“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.”
“Oh,” Spook said. He knelt down, dipping a hand in the water, then shivered. “That makes sense too, I guess—though I’d have guessed it was because of her.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your woman,” Spook said. “The other Keeper—Tindwyl. I heard her talk about religion. She didn’t think very much of it. I’d have thought that maybe you wouldn’t talk about religion anymore because that might be what she’d have wanted.”
Sazed felt a chill.
“Anyway,” Spook said, standing, wiping off his hand, “the people of this city know more than you think they do. Kelsier is watching over us.”
With that, the boy trailed away. Sazed, however, wasn’t listening. He stood, staring at the ebony waters.
Because that might be what she’d have wanted…
Tindwyl had thought religion to be foolish. She had said that people who looked toward ancient prophecies or unseen forces were seeking excuses. During her last few weeks with Sazed, this had often been a topic of conversation—even slight contention—between the two of them, for their research had dealt with the prophecies regarding the Hero of Ages.
That research had turned out to be useless. At best, the prophecies were the vain hopes of men who wished for a better world. At worst, they had been cleverly placed to further the goals of a malignant force. Either way, he had believed strongly in his work at that time. And Tindwyl had helped him. They had searched through their metalminds, sifting through centuries of information, history, and mythology, seeking references to the Deepness, the Hero of Ages, and the Well of Ascension. She had worked with him, claiming that her interest was academic, not religious. Sazed suspected that she’d had a different motivation.
She’d wanted to be with him. She had suppressed her dislike of religion out of a desire to be involved with what he found important. And, now that she was dead, Sazed found himself doing what she’d found important. Tindwyl had studied politics and leadership. She’d loved to read the biographies of great statesmen and generals. Had he unconsciously agreed to become Elend’s ambassador so that he could involve himself in Tindwyl’s studies, just as she—before her death—had given herself over to his?
He wasn’t certain. In truth, he thought his problems were deeper than that. However, the fact that Spook had been the one to make such an astute observation gave Sazed pause. It was a very clever way of looking at things. Instead of contradicting him, Spook had offered a possible explanation.
Sazed was impressed. He turned out, looking across the waters for a time and contemplating what Spook had said. Then, he pulled out the next religion in his portfolio and began to consider it. The sooner he got through them, the sooner he could—hopefully—find the truth.
32
Allomancy, obviously, is of Preservation. The rational mind will see this. For, in the case of Allomancy, net power is gained. It is provided by an external source—Preservation’s own body.
“ELEND, IS THAT REALLY YOU?”
Elend turned with shock. He’d been mingling at the ball, talking with a group of men who had turned out to be distant cousins of his. The voice from behind, however, seemed far more familiar. “Telden?” Elend asked. “What are you doing here!”
“I live here, El,” Telden said, clasping hands with Elend.
Elend was dumbfounded. He hadn’t seen Telden since his house had escaped Luthadel in the days of chaos following the death of the Lord Ruler. Once, this man had been one of Elend’s best friends. To the side, Elend’s cousins made a graceful withdrawal. “I thought you were in BasMardin, Tell,” Elend said.
“No,” Telden said. “That’s where my house settled, but I thought that the area was too dangerous, what with the koloss rampages. I moved inward to Fadrex once Lord Yomen came to power—he quickly gained a reputation for being able to provide stability.”
Elend smiled. The years had changed his friend. Telden had once been the model of a debonair ladies’ man, his hair and expensive suits intended to draw attention. It wasn’t that the older Telden had grown sloppy, but he obviously didn’t take as much care to appear stylish. He’d always been a large man—tall and kind of rectangular—and the extra weight he’d gained made him look far more… ordinary than he once had.