Even that work was difficult for him to get to recently. He did his best to give the others leadership, as Elend had asked. However, the pernicious darkness Sazed felt inside of him refused to be shaken away. It was more dangerous to him, he knew, than anything else he had faced while serving with the crew, because it made him feel as if he didn’t care.
I must keep working, he decided, walking away from the meeting place, carefully sliding his portfolio off of a nearby shelf. I have to keep searching. I must not give up.
It was far more difficult than that, however. In the past, logic and thought had always been his refuge. However, his emotions didn’t respond to logic. No amount of thinking about what he should be doing could help him.
He ground his teeth, walking, hoping that the motion would help him work out the knots within himself. A part of him wanted to go out and study the new form of the Church of the Survivor that had sprung up here in Urteau. However, that seemed like a waste of time. The world was ending, why study one more religion? He already knew this one was false; he’d dismissed the Church of the Survivor early in his studies. It was filled with more contradictions than almost any in his portfolio.
More filled with passion as well.
All the religions in his collection were alike in one respect; they had failed. The people who’d followed them had died, been conquered, their religions stamped out. Was that not proof enough for him? He’d tried preaching them, but he’d very, very rarely had any success.
It was all meaningless. Everything was ending anyway.
No! Sazed thought. I will find the answers. The religions didn’t disappear completely—the Keepers preserved them. There must be answers in one of them. Somewhere.
Eventually, he found his way to the wall of the cavern, which held the steel plate inscribed by the Lord Ruler. They already had a record of what it said, of course, but Sazed wanted to see it and read it for himself. He looked up at the metal, which reflected the light of a nearby lantern, reading the words of the very man who had destroyed so many religions.
The plan, the words said, is simple. When the power returns to the Well, I will take it and make certain the thing remains trapped.
And still I worry. It has proven far more clever than I had assumed, infecting my thoughts, making me see and feel things I do not wish to. It is so subtle, so careful. I cannot see how it could cause my death, but still I worry.
If I am dead, then these caches will provide some measure of protection for my people. I fear what is coming. What might be. If you read this now, and I am gone, then I fear for you. Still, I will try to leave what help I can.
There are metals of Allomancy which I have shared with none. If you are a priest of mine, working this cavern and reading these words, know that you will incur my wrath if you share this knowledge. However, if it is true that the force has returned and I am unable to deal with it, then perhaps knowledge of electrum will give you some aid. My researchers have discovered that mixing an alloy of forty-five percent gold and fifty-five percent silver creates a new Allomantic metal. Burning it will not give you the power of atium, but will provide some help against those who themselves burn it.
And that was it. Beside the words was a map, indicating the location of the next cache—the one in the small southern mining village that Vin and Elend had secured a short time back. Sazed read over the words again, but they only served to enhance his sense of despair. Even the Lord Ruler seemed to feel helpless in the face of their current predicament. He’d planned to be alive, he’d planned for none of this to happen. But he’d known that his plans might not work.
Sazed turned, leaving the plate behind, walking to the bank of the underground lake. The water lay like black glass, undisturbed by wind or ash, though it did ripple slightly from the current. A pair of lanterns sat by the edge of the water, burning quietly, marking the bank. Behind him, a short distance away, some of the soldiers had made camp—though a good two-thirds of them kept to the upstairs to make certain the building had the look of being lived in. Others searched the cavern walls in hopes of finding a secret exit. They would all be a lot more comfortable within the cavern if they knew they had a means of escaping it, should they get attacked.
“Sazed.”
Sazed turned, then nodded to Spook as the young man walked up to join him on the bank of the black still water. They stood together quietly, contemplative.
This one has troubles of his own, Sazed thought, noting the way that Spook watched the waters. Then, surprisingly, Spook reached up and untied the cloth from his eyes. He pulled it free, revealing a pair of spectacles underneath, perhaps used to keep the cloth from pressing his eyes closed. Spook removed the spectacles and blinked, squinting. His eyes began to water, then he reached down and put out one of the two lanterns, leaving Sazed standing in very dim light. Spook sighed, standing and wiping his eyes.
So it is his tin, Sazed thought. As Sazed considered the thought, he realized that he had often seen the young man wearing gloves—as if to protect his skin. Sazed suspected that if he watched closely, he’d see the boy put in earplugs as well. Curious.
“Sazed,” Spook said, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Please, speak as you wish.”
“I …” Spook trailed off, then glanced at Sazed. “I think Kelsier is still with us.”
Sazed frowned.
“Not alive, of course,” Spook said quickly. “But, I think he’s watching over us. Protecting us … that sort of thing.”
“That’s a pleasant sentiment, I think,” Sazed said. Completely false, of course.
“It’s not just a sentiment,” Spook replied. “He’s here. I was just wondering if there was anything in any of those religions you studied that talked about things like that.”
“Of course,” Sazed said. “Many of them spoke of the dead remaining as spirits to help, or curse, the living.”
They fell silent, Spook obviously waiting for something.
“Well?” Spook asked. “Aren’t you going to preach a religion to me?”
“I don’t do that anymore,” Sazed said quietly.
“Oh,” Spook said. “Um, why not?”
Sazed shook his head. “I find it hard to preach to others that which has offered me no solace, Spook. I am looking through them, trying to discover which—if any of them—are right and true. Once I have that knowledge, I will be happy to share with you any that seem most likely to contain truth. For now, however, I believe none of them, and therefore will preach none of them.”
Surprisingly, Spook didn’t argue with him. Sazed had found it frustrating that his friends—people who were, for the most part, determined atheists—would grow so offended when he threatened to join them in their lack of belief. And yet, Spook didn’t offer arguments.
“It makes sense,” the young man finally said. “Those religions aren’t true. After all, Kelsier is the one who watches over us, not those other gods.”
Sazed closed his eyes. “How can you say that, Spook? You lived with him—you knew him. We both know that Kelsier was no god.”
“The people of this city think he is.”
“And where has it gotten them?” Sazed asked. “Their belief has brought oppression and violence. What is the good of faith if this is the result? A city full of people misinterpreting their god’s commands? A world of ash and pain and death and sorrow?” Sazed shook his head. “That is why I no longer wear my metalminds. Religions which cannot offer more than this do not deserve to be taught.”