The Mistborn Trilogy (96 page)

“Well, I think it was a creature of some sort—a dark and evil thing that nearly destroyed the world. The Lord Ruler traveled to the Well of Ascension, where he was given the power to defeat the Deepness and unite mankind. There are several statues in the city depicting the event.”

Vin frowned. “Yes, but they never really show what the Deepness looked like. It’s depicted as a twisted lump at the Lord Ruler’s feet.”

“Well, the last person who actually saw the Deepness died a year ago, so I guess we’ll have to make do with the statues.”

“Unless it comes back,” Vin said quietly.

Elend frowned, looking at her again. “Is that what this is about, Vin?” His face softened slightly. “Two armies aren’t enough? You have to worry about the fate of the world as well?”

Vin glanced down sheepishly, and Elend laughed, pulling her close. “Ah, Vin. I know you’re a bit paranoid—honestly, considering our situation, I’m starting to feel the same—but I think this is one problem you don’t have to worry about. I haven’t heard any reports of monstrous incarnations of evil rampaging across the land.”

Vin nodded, and Elend leaned back a bit, obviously assuming that he’d answered her question.

The Hero of Ages traveled to the Well of Ascension to defeat the Deepness,
she thought.
But the prophecies all said that the Hero shouldn’t take the Well’s power for himself. He was supposed to give it, trust in the power itself to destroy the Deepness.

Rashek didn’t do that—he took the power for himself. Wouldn’t that mean that the Deepness was never defeated? Why, then, wasn’t the world destroyed?

“The red sun and brown plants,” Vin said. “Did the Deepness do that?”

“Still thinking about that?” Elend frowned. “Red sun and brown plants? What other colors would they be?”

“Kelsier said that the sun was once yellow, and plants were green.”

“That’s an odd image.”

“Sazed agrees with Kelsier,” Vin said. “The legends all say that during the early days of the Lord Ruler, the sun changed colors, and ash began to fall from the skies.”

“Well,” Elend said, “I guess the Deepness
could
have had something to do with it. I don’t know, honestly.” He sat musingly for a few moments. “Green plants? Why not purple or blue? So odd….”

The Hero of Ages traveled north, to the Well of Ascension,
Vin thought again. She turned slightly, her eyes drawn toward the Terris mountains so far away. Was it still up there? The Well of Ascension?

“Did you have any luck getting information out of OreSeur?” Elend asked. “Anything to help us find the spy?”

Vin shrugged. “He told me that kandra can’t use Allomancy.”

“So, you can find our impostor that way?” Elend said, perking up.

“Maybe,” Vin said. “I can test Spook and Ham, at least. Regular people will be more difficult—though kandra can’t be Soothed, so maybe that will let me find the spy.”

“That sounds promising,” Elend said.

Vin nodded. The thief in her, the paranoid girl that Elend always teased, itched to use Allomancy on him—to test him, to see if he reacted to her Pushes and Pulls. She stopped herself. This one man she would trust. The others she would test, but she would not question Elend. In a way, she’d rather trust him and be wrong than deal with the worry of mistrust.

I finally understand,
she thought with a start.
Kelsier. I understand what it was like for you with Mare. I won’t make your same mistake.

Elend was looking at her.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re smiling,” he said. “Do I get to hear the joke?”

She hugged him. “No,” she said simply.

Elend smiled. “All right then. You can test Spook and Ham, but I’m pretty sure the impostor isn’t one of the crew—I talked to them all today, and they were all themselves. We need to search the palace staff.”

He doesn’t know how good kandra can be.
The enemy kandra had probably studied his victim for months and months, learning and memorizing their every mannerism.

“I’ve spoken to Ham and Demoux,” Elend said. “As members of the palace guard, they know about the bones—and Ham was able to guess what they were. Hopefully, they can sort through the staff with minimal disturbance and locate the impostor.”

Vin’s senses itched at how trusting Elend was.
No,
she thought.
Let him assume the best. He has enough to worry about. Besides, perhaps the kandra
is
imitating someone outside our core team. Elend can search that avenue.

And, if the impostor is a member of the crew…Well, that’s the sort of situation where my paranoia comes in handy.

