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Hey, Hoid. Can I catch a ride up there with you?” The new coachman shrugged, making room for Wayne on top of the carriage.
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.
You’ve barely progressed technologically from what I gave you in the books. Yet others, who were nearly destroyed …
I’d have thought you’d find this natural, seeing as your God is basically a hermaphrodite at this point. Both good and evil, Ruin and Preservation, light and dark, male and female. Et cetera et cetera.”
He scanned the open foyer, with its murals of the Originators. Hammond, the Lord Mistborn, Lady Truth, Wax’s own ancestor Edgard Ladrian. Portly and self-satisfied, in his portrait he held a cup of wine.
Others contained depictions of the rebuilding of the world, or other relics such as a replica of both Harmony’s Bands and the Bands of Mourning.
Wax couldn’t pull himself away, gaping at history—no, mythology—come alive. The Lord Ruler’s palace. Places where the Survivor and his followers had walked. Rusts … the Well of Ascension itself would be in there.
Wayne stood still, jaw clenched. No jokes about … well, the obvious things. Besides, he’d just learned something far worse. Something that was no cause for laughter. Marasi looked at him, then frowned. “Wayne, what’s wrong?” He sat down, shaking his head. “Wayne?” Marasi said, rising, sounding genuinely concerned. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that—” “I don’t mind what you said,” Wayne said. “Then what?” “Well,” he said, looking at MeLaan, “I’d just always assumed … you know … that humans tasted wonderful.” “Nope,” MeLaan said. “You’re really woundin’ my self-esteem,” Wayne said.
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Wayne’s just naturally funny man
