Suddenly, Vin grew pale. Elend paused, glancing at her, sensing that something was wrong. Not with what he’d said, something else. What is it? Assassins? Mist spirits? Koloss?
“I just realized something,” Vin said, looking at him with those intense eyes of hers. “I can’t go to a ball—I didn’t bring a gown!”
The Lord Ruler didn’t just forbid certain technologies, he suppressed technological advancement completely. It seems odd now that during the entirety of his thousand-year reign, very little progress was made. Farming techniques, architectural methods—even fashion remained remarkably stable during the Lord Ruler’s reign.
He constructed his perfect empire, then tried to make it stay that way. For the most part, he was successful. Pocket watches—another Khlenni appropriation—that were made in the tenth century of the empire were nearly identical to those made during the first. Everything stayed the same.
Until it all collapsed, of course.
29
LIKE MOST CITIES IN THE Final Empire, Urteau had been forbidden a city wall. In the early days of Sazed’s life, before he’d rebelled, the fact that cities couldn’t build fortifications had always seemed a subtle indication to him of the Lord Ruler’s vulnerability. After all, if the Lord Ruler was worried about rebellions and cities that could stand against him, then perhaps he knew something that nobody else did: that he could be defeated.
Thoughts like those had led Sazed to Mare, and finally to Kelsier. And now, they led him to the city of Urteau—a city that finally had rebelled against noble leadership. Unfortunately, it lumped Elend Venture in with all the other nobles.
“I don’t like this, Master Keeper,” Captain Goradel said, walking beside Sazed, who—for the sake of his image—now rode in the carriage with Breeze and Allrianne. After leaving the Terris people behind, Sazed had hurriedly caught up with Breeze and the others, and they were finally entering the city that was their destination.
“Things are supposed to be kind of brutal in there,” Goradel continued. “I don’t think you’ll be safe.”
“I doubt it’s as bad as you think,” Sazed said.
“What if they take you captive?” Goradel asked.
“My dear man,” Breeze said, leaning forward to look out at Goradel. “That’s why kings send ambassadors. This way, if someone gets captured, the king is still safe. We, my friend, are something Elend can never be: expendable.”
Goradel frowned at that. “I don’t feel very expendable.”
Sazed peered out of the carriage, looking at the city through the falling ash. It was large, and was one of the oldest cities in the empire. He noted with interest that as they approached, the road sloped downward, entering an empty canal trough.
“What’s this?” Allrianne asked, sticking her blond head out of the other side of the carriage. “Why’d they build their roads in ditches?”
“Canals, my dear,” Breeze said. “The city used to be filled with them. Now they’re empty—an earthquake or something diverted a river.”
“It’s creepy,” she said, bringing her head back in. “It makes the buildings look twice as tall.”
As they entered the city proper—their two hundred soldiers marching around them in formation—they were met by a delegation of Urteau soldiers in brown uniforms. Sazed had sent word ahead of their coming, of course, and the king—the Citizen, they called him—had given Sazed leave to bring his small contingent of troops into the city.
“They say that their king wants to meet with you immediately, Master Terrisman,” Goradel said, walking back to the carriage.
“The man doesn’t waste time, does he?” Breeze asked.
“We’ll go, then,” Sazed said, nodding to Goradel.
“You aren’t wanted here.”
Quellion, the Citizen, was a short-haired man with rough skin and an almost military bearing. Sazed wondered where the man—apparently a simple farmer before the Collapse—had gained such leadership skills.
“I realize that you have no desire to see foreign soldiers in your city,” Sazed said carefully. “However, you must have realized that we do not come to conquer. Two hundred men is hardly an invading force.”
Quellion stood at his desk, arms clasped behind his back. He wore what appeared to be regular skaa trousers and shirt, though both had been dyed a deep red verging on maroon. His “audience chamber” was a large conference room in what had once been a nobleman’s house. The walls had been whitewashed and the chandelier removed. Stripped of its furniture and finery, the room felt like a box.
Sazed, Breeze, and Allrianne sat on hard wooden stools, the only comfort the Citizen had offered them. Goradel stood at the back with ten of his soldiers as a guard.
“It isn’t about the soldiers, Terrisman,” Quellion said. “It’s about the man who sent you.”
“Emperor Venture is a good and reasonable monarch,” Sazed said.
Quellion snorted, turning to one of his companions. He had many of these—perhaps twenty—and Sazed assumed they were members of his government. Most wore red, like Quellion, though their clothing hadn’t been dyed as deeply.
“Elend Venture,” Quellion said, raising a finger, turning back to Sazed, “is a liar and a tyrant.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Oh?” Quellion asked. “And how did he gain his throne? By defeating Straff Venture and Ashweather Cett in war?”
“War was—”
“War is often the excuse of tyrants, Terrisman,” Quellion said. “My reports said that his Mistborn wife forced the kings to kneel before him that day—forced them to swear their loyalty to him or be slaughtered by his koloss brutes. Does that sound like the actions of a ‘good and reasonable’ man?”
Sazed didn’t respond.
Quellion stepped forward, laying both hands palm-down on the top of his desk. “Do you know what we’ve done to the noblemen in this city, Terrisman?”
“You’ve killed them,” Sazed said quietly.
“Just as the Survivor ordered,” Quellion said. “You claim to have been his companion, before the fall. Yet, you serve one of the very noble houses he sought to overthrow. Doesn’t that strike you as inconsistent, Terrisman?”
“Lord Kelsier accomplished his purpose in the death of the Lord Ruler,” Sazed said. “Once that was achieved, peace—”
“Peace?” Quellion asked. “Tell me, Terrisman. Did you ever hear the Survivor speak of peace?”
Sazed hesitated. “No,” he admitted.
Quellion snorted. “At least you’re honest. The only reason I’m talking to you is because Venture was clever enough to send a Terrisman. If he’d sent a nobleman, I would have killed the cur and sent his blackened skull back as an answer.”
The room fell silent. Tense. After a few moments of waiting, Quellion turned his back on Sazed, facing his companions. “You sense that?” he asked his men. “Can you feel yourselves begin to feel ashamed? Look at your emotions—do you suddenly feel a fellowship with these servants of a liar?”