The Hero of Ages

'Yes, I know,' Spook said. 'Your brother is an Allomancer. He's a Coinshot; I felt his Pushes. That day at Marketpit.'

She remained silent-more beautiful herself than the garden could ever have been-though she did take a step backward as her eyes finally found him in the mists.

'Eventually,' Spook continued, 'I decided that I must be wrong. Nobody mourns so much for a simple garden, no matter how lovely. After that, I thought the sadness in your eyes must come from being forbidden to take part in your brother's councils. He always sends you out, into the garden, when he meets with his most important officials. I know what it's like to feel useless and excluded among important people.'

He took another step forward. The rough earth lay torn beneath his feet, covered by an inch of ash, the dreary remnants of what had once been fertile ground. To his right stood the lone shrub that Beldre often came to gaze at. He didn't look toward it; he kept his eyes on her.

'I was wrong,' he said. 'Being forbidden your brother's conferences would lead to frustration, but not such pain. Not such regret. I know that sorrow now. I killed for the first time this afternoon. I helped overthrow empires, then helped build them anew. And I'd never killed a man. Not until today.'

He stopped, then looked into her eyes. 'Yes, I know that sorrow. What I'm trying figure out is why you feel it.'

She turned away. 'You shouldn't be here,' she said. 'There are guards watching-'

'No,' Spook said. 'Not anymore. Quellion sent too many men into the city-he's afraid that he'll suffer a revolution, like happened in Luthadel. Like he himself inspired here when he seized power. He's right to be afraid, but he was wrong to leave his own palace so poorly guarded.'

'Kill him,' Kelsier whispered. 'Quellion is inside; this is the perfect chance. He deserves it, you know he does.'

No, Spook thought. Not today. Not in front of her.

Beldre glanced back at him, her eyes growing hard. 'Why have you come? To taunt me?'

'To tell you that I understand,' Spook said.

'How can you say that?' she said. 'You don't understand me-you don't know me.'

'I think I do,' Spook said. 'I saw your eyes today, when you watched those people being marched to their deaths. You feel guilty. Guilty for your brother's murders. You sorrow because you feel you should be able to stop him.' He took a step forward. 'You can't, Beldre. He's been corrupted by his power. He might once have been a good man, but no longer. Do you realize what he's doing? Your brother is murdering people simply to get Allomancers. He captures them, then threatens to kill their families unless they do as he asks. Are those the actions of a good man?'

'You are a simplistic fool,' Beldre whispered, though she wouldn't meet his eyes.

'I know,' Spook said. 'What are a few deaths when it comes to securing the stability of a kingdom?' He paused, then shook his head. 'He's killing children, Beldre. And he's doing it simply to cover up the fact that he's gathering Allomancers.'

Beldre was silent for a moment. 'Go,' she finally said.

'I want you to come with me.'

She looked up.

'I'm going to overthrow your brother,' Spook said. 'I am a member of the Survivor's own crew. We took down the Lord Ruler-Quellion will hardly provide us with a challenge. You don't have to be here when he falls.'

Beldre snorted quietly in derision.

'It's not just about your safety,' Spook said. 'If you join with us, it will be a strong blow to your brother. Perhaps it will convince him that he is wrong. There could be a more peaceful way of making this happen.'

'I'm going to start screaming in three heartbeats,' Beldre said.

'I don't fear your guards,' Spook said.

'I don't doubt that,' Beldre said. 'But if they come, you'll have to kill again.'

Spook wavered. He stayed where he was, however, calling her bluff.

And so she started screaming.

'Go kill him!' Kelsier said over her screams. 'Now, before it's too late! Those guards you killed-they were just following orders. Quellion, he's the true monster.'

Spook ground his teeth in frustration, then finally ran, fleeing from Beldre and her screams, leaving Quellion alive.

For the moment.

The group of rings, clasps, ear loops, bracelets, and other bits of metal gleamed on the table like a treasure hoard of legend. Of course, most of the metals were rather mundane. Iron, steel, tin, copper. No gold or atium.

Yet, to a Feruchemist, the metals were worth far more than their economic value. They were batteries, stores that could be filled, then drawn upon. One made of pewter, for instance, could be filled with strength. Filling it would drain the Feruchemist of strength for a time-making him weak enough that simple tasks grew difficult-but the price was worthwhile. For, when necessary, he could draw that strength forth.

Many of these metalminds, spread out on the table in front of Sazed, were empty at the moment. Sazed had last used them during the horrific battle that had ended with the fall-then rescue-of Luthadel over a year before. That battle had left him drained in more ways than one. Ten rings, lined up on the side of the table, had been used to nearly kill him. Marsh had shot them at Sazed like coins, piercing his skin. That, however, had allowed Sazed to draw forth their power and heal himself.

At the very center of the collection were the most important metalminds of all. Four bracers-meant to clasp on to the upper or lower arms-sat gleaming and polished, made of the purest copper. They were the largest of his metalminds, for they held the most. Copper carried memories. A Feruchemist could take images, thoughts, or sounds that were fresh in his mind, then store them away. While inside, they wouldn't decay or change, as memories could while held in the mind.

When Sazed had been a young man, an older Feruchemist had read out the entire contents of his copperminds. Sazed had stored the knowledge in his own copperminds; they contained the sum total of Keeper knowledge. The Lord Ruler had worked hard to smother people's memories of the past. But the Keepers had gathered them-stories of how the world had been before the ash came and the sun had turned red. The Keepers had memorized the names of places and of kingdoms, had gathered the wisdom of those who were lost.

And they had memorized the religions that had been forbidden by the Lord Ruler. These he had worked the most diligently to destroy, and so the Keepers had worked with equal diligence to rescue them-to secure them away inside of metalminds, so someday they could be taught again. Above all, the Keepers had searched for one thing: knowledge of their own religion, the beliefs of the Terris people. Those had been forgotten during the destructive chaos following the Lord Ruler's ascension. However, despite centuries of work, the Keepers had never recovered this most precious knowledge of all.

I wonder what would have happened if we had found it, Sazed thought, picking up a steelmind and quietly polishing it. Probably nothing. He'd given up on his work with the religions in his portfolio for the moment, feeling too discouraged to study.

There were fifty religions left in his portfolio. Why was he deluding himself, hoping to find any more truth in them than he had in the previous two hundred and fifty? None of the religions had managed to survive the years. Shouldn't he just let them be? Looking through them seemed to be part of the great fallacy in the work of the Keepers. They'd struggled to remember the beliefs of men, but those beliefs had already proven they lacked the resilience to survive. Why bring them back to life? That seemed as pointless as reviving a sickly animal so it could fall to predators again.

He continued to polish. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Breeze watching him. The Soother had come to Sazed's 'room,' complaining that he couldn't sleep, not with Spook still outside somewhere. Sazed had nodded, but continued polishing. He didn't wish to get into a conversation; he just wanted to be alone.

Breeze, unfortunately, stood and came over. 'Sometimes, I don't understand you, Sazed,' Breeze said.

'I do not endeavor to be mysterious, Lord Breeze,' Sazed said, moving on to polish a small bronze ring.

'Why take such good care of them?' Breeze asked. 'You never wear them anymore. In fact, you seem to spurn them.'

'I do not spurn the metalminds, Lord Breeze. They are, in a way, the only sacred thing I have left in my