The Lost Metal (Mistborn, #7)

by Brandon Sanderson

“To repair something, I merely rewrite the past, making the object think it was well-maintained or never broke. Like I said, universal stamps are a new technology. I don’t have them working perfectly yet, but they’ll do for now.”

“The other two work on nonliving objects only. This one changes a person—me, specifically—in dramatic ways. I avoid using it if possible.”

“Alas,” he said, nudging his backpack, which was on the floor, “there are indeed serious limits. I can only maintain roseite objects under certain fields of Investiture. Some planets have those naturally, but yours does not, so my roseite creations—outside of our safehouse—must be touching me, or they will disintegrate. It also requires water, drawn from my body, to fuel the creations. “Beyond that, my ability to form objects is limited by my personal skill and understanding. I cannot make you a gun, for example. The mechanics are beyond this old mind, and the intricacies too fine. Simple tools are the extent of my abilities, though Silajana has bonded some more talented than I in that regard.”

“Sil-ah-janah,” Marasi said, trying to form the unfamiliar sounds. “That is your … god?” “Both less and more than a god,” he explained. “Silajana is one of the primal aethers. They predate Adonalsium, you know, and exist outside of his power.” “They predate the Shattering,” Moonlight said. “That doesn’t mean they predate Adonalsium.” “To my people, this is a sacred tenet,”

“This bud connects me to Silajana,” he continued, “and through him to all of his other aetherbound. He is the core, and we his web. He is eternal, and we his mortal agents in the cosmere.”

“Silajana says we must remain in exile. He will decide when and if we are to return. He would not risk another extermination.”

Bomb is confirmed real, and already fabricated. City-destroying capacity. Enemy is trying to find a way to deliver it to Elendel. It’s time to evacuate the city. They know I’m after them. I hope that my presence won’t cause them to do anything rash. Investigation suggests attempts to deliver by train or road failed and they seek alternative, perhaps some kind of self-propelled artillery shell. Regardless, I suggest you close off all routes into Elendel as a precaution. There is conflict among the Set. Some want to destroy Elendel, others maybe the entire Basin by restarting the Ashmounts, judging by a strange photograph we’ve found. I may be able to exploit the schism between them. Either way, my primary objective is neutralizing the bomb’s delivery mechanism. Get as many people out as you can, as quickly as possible, in case I fail.

“It’s an emergency,” she said. “A true emergency. The entire city is in danger! We need someone who can think the thoughts of a thousand people, someone who can move planets and raise mountains. We need … the Bands of Mourning.”

Like a very large billfold, or a toolbelt, it unclipped to reveal three stone stamps. She selected one, dampened it with some odd glowing red ink, then raised it. “Be ready to move,” she said, then pressed it to the wall. The stamp head, remarkably, sank half an inch or so into the brick. When Moonlight pulled it back—trailing red mist—it left a glowing red stamp imprinted into the wall, marked by intricate designs and patterns. The wall then began to shift. The bricks groaned softly, then popped and ground as they pulled to the sides—suddenly fluid—and a door emerged in the wall. Like … like someone had unzipped the stones to reveal it underneath. In seconds the structure had rearranged—many bricks simply vanishing—to create a worn old wooden door with peeling yellow paint.

“That is the most unnatural thing I’ve ever seen,” Marasi whispered. “You literally have a friend who can fly,” Moonlight said.

“It’s a fake,” she whispered with relief. “They didn’t travel to the future or the past. They created a model of a fallen Elendel … then used these machines to craft pictures of a future that hasn’t happened. Even that picture we found earlier … it’s a fake. A photo of this model. They’ve been deliberately constructing a hoax to make people think the world is going to end.” “No,” Moonlight said. “They’ve been constructing a hoax to make people think it has already ended. But who are they planning to show it to, and why?”

Wax started into the tunnel on foot, but then phantoms from long ago rose around him. For the briefest moment, he wasn’t in a drainage sewer in the most modern city of the Basin. He was in a dirty mine adit, haunted by twisted “artwork” made by a terrible mind. Golden light sifting down from above. A meeting with destiny. Someone else moves us.

So I did Flaming Bunny instead.” “Flaming Bunny,” Wax said flatly. “Please tell me you didn’t set a rabbit on fire, Wayne.” “Of course not. I couldn’t find a damn wig in time; where would I find a rabbit?” “Good, I—” “You use a cat for Flaming Bunny. And those are all over the dang place.” “Wayne. You set a cat on fire?” “Hell, no! What do you think I am? A sadist?” Wax relaxed a little. “You throw the cat out a window,” Wayne explained. “Oh, Harmony …” Wax said. “Why?” “To save it from the flames, of course!” Wayne shook his head as Wax led him toward the storm drain.

“Oh, don’t worry. I hucked him at a tree real good. Cats always land in trees, so long as you throw them hard enough.” “Why … why would you think that?”

appointments after today?” “I noticed that too.” “ ‘They arrive’ …” Wayne said, reading.

