“Do and you die,” Spook said. “You know that. Look at me. You’re not getting past me. You’re—”
The door thunked closed.
The soldier cried out, dropping the girl, rushing toward the door, obviously trying to get to it before the bar fell on the other side. “That’s the only way out! You’ll get us—”
Spook broke the man’s knees with a single crack of the dueling cane. The soldier screamed, falling to the ground. Flames burned on three of the walls, now. The heat was already intense.
The bar clicked into place on the other side of the door. Spook looked down at the soldier. Still alive.
“Leave him,” Kelsier said. “Let him burn in the building.”
Spook hesitated.
“He would have let all of those people die,” Kelsier said. “Let him feel what he would have done to these—what he has already done several times, at Quellion’s command.”
Spook left the groaning man on the ground, moving over to the secret door. He threw his weight against it.
It held.
Spook cursed quietly, raising a boot and kicking the door. It, however, remained solid.
“That door was built by noblemen who feared they would be pursued by assassins,” Kelsier said. “They were familiar with Allomancy, and would make certain the door was strong enough to resist a Thug’s kick.”
The fire was growing hotter. The girl huddled on the floor, whimpering. Spook whirled, staring down the flames, feeling their heat. He stepped forward, but his amplified senses were so keen that the heat seemed amazingly powerful to him.
He gritted his teeth, picking up the girl.
I have pewter now, he thought. It can balance the power of my senses.
That will have to be enough.
Smoke billowed out the windows of the condemned building. Sazed waited with Breeze and Allrianne, standing at the back of a solemn crowd. The people were oddly silent as they watched the flames claim their prize. Perhaps they sensed the truth.
That they could be taken and killed as easily as the poor wretches who died inside.
“How quickly we come around,” Sazed whispered. “It wasn’t long ago that men were forced to watch the Lord Ruler cut the heads from innocent people. Now we do it to ourselves.”
Silence. What sounded like yells came from inside the building. The screams of dying men.
“Kelsier was wrong,” Breeze said.
Sazed frowned, turning.
“He blamed the noblemen,” Breeze said. “He thought that if we got rid of them, things like this wouldn’t happen.”
Sazed nodded. Then, oddly, the crowd began to grow restless, shuffling about, murmuring. And, Sazed felt himself agreeing with them. Something needed to be done about this atrocity. Why did nobody fight? Quellion stood there, surrounded by his proud men in red. Sazed gritted his teeth, growing angry.
“Allrianne, dear,” Breeze said, “this isn’t the time.”
Sazed started. He turned, glancing at the young woman. She was crying.
By the Forgotten Gods, Sazed thought, finally recognizing her touch on his emotions, Rioting them to make him angry at Quellion. She’s as good as Breeze is.
“Why not?” she said. “He deserves it. I could make this crowd rip him apart.”
“And his second-in-command would take control,” Breeze said, “then execute these people. We haven’t prepared enough.”
“It seems that you’re never done preparing, Breeze,” she snapped.
“These things require—”
“Wait,” Sazed said, raising a hand. He frowned, watching the building. One of the building’s boarded windows—one high in a peaked attic section on top of the roof itself—seemed to be shaking.
“Look!” Sazed said. “There!”
Breeze raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps our Flame God is about to make his appearance, eh?” He smiled at what he obviously found a ridiculous concept. “I wonder what we were supposed to learn during this revolting little experience. Personally, I think the men who sent us here didn’t know what they—”
One of the planks suddenly flew off of the window, spinning in the air, swirling smoke behind it. Then the window burst outward.
A figure in dark clothing leaped through the shattering mess of boards and smoke, landing on the rooftop. His long cloak actually appeared to be on fire in places, and he carried a small bundle in his arms. A child. The figure rushed along the top of the burning rooftop, then leaped off the front of the building, trailing smoke as he fell to the ground.
He landed with the grace of a man burning pewter, not stumbling despite the two-story fall, his burning cloak billowing out around him. People backed away, surprised, and Quellion spun in shock.
The man’s hood fell back as he stood upright. Only then did Sazed recognize him.
Spook stood tall, seeming in the sunlight to be older than he really was. Or, perhaps, Sazed had never looked at him as anything but a child until that moment. Either way, the young man regarded Quellion proudly, eyes wrapped with a blindfold, his body smoking as he held the coughing child in his arms. He didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the troop of twenty soldiers that surrounded the building.
Breeze cursed quietly. “Allrianne, we’re going to need that Riot after all!”
Sazed suddenly felt a weight pressing against him. Breeze Soothed away his distracting emotions—his confusion, his concern—and left Sazed, along with the crowd, completely open to Allrianne’s focused burst of enraged anger.
The crowd exploded with motion, people crying out in the name of the Survivor, rushing the guards. For a moment, Sazed feared that Spook wouldn’t take the opportunity to run. Despite the strange bandage on Spook’s eyes, Sazed could tell that the boy was staring straight at Quellion—as if in challenge.
Fortunately, however, Spook finally turned away. The crowd distracted the advancing soldiers, and Spook ran on feet that seemed to move far too quickly. He ducked down an alleyway, carrying the girl he had rescued, his cloak trailing smoke. As soon as Spook had a safe head start, Breeze smothered the crowd’s will to rebel, keeping them from getting themselves cut down by the soldiers. The people backed away, dispersing. The Citizen’s soldiers, however, stayed close around their leader. Sazed could hear frustration in the Citizen’s voice as he called for the inevitable retreat. He couldn’t spare more than a few men to chase down Spook, not with the potential of a riot. He had to get himself to safety.
As soldiers marched away, Breeze turned an eye toward Sazed. “Well,” he noted, “that was somewhat unexpected.”
I think that the koloss were more intelligent than we wanted to give them credit for being. For instance, originally, they used only spikes the Lord Ruler gave them to make new members. He would provide the metal and the unfortunate skaa captives, and the koloss would create new “recruits.”
At the Lord Ruler’s death, then, the koloss should quickly have died out. This was how he had designed them. If they got free from his control, he expected them to kill themselves off and end their own rampage. However, they somehow made the deduction that spikes in the bodies of fallen koloss could be harvested, then reused.
They then no longer required a fresh supply of spikes. I often wonder what effect the constant reuse of spikes had on their population. A spike can only hold so much of a Hemalurgic charge, so they could not create spikes that granted infinite strength, no matter how many people those spikes killed and drew power from. However, did the repeated reuse of spikes perhaps bring more humanity to the koloss they made?