The Mistborn Trilogy (116 page)
Read The Mistborn Trilogy Online
Authors: Brandon Sanderson
Tags: #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #bought-and-paid-for
But, I must continue with the sparsest of detail. Space is limited. The other Worldbringers must have thought themselves humble when they came to me, admitting that they had been wrong. Even then, I was beginning to doubt my original declaration.
But, I was prideful.
I write this record now,
Sazed read,
pounding it into a metal slab, because I am afraid. Afraid for myself, yes—I admit to being human. If Alendi does return from the Well of Ascension, I am certain that my death will be one of his first objectives. He is not an evil man, but he is a ruthless one. That is, I think, a product of what he has been through.
I am also afraid, however, that all I have known—that my story—will be forgotten. I am afraid for the world that is to come. Afraid that Alendi will fail. Afraid of a doom brought by the Deepness.
It all comes back to poor Alendi. I feel bad for him, and for all the things he has been forced to endure. For what he has been forced to become.
But, let me begin at the beginning. I met Alendi first in Khlennium; he was a young lad then, and had not yet been warped by a decade spent leading armies.
Alendi’s height struck me the first time I saw him. Here was a man who was small of stature, but who seemed to tower over others, a man who demanded respect.
Oddly, it was Alendi’s simple ingenuousness that first led me to befriend him. I employed him as an assistant during his first months in the grand city.
It wasn’t until years later that I became convinced that Alendi was the Hero of Ages. Hero of Ages: the one called Rabzeen in Khlennium, the Anamnesor.
Savior.
When I finally had the realization—finally connected all of the signs of the Anticipation to him—I was so excited. Yet, when I announced my discovery to the other Worldbringers, I was met with scorn. Oh, how I wish that I had listened to them.
And yet, any who know me will realize that there was no chance I would give up so easily. Once I find something to investigate, I become dogged in my pursuit. I had determined that Alendi was the Hero of Ages, and I intended to prove it. I should have bowed before the will of the others; I shouldn’t have insisted on traveling with Alendi to witness his journeys. It was inevitable that Alendi himself would find out what I believed him to be.
Yes, he was the one who fueled the rumors after that. I could never have done what he himself did, convincing and persuading the world that he was indeed the Hero. I don’t know if he himself believed it, but he made others think that he must be the one.
If only the Terris religion, and belief in the Anticipation, hadn’t spread beyond our people. If only the Deepness hadn’t come, providing a threat that drove men to desperation both in action and belief. If only I had passed over Alendi when looking for an assistant, all those years ago.
Sazed sat back from his work of transcribing the rubbing. There was still a great deal to do—it was amazing how much writing this Kwaan had managed to cram onto the relatively small sheet of steel.
Sazed looked over his work. He’d spent his entire trip north anticipating the time when he could finally begin work on the rubbing. A part of him had been worried. Would the dead man’s words seem as important sitting in a well-lit room as they had when in the dungeons of the Conventical of Seran?
He scanned to another part of the document, reading a few choice paragraphs. Ones of particular importance to him.
As the one who found Alendi, however, I became someone important. Foremost amongst the Worldbringers.
There was a place for me, in the lore of the Anticipation—I thought myself the Announcer, the prophet foretold to discover the Hero of Ages. Renouncing Alendi then would have been to renounce my new position, my acceptance, by the others.
And so I did not.
But I do so now. Let it be known that I, Kwaan, Worldbringer of Terris, am a fraud.
Sazed closed his eyes.
Worldbringer.
The term was known to him; the order of the Keepers had been founded upon memories and hopes from Terris legends. The Worldbringers had been teachers, Feruchemists who had traveled the lands bearing knowledge. They had been a prime inspiration for the secret order of Keepers.
And now he had a document made by a Worldbringer’s own hand.
