Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [489]
Genedere nodded dully, taking back the baby. How Sazed wished he could give her more. A dozen different religions passed through his mind. He had spent his entire life trying to encourage people to believe in something other than the Lord Ruler. Yet, for some reason, at this moment he found it difficult to preach one of them to Genedere.
It had been different before the Collapse. Each time he’d spoken of a religion, Sazed had felt a subtle sense of rebellion. Even if people hadn’t accepted the things he taught—and they rarely had—his words had reminded them that there had once been beliefs other than the doctrines of the Steel Ministry.
Now there was nothing to rebel against. In the face of the terrible grief he saw in Genedere’s eyes, he found it difficult to speak of religions long dead, gods long forgotten. Esoterica would not ease this woman’s pain.
Sazed stood, moving on to the next group of people.
“Sazed?”
Sazed turned. He hadn’t noticed Tindwyl entering the warehouse. The doors of the large structure were closed against approaching night, and the firepits gave an inconsistent light. Holes had been knocked in the roof to let out the smoke; if one looked up, trails of mist could be seen creeping into the room, though they evaporated before they reached halfway to the floor.
The refugees didn’t often look up.
“You’ve been here nearly all day,” Tindwyl said. The room was remarkably quiet, considering its occupancy. Fires crackled, and people lay silent in their pain or numbness.
“There are many wounded here,” Sazed said. “I am the best one to look after them, I think. I am not alone—the king has sent others and Lord Breeze is here, Soothing the people’s despair.”
Sazed nodded to the side, where Breeze sat in a chair, ostensibly reading a book. He looked terribly out of place in the room, wearing his fine three-piece suit. Yet, his mere presence said something remarkable, in Sazed’s estimation.
These poor people, Sazed thought. Their lives were terrible under the Lord Ruler. Now even what little they had has been taken from them. And they were only a tiny number—four hundred compared with the hundreds of thousands who still lived in Luthadel.
What would happen when the final stores of food ran out? Rumors were already abroad regarding the poisoned wells, and Sazed had just heard that some of their stored food had been sabotaged as well. What would happen to these people? How long could the siege continue?
In fact, what would happen when the siege ended? What would happen when the armies finally began to attack and pillage? What destruction, what grief, would the soldiers cause in searching for hidden atium?
“You do care for them,” Tindwyl said quietly, stepping up.
Sazed turned toward her. Then he looked down. “Not as much as I should, perhaps.”
“No,” Tindwyl said. “I can see it. You confuse me, Sazed.”
“I seem to have a talent in that area.”
“You look tired. Where is your bronzemind?”
Suddenly, Sazed felt the fatigue. He’d been ignoring it, but her words seemed to bring it in like a wave, rolling over him.
He sighed. “I used most of my wakefulness in my run to Luthadel. I was so eager to get here….” His studies had languished recently. With the problems in the city, and the arrival of the refugees, he hadn’t had much time. Besides, he had already transcribed the rubbing. Further work would require detailed cross-referencing to other works, searching for clues. He probably wouldn’t even have time to…
He frowned, noting the odd look in Tindwyl’s eyes.
“All right,” she said, sighing. “Show me.”
“Show you?”
“Whatever it was you found,” she said. “The discovery that prompted you to run across two dominances. Show it to me.”
Suddenly, everything seemed to lighten. His fatigue, his worry, even his sorrow. “I would love to,” he said quietly.
Another job well done, Breeze thought, congratulating himself as he watched the