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It can make anyone into an Allomancer, you see … If we don’t use it, someone else will.
We’re out of our depth, Wax thought, returning to the kitchen. We’ve crept into the realm of the gods. Harmony, Ironeyes, the Lord Mistborn …
Hoid.
Wit!!!!
Very well. I am Harmony, the Hero of Ages, once called Sazed. At the end of one world, I took upon myself the powers of protection and destruction, and in so doing became the caretaker of the world to come. I am here, Waxillium, to tell you that you are not insane.
“Kandra,” Wax said. “Like TenSoon, the Guardian. Or the person who gave me this earring.” They can take the corpses of the dead and use their bones to mimic a person who has died—they wear bodies like you wear clothing, changing back and forth as they wish. They were created by the Lord Ruler using Hemalurgy.
She is a member of the Third Generation, and you should know better than to assume everyone dangerous to be a male. Paalm was what we called her, but she has chosen the name Bleeder for herself. Waxillium, Bleeder is ancient, older than the destruction of the world—almost as old as the Final Empire. Indeed, she is older than I am, though not older than my powers. She is crafty, careful, and brilliant. And I’m afraid that she might have gone mad.
Regardless, I know you have been reading young Lestibournes’s book. I am not pleased that he made it, but I could not forbid him. I will trust that Marsh was wise in giving it to you.
Already I fear that I have made things too easy for men. This city, the perfect climate, the ground that renews … You were to have had the radio a century ago, but you didn’t need it, so you didn’t strive for it. You ignore aviation, and cannot tame the wilds because you don’t care to study proper irrigation or fertilization.
Does that ruin your faith, Waxillium? Does it worry you that your God is fallible? “You never claimed to be infallible, so far as I remember.” No. I did not.
“I doubt that you care,” Steris said, leaning in, “but I consider your motives to be irrelevant. You save lives. You … saved my life. My gratitude is not influenced by what was running through your head as you did so.”
8:17. Way into the building likely blocked by traffic. Lord Waxillium carries us up to the top floor by Allomancy, which is completely inappropriate and at the same time breathtaking.
“By the way, technically I’m not supposed to kill people. I … uh … think I already broke that rule tonight. If we happen to survive, please don’t tell TenSoon that I murdered a bunch of people again. It upsets him.” “Sure. I can do that.”
“Larskpur said,” the man whispered, “that the Survivor was a false god. That Kelsier had tried, and failed, to help humankind. That his death hadn’t been about protecting us or Ascending, but about stupidity and bravado.”
“You’re the one who brought me my earring,” he said, fingering his ear with its tiny spike. “All those years ago.”
The law is not something holy, son. It’s simply a reflection of the ideals of those lucky enough to be in charge.”
“You are His Ruin,” TenSoon said. “I am His Preservation.”
“I’m not Harmony’s hands,” Wax whispered. “I’m His sword.”
“And what would you have Harmony do, woman? Give us all the answers? Lead us by the noses, like Paalm swore that He did? Turn us all into pieces on a board for His amusement?”
“Or maybe you want it the other way?” MeLaan snapped. “Leave us alone completely? Not intervene at all?”
“Can you imagine what it must be like? Knowing that any action you take is going to help some, but hurt others? Save a man’s life now, let him spread a disease that kills a child later in his life. Harmony does the best He can—the best possible, by the very definition. Yes, He hurt Wax. He hurt him badly. But He put the pain where He knew it could be borne.”
What could stop a god, Marasi Colms? Any guesses?” “Another god,” Marasi whispered. “Congratulations,” MeLaan said, pulling open the door. “You’ve found proof of something that terrifies us.