Tindwyl is going to be very annoyed with me,
Sazed thought, opening his eyes. He’d read the entire rubbing, but he would need to spend time studying it. Memorizing it. Cross-referencing it with other documents. This one bit of writing—perhaps twenty pages total—could easily keep him busy for months, even years.
His window shutters rattled. Sazed looked up. He was in his quarters at the palace—a tasteful collection of well-decorated rooms that were far too lavish for one who had spent his life as a servant. He rose, walked over to the window, undid the latch, and pulled open the shutters. He smiled as he found Vin crouching on the ledge outside.
“Um…hi,” Vin said. She wore her mistcloak over gray shirt and black trousers. Despite the onset of morning, she obviously hadn’t yet gone to bed after her nightly prowling. “You should leave your window unlatched. I can’t get in if it’s locked. Elend got mad at me for breaking too many latches.”
“I shall try to remember that, Lady Vin,” Sazed said, and gesturing for her to enter.
Vin hopped spryly through the window, mistcloak rustling. “
Try
to remember?” she asked. “You never forget anything. Not even the things you don’t have stuck in a metalmind.”
She’s grown so much more bold,
he thought as she walked over to his writing desk, peering over his work.
Even in the months I’ve been away.
“What’s this?” Vin asked, still looking at the desk.
“I found it at the Conventical of Seran, Lady Vin,” Sazed said, walking forward. It felt so good to be wearing clean robes again, to have a quiet and comfortable place in which to study. Was he a bad man for preferring this to travel?
One month,
he thought.
I will give myself one month of study. Then I will turn the project over to someone else.
“What is it?” Vin asked, holding up the rubbing.
“If you please, Lady Vin,” Sazed said apprehensively. “That is quite fragile. The rubbing could be smudged….”
Vin nodded, putting it down and scanning his transcription. There had been a time when she would have avoided anything that smelled of stuffy writing, but now she looked intrigued. “This mentions the Deepness!” she said with excitement.
“Among other things,” Sazed said, joining her at the desk. He sat down, and Vin walked over to one of the room’s low-backed, plush chairs. However, she didn’t sit on it as an ordinary person would; instead, she hopped up and sat down on the top of the chair’s back, her feet resting on the seat cushion.
“What?” she asked, apparently noticing Sazed’s smile.
“Just amused at a proclivity of Mistborn, Lady Vin,” he said. “Your kind has trouble simply sitting—it seems you always want to perch instead. That is what comes from having such an incredible sense of balance, I think.”
Vin frowned, but passed over the comment. “Sazed,” she said, “what was the Deepness?”
He laced his fingers before himself, regarding the young woman as he mused. “The Deepness, Lady Vin? That is a subject of much debate, I think. It was supposedly something great and powerful, though some scholars have dismissed the entire legend as a fabrication concocted by the Lord Ruler. There is some reason to believe this theory, I think, for the only real records of those times are the ones sanctioned by the Steel Ministry.”
“But, the logbook mentions the Deepness,” Vin said. “And so does that thing you’re translating now.”
“Indeed, Lady Vin,” Sazed said. “But, even among those who assume the Deepness was real, there is a great deal of debate. Some hold to the Lord Ruler’s official story, that the Deepness was a horrible, supernatural beast—a dark god, if you will. Others disagree with this extreme interpretation. They think the Deepness was more mundane—an army of some sort, perhaps invaders from another land. The Farmost Dominance, during pre-Ascension times, was apparently populated with several breeds of men who were quite primitive and warlike.”
Vin was smiling. He looked at her questioningly, and she just shrugged. “I asked Elend this same question,” she explained, “and I got barely a sentence-long response.”
“His Majesty has different areas of scholarship; pre-Ascension history may be too stuffy a topic even for him. Besides, anyone who asks a Keeper about the past should be prepared for an extended conversation, I think.”
“I’m not complaining,” Vin said. “Continue.”
