“Seems a bit cowardly to me,” Vin said.
“Ah, but it was a very prudent course. You see, Lady Vin, had I been captured, there are many things I could have revealed. The names of other Keepers, the location of our safe houses, the means by which we managed to hide ourselves in Terris culture. My brethren worked for many decades to make the Lord Ruler think that Feruchemy had finally been exterminated. By revealing myself, I could have undone all of that.”
“That would only have been bad had we failed,” Vin said. “We didn’t.”
“We could have.”
“We didn’t.”
Sazed paused, then smiled. Sometimes, in a world of debate, questions, and self-doubt, Vin’s simple bluntness was refreshing. “Regardless,” he continued, “Tindwyl is a member of the Synod—a group of Keeper elders who guide our sect. I have been in rebellion against the Synod a number of times during my past. And, by returning to Luthadel, I am defying them once again. She has good reason to be displeased with me.”
“Well, I think you’re doing the right thing,” Vin said. “We need you.”
“Thank you, Lady Vin.”
“I don’t think you have to listen to Tindwyl,” she said. “She’s the type who acts like she knows more than she does.”
“She is very wise.”
“She’s hard on Elend.”
“Then she probably does so because it is best for him,” Sazed said. “Do not judge her too harshly, child. If she seems off-putting, it is only because she has lived a very hard life.”
“Hard life?” Vin asked, tucking her notes back into her pocket.
“Yes, Lady Vin,” Sazed said. “You see, Tindwyl spent most of her life as a Terris mother.”
Vin hesitated, hand in pocket, looking surprised. “You mean … she was a Breeder?”
Sazed nodded. The Lord Ruler’s breeding program included selecting a few, special individuals to use for birthing new children—with the goal being to breed Feruchemy out of the population.
“Tindwyl had, at last count, birthed over twenty children,” he said. “Each with a different father. Tindwyl had her first child when she was fourteen, and spent her entire life being taken repeatedly by strange men until she became pregnant. And, because of the fertility drugs the Breeding masters forced upon her, she often bore twins or triplets.”
“I … see,” Vin said softly.
“You are not the only one who knew a terrible childhood, Lady Vin. Tindwyl is perhaps the strongest woman I know.”
“How did she bear it?” Vin asked quietly. “I think … I think I would probably have just killed myself.”
“She is a Keeper,” Sazed said. “She suffered the indignity because she knew that she did a great service for her people. You see, Feruchemy is hereditary. Tindwyl’s position as a mother ensured future generations of Feruchemists among our people. Ironically, she is exactly the sort of person that the Breeding masters were supposed to avoid letting reproduce.”
“But, how did such a thing happen?”
“The breeders assumed they’d already cut Feruchemy out of the population,” Sazed said. “They started looking to create other traits in the Terris—docility, temperance. They bred us like fine horses, and it was a great stroke when the Synod managed to get Tindwyl chosen for their program.
“Of course, Tindwyl has very little training in Feruchemy. She did, fortunately, receive some of the copperminds that we Keepers carry. So, during her many years locked away, she was able to study and read biographies. It was only during the last decade—her childbearing years through—that she was able to join and gain fellowship with the other Keepers.”
Sazed paused, then shook his head. “By comparison, the rest of us have known a life of freedom, I think.”
“Great,” Vin mumbled, standing and yawning. “Another reason for you to feel guilty.”
“You should sleep, Lady Vin,” Sazed noted.
“For a few hours,” Vin said, walking toward the door, leaving him alone again with his studies.
In the end, my pride may have doomed us all.
31
PHILEN FRANDEU WAS NOT SKAA. He had never been skaa. Skaa made things or grew things. Philen sold things. There was an enormous difference between the two.
Oh, some people had called him skaa. Even now, he could see that word in the eyes of some of the other Assemblymen. They regarded Philen and his fellow merchants with the same disdain that they gave the eight skaa workers on the Assembly. Couldn’t they see that the two groups were completely different?
Philen shifted a bit on the bench. Shouldn’t the Assembly hall at least have comfortable seating? They were waiting on just a few members; the tall clock in the corner said that fifteen minutes still remained until the meeting began. Oddly, one of those who had yet to arrive was Venture himself. King Elend was usually early.
Not king anymore, Philen thought with a smile. Just plain old Elend Venture. It was a poor name—not as good as Philen’s own. Of course, he had been just “Lin” until a year and a half ago. Philen Frandeu was what he had dubbed himself after the Collapse. It delighted him to no end that the others had taken to calling him the name without pause. But, why shouldn’t he have a grand name? A lord’s name? Was Philen not as good as any of the “noblemen” sitting aloofly in their places?
Oh, he was just as good. Better, even. Yes, they had called him skaa—but during those years, they had come to him out of need, and so their arrogant sneers had lacked power. He’d seen their insecurity. They’d needed him. A man they called skaa. But he’d also been a merchant. A merchant who wasn’t noble. Something that wasn’t supposed to have existed in the Lord Ruler’s perfect little empire.
But, noblemen merchants had to work with the obligators. And, where there had been obligators, nothing illegal could occur. Hence Philen. He’d been … an intermediary, of sorts. A man capable of arranging deals between interested parties who, for various reasons, wanted to avoid the watchful eyes of the Lord Ruler’s obligators. Philen hadn’t been part of a thieving crew—no, that was far too dangerous. And far too mundane.
He had been born with an eye for finances and trades. Give him two rocks, and he’d have a quarry by the end of the week. Give him a spoke, and he’d change it to a fine horse-drawn carriage. Two bits of corn, and he’d eventually have a massive shipment of grain sailing to the Farmost Dominance markets. Actual noblemen had done the trades, of course, but Philen had been behind it all. A vast empire of his own.
And still, they couldn’t see. He wore a suit as fine as theirs; now that he could trade openly, he had become one of the wealthiest men in Luthadel. Yet, the noblemen ignored him, just because he lacked a valid pedigree.
Well, they would see. After today’s meeting … yes, they would see. Philen looked out into the crowd, looking anxiously for the person he had hidden there. Reassured, he looked toward the noblemen of the Assembly, who sat chatting a short distance away. One of their last members—Lord Ferson Penrod—had just arrived. The older man walked up onto the Assembly’s dais, passing by the members, greeting each in turn.