The Mistborn Trilogy (169 page)

Sazed set the portfolio beside his chair. How to explain? Each of the sheets in the thick portfolio outlined one of the over three hundred different religions the Keepers had collected. Each and every one of those religions was now effectively “dead,” as the Lord Ruler had stamped them out very early in his reign, some thousand years before.

One year ago, the woman Sazed loved had died. Now, he wanted to know . . . no, he
had
to know . . . if the religions of the world had answers for him. He would find the truth, or he would eliminate each and every faith.

Breeze was still looking at him.

“I would rather not talk about it, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said.

“As you wish,” Breeze said, raising his cup. “Perhaps you could use your Feruchemist’s powers to listen in on the conversation happening in the next room . . .”

“I do not think it would be polite to do so.”

Breeze smiled. “My dear Terrisman—only you would come to conquer a city, then worry about being ‘polite’ to the dictator you’re threatening.”

Sazed glanced down, feeling slightly abashed. But, he could not deny Breeze’s remarks. Though the two of them had brought no army with them to Lekal City, they had indeed come to conquer. They simply intended to do it with a piece of paper rather than a sword.

It all hinged on what was happening in the next room. Would the king sign the treaty or not? All Breeze and Sazed could do was wait. He itched to get his portfolio out, to look over the next religion in the stack. He’d been considering the Canzi for over a day, and now that he’d made a decision about it, he wished to
move on to the next sheet. During the last year, he’d gotten through about two-thirds of the religions. Barely a hundred remained, though the number was closer to two hundred if he took into account all of the sub-sects and denominations.

He was close. Over the next few months, he’d be able to get through the rest of the religions. He wanted to give each one fair consideration. Surely, one of the remaining ones would strike him as containing the essence of truth he was searching for. Surely one of them would tell him what had happened to Tindwyl’s spirit without contradicting itself on a half-dozen different points.

But, for the moment, he felt self-conscious reading in front of Breeze. So, Sazed forced himself to sit and wait patiently.

The room around him was ornate, after the fashion of the old imperial nobility. Sazed wasn’t used to such finery, not anymore. Elend had sold or burned most of his lavish trappings—his people had needed food and warmth during the winter. King Lekal hadn’t done the same, it appeared, though perhaps that was because the winters were less harsh here in the South.

Sazed glanced out the window beside his chair. Lekal City didn’t have a true palace—it had been just a country estate until about two years ago. The manor house, however, did have a nice view over the growing town—which was more of a large shantytown than it was a true city.

Still, that shantytown controlled lands that were dangerously inside Elend’s defensive perimeter. They needed the security of King Lekal’s allegiance. And so, Elend had sent a contingent—including Sazed, who was his chief ambassador—to secure the loyalty of the Lekal king. That man deliberated in the next room with his aides, trying to decide whether or not to accept the treaty—which would make them subjects of Elend Venture.

Chief ambassador of the New Empire
. . .

Sazed was not very fond of his title, for it implied that he was actually a citizen of the empire. His people, the Terris people, had sworn to call no man master again. They had spent a thousand years being oppressed, being bred like animals and turned into perfect, docile servants. Only with the fall of the Final Empire had the Terris become free to rule themselves.

So far, the Terris people hadn’t done a very good job of that. Of course, it didn’t help that the Steel Inquisitors had slaughtered the entire Terris ruling council, leaving Sazed’s people without direction or leadership.

In a way, we’re hypocrites anyway
, he thought.
The Lord Ruler was secretly a Terrisman. One of our own did those horrible things to us. What right do we have to insist on calling no foreigner master? It wasn’t a foreigner that destroyed our people, our culture, and our religion
.

And so, Sazed served as Elend Venture’s chief ambassador. Elend was a friend—a man Sazed respected like few others. To Sazed’s mind, even the Survivor himself hadn’t possessed Elend Venture’s strength of character. The emperor hadn’t tried to assume authority over the Terris people, even after he had accepted the refugees into his lands. Sazed wasn’t sure if his people were free or not, but they owed Elend Venture a large debt. Sazed would gladly serve as the man’s ambassador.

Even if there were other things Sazed felt he should be doing. Such as leading his people.

No
, Sazed thought, glancing at his portfolio.
No. A man with no faith cannot lead them. I must find the truth for myself first. If such a thing exists
.

“It certainly is taking them long enough,” Breeze said, eating a grape. “One would think that after all the talking we did to get to this point, they’d know by now whether they intended to sign the thing or not.”

Sazed glanced toward the elaborately carved door on the other side of the room. What would King Lekal decide? Did he really have a choice? “Did we do the right thing here, do you think, Lord Breeze?” Sazed found himself asking.

Breeze snorted. “Right and wrong don’t come into it. If
we
hadn’t come to bully King Lekal, someone else would have. It comes down to basic strategic necessity. Or, that’s how I see it—perhaps I’m just more calculating than others.”

Sazed eyed the stocky man. Breeze was a Soother—in fact, he was the most brazen, flagrant Soother Sazed had ever known. Most Soothers used their powers with discrimination and subtlety, nudging emotions only at the most opportune times. Breeze, however, played with
everyone’s
emotions. Sazed could feel the man’s touch on his own feelings at that moment, in fact—though only because he knew what to look for.

“If you will excuse the observation, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said, “you do not fool me as easily as you believe you do.”

Breeze raised an eyebrow.

“I know you are a good man,” Sazed said. “You work very hard to hide it. You make a great show of being callous and selfish. Yet, to those watching what you do and not just what you say, you become far more transparent.”

Breeze frowned, and Sazed got a little stab of pleasure at surprising the Soother. He obviously hadn’t expected Sazed to be so blunt.

“My dear man,” Breeze said, sipping his wine, “I’m disappointed in you. Weren’t you just speaking about being polite? Well, it’s not
at all
polite to point out a crusty old pessimist’s dark inner secret.”