“There isn’t much more to say—or, rather, there is a great deal more to say, but I doubt much of it has relevance. Was the Deepness an army? Was it, perhaps, the first attack from koloss, as some theorize? That would explain much—most stories agree that the Lord Ruler gained some power to defeat the Deepness at the Well of Ascension. Perhaps he gained the support of the koloss, and then used them as his armies.”
“Sazed,” Vin said. “I don’t think the Deepness was the koloss.”
“Oh?”
“I think it was the mist.”
“That theory has been proposed,” Sazed said with a nod.
“It has?” Vin asked, sounding a bit disappointed.
“Of course, Lady Vin. During the thousand-year reign of the Final Empire, there are few possibilities that
haven’t
been discussed, I think. The mist theory has been advanced before, but there are several large problems with it.”
“Such as?”
“Well,” Sazed said, “for one thing, the Lord Ruler is said to have defeated the Deepness. However, the mist is obviously still here. Also, if the Deepness was simply mist, why call it by such an obscure name? Of course, others point out that much of what we know or have heard of the Deepness comes from oral lore, and something very common can take on mystical properties when transferred verbally through generations. The ‘Deepness’ therefore could mean not just the mist, but the event of its coming or alteration.
“The larger problem with the mist theory, however, is one of malignance. If we trust the accounts—and we have little else to go on—the Deepness was terrible and destructive. The mist seems to display none of this danger.”
“But it kills people now.”
Sazed paused. “Yes, Lady Vin. It apparently does.”
“And what if it did so before, but the Lord Ruler stopped it somehow? You yourself said that you think we did something—something that changed the mist—when we killed the Lord Ruler.”
Sazed nodded. “The problems I have been investigating are quite terrible, to be certain. However, I do not see that they could be a threat on the same level as the Deepness. Certain people have been killed by the mists, but many are elderly or otherwise lacking in constitution. It leaves many people alone.”
He paused, tapping his thumbs together. “But, I would be remiss if I didn’t admit some merit to the suggestion, Lady Vin. Perhaps even a few deaths would be enough to cause a panic. The danger could have been exaggerated by retelling—and, perhaps the killings were more widespread before. I haven’t been able to collect enough information to be certain of anything yet.”
Vin didn’t respond.
Oh, dear,
Sazed thought, sighing to himself.
I’ve bored her. I really do need to be more careful, watching my vocabulary and my language. One would think that after all my travels among the skaa, I would have learned—
“Sazed?” Vin said, sounding thoughtful. “What if we’re looking at it wrong? What if these random deaths in the mists aren’t the problem at all?”
“What do you mean, Lady Vin?”
She sat quietly for a moment, one foot tapping back idly against the chair’s back cushion. She finally looked up, meeting his eyes. “What would happen if the mists came during the day permanently?”
Sazed mused on that for a moment.
“There would be no light,” Vin continued. “Plants would die, people would starve. There would be death…chaos.”
“I suppose,” Sazed said. “Perhaps that theory has merit.”
“It’s not a theory,” Vin said, hopping down from her chair. “It’s what happened.”
“You’re so certain, already?” Sazed asked with amusement.
Vin nodded curtly, joining him at the desk. “I’m right,” she said with her characteristic bluntness. “I know it.” She pulled something out of a trouser pocket, then drew over a stool to sit beside him. She unfolded the wrinkled sheet and flattened it on the desk.
“These are quotes from the logbook,” Vin said. She pointed at a paragraph. “Here the Lord Ruler talks about how armies were useless against the Deepness. At first, I thought this meant that the armies hadn’t been able to defeat it—but look at the wording. He says ‘The swords of my armies are useless.’ What’s more useless than trying to swing a sword at mist?”
She pointed at another paragraph. “It left destruction in its wake, right? Countless thousands died because of it. But, he never says that the Deepness actually attacked them. He says that they ‘died because of it.’ Maybe we’ve just been looking at this the wrong way all along. Those people weren’t crushed or eaten. They starved to death because their land was slowly being swallowed by the mists.”
