Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [702]
“That’s a fairly small circle, El,” Ham said, still studying the map. The large-muscled man sat with General Demoux between Cett and Breeze. Sazed sat quietly to the side. Vin glanced at him, trying to judge if their previous conversation had lifted his depression any, but she couldn’t tell.
They were a small group: only nine, if one counted Cett’s son, Gneorndin. But, it included pretty much all that was left of Kelsier’s crew. Only Spook, doing reconnaissance in the North, was missing. Everyone was focused on the map. The final circle was, indeed, very small—not even as big as the Central Dominance, which held the imperial capital of Luthadel. What the map said, and Elend implied, was that over ninety percent of the empire wouldn’t be able to support crops this summer.
“Even this small bubble will be gone by next winter,” Elend said.
Vin watched the others contemplate, and realize—if they hadn’t already—the horror of what was upon them. It’s like Alendi’s logbook said, she thought. They couldn’t fight the Deepness with armies. It destroyed cities, bringing a slow, terrible death. They were helpless.
The Deepness. That was what they’d called the mists—or, at least, that was what the surviving records called them. Perhaps the thing they fought, the primal force Vin had released, was behind the obfuscation. There was really no way of knowing for sure what had once been, for the entity had the power to change records.
“All right, people,” Elend said, folding his arms. “We need options. Kelsier recruited you because you could do the impossible. Well, our predicament is pretty impossible.”
“He didn’t recruit me,” Cett pointed out. “I got pulled by my balls into this little fiasco.”
“I wish I cared enough to apologize,” Elend said, staring at them. “Come on. I know you have thoughts.”
“Well, my dear man,” Breeze said, “the most obvious option appears to be the Well of Ascension. It seems the power there was built to fight the mists.”
“Or to free the thing hiding in them,” Cett said.
“That doesn’t matter,” Vin said, causing heads to turn. “There’s no power at the Well. It’s gone. Used up. If it ever returns, it will be in another thousand years, I suspect.”
“That’s a little bit long to stretch the supplies in those storage caches,” Elend said.
“What if we grew plants that need very little light?” Ham asked. As always, he wore simple trousers and a vest. He was a Thug, and could burn pewter—which made him resistant to heat and cold. He’d cheerfully walk around sleeveless on a day that would send most men running for shelter.
Well, maybe not cheerfully. Ham hadn’t changed overnight, as Sazed had. Ham, however, had lost some of his joviality. He tended to sit around a lot, looks of consternation on his face, as if he were considering things very, very carefully—and not much liking the answers he came up with.
“There are plants that don’t need light?” Allrianne asked, cocking her head.
“Mushrooms and the like,” Ham said.
“I doubt we could feed an entire empire on mushrooms,” Elend said. “Though it’s a good thought.”
“There have to be other plants, too,” Ham said. “Even if the mists come all day, there will be some light that gets through. Some plants have to be able to live on that.”
“Plants we can’t eat, my dear man,” Breeze pointed out.
“Yes, but maybe animals can,” Ham said.
Elend nodded thoughtfully.
“Blasted little time left for horticulture,” Cett noted. “We should have been working on this sort of thing years ago.”
“We didn’t know most of this until a few months ago,” Ham said.
“True,” Elend said. “But the Lord Ruler had a thousand years to prepare. That’s why he made the storage caverns