Keepers had much knowledge—but in this case, it was almost too much. They had been gathering and transmitting records, stories, myths, and legends for so long that it took years for one Keeper to recite the collected works to a new initiate.
Fortunately, included with the mass of information were indexes and summaries created by the Keepers. On top of this came the notes and personal indexes each individual Keeper made. And yet, these only helped the Keeper understand just how much information he had. Sazed himself had spent his life reading, memorizing, and indexing religions. Each night, before he slept, he read some portion of a note or story. He was probably the world’s foremost scholar on pre-Ascension religions, and yet he felt as if he knew so little.
Compounding all of that was the inherent unreliability of their information. A great deal of it came from the mouths of simple people, doing their best to remember what their lives had once been like—or, more often, what the lives of their grandparents had once been like. The Keepers hadn’t been founded until late in the second century of the Lord Ruler’s reign. By then, many religions had already been wiped out in their pure forms.
Sazed closed his eyes, dumped another index from a coppermind into his head, then began to search it. There wasn’t much time, true, but Tindwyl and he were Keepers. They were accustomed to beginning tasks that others would have to finish.
Elend Venture, once king of the Central Dominance, stood on the balcony of his keep, overlooking the vast city of Luthadel. Though the first snows had yet to fall, the weather had grown cold. He wore an overcloak, tied at the front, but it didn’t protect his face. A chill tingled his cheeks as a wind blew across him, whipping at his cloak. Smoke rose from chimneys, gathering like an ominous shadow above the city before rising up to meld with the ashen red sky.
For every house that produced smoke, there were two that did not. Many of those were probably deserted; the city held nowhere near the population it once had. However, he knew that many of those smokeless houses were still inhabited. Inhabited, and freezing.
I should have been able to do more for them, Elend thought, eyes open to the piercing cold wind. I should have found a way to get more coal; I should have managed to provide for them all.
It was humbling, even depressing, to admit that the Lord Ruler had done better than Elend himself. Despite being a heartless tyrant, the Lord Ruler had at least kept a significant portion of the population from starving or freezing. He had kept armies in check, and had kept crime at a manageable level.
To the northeast, the koloss army waited. It had sent no emissaries to the city, but it was more frightening than either Cett’s or Straff’s armies. The cold wouldn’t scare away its occupants; despite their bare skin, they apparently took little notice of weather changes. This final army was the most disturbing of the three—more dangerous, more unpredictable, and impossible to deal with. Koloss did not bargain.
We haven’t been paying enough attention to that threat, he thought as he stood on the balcony. There’s just been so much to do, so much to worry about, that we couldn’t focus on an army that might be as dangerous to our enemies as it is to us.
It was looking less and less likely that the koloss would attack Cett or Straff. Apparently, Jastes was enough in control to keep them waiting to take a shot at Luthadel itself.
“My lord,” said a voice from behind. “Please, come back in. That’s a fell wind. No use killing yourself from a chill.”
Elend turned back. Captain Demoux stood dutifully in the room, along with another bodyguard. In the aftermath of the assassination attempt, Ham had insisted that Elend go about guarded. Elend hadn’t complained, though he knew there was little reason for caution anymore. Straff wouldn’t want to kill him now that he wasn’t king.
So earnest, Elend thought, studying Demoux’s face. Why do I find him youthful? We’re nearly the same age.
“Very well,” Elend said, turning and striding into the room. As Demoux closed the balcony doors, Elend removed his cloak. The suit below felt wrong on him. Sloppy, even though he had ordered it cleaned and pressed. The vest was too tight—his practice with the sword was slowly modifying his body—while the coat hung loosely.
“Demoux,” Elend said. “When is your next Survivor rally?”
“Tonight, my lord.”
Elend nodded. He’d feared that; it would be a cold night.
“My lord,” Demoux said, “do you still intend to come?”
“Of course,” Elend said. “I gave my word that I would join with your cause.”
“That was before you lost the vote, my lord.”
“That is immaterial,” Elend said. “I am joining your movement because it is important to the skaa, Demoux, and I want to understand the will of my … of the people. I promised you dedication—and you shall have it.”
Demoux seemed a bit confused, but spoke no further. Elend eyed his desk, considering some studying, but found it hard to motivate himself in the chill room. Instead, he pushed open the door and strode out into the hallway. His guards followed.
He stopped himself from turning toward Vin’s rooms. She needed her rest, and it didn’t do her much good to have him peeking in every half hour to check on her. So instead he turned to wander down a different passageway.
The back hallways of Keep Venture were tight, dark, stone constructions of labyrinthine complexity. Perhaps it was because he’d grown up in these passages, but he felt at home in their dark, secluded confines. They had been the perfect place for a young man who didn’t really care to be found. Now he used them for another reason; the corridors provided a perfect place for extended walking. He didn’t point himself in any particular direction, he just moved, working out his frustration to the beating of his own footsteps.
I can’t fix the city’s problems, he told himself. I have to let Penrod handle that—he’s the one the people want.
That should have made things easier for Elend. It let him focus on his own survival, not to mention let him spend time revitalizing his relationship with Vin. She, however, seemed different lately. Elend tried to tell himself it was just her injury, but he sensed something deeper. Something in the way she looked at him, something in the way she reacted to his affection. And, despite himself, he could think of only one thing that had changed.
He was no longer king.
Vin was not shallow. She had shown him nothing but devotion and love during their two years together. And yet, how could she not react—even if unconsciously—to his colossal failure? During the assassination attempt, he had watched her fight. Really watched her fight, for the first time. Until that day, he hadn’t realized just how amazing she was. She wasn’t just a warrior, and she wasn’t just an Allomancer. She was a force, like thunder or wind. The way she had killed that last man, smashing his head with her own …
How could she love a man like me? he thought. I couldn’t even hold my throne. I wrote the very laws that deposed me.
He sighed, continuing to walk. He felt like he should be scrambling, trying to figure out a way to convince Vin that he was worthy of her. But that would just make him seem more incompetent. There was no correcting past mistakes, especially since he could see no real “mistakes” he had made. He had done the best he could, and that had proven insufficient.