“He couldn’t create either,” Ruin said. “He could only preserve. Preservation is not creation.”
“And so you worked together,” Vin said.
“Both with a promise,” Ruin said. “My promise was to work with him to create you—life that thinks, life that loves.”
“And his promise?” Vin asked, fearing that she knew the answer.
“That I could destroy you eventually,” Ruin said softly. “And I have come to claim what was promised me. The only point in creating something is to watch it die. Like a story that must come to a climax, what I have done will not be fulfilled until the end has arrived.”
It can’t be true, Vin thought. Preservation. If he really represents a power in the universe, then he couldn’t really have been destroyed, could he?
“I know what you are thinking,” Ruin said. “You cannot enlist Preservation’s power. He is dead. He couldn’t kill me, you see. He could only imprison me.”
Yes. I figured that last part out already. You really can’t read my mind, can you?
Ruin continued. “It was a villainous act, I must say. Preservation tried to escape our bargain. Would you not call that an evil deed? It is as I said before—good and evil have little to do with ruin or preservation. An evil man will protect that which he desires as surely as a good man.”
But something is keeping Ruin from destroying the world now, she thought. For all his words about stories and endings, he is not a force that would wait for an “appropriate” moment. There is more to this, more that I’m not understanding.
What is holding him back?
“I’ve come to you,” Ruin said, “because I want you, at least, to watch and see. To know. For it has come.”
Vin perked up. “What? The end?”
Ruin nodded.
“How long?” Vin asked.
“Days,” Ruin said. “But not weeks.”
Vin felt a chill, realizing something. He had come to her, finally revealing himself, because she was captured. He thought that there was no further chance for mankind. He assumed that he had won.
Which means that there is a way to beat him, she thought with determination. And it involves me. But I can’t do it here, or he wouldn’t have come to gloat.
And that meant she had to get free. Quickly.
Once you begin to understand these things, you can see how Ruin was trapped even though Preservation’s mind was gone, expended to create the prison. Though Preservation’s consciousness was mostly destroyed, his spirit and body were still in force. And, as an opposite force of Ruin, these could still prevent Ruin from destroying.
Or, at least, keep him from destroying things too quickly. Once his mind was “freed” from its prison the destruction accelerated quickly.
58
“THROW YOUR WEIGHT HERE,” SAZED said, pointing at a wooden lever. “The counterweights will fall, swinging down all four floodgates and stemming the flow into the cavern. I warn you, however—the explosion of water above will be rather spectacular. We should be able to fill the city’s canals in a matter of hours, and I suspect that a portion of the northern city will be flooded.”
“To dangerous levels?” Spook asked.
“I do not think so,” Sazed said. “The water will burst out through the conduits in the interchange building beside us. I’ve inspected the equipment there, and it appears sound. The water should flow directly into the canals, and from there exit the city. Either way, I would not want to be in those streetslots when this water comes. The current will be quite swift.”
“I’ve taken care of that,” Spook said. “Durn is going to make certain the people know to be clear of the waterways.”
Sazed nodded. Spook couldn’t help but be impressed. The complicated construct of wood, gears, and wire looked like it should have taken months to build, not weeks. Large nets of rocks weighed down the four gates, which hung, ready to block off the river.
“This is amazing, Saze,” Spook said. “With a sign as spectacular as the reappearance of the canal waters, the people will be certain to listen to us instead of the Citizen.” Breeze and Durn’s men had been working hard over the last few weeks, whispering to the people to watch for a miracle from the Survivor of the Flames. Something extraordinary, something to prove—once and for all—who was the rightful master of the city.
“It is the best I could do,” Sazed said with a modest bow of the head. “The seals won’t be perfectly tight, of course. However, that should matter little.”
“Men?” Spook said, turning to four of Goradel’s soldiers. “You understand what you are to do?”
“Yes, sir,” the lead soldier said. “We wait for a messenger, then throw the lever there.”
“If no messenger comes,” Spook said, “throw the switch at nightfall.”
“And,” Sazed said, raising a finger, “don’t forget to twist the sealing mechanism in the other room, plugging the water flow out of this chamber. Otherwise, the lake will eventually empty. Better that we keep this reservoir full, just in case.”
“Yes, sir,” the soldier said with a nod.
Spook turned, looking back over the cavern. Soldiers bustled about, preparing. He was going to need most of them for the night’s activities. They looked eager—they’d spent too long holed up in the cavern and the building above. To the side, Beldre regarded Sazed’s contraption with interest. Spook broke away from the soldiers, approaching her with a quick step.
“You’re really going to do it?” she said. “Return the water to the canals?”
Spook nodded.
“I sometimes imagined what it would be like to have the waters back,” she said. “The city wouldn’t feel as barren—it would become important, like it was during the early days of the Final Empire. All those beautiful waterways. No more ugly gashes in the ground.”
“It will be a wonderful sight,” Spook said, smiling.
Beldre just shook her head. “It … amazes me that you can be such different people at the same time. How can the man who would do such a beautiful thing for my city also plan such destruction?”
“Beldre, I’m not planning to destroy your city.”
“Just its government.”
“I do what needs to be done.”
“Men say that so easily,” Beldre said. “Yet, everybody seems to have a different opinion of what ‘needs’ to be done.”
“Your brother had his chance,” Spook said.
Beldre looked down. She still carried with her the letter they’d received earlier in the day—a response from Quellion. Beldre’s plea had been heartfelt, but the Citizen had responded with insults, implying that she had been forced to write the words because she was being held prisoner.
I do not fear a usurper, the letter read. I am protected by the Survivor himself. You will not have this city, tyrant.
Beldre looked up. “Don’t do it,” she whispered. “Give him more time. Please.”
Spook hesitated.
“There is no more time,” Kelsier whispered. “Do what must be done.”