Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [854]
“What was that creature preparing for?” Breeze said. “Food and water, I can understand. But, blankets? Timber? Pulleys?”
“Disaster, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said. “He included everything that a people would need in the event that the city itself was destroyed. He even included bedrolls for sleeping and infirmary supplies. Perhaps he feared koloss rampages.”
“No,” Spook said. “He prepared for exactly what is happening. Now, you’ll be building something to plug the water? I kind of thought you’d just collapse the tunnels.”
“Oh, goodness no,” Sazed said. “We don’t have the manpower or equipment to cause a cave-in. Also, I wouldn’t want to do anything that would risk bringing the cavern down upon us. My plans are to build a wooden blocking mechanism that can be lowered into the current. Enough weight, along with the proper framework, should provide reinforcement to stop the flow. It’s actually not unlike the mechanisms used in the locks of canals.”
“Which,” Breeze added, “he’ll be happy to tell you about. At length.”
Sazed smiled. “I do think that—”
He was cut off, however, as Captain Goradel arrived, looking a fair bit more solemn than usual.
“Lord Spook,” Goradel said. “Someone is waiting for you above.”
“Who?” Spook asked. “Durn?”
“No, my lord. She says she’s the Citizen’s sister.”
“I’m not here to join with you,” the woman—Beldre—said.
They sat in an austere audience chamber in the Inquisition building above their cavern. The room’s chairs lacked any sort of cushioning, and steel plates hung on the wooden walls as decoration—to Sazed, they were uncomfortable reminders of what he had seen when he had visited the Conventical of Seran.
Beldre was a young woman with auburn hair. She wore a simple, Citizen-approved dress, dyed red. She sat with hands in lap, and while she met the eyes of those in the room, there was a nervous apprehension to her that weakened her position considerably.
“Why are you here then, my dear?” Breeze asked carefully. He sat in a chair across from Beldre. Allrianne sat at his side, watching the girl with an air of disapproval. Spook paced in the background, occasionally shooting glances at the window.
He thinks this is a feint, Sazed realized. That the girl is a distraction to throw us off before we get attacked. The boy wore his dueling canes, strapped to his waist like swords. How well did Spook even know how to fight?
“I’m here . . .” Beldre said, looking down. “I’m here because you’re going to kill my brother.”
“Now, where did you get an idea like that!” Breeze said. “We’re in the city to forge a treaty with your brother, not assassinate him! Do we look like the types who would be very good at that sort of thing?”
Beldre shot a glance at Spook.
“Him excluded,” Breeze said. “Spook is harmless. Really, you shouldn’t—”
“Breeze,” Spook interrupted, glancing over with his strange, bandaged eyes, spectacles hidden underneath and bulging out from the face just slightly under the cloth. “That’s enough. You’re making us both seem like idiots. Beldre knows why we’re here—everyone in the city knows why we’re here.”
The room fell silent.
He . . . looks a little bit like an Inquisitor, wearing those spectacles beneath the bandages, Sazed thought, shivering.
“Beldre,” Spook said. “You honestly expect us to think that you came here simply to plead for your brother’s life?”
She glanced at Spook, defiantly meeting his eyes—or, rather, his lack thereof. “You can try to sound harsh, but I know you won’t hurt me. You’re of the Survivor’s crew.”
Spook folded his arms.
“Please,” Beldre said. “Quellion is a good man, like you. You have to give him more time. Don’t kill him.”
“What makes you think we’d kill him, child?” Sazed asked. “You just said that you thought we would never harm you. Why is your brother different?”
Beldre glanced down. “You