“Dark inner secret?” Sazed asked. “That you’re kindhearted?”

“It’s an attribute in myself that I’ve worked very hard to discourage,” Breeze said lightly. “Unfortunately, I prove too weak. Now, to completely divert us from this subject—which I find
far
too discomforting—I shall return to your earlier question. You ask if we are doing the right thing? Right thing how? By forcing King Lekal to become a vassal to Elend?”

Sazed nodded.

“Well then,” Breeze said, “I’d have to say that yes, we did the right thing. Our treaty will give Lekal the protection of Elend’s armies.”

“At the cost of his own freedom to govern.”

“Bah,” Breeze said with a wave of his hand. “We both know that Elend is a far better ruler than Lekal could ever hope to be. Most of his people are living in half-finished shacks, for the Lord Ruler’s sake!”

“Yes, but you must admit that we bullied him.”

Breeze frowned. “That’s how all politics is. Sazed, this man’s nephew sent an
army of koloss to destroy Luthadel! He’s lucky Elend didn’t just come down and wipe out the entire city in retribution. We have bigger armies, more resources, and better Allomancers. This people will be far better off once Lekal signs that treaty. What is wrong with you, my dear man? You argued all these same points not two days ago at the negotiating table.”

“I apologize, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said. “I . . . seem to find myself feeling contrary of late.”

Breeze didn’t respond at first. “It still hurts, does it?” he asked.

That man is far too good at understanding the emotions of others
, Sazed thought. “Yes,” he finally whispered.

“It will stop,” Breeze said. “Eventually.”

Will it?
Sazed thought, looking away. It had been a year. It still felt . . . as if nothing would ever be right again. Sometimes, he wondered if his immersion in the religions was simply a way of hiding from his pain.

If that were so, then he’d chosen a poor way to cope, for the pain was always there waiting for him. He had failed. No, his
faith
had failed
him
. Nothing was left to him.

It was all. Just. Gone.

“Look,” Breeze said, drawing his attention, “sitting here and waiting for Lekal to make up his mind is obviously making us anxious. Why don’t we talk about something else? How about telling me about one of those religions you have memorized. You haven’t tried to convert me in months!”

“I stopped wearing my copperminds nearly a year ago, Breeze.”

“But surely you remember a bit,” Breeze said. “Why don’t you try to convert me? You know, for old times’ sake and all that.”

“I don’t think so, Breeze.”

It felt like a betrayal. As a Keeper—a Terris Feruchemist—he could store memories inside of pieces of copper, then withdraw them later. During the time of the Final Empire, Sazed’s kind had suffered much to gather their vast stores of information—and not just about religions. They had gathered every shred of information they could find about the time before the Lord Ruler. They’d memorized it, passed it on to others, depending on their Feruchemy to maintain accuracy.

Yet they’d never found the one thing they sought most urgently, the thing that had begun their quest: the religion of the Terris people. It had been erased by the Lord Ruler during the first century of his reign.

Still, so many had died, worked, and bled so that Sazed could have the vast storages he’d inherited. And he had taken them off. After retrieving his notes about each religion, writing them down on the pages he now carried in his portfolio, he’d removed each and every one of his metalminds and stored them away.

They just . . . didn’t seem to matter anymore. At times, nothing did. He tried not to dwell too much on that. But the thought lurked in his mind, terrible and impossible to banish. He felt tainted, unworthy. As far as Sazed knew, he was the last living Feruchemist. They didn’t have the resources to search right now, but in a year’s time, no Keeper refugees had made their way to Elend’s domain. Sazed was it. And, like all Terris stewards, he’d been castrated as a child. The hereditary
power of Feruchemy might very well die with him. There would be some small trace of it left in the Terris people, but given the Lord Ruler’s efforts to breed it away and the deaths of the Synod . . . things did not look good.

The metalminds remained packed away, carried along wherever he went, but never used. He doubted he would ever draw upon them again.

“Well?” Breeze asked, rising and walking over to lean against the window beside Sazed. “Aren’t you going to tell me about a religion? Which is it going to be? That religion where people made maps, maybe? The one that worshipped plants? Surely you’ve got one in there that worships wine. That might fit me.”

“Please, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said, looking out over the city. Ash was falling. It always did these days. “I do not wish to speak of these things.”

“What?” Breeze asked. “How can that be?”

“If there were a God, Breeze,” Sazed said, “do you think he’d have let so many people be killed by the Lord Ruler? Do you think he’d have let the world become what it is now? I will not teach you—or anyone—a religion that cannot answer my questions. Never again.”

Breeze fell silent.

Sazed reached down, touching his stomach. Breeze’s comments pained him. They brought his mind back to that terrible time a year before, when Tindwyl had been killed. When Sazed had fought Marsh at the Well of Ascension, and had nearly been killed himself. Even through his clothing, he could feel the scars on his abdomen, where Marsh had hit him with a collection of metal rings, piercing Sazed’s skin and nearly killing him.

He’d drawn upon the Feruchemical power of those very rings to save his life, healing his body, engulfing them within him. Soon after, however, he’d stored up some health and then had a surgeon remove the rings from his body. Despite Vin’s protests that having them inside him would be an advantage, Sazed was worried that it was unhealthy to keep them embedded in his own flesh. Besides, he had just wanted them gone.

Breeze turned to look out the window. “You were always the best of us, Sazed,” he said quietly. “Because you believed in something.”

“I am sorry, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said. “I do not mean to disappoint you.”

“Oh, you don’t disappoint me,” Breeze said. “Because I don’t believe what you’ve said. You’re not meant to be an atheist, Sazed. I have a feeling you’ll be no good at it—doesn’t suit you at all. You’ll come around eventually.”