Shadows of Self (Mistborn, #5)

by Brandon Sanderson

“Oh hell. You caught him on the crapper, didn’t you?” Waxillium grinned at her. “Yeah.” “Did you shoot him in the back too?” “As bravely as any man ever shot another in the back.”

You had to adapt. Move. Change. That was good, but it could also threaten identity, connection, and sense of purpose. The governor’s guards studied the crowd with hostility, muttering about miscreants, as if seeing the crowd as barely contained malefactors who were looking for any excuse to riot and loot. To the contrary, these people wanted something stable, something that would let them sustain their communities or forge new ones. Rioting was rarely caused by greed, but frequently by frustration and hopelessness.

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.

“Bloody Tan lives.” Not exactly. Wax frowned. There are … beings in this world who are neither human nor koloss. Something related to both. You call them the Faceless Immortals.

“Kandra,” Wax said. “Like TenSoon, the Guardian. Or the person who g...

“Who is he?” 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.

Metal. In some ways, that was the true mark of mankind. Man tamed the stones, the bones of the earth below. Man tamed the fire, that ephemeral, consuming soul of life. And combining the two, he drew forth the marrow of the rocks themselves, then made molten tools.

“And Kelsier himself?” Edwarn said. “In the years before his grand gambit? What of the Ascendant Warrior, living on the street, scamming noblemen and priests for a living? Have you read the Words of Founding, Nephew?

The Survivor didn’t only want to overthrow the Lord Ruler; he wanted to steal the empire’s riches. He wanted to rule the world that came about upon the Lord Ruler’s fall. He wanted power. Influence. Wealth.” “I’m not going down this road, Uncle,” Wax said. “Have you ever wondered,” Edwarn mused, ignoring Wax’s objection, “if you’d get along with them? If you’d lived back then, what would you have seen? A bunch of miscreants? Lawbreakers? Would you have trussed up the Ascendant Warrior and tossed her in a cell? The law is not something holy, son. It’s simply a reflection of the ideals of those lucky enough to be in charge.”

“I look forward to it!” Edwarn said. “If that day doesn’t come before next summer, you should join me for Mareweather dinner. We’ll have stuffed pig in your honor.”

Wax grew cold. “Where did you hear that? How did you know those words?” “I think I loved you even on that day,” she said. “Lawman for hire. So ridiculous, but so … earnest. You didn’t try to shelter me, but seemed so eager to impress … A lord with a purpose.” “Who told you of that day, Bleeder?” Wax demanded. “Who…” “Ask Harmony,” she said, the trembling growing more violent. “Ask him, Wax! Ask why he sent a kandra to watch over you, all those years ago. Ask him if he knew I would come to love you!” “No…” “He moved us, even then!” she whispered. “I refused. I wouldn’t manipulate you into returning to Elendel! You loved it out there. I wouldn’t bring you back, to become his pawn…” “Lessie?” Harmony, it was her. It was her. “Ask him … Wax,” she said. “Ask him … why … if he knows everything … he’d let you kill me…” She grew still. “Lessie?” Wax said. “Lessie!”

“She was sent to you long ago,” TenSoon said, sitting back on his haunches. “The woman you knew as Lessie was always one of us.”

“I killed her,” Wax whispered, squeezing his eyes closed. “I killed her again.”

Another god, Marasi thought, standing in the darkness. Not Harmony, not Ruin, not Preservation.

The name of a god from the old days. Marasi had researched the name halfheartedly, far more distracted by her interaction with Ironeyes. Now, however, she determined to dig back into the records and find the answers. Who, or what, was Trell?