Mistborn: Secret History (Mistborn, #3.5)(14)

He was starting to feel an urgency. The pulses of the Well were growing more demanding, and Ruin seemed to be growing increasingly eager in its touch upon the world. Recently the light of the Well had started to act differently, condensing somehow, pulling together. Something was happening.

“We are gods, Kelsier,” Preservation said with a voice that trailed off, then grew louder, then trailed off again. “We permeate everything. The rocks are me. The people are me. And him. All things persist, but decay. Ruin . . . and Preservation . . .”

“You told me this was your power,” Kelsier said, gesturing again at the Well, trying to get the god back on topic. “That it gathers here.”

“Yes, and elsewhere,” Preservation said. “But yes, here. Like dew collects, my power gathers in that spot. It is natural. A cycle: clouds, rain, river, humidity. You cannot press so much essence into a system without it congealing here and there.”

Great. That didn’t tell him anything. He pressed further on the topic, but Fuzz grew quiet, so he tried something else. He needed to keep Preservation talking—to prevent the god from slumping into one of his quiet stupors.

“Are you afraid?” Kelsier asked. “If Ruin gets free, are you afraid he will kill you?”

“Ha,” Preservation said. “I’ve told you. He killed me long, long ago.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m sitting here talking to you.”

“And I’m talking to you. How alive are you?”

A good point.

“Death for one such as me is not like death for one such as you,” Preservation said, staring off again. “I was killed long ago, when I made the decision to break our promise. But this power I hold . . . it persists and it remembers. It wants to be alive itself. I have died, but some of me remains. Enough to know that . . . there were plans. . . .”

It was no use trying to pry out what those plans were. He didn’t remember whatever this “plan” was that he’d made.

“So it’s not a plug,” Kelsier said. “Then what is it?”

Preservation didn’t reply. He didn’t even seem to hear.

“You said to me once before,” Kelsier continued, speaking more loudly, “that the power exists to be used. That it needs to be used. Why?”

Again no answer. He was going to need to try a different tactic. “I looked at him again. Your opposite.”

Preservation stood up straight, turning his haunting, half-finished gaze upon Kelsier. Mentioning Ruin often shocked him out of his stupor.

“He is dangerous,” Preservation said. “Stay away. My power protects you. Do not taunt him.”

“Why? He’s locked up.”

“Nothing is eternal, not even time itself,” Preservation said. “I didn’t imprison him so much as delay him.”

“And the power?”

“Yes . . .” Preservation said, nodding.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, he will use that. I see.” Preservation started, as if realizing—or maybe just recalling—something important. “My power created his prison. My power can unlock it. But how would he find someone who would do it? Who would hold the powers of creation, then give them away . . .”

“Which . . . we don’t want them to do,” Kelsier said.

“No. It will free him!”

“And last time?” Kelsier asked.

“Last time . . .” Preservation blinked, and seemed to come to himself more. “Yes, last time. The Lord Ruler. I made it work last time. I’ve put her into the spot to do this, but I can hear her thoughts. . . . He’s been working on her. . . . So mixed up . . .”

“Fuzz?” Kelsier asked, uncertain.

“I must stop her. Someone . . .” His eyes unfocused.

“What are you doing?”

“Hush,” Fuzz said, voice suddenly more commanding. “I’m trying to stop this.”

Kelsier looked around, but there was nobody else here. “Who?”

“Do not assume that the me you see here is the only me,” Fuzz said. “I am everywhere.”

“But—”

“Hush!”

Kelsier hushed, in part because he was happy to see such strength from the god after so long motionless. After some time, however, he slumped down. “No use,” Fuzz mumbled. “His tools are stronger.”

“So . . .” Kelsier said, testing to see if he’d be hushed again. “Last time. Rashek used the power, instead of . . . what? Giving it up?”

Fuzz nodded. “Alendi would have done the right thing, as he perceived it. Given the power up—but that would have freed Ruin. ‘Giving the power up’ is a stand-in for giving the power to him. The powers would interpret that as me releasing him. My power, accepting his touch back into the world, directly.”

“Great,” Kelsier said. “We need a sacrifice then. Someone to take up the powers of eternity, then use them for whatever he wants instead of giving them away. Well, that is a sacrifice I’m perfect to make. How do I do it?”

Preservation regarded him. The creature’s earlier strength was no more. He was fading, losing his human attributes. He didn’t blink anymore, for example, and didn’t make a pretense of breathing in before speaking. He could be utterly motionless, lifeless as an iron rod.