“Anyway,” Elend said, standing. “I have a few things to check on before it gets too late.”

Vin nodded. He gave her a long kiss, then left. She sat on the table for a few moments longer, not looking at the massive rose window, but at the smaller window to the side, which she’d left slightly open. It stood, a doorway into the night. Mist churned in the blackness, tentatively sending tendrils into the room, evaporating quietly in the warmth.

“I will not fear you,” Vin whispered. “And I will find your secret.” She climbed off the table and slipped out the window, back out to meet with OreSeur and do another check of the palace grounds.

On the eighth day out of the Conventical, Sazed awoke to find himself alone.

He stood, pushing off his blanket and the light film of ash that had fallen during the night. Marsh’s place beneath the tree’s canopy was empty, though a patch of bare earth indicated where the Inquisitor had slept.

Sazed stood, following Marsh’s footsteps out into the harsh red sunlight. The ash was deeper here, without the cover of trees, and there was also more wind blowing it into drifts. Sazed regarded the windswept landscape. There was no further sign of Marsh.

Sazed returned to camp. The trees here—in the middle of the Eastern Dominance—rose twisted and knotted, but they had shelflike, overlapping branches, thick with brown needles. These provided decent shelter, though the ash seemed capable of infiltrating any sanctuary.

Sazed made a simple soup for breakfast. Marsh did not return. Sazed washed his brown travel robes in a nearby stream. Marsh did not return. Sazed sewed a rent in his sleeve, oiled his walking boots, and shaved his head. Marsh did not return. Sazed got out the rubbing he’d made in the Conventical, transcribed a few words, then forced himself to put the sheet away—he worried about blurring the words by opening it too often or by getting ash on it. Better to wait until he could have a proper desk and clean room.

Marsh did not return.

Finally, Sazed left. He couldn’t define the sense of urgency that he felt—part excitement to share what he had learned, part desire to see how Vin and the young king Elend Venture were handling events in Luthadel.

Marsh knew the way. He would catch up.

Sazed raised his hand, shading his eyes against the red sunlight, looking down from his hilltop vantage. There was a slight darkness on the horizon, to the east of the main road. He tapped his geography coppermind, seeking out descriptions of the Eastern Dominance.

The knowledge swelled his mind, blessing him with recollection. The darkness was a village named Urbene. He searched through one of his indexes, looking for the right gazetteer. The index was growing fuzzy, its information difficult to remember—which meant that he’d switched it from coppermind to memory and back too many times. Knowledge inside a coppermind would remain pristine, but anything inside his head—even for only a few moments—would decay. He’d have to re-memorize the index later.

He found what he was looking for, and dumped the right memories into his head. The gazetteer listed Urbene as “picturesque,” which probably meant that some important nobleman had decided to make his manor there. The listing said that the skaa of Urbene were herdsmen.

Sazed scribbled a note to himself, then redeposited the gazetteer’s memories. Reading the note told him what he had just forgotten. Like the index, the gazetteer memories had inevitably decayed slightly during their stay in his head. Fortunately, he had a second set of copperminds hidden back up in Terris, and would use those to pass his knowledge on to another Keeper. His current copperminds were for everyday use. Unapplied knowledge benefited no one.

He shouldered his pack. A visit to the village would do him some good, even if it slowed him down. His stomach agreed with the decision. It was unlikely the peasants would have much in the way of food, but perhaps they would be able to provide something other than broth. Besides, they might have news of events at Luthadel.

He hiked down the short hill, taking the smaller, eastern fork in the road. Once, there had been little travel in the Final Empire. The Lord Ruler had forbidden skaa to leave their indentured lands, and only thieves and rebels had dared disobey. Still, most of the nobility had made their livings by trading, so a village such as this one might be accustomed to visitors.

Sazed began to notice the oddities immediately. Goats roamed the countryside along the road, unwatched. Sazed paused, then dug a coppermind from his pack. He searched through it as he walked. One book on husbandry claimed that herdsmen sometimes left their flocks alone to graze. Yet, the unwatched animals made him nervous. He quickened his pace.

Just to the south, the skaa starve,
he thought.
Yet here, livestock is so plentiful that nobody can be spared to keep it safe from bandits or predators?

