Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [623]
The group fell silent. I have to keep them focused on her, Sazed thought. Without Vin’s leadership—without the threat of her power—this coalition would dissolve in three heartbeats.
He felt so inadequate. He couldn’t keep the men on-topic, and he couldn’t do much to help them with their various problems. He could just keep reminding them of Vin’s power.
The trouble was, he didn’t really want to. He was feeling something very odd in himself, feelings he usually didn’t have. Disconcern. Apathy. Why did anything that these men talked about matter? Why did anything matter, now that Tindwyl was dead?
He gritted his teeth, trying to force himself to focus.
“Very well,” Cett said, waving a hand. “I’ll send the scouts. Has that food arrived from Urteau yet, Janarle?”
The younger nobleman grew uncomfortable. “We…may have trouble with that, my lord. It seems that an unwholesome element has been rabble-rousing in the city.”
“No wonder you want to send troops back to the Northern Dominance!” Cett accused. “You’re planning to conquer your kingdom back and leave mine to rot!”
“Urteau is much closer than your capital, Cett,” Janarle said, turning back to his tea. “It only makes sense to set me up there before we turn our attention westward.”
“We will let the empress make that decision,” Penrod said. He liked to act the mediator—and by doing so, he made himself seem above the issues. In essence, he put himself in control by putting himself in between the other two.
Not all that different from what Elend tried to do, Sazed thought, with our armies. The boy had more of a sense of political strategy than Tindwyl had ever credited him with.
I shouldn’t think about her, he told himself, closing his eyes. Yet, it was hard not to. Everything Sazed did, everything he thought, seemed wrong because she was gone. Lights seemed dimmer. Motivations were more difficult to reach. He found that he had trouble even wanting to pay attention to the kings, let alone give them direction.
It was foolish, he knew. How long had Tindwyl been back in his life? Only a few months. Long ago, he had resigned himself to the fact that he would never be loved—in general—and that he certainly would never have her love. Not only did he lack manhood, but he was a rebel and a dissident—a man well outside of the Terris orthodoxy.
Surely her love for him had been a miracle. Yet, whom did he thank for that blessing, and whom did he curse for stealing her away? He knew of hundreds of gods. He would hate them all, if he thought it would do any good.
For the sake of his own sanity, he forced himself to get distracted by the kings again.
“Listen,” Penrod was saying, leaning forward, arms on the tabletop. “I think we’re looking at this the wrong way, gentlemen. We shouldn’t be squabbling, we should be happy. We are in a very unique position. In the time since the Lord Ruler’s empire fell, dozens—perhaps hundreds—of men have tried to set themselves up as kings in various ways. The one thing they shared, however, was that they all lacked stability.
“Well, it appears that we are going to be forced to work together. I am starting to see this in a favorable light. I will give my allegiance to the Venture couple—I’ll even live with Elend Venture’s eccentric views of government—if it means that I’ll still be in power ten years from now.”
Cett scratched at his beard for a moment, then nodded. “You make a good point, Penrod. Maybe the first good one I’ve ever heard out of you.”
“But we can’t continue trying to assume that we know what we are to do,” Janarle said. “We need direction. Surviving the next ten years, I suspect, is going to depend heavily on my not ending up dead on the end of that Mistborn girl’s knife.”
“Indeed,” Penrod said, nodding curtly. “Master Terrisman. When can we expect the empress to take command again?”
Once again, all three pairs of eyes turned to Sazed.
I don’t really care, Sazed thought, then immediately felt guilty. Vin was his friend. He did care. Even if it was hard to