Page 257 of The Well of Ascension

“Now, Lady Tindwyl,” Sazed said. “Might we speak for a moment in private?”

She nodded, and they excused themselves, walking under the nearest over hanging gallery. In the shadows, behind one of the pillars, Sazed turned toward Tindwyl. She looked so pristine—so poised, so calm—despite the dire situation. How did she do that?

“You’re storing quite a large number of attributes, Sazed,” Tindwyl noted, glancing at his fingers again. “Surely you have other metalminds prepared from before?”

“I used all of my wakefulness and speed making my way to Luthadel,” Sazed said. “And I have no health stored at all—I used up the last of it overcoming a sickness when I was teaching in the South. I always intended to fill another one, but we’ve been too busy. I do have some large amount of strength and weight stored, as well as a good selection of tinminds. Still, one can never betoowell prepared, I think.”

“Perhaps,” Tindwyl said. She glanced back at the group around the table. “If it gives us something to do other than think about the inevitable, then preparation has not been wasted, I think.”

Sazed felt a chill. “Tindwyl,” he said quietly. “Why did you stay? There is no place for you here.”

“There is no place for you either, Sazed.”

“These are my friends,” he said. “I will not leave them.”

“Then why did you convince their leaders to leave?”

“To flee and live,” Sazed said.

“Survival is not a luxury often afforded to leaders,” Tindwyl said. “When they accept the devotion of others, they must accept the responsibility that comes with it. This people will die—but they need not die feeling betrayed.”

“They were not—”

“They expect to be saved, Sazed,” Tindwyl hissed quietly. “Even those men over there—evenDockson,the most practical one in this bunch—think that they’ll survive. And do you know why? Because, deep down, they believe that something will save them. Something that saved them before, the only piece of the Survivor they have left. She represents hope to them now. And you sent her away.”

“To live, Tindwyl,” Sazed repeated. “It would have been a waste to lose Vin and Elend here.”

“Hope is never wasted,” Tindwyl said, eyes flashing. “I thought you of all people would understand that. You think it was stubbornness that kept me alive all those years in the hands of the Breeders?”

“And is it stubbornness or hope that kept you here, in the city?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “Neither.”

Sazed looked at her for a long moment in the shadowed alcove. Planners talked in the ballroom, their voices echoing. Shards of light from the windows reflected off the marble floors, throwing slivers of illumination across the walls. Slowly, awkwardly, Sazed put his arms around Tindwyl. She sighed, letting him hold her.

He released his tinminds and let his senses return in a flood.

Softness from her skin and warmth from her body washed across him as she moved farther into the embrace, resting her head against his chest. The scent of her hair—unperfumed, but clean and crisp—filled his nose, the first thing he’d smelled in three days. With a clumsy hand, Sazed pulled free his spectacles so he could see her clearly. As sounds returned fully to his ears, he could hear Tindwyl breathing beside him.

“Do you know why I love you, Sazed?” she asked quietly.

“I cannot fathom,” he answered honestly.

“Because you never give in,” she said. “Other men are strong like bricks—firm, unyielding, but if you pound on them long enough, they crack. You…you’re strong like the wind. Always there, so willing to bend, but never apologetic for the times when you must be firm. I don’t think any of your friends understand what a power they had in you.”

Had,he thought.She already thinks of all this in the past tense. And…it feels right for her to do so.“I fear that whatever I have won’t be enough to save them,” Sazed whispered.

“It was enough to save three of them, though,” Tindwyl said. “You were wrong to send them away…but maybe you were right, too.”

Sazed just closed his eyes and held her, cursing her for staying, yet loving her for it all the same.

At that moment, the wall-top warning drums began to beat.

51

And so, I have made one final gamble.

The misty red light of morning was a thing that