had enough power in the ten metals they already understood. Some things we shall

never know. Part of me still finds what he did regrettable. During the thousand-year reign of the Lord Ruler, how many people were born, Snapped, lived, and died never knowing that they were Mistings, simply because their metals were unknown? Of course, this did give us a slight advantage, at the end. Ruin had a lot of trouble giving duralumin to his Inquisitors, since they'd need an Allomancer who could burn it to kill before they could use it. And, since none of the duralumin Mistings in the world knew about their power, they didn't burn it and reveal themselves to Ruin. That left most Inquisitors without the power of duralumin, save in a few important cases—such as Marsh—where they got it from a Mistborn. This was usually considered a waste, for if one killed a Mistborn with Hemalurgy, one could draw out only one of their sixteen powers and lost the rest. Ruin considered it much better to try to subvert them and gain access to all of their power. IT BEGAN RAINING just before Vin reached Luthadel. A quiet, cold drizzle that wetted the night, but did not banish the mists. She flared her bronze. In the distance, she could sense Allomancers. Mistborn. Chasing her. There were at least a dozen of them, homing in on her position. She landed on the city wall, bare feet slipping just slightly on the stones. Beyond her stretched Luthadel, even now proud in its sprawl. Founded a thousand years before by the Lord Ruler, it was built atop the Well of Ascension itself. During the ten centuries of his reign, Luthadel had burgeoned, becoming the most important—and most crowded—place in all of the empire. And it was dying. Vin stood up straight, looking out over the vast city. Pockets of flame flared where buildings had caught fire. The flames defied the rain, illuminating the various slums and other neighborhoods like watch fires in the night. In their light, she could see that the city was a wreck. Entire swathes of the town had been torn apart, the buildings broken or burned. The streets were eerily vacant—nobody fought the fires, nobody huddled in the gutters. The capital, once home to hundreds of thousands, seemed empty. Wind blew through Vin's rain-wetted hair and she felt a shiver. The mists, as usual, stayed away from her—pushed aside by her Allomancy. She was alone in the largest city in the world. No. Not alone. She could feel them approaching—Ruin's minions. She had led them here, made them assume that she was bringing them to the atium. There would be far more of them than she could fight. She was doomed. That was the idea. She launched off the wall, shooting through the mist, ash, and rain. She wore her mistcloak, more out of nostalgia than utility. It was the same one she'd always had—the one that Kelsier had given her on her very first night of training. She landed with a splash atop a building, then leaped again, bounding over the city. She wasn't certain if it

was poetic or ominous that it was raining this night. There had been another night when she had visited Kredik Shaw in the rain. A part of her still thought she should have died that night. She landed on the street, then stood upright, her tasseled mistcloak falling around her, hiding her arms and chest. She stood quietly, looking up at Kredik Shaw, the Hill of a Thousand Spires. The Lord Ruler's palace, location of the Well of Ascension. The building was an assemblage of several low wings topped by dozens of rising towers, spires, and spines. The awful near-symmetry of the amalgamation was only made more unsettling by the presence of the mists and ash. The building had been abandoned since the Lord Ruler's death. The doors were broken, and she could see shattered windows in the walls. Kredik Shaw was as dead as the city it once had dominated. A figure stepped up beside her. "Here?" Ruin said. "This is where you lead me? We have searched this place." Vin remained quiet, looking up at the spires. Black fingers of metal reaching up into a blacker sky. "My Inquisitors are coming," Ruin whispered. "You shouldn't have revealed yourself," Vin said, not looking toward him. "You should have waited until I retrieved the atium. I'll never do it now." "Ah, but I no longer believe that you have it," Ruin said in his fatherly voice. "Child . . . child. I believed you at first—indeed, I gathered my powers, ready to face you. When you came here, however, I knew that you had misled me." "You don't know that for certain," Vin said softly, voice complemented by the quiet rain. Silence. "No," Ruin finally said. "Then you'll have to try to make me talk," she whispered. "Try? You realize the forces I can bring to bear against you, child? You realize the power I have, the destruction I represent? I am mountains that crush. I am waves that crash. I am storms that shatter. I am the end." Vin continued to stare up into the falling rain. She didn't question her plan—it wasn't really her way. She'd decided what to do. It was time to spring Ruin's trap. She was tired of being manipulated. "You will never have it," Vin said. "Not while I live." Ruin screamed, a sound of primal anger, of something that had to destroy. Then, he vanished. Lightning flared, its light a wave of power moving through the mist. It illuminated robed figures in the blackened rain, walking toward her. Surrounding her. Vin turned toward a ruined building a short distance away, watching as a figure climbed up over the rubble. Now lit only faintly by starlight, the figure had a bare chest, a stark rib cage, and taut muscles. Rain ran down his skin, dripping from the spikes that sprouted from his chest. One between each set of ribs. His face bore spikes in the eyes—one of which had been pounded back into his skull, crushing the socket. Normal Inquisitors had nine spikes. The one she'd

killed with Elend had ten. Marsh appeared to have upward of twenty. He growled softly. And the fight began. Vin flung back her cloak, spraying water from the tassels, and Pushed herself forward. Thirteen Inquisitors hurtled through the night sky toward her. Vin ducked a flight of axe swings, then slammed a Push toward a pair of Inquisitors, burning duralumin. The creatures were thrown backward by their spikes, and Vin accelerated in a sudden lurch to the side. She hit another Inquisitor, feet against his chest. Water sprayed, flecked with ash, as Vin reached down and grabbed one of the spikes in the Inquisitor's eyes. Then she Pulled herself backward and flared pewter. She lurched, and the spike came free. The Inquisitor screamed, but did not fall dead. It looked at her, one side of the head a gaping hole, and hissed. Removing one eye-spike, apparently, wasn't enough to kill. Ruin laughed in her head. The spikeless Inquisitor reached for her, and Vin Pulled herself into the sky, yanking on one of the metal spires of Kredik Shaw. She downed the contents of a metal vial as she flew, restoring her steel. A dozen figures in black robes sprang up through the falling rain to follow. Marsh remained below, watching. Vin gritted her teeth, then whipped out a pair of daggers and Pushed herself back down—directly toward the Inquisitors. She passed among them, surprising several, who had probably expected her to jump away. She slammed directly into the creature she'd pulled the spike from, spinning him in the air, ramming her daggers into his chest. He gritted his teeth, laughing, then slapped her arms apart and kicked her back toward the ground. She fell with the rain. Vin hit hard, but managed to land on her feet. The Inquisitor hit the cobblestones back-first, her daggers still in his chest. But he stood up easily, tossing the daggers aside, shattering them on the cobblestones. Then he moved suddenly. Too quickly. Vin didn't have time to think as he splashed through the misty rain, grabbing her by the throat. I've seen that speed before, she thought as she struggled. Not just from Inquisitors. From Sazed. That's a Feruchemical power. Just like the strength Marsh used earlier. That was the reason for the new spikes. These other Inquisitors didn't have as many as Marsh, but they obviously had some new powers. Strength. Speed. Each of these creatures was, essentially, another Lord Ruler. You see? Ruin asked. Vin cried out, duralumin-Pushing against the Inquisitor, tearing herself out of his grasp. The move left her throat bleeding from his fingernails, and she had to down another vial of metals—her last—to restore her steel as she hydroplaned across the wet ground. Feruchemical storages run out, she told herself. Even Allomancers make mistakes. I can win. Yet, she wavered, breathing heavily as she came to a rest, one hand to the ground, up to the wrist in cold rainwater. Kelsier had struggled fighting one Inquisitor. What was she doing fighting thirteen? Sodden-robed figures landed around her. Vin kicked, slamming