He held Vin tight, nodding good night to Sazed, then walking out toward his rooms. It seemed that everything had worked out fine in the end.
Sazed stood slowly, watching the two leave. He wondered what they would think of him, when they heard of Luthadel's fall. At least they would have each other for support.
His wedding blessing was the last gift he could give them—that, and their lives. How will history judge me for my lies? he wondered. What will it think of the Terrisman who took such a hand in politics, the Terrisman who would fabricate mythology to save the lives of his friends? The things he'd said about the Well were, of course, falsehoods. If there was such a power, he had no idea where it was, nor what it would do.
How history judged him would probably depend on what Elend and Vin did with their lives. Sazed could only hope that he had done the right thing. Watching them go, knowing that their youthful love would be spared, he couldn't help but smile at his decision.
With a sigh, he stooped down and gathered up his medical items; then he retreated to his rooms to fabricate the map he had promised Vin and Elend.
PART FIVE
SNOW AND ASH
He is accustomed to giving up his own will before the greater good, as he sees it.
49
"YOU ARE A FOOL, ELEND Venture," Tindwyl snapped, arms folded, eyes wide with displeasure.
Elend pulled a strap tight on his saddle. Part of the wardrobe Tindwyl had made for him included a black and silver riding uniform, and he wore this now, fingers snug within the leather gloves, and a dark cloak to keep off the ash.
"Are you listening to me?" Tindwyl demanded. "You can't leave. Not now! Not when your people are in such danger!"
"I'll protect them in another way," he said, checking on the packhorses.
They were in the keep's covered way, used for arrivals and departures. Vin sat on her own horse, enveloped almost completely in her cloak, hands holding her reins tensely. She had very little experience riding, but Elend refused to let her run. Pewter or no pewter, the wounds from her fight at the Assembly still hadn't healed completely, not to mention the damage she'd taken the night before.
"Another way?" Tindwyl asked. "You should be with them. You're their king!"
"No, I'm not," Elend snapped, turning toward the Terriswoman. "They rejected me, Tindwyl. Now I have to worry about more important events on a larger stage. They wanted a traditional king? Well, let them have my father. When I return from Terris, perhaps they will have realized what they lost."
Tindwyl shook her head and stepped forward, speaking in a quiet voice. "Terris, Elend? You go north. For her. You know why she wants to go there, don't you?"
He paused.
"Ah, so you do know," Tindwyl said. "What do you think of it, Elend? Don't tell me you believe these delusions. She thinks she's the Hero of Ages. She supposes that she'll find something in the mountains up there—some power, or perhaps some revelation, that will transform her into a divinity."
Elend glanced at Vin. She looked down at the ground, hood down, still sitting quietly on her horse.
"She's trying to follow her master, Elend," Tindwyl whispered. "The Survivor became a god to these people, so she thinks she has to do the same."
Elend turned to Tindwyl. "If that is what she truly believes, then I support her."
"You support her madness?" Tindwyl demanded.
"Do not speak of my wife in that manner," Elend said, his commanding tone causing Tindwyl to flinch. He swung up into his saddle. "I trust her, Tindwyl. Part of trust is belief."
Tindwyl snorted. "You can't possibly believe that she is some prophesied messiah, Elend. I know you—you're a scholar. You may have professed allegiance to the Church of the Survivor, but you don't believe in the supernatural any more than I do."
"I believe," he said firmly, "that Vin is my wife, and that I love her. Anything important to her is important to me—and anything she believes has at least that much weight of truth to me. We are going north. We will return once we've released the power there."
"Fine," Tindwyl said. "Then you will be remembered as a coward who abandoned his people."
"Leave us!" Elend ordered, raising his finger and pointing toward the keep.
Tindwyl spun, stalking toward the doorway. As she passed it, she pointed at the supply table, where she had previously placed a book-sized package, wrapped in brown paper, tied with a thick string. "Sazed wishes you to deliver this to the Keeper Synod. You'll find them in the city of Tathingdwen. Enjoy your exile, Elend Venture." Then, she left.
Elend sighed, moving his horse over beside Vin's.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For what you said."
"I meant it, Vin," Elend said, reaching over to lay a hand on her shoulder.
"Tindwyl might be right, you know," she said. "Despite what Sazed said, I could be mad. Do you remember when I told you that I'd seen a spirit in the mists?"
Elend nodded slowly.
"Well, I've seen it again," Vin said. "It's like a ghost, formed from the patterns in mist. I see it all the time, watching me, following me. And I hear those rhythms in my head—majestic, powerful thumpings, like Allomantic pulses. Only, I don't need bronze anymore to hear them."
Elend squeezed her shoulder. "I believe you, Vin."
She looked up, reserved. "Do you, Elend? Do you really?"
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But I'm trying very hard to. Either way, I think going north is the right thing to do."