This was a fragment of text from before the Lord Ruler’s reign. A fragment written by a Terris philosopher—a holy man. Despite ten centuries of searching, the Keepers had never fulfilled the original goal of their creation: they had never discovered their own Terris religion.
The Lord Ruler had squelched Terris religious teachings soon after his rise to power. His persecution of the Terris people—his own people—had been the most complete of his long reign, and the Keepers had never found more than vague fragments regarding what their own people had once believed.
“I have to copy this down, Marsh,” Sazed said, reaching for his pack. Taking a visual memory wouldn’t work—no man could stare at a wall of so much text, then remember the words. He could, perhaps, read them into his coppermind. However, he wanted a physical record, one that perfectly preserved the structure of lines and punctuation.
Marsh shook his head. “We will not stay here. I do not think we should even have come.”
Sazed paused, looking up. Then he pulled several large sheets of paper from his pack. “Very well, then,” he said. “I’ll take a rubbing. That will be better anyway, I think. It will let me see the text exactly as it was written.”
Marsh nodded, and Sazed got out his charcoal.
This discovery … he thought with excitement. This will be like Rashek’s logbook. We are getting close!
However, even as he began the rubbing—his hands moving carefully and precisely—another thought occurred to him. With a text like this in his possession, his sense of duty would no longer let him wander the villages. He had to return to the north to share what he had found, lest he die and this text be lost. He had to go to Terris.
Or … to Luthadel. From there he could send messages north. He had a valid excuse to get back to the center of action, to see the other crewmembers again.
Why did that make him feel even more guilty?
When I finally had the realization—finally connected all of the signs of the Anticipation to Alendi—I was so excited. Yet, when I announced my discovery to the other Worldbringers, I was met with scorn.
Oh, how I wish that I had listened to them.
13
MIST SWIRLED AND SPUN, LIKE monochrome paints running together on a canvas. Light died in the west, and night came of age.
Vin frowned. “Does it seem like the mists are coming earlier?”
“Earlier?” OreSeur asked in his muffled voice. The kandra wolfhound sat next to her on the rooftop.
Vin nodded. “Before, the mists didn’t start to appear until after it grew dark, right?”
“It is dark, Mistress.”
“But they’re already here—they started to gather when the sun was barely beginning to set.”
“I don’t see that it matters, Mistress. Perhaps the mists are simply like other weather patterns—they vary, sometimes.”
“Doesn’t it even seem a little strange to you?”
“I will think it strange if you wish me to, Mistress,” OreSeur said.
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“I apologize, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “Tell me what you do mean, and I will be certain to believe as commanded.”
Vin sighed, rubbing her brow. I wish Sazed were back … she thought. It was an idle wish, however. Even if Sazed were in Luthadel, he wouldn’t be her steward. The Terrismen no longer called any man master. She’d have to make do with OreSeur. The kandra, at least, could provide information that Sazed could not—assuming she could get it out of him.
“We need to find the impostor,” Vin said. “The one who … replaced someone.”
“Yes, Mistress,” OreSeur said.
Vin sat back in the mists, reclining on a slanted rooftop, resting her arms back on the tiles. “Then, I need to know more about you.”
“Me, Mistress?”
“Kandra in general. If I’m going to find this impostor, I need to know how he thinks, need to understand his motivations.”
“His motivations will be simple, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “He will be following his Contract.”
“What if he’s acting without a Contract?”
OreSeur shook his canine head. “Kandra always have a Contract. Without one, they are not allowed to enter human society.”
“Never?” Vin asked.
“Never.”
“And what if this is some kind of rogue kandra?” Vin said.
“Such a thing does not exist,” OreSeur said firmly.
Oh? Vin thought skeptically. However, she let the matter drop. There was little reason for a kandra to infiltrate the palace on his own; it was far more likely that one of Elend’s enemies had sent the creature. One of the warlords, perhaps, or maybe the obligators. Even the other nobility in the city would have had good reason to spy on Elend.
“Okay,” Vin said. “The kandra is a spy, sent to gather information for another human.”
“Yes.”
“But,” Vin said, “if he did take the body of someone in the palace, he didn’t kill them himself. Kandra can’t kill humans, right?”
OreSeur nodded. “We are all bound by that rule.”
“So, somebody snuck into the palace, murdered a member of the staff, then had their kandra take the body.” She paused, trying to work through the problem. “The most dangerous possibilities—the crewmembers—should be considered first. Fortunately, since the killing happened yesterday, we can eliminate Breeze, who was outside the city at the time.”
OreSeur nodded.
“We can eliminate Elend as well,” Vin said. “He was with us on the wall yesterday.”
“That still leaves the majority of the crew, Mistress.”
Vin frowned, sitting back. She’d tried to establish solid alibis for Ham, Dockson, Clubs, and Spook. However, all of them had had at least a few hours unaccounted for. Long enough for a kandra to digest them and take their place.
“All right,” she said. “So, how do I find the impostor? How can I tell him from other people?”
OreSeur sat quietly in the mists.
“There has to be a way,” Vin said. “His imitation can’t be perfect. Would cutting him work?”
OreSeur shook his head. “Kandra replicate a body perfectly, Mistress—blood, flesh, skin, and muscle. You have seen that when I split my skin.”
Vin sighed, standing and stepping up on the tip of the peaked rooftop. The mists were already full, and the night was quickly becoming black. She began to walk idly back and forth on the ridge, an Allomancer’s balance keeping her from falling.
“Perhaps I can just see who isn’t acting oddly,” she said. “Are most kandra as good at imitation as you are?”
“Among kandra, my own skill is average. Some are worse, others are better.”
“But no actor is perfect,” Vin said.
“Kandra don’t often make mistakes, Mistress,” OreSeur said. “But, this is probably your best method. Be warned, however—he could be anyone. My kind are very skilled.”
Vin paused. It’s not Elend, she told herself forcibly. He was with me all day yesterday. Except in the morning.