The small village appeared in the distance. Sazed could almost convince himself that the lack of activity—the lack of movement in the streets, the derelict doors and shutters swinging in the breeze—was due to his approach. Perhaps the people were so scared that they were hiding. Or, perhaps they simply were all out. Tending flocks….

Sazed stopped. A shift in the wind brought a telltale scent from the village. The skaa weren’t hiding, and they hadn’t fled. It was the scent of rotting bodies.

Suddenly urgent, Sazed pulled out a small ring—a scent tinmind—and slipped it on his thumb. The smell on the wind, it didn’t seem like that of a slaughter. It was a mustier, dirtier smell. A smell not only of death, but of corruption, unwashed bodies, and waste. He reversed the use of the tinmind, filling it instead of tapping it, and his ability to smell grew very weak—keeping him from gagging.

He continued on, carefully entering the village proper. Like most skaa villages, Urbene was organized simply. It had a group of ten large hovels built in a loose circle with a well at the center. The buildings were wood, and for thatching they used the same needle-bearing branches from the trees he’d seen. Overseers’ huts, along with a fine nobleman’s manor, stood a little farther up the valley.

If it hadn’t been for the smell—and the sense of haunted emptiness—Sazed might have agreed with his gazetteer’s description of Urbene. For skaa residences, the hovels looked well maintained, and the village lay in a quiet hollow amid the rising landscape.

It wasn’t until he got a little closer that he found the first bodies. They lay scattered around the doorway to the nearest hovel, about a half-dozen of them. Sazed approached carefully, but could quickly see that the corpses were at least several days old. He knelt beside the first one, that of a woman, and could see no visible cause of death. The others were the same.

Nervous, Sazed forced himself to reach up and pull open the door to the hovel. The stench from inside was so strong that he could smell it through his tinmind.

The hovel, like most, was only a single chamber. It was filled with bodies. Most lay wrapped in thin blankets; some sat with backs pressed up against the walls, rotting heads hanging limply from their necks. They had gaunt, nearly fleshless bodies with withered limbs and protruding ribs. Haunted, unseeing eyes sat in desiccated faces.

These people had died of starvation and dehydration.

Sazed stumbled from the hovel, head bowed. He didn’t expect to find anything different in the other buildings, but he checked anyway. He saw the same scene repeated again and again. Woundless corpses on the ground outside; many more bodies huddled inside. Flies buzzing about in swarms, covering faces. In several of the buildings he found gnawed human bones at the center of the room.

He stumbled out of the final hovel, breathing deeply through his mouth. Dozens of people, over a hundred total, dead for no obvious reason. What possibly could have caused so many of them to simply sit, hidden in their houses, while they ran out of food and water? How could they have starved when there were beasts running free? And what had killed those that he’d found outside, lying in the ash? They didn’t seem as emaciated as the ones inside, though from the level of decomposition, it was difficult to tell.

I must be mistaken about the starvation,
Sazed told himself.
It must have been a plague of some sort, a disease. That is a much more logical explanation.
He searched through his medical coppermind. Surely there were diseases that could strike quickly, leaving their victims weakened. And the survivors must have fled. Leaving behind their loved ones. Not taking any of the animals from their pastures….

Sazed frowned. At that moment, he thought he heard something.

He spun, drawing auditory power from his hearing tinmind. The sounds were there—the sound of breathing, the sound of movement, coming from one of the hovels he’d visited. He dashed forward, throwing open the door, looking again on the sorry dead. The corpses lay where they had been before. Sazed studied them very carefully, this time watching until he found the one whose chest was moving.

By the forgotten gods…
Sazed thought. The man didn’t need to work hard to feign death. His hair had fallen out, and his eyes were sunken into his face. Though he didn’t look particularly starved, Sazed must have missed seeing him because of his dirty, almost corpselike body.

Sazed stepped toward the man. “I am a friend,” he said quietly. The man remained motionless. Sazed frowned as he walked forward and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder.

The man’s eyes snapped open, and he cried out, jumping to his feet. Dazed and frenzied, he scrambled over corpses, moving to the back of the room. He huddled down, staring at Sazed.

