Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [394]
He sighed—another trap avoided—as he drank the rest of the cup to be certain. Amaranta knelt expectantly again.
“Go,” Straff ordered.
Amaranta nodded quietly. She put her arm back through the dress’s sleeve, then retreated from the tent.
Straff sat stewing, empty cup cooling in his hand. He knew he held the edge. As long as he appeared strong before Zane, the Mistborn would continue to do as commanded.
Probably.
19
If only I had passed over Alendi when looking for an assistant, all those years ago.
Sazed unclasped his final steelmind. He held it up, the braceletlike band of metal glistening in the red sunlight. To another man, it might seem valuable. To Sazed, it was now just another empty husk—a simple steel bracelet. He could refill it if he wished, but for the moment he didn’t consider the weight worth carrying.
With a sigh, he dropped the bracelet. It fell with a clank, tossing up a puff of ash from the ground. Five months of storing, of spending every fifth day drained of speed, my body moving as if impeded by a thick molasses. And now it’s all gone.
The loss had purchased something valuable, however. In just six days of travel, using steelminds on occasion, he had traveled the equivalent of six weeks’ worth of walking. According to his cartography coppermind, Luthadel was now a little over a week away. Sazed felt good about the expenditure. Perhaps he’d overreacted to the deaths he’d found in the little southern village. Perhaps there was no need for him to hurry. But, he’d created the steelmind to be used.
He hefted his pack, which was much lighter than it had been. Though many of his metalminds were small, they were heavy in aggregate. He’d decided to discard some of the less valuable or less full ones as he ran. Just like the steel bracelet, which he left sitting in the ash behind him as he went on.
He was definitely in the Central Dominance now. He’d passed Faleast and Tyrian, two of the northern Ashmounts. Tyrian was still just barely visible to the south—a tall, solitary peak with a cut-off, blackened top. The landscape had grown flat, the trees changing from patchy brown pines to the willowy white aspens common around Luthadel. The aspens rose like bones growing from the black soil, clumping, their ashen white bark scarred and twisted. They—
Sazed paused. He stood near the central canal, one of the main routes to Luthadel. The canal was empty of boats at the moment; travelers were rare these days, even more rare than they had been during the Final Empire, for bandits were far more common. Sazed had outrun several groups of them during his hurried flight to Luthadel.
No, solitary travelers were rare. Armies were far more common—and, judging from the several dozen trails of smoke he saw rising ahead of him, he had run afoul of one. It stood directly between him and Luthadel.
He thought quietly for a moment, flakes of ash beginning to fall lightly around him. It was midday; if that army had scouts, Sazed would have a very difficult time getting around it. In addition, his steelminds were empty. He wouldn’t be able to run from pursuit.
And yet, an army within a week of Luthadel…. Whosewas it, and what threat did it pose? His curiosity, the curiosity of a scholar, prodded him to seek a vantage from which to study the troops. Vin and the others could use any information he gathered.
Decision made, Sazed located a hill with a particularly large stand of aspens. He dropped his pack at the base of a tree, then pulled out an ironmind and began to fill it. He felt the familiar sensation of decreased weight, and he easily climbed to the top of the thin tree—his body was now light enough that it didn’t take much strength to pull himself upward.
Hanging from the very tip of the tree, Sazed tapped his tinmind. The edges of his vision