Mistborn Trilogy - Brandon Sanderson [907]
Ruin turned toward her. He came often, wearing Reen’s body, still indulging himself in what Vin could only assume was a kind of gloating. As he often did, however, he ignored her question. Instead, he turned to the east, eyes seeming as if they could see directly through the cell wall.
“I wish you could see it,” he said. “The ashfalls have grown beautiful and deep, as if the sky itself has shattered, raining down shards of its corpse in flakes of black. You feel the ground tremble?”
Vin didn’t respond.
“Those quakes are the earth’s final sighs,” Ruin said. “Like an old man, moaning as he dies, calling for his children so that he can pass on his last bits of wisdom. The very ground is pulling itself apart. The Lord Ruler did much of this himself. You can blame him, if you wish.”
Vin perked up. She didn’t draw attention to herself by asking more questions, but instead just let Ruin ramble on. Again, she noted just how human some of his mannerisms seemed.
“He thought he could solve the problems himself,” Ruin continued. “He rejected me, you know.”
And that happened exactly a thousand years ago, Vin thought. A thousand years has passed since Alendi failed in his quest; a thousand years since Rashek took the power for himself and became the Lord Ruler. That’s part of the answer to my question. The glowing liquid at the Well of Ascension—it was gone by the time I finished freeing Ruin. It must have disappeared after Rashek used it too.
A thousand years. Time for the Well to regenerate its power? But what was that power? Where did it come from?
“The Lord Ruler didn’t really save the world,” Ruin continued. “He just postponed its destruction—and, in doing so, he helped me. That’s the way it must always be, as I told you. When men think they are helping the world, they actually do more harm than good. Just like you. You tried to help, but you just ended up freeing me.”
Ruin glanced at her, then smiled in a fatherly way. She didn’t react.
“The ashmounts,” Ruin continued, “the dying landscape, the broken people—those were all Rashek’s. The twisting of men to become koloss, kandra, and Inquisitor, all his . . .”
“But, you hated him,” Vin said. “He didn’t free you—so you had to wait another thousand years.”
“True,” Ruin said. “But a thousand years is not much time. Not much time at all. Besides, I couldn’t refuse to help Rashek. I help everyone, for my power is a tool—the only tool by which things can change.”
It’s all ending, Vin thought. It really is. I don’t have time to sit and wait. I need to do something. Vin stood, causing Ruin to glance toward her as she walked to the front of the cell. “Guards!” she called. Her voice echoed in her own chamber. “Guards!” she repeated.
Eventually, she heard a thump outside. “What?” a rough voice demanded.
“Tell Yomen that I want to deal.”
There was a pause.
“Deal?” the guard finally asked.
“Yes,” Vin said. “Tell him I have information that I want to give him.”
She wasn’t certain how to read the guard’s response, since it was simply more silence. She thought she heard him walking away, but without tin, she couldn’t tell.
Eventually, however, the guard returned. Ruin watched her, curious, as the door unlocked and then opened. The customary troop of soldiers stood outside.
“Come with us.”
* * *
As Vin entered Yomen’s audience chamber, she was immediately struck by the differences in the man. He looked much more haggard than he had the last time they’d met, as if he’d gone far too long without sleep.
But . . . he’s Mistborn, Vin thought with confusion. That means he could burn pewter to keep that fatigue out of his eyes.
Why doesn’t he? Unless . . . he can’t burn it. Unless there’s only one metal available to him.
She’d always been taught that there was no such thing as an atium Misting. But, more and more, she was realizing that the Lord Ruler perpetuated a lot of misinformation to keep himself in control