“Please,” Sazed said, setting down his pack. “You mustn’t be afraid.” The only food he had besides broth spices was a few handfuls of meal, but he pulled some out. “I have food.”

The man shook his head. “There is no food,” he whispered. “We ate it all. Except…the food.” His eyes darted toward the center of the room. Toward the bones Sazed had noticed earlier. Uncooked, gnawed on, placed in a pile beneath a ragged cloth, as if to hide them.

“I didn’t eat the food,” the man whispered.

“I know,” Sazed said, taking a step forward. “But, there is other food. Outside.”

“Can’t go outside.”

“Why not?”

The man paused, then looked down. “Mist.”

Sazed glanced toward the doorway. The sun was nearing the horizon, but wouldn’t set for another hour or so. There was no mist. Not now, anyway.

Sazed felt a chill. He slowly turned back toward the man. “Mist…during the day?”

The man nodded.

“And it stayed?” Sazed asked. “It didn’t go away after a few hours?”

The man shook his head. “Days. Weeks. All mist.”

Lord Ruler!
Sazed thought, then caught himself. It had been a long time since he’d sworn by that creature’s name, even in his thoughts.

But for the mist to come during the day, then to stay—if this man were to be believed—for weeks…Sazed could imagine the skaa, frightened in their hovels, a thousand years of terror, tradition, and superstition keeping them from venturing outside.

But to remain inside until they starved? Even their fear of the mist, deep-seated though it was, wouldn’t have been enough to make them starve themselves to death, would it?

“Why didn’t you leave?” Sazed asked quietly.

“Some did,” the man said, nodding as if to himself. “Jell. You know what happened to him.”

Sazed frowned. “Dead?”

“Taken by the mist. Oh, how he shook. Was a bull-headed one, you know. Old Jell. Oh, how he shook. How he writhed when it took him.”

Sazed closed his eyes.
The corpses I found outside the doors.

“Some got away,” the man said.

Sazed snapped his eyes open. “What?”

The crazed villager nodded again. “Some got away, you know. They called to us, after leaving the village. Said it was all right. It didn’t take them. Don’t know why. It killed others, though. Some, it shook to the ground, but they got up later. Some it killed.”

“The mist let some survive, but it killed others?”

The man didn’t answer. He’d sat down, and now he lay back, staring unfocused at the ceiling.

“Please,” Sazed said. “You must answer me. Who did it kill and who did it let pass? What is the connection?”

The man turned toward him. “Time for food,” he said, then rose. He wandered over to a corpse, then pulled on an arm, ripping the rotted meat free. It was easy to see why he hadn’t starved to death like the others.

Sazed pushed aside nausea, striding across the room and grabbing the man’s arm as he raised the near fleshless bone to his lips. The man froze, then looked up at Sazed. “It’s not mine!” he yelped, dropping the bone and running to the back of the room.

Sazed stood for a moment.
I must hurry. I must get to Luthadel. There is more wrong with this world than bandits and armies.

The wild man watched with a feral sort of terror as Sazed picked up his pack, then paused and set it down again. He pulled out his largest pewtermind. He fastened the wide metal bracer to his forearm, then turned and walked toward the villager.

“No!” the man screamed, trying to dash to the side. Sazed tapped the pewtermind, pulling out a burst of strength. He felt his muscles enlarge, his robes growing tight. He snatched the villager as the man ran passed, then held him out, far enough away that the man couldn’t do either of them much harm.

Then he carried the man outside of the building.

The man stopped struggling as soon as they emerged into the sunlight. He looked up, as if seeing the sun for the first time. Sazed set him down, then released his pewtermind.

The man knelt, looking up at the sun, then turned to Sazed. “The Lord Ruler…why did he abandon us? Why did he go?”

“The Lord Ruler was a tyrant.”

The man shook his head. “He loved us. He ruled us. Now that he’s gone, the mists can kill us. They hate us.”

Then, surprisingly adroit, the man leaped to his feet and scrambled down the pathway out of the village. Sazed took a step forward, but paused. What would he do? Pull the man all the way to Luthadel? There was water in the well and there were animals to eat. Sazed could only hope that the poor wretch would be able to manage.