“Unless Telsin could claim she didn’t blow up Elendel. Unless she had proof—in the form of forged letters—that the senators inside Elendel were the ones developing the bomb. With the right evidence, she could make it look like they mistakenly blew themselves up.” “Oooh, that’s devious,” Wayne said. “She can ‘recover’ some of the details of that weapon too, so Bilming will ‘reluctantly’ have access to the technology to protect the Basin from the Malwish. Hell … that would work. Remove Elendel. Unite the Basin. Achieve dominance on the planet.”

“And I’d think, ‘Damn, that’s a fancy chair.’ And I’d wonder … would the old backyard mistmaker sound different? What if I released a little concentrated essence of Wayne into those perfect leather contours? Would it feel different? Would my cheeks—”

“How is this tunnel a canyon?” “It just is,” Wayne said softly, looking up as they passed under another grate, sunlight crossing his face in a checkerboard pattern. “Been thinking about it since earlier today. It’s inevitable, you know?” “I don’t,” Wax said. “I really don’t, Wayne.” “Well it just is,” he said.

Then stone began to grow from his hand. It arced up around them, darker colored than his usual roseite. Though it was still pink, the shadows hid the color. He took a long drink from his backpack to restore his water, then—at his urging—they all crouched as low as they could go and let the roseite grow over them,

“This is only a fraction of the talents members of the Ghostbloods have,” Moonlight noted. “You’ll be amazed at the things we will show you.”

“Protect Scadrial,” Moonlight said, standing up as the roseite shell began to disintegrate. “But neither of you are from here,” Marasi whispered. “True,” TwinSoul said, “but my homeland is inhospitable to my kind for now. I joined Lord Kelsier for the opportunity to gain allies and resources for my eventual fight against the dark aether. And having this planet remain safe and uncorrupted is a worthy goal on its own.”

I’m keeping an eye on a particular enemy of the Ghostbloods.

“What are the other two tenets?” “We share what we know with each other,” Moonlight said. “There are no secrets within a team. If you ask Kelsier, even he’ll tell you what he’s planning. But you absolutely can’t share secrets outside the organization without his permission.”

the last one?” “We trust each other,” TwinSoul said. “We’re a team. A family. You join us, you absolutely swear not to make a move against another Ghostblood. No infighting. No betrayals. No undermining one another. No squabbling over resources or favor.”

“Roughly five percent Invested,” she reported to Entrone. “And as you can see, the subject is still alive. We’ve essentially excised a piece of the soul and stored it in the metal.”

“This woman isn’t Metalborn. We’ve Invested a spike—a tiny bit, granted—using an ordinary person. All people are Invested by Ruin and Preservation as part of our very makeup—and we have a little extra Preservation, blessed by the Shards upon our creation. We’re pulling some of that out. “The percentage you get depends on the person. We think it might have to do with how likely they were, genetically, to be Metalborn. But they don’t need that extra if the powers didn’t manifest in them. It’s vestigial. We simply slice it off and use it in a spike. Fully Investing one takes between twenty and thirty people.”

“We think we need to code this in some way to give a specific Metallic Art blessing.

“I’m going to the Community to see to the perpendicularity.” He waved toward the cell at the rear of the room. “They have all heard and seen too much. They are a liability. Execute them.”

“If they’re even close to forging Metalborn out of the raw power of souls—if they’ve had tests that resulted in an Allomancer, no matter how fleeting … Marasi, that path could lead to creating spikes using pure Investiture instead of souls.” She tapped her rucksack, indicating the glowing jars inside.

“We believe,” he whispered, “there is a way to transport objects large distances using a conflux of Metalborn powers. It is a thing Harmony doesn’t yet understand himself. But I wonder … if someone feeling the transcendent power of the Bands … could solve the puzzle.”

They passed them around, letting everyone try. Finally TenSoon took them, his face scrunched up in thought. Then horror followed. “They’re drained,” he whispered. “Something has happened … How …?”

Unless he’d known the Bands would be drained. Unless he’d come to Elendel looking for a crisis that would make them call on the Bands, so he could offer his deal. And then …

“I love that you’re more worried about me imitating you poorly than you are about me tryin’ to kill you,” she said, shoving her face up next to his. She stabbed him in the chest—he hadn’t even seen her drop the dueling cane—with a glass knife. “It’s so you, Wayne!” “You don’t know me,” Wayne growled, managing to kick her leg and make her slip a little. She loosened her grip, which let him rip free and move around her, though her knife sliced him across the chest.

Dumad looked at him, then Pushed. And rusts, the guy was so strong he could affect the metal inside Wayne’s body. That was a crazy thing to experience—Wayne was shoved backward from the coins embedded within him. Rust and Ruin … that was a power that the Ascendant Warrior was said to have had.

He grunted at the Push. Then he stepped forward anyway, feeling the coins tear and rip inside him. He took another step, leaning forward into the Push. Not-him hesitated, lowering her canes. He met her eyes. Then he grinned. “You can’t hurt me,” he whispered, changing his accent. “Ain’t nothin’ that can hurt me more than life already has. You can’t kill me. I’m already dead. I been dead for years, sister.”

“It’s easy to do what you do, since you don’t care,” Wayne growled to the two, making his eyes go even wider. “So long as you can pretend. But real pain, that comes when you realize what you are. What you done. Waking up each morning, knowin’ you’re worthless. That’s pain. Anything else? Anything you could do to me? Well, that’s just a little bit o’ fun.”

“Thank you,” Wayne said, “for tossin’ Wax outta here. That way I got a few moments to have you two all to myself.”

“Did you mean any of that?” “Nah, of course not,” Wayne said, looking away. Ruin, he felt exhausted. And creaky. Like a floor what had been walked on so much, all the boards wobbled. “Wayne …” “Not the time, mate.”

“Looks like the cover of a book there. You saved that much.” “But none of the writings,” Marasi said. “I can rewind that later,” Moonlight said, “with a stamp.”

“They’re probably coming through Shadesmar,” Moonlight said. “A dimension overlapping ours. It’s how TwinSoul and I got here.”

The roseite completely encased him, forming a transparent boulder around him. His head bowed, with formal sash in place, he was still fully visible in his cross-legged posture through the rose-colored stone. Marasi frowned as it continued to expand rapidly. The size and speed of this creation seemed to need the help of the glowing substance from the jar, which was being drained as the roseite grew. Bulges formed at the sides of the boulder, like … smaller boulders? Only longer. Then two more formed on the bottom rear of the boulder. Marasi cocked her head, her back to the fortification mound, rifle across her knees. Actually, with the smaller boulder forming on the top, it had almost taken on the shape of … of a … Thick stone fingers formed on the ends of the two protrusions at the sides, then massive roseite arms spread out, stone grinding against the stone ground as the lower parts formed knees and feet. TwinSoul at the center, the thing heaved itself up—a twelve-foot-tall stone behemoth. The crystal didn’t bend, but had formed joints, like armor.

“Behold!” he said, his voice somehow booming through the tunnel. “By the grace of Silajana, Suna, Vishwadhar, and the Twelve Primal Aethers, I am Sanvith Prasanva Maahik va Sila, Grand Aetherbound of the twelve kingdoms, Raj of the Coriander Court. And these people are under my protection.”

Prasanva is an absolute artist at drawing attention when he sets his mind to it.”

“If there really is a perpendicularity here,” she said, “then … yes. As much as I want to get out with this information, protecting the planet must come first.” She hesitated. “I’m new to this large-scale sort of thinking. Spent a long time looking out for myself and my own goals. Sorry if I come off as terse or too quick to want to retreat.”

But Harmony had set Wax on this path, and you didn’t bring Dawnshot out of retirement to play nice.

Chases in the Roughs had their own charm. But nothing there could truly compete with the thrill of landing inside a building via the balcony, charging through, and emerging on the other side to find his quarry right below. A balcony railing was a springboard, and nearby structures let him fine-tune his descent. Here, he could fly in a way he’d never been able to in that land of dust and stone. He could acknowledge that—no, embrace it—now that he had let go of his past.

she watched as something entered the mouth of the cavern. It stood on four elongated legs and had an unnervingly long neck, with a head that wasn’t entirely canine. It had features that, even shadowed as they were, evoked an image that was … too human. A dog’s nose, or something approximating it, but human eyes set forward on its skull. It had no clothing, but also no fur. Two spikeheads jutted from its shoulders.

A Hemalurgic monstrosity.

She’d made a door in the side of the structure they’d been hiding by, and they slipped into a dim room built up against the wooden wall bisecting the chamber. Two windows looked through it. Marasi didn’t have a good view through them, not from her corner next to Moonlight. The door vanished, and a few moments later scratches sounded at the wall they’d passed through. Silence followed, then a thumping at the main door. It held, for now. Marasi unslung her rifle, glanced at Moonlight, then nodded toward the windows. Perhaps they could escape through those? She stepped over to look through, and found … a town? Neat rows of houses lined streets within a vast chamber, bigger on that side than this one. It was lit from above with floodlights. Someone had painted imitation flowers and grass on the floor in wide swaths, and others had erected sculptures meant to imitate foliage. People in everyday clothing—skirts, trousers, day dresses—walked the “streets,” though there were no horses or automobiles she could see.

“You have another stamp,” Marasi said. “One you said can transform you.” “Into someone else,” she said. “Someone with a different past, different training, different … talents.” “Can that person fight?” Moonlight took a deep breath. “Yes. Better than fighting though, she should be able to vanish. Hide. But the person I would become … she wouldn’t be me. I’ve always wanted to try this specific transformation, Marasi, which is why I have the stamp. But it’s dangerous.