Sazed felt a chill. “Tindwyl,” he said quietly. “Why did you stay? There is no place for you here.”
“There is no place for you either, Sazed.”
“These are my friends,” he said. “I will not leave them.”
“Then why did you convince their leaders to leave?”
“To flee and live,” Sazed said.
“Survival is not a luxury often afforded to leaders,” Tindwyl said. “When they accept the devotion of others, they must accept the responsibility that comes with it. This people will die—but they need not die feeling betrayed.”
“They were not—”
“They expect to be saved, Sazed,” Tindwyl hissed quietly. “Even those men over there—even Dockson, the most practical one in this bunch—think that they’ll survive. And do you know why? Because, deep down, they believe that something will save them. Something that saved them before, the only piece of the Survivor they have left. She represents hope to them now. And you sent her away.”
“To live, Tindwyl,” Sazed repeated. “It would have been a waste to lose Vin and Elend here.”
“Hope is never wasted,” Tindwyl said, eyes flashing. “I thought you of all people would understand that. You think it was stubbornness that kept me alive all those years in the hands of the Breeders?”
“And is it stubbornness or hope that kept you here, in the city?” he asked.
She looked up at him. “Neither.”
Sazed looked at her for a long moment in the shadowed alcove. Planners talked in the ballroom, their voices echoing. Shards of light from the windows reflected off the marble floors, throwing slivers of illumination across the walls. Slowly, awkwardly, Sazed put his arms around Tindwyl. She sighed, letting him hold her.
He released his tinminds and let his senses return in a flood.
Softness from her skin and warmth from her body washed across him as she moved farther into the embrace, resting her head against his chest. The scent of her hair—unperfumed, but clean and crisp—filled his nose, the first thing he’d smelled in three days. With a clumsy hand, Sazed pulled free his spectacles so he could see her clearly. As sounds returned fully to his ears, he could hear Tindwyl breathing beside him.
“Do you know why I love you, Sazed?” she asked quietly.
“I cannot fathom,” he answered honestly.
“Because you never give in,” she said. “Other men are strong like bricks—firm, unyielding, but if you pound on them long enough, they crack. You … you’re strong like the wind. Always there, so willing to bend, but never apologetic for the times when you must be firm. I don’t think any of your friends understand what a power they had in you.”
Had, he thought. She already thinks of all this in the past tense. And … it feels right for her to do so. “I fear that whatever I have won’t be enough to save them,” Sazed whispered.
“It was enough to save three of them, though,” Tindwyl said. “You were wrong to send them away … but maybe you were right, too.”
Sazed just closed his eyes and held her, cursing her for staying, yet loving her for it all the same.
At that moment, the wall-top warning drums began to beat.
And so, I have made one final gamble.
51
THE MISTY RED LIGHT OF morning was a thing that should not have existed. Mist died before daylight. Heat made it evaporate; even locking it inside of a closed room made it condense and disappear. It shouldn’t have been able to withstand the light of the rising sun.
Yet it did. The farther they’d gotten from Luthadel, the longer the mists lingered in the mornings. The change was slight—they were still only a few days’ ride from Luthadel—but Vin knew. She saw the difference. This morning, the mists seemed even stronger than she’d anticipated—they didn’t even weaken as the sun came up. They obscured its light.
Mist, she thought. Deepness. She was increasingly sure that she was right about it, though she couldn’t know for certain. Still, it felt right to her for some reason. The Deepness hadn’t been some monster or tyrant, but a force more natural—and therefore more frightening. A creature could be killed. The mists … they were far more daunting. The Deepness wouldn’t oppress with priests, but use the people’s own superstitious terror. It wouldn’t slaughter with armies, but with starvation.
How did one fight something larger than a continent? A thing that couldn’t feel anger, pain, hope, or mercy?
Yet, it was Vin’s task to do just that. She sat quietly on a large boulder beside the night’s firepit, her legs up, knees to her chest. Elend still slept; Spook was out scouting.
She didn’t question her place any longer. She was either mad or she was the Hero of Ages. It was her task to defeat the mists. Yet … she thought, frowning. Shouldn’t the thumpings be getting louder, not softer? The longer they traveled, the weaker the thumpings seemed. Was she too late? Was something happening at the Well to dampen its power? Had someone else already taken it?
We have to keep moving.
Another person in her place might have asked why he had been chosen. Vin had known several men—both in Camon’s crew and in Elend’s government—who would complain every time they were given an assignment. “Why me?” they would ask. The insecure ones didn’t think they were up to the task. The lazy ones wanted out of the work.
Vin didn’t consider herself to be either self-assured or self-motivated. Still, she saw no point in asking why. Life had taught her that sometimes things simply happened. Often, there hadn’t been any specific reason for Reen to beat her. And, reasons were weak comforts, anyway. The reasons that Kelsier had needed to die were clear to her, but that didn’t make her miss him any less.
She had a job to do. The fact that she didn’t understand it didn’t stop her from acknowledging that she had to try to accomplish it. She simply hoped that she’d know what to do when the time came. Though the thumpings were weaker, they were still there. They drew her forward. To the Well of Ascension.
Behind her, she could feel the lesser vibration of the mist spirit. It never disappeared until the mists themselves did. It had been there all morning, standing just behind her.
“Do you know the secret to this all?” she asked quietly, turning toward the spirit in the reddish mists. “Do you have—”
The Allomantic pulse of the mist spirit was coming from directly inside the tent she shared with Elend.
Vin jumped off the rock, landing on the frosted ground and scrambling to the tent. She threw open the flaps. Elend slept inside, head just barely visible as it poked out of the blankets. Mist filled the small tent, swirling, twisting—and that was odd enough. Mist didn’t usually enter tents.
And there, in the middle of the mists, was the spirit. Standing directly above Elend.
It wasn’t even really there. It was just an outline in the mists, a repeating pattern caused by chaotic movements. And yet it was real. She could feel it, and she could see it—see it as it looked up, meeting her gaze with invisible eyes.
Hateful eyes.
It raised an insubstantial arm, and Vin saw something flash. She reacted immediately, whipping out a dagger, bursting into the tent and swinging. Her blow met something tangible in the mist spirit’s hand. A metallic sound rang in the calm air, and Vin felt a powerful, numbing chill in her arm. The hairs across her entire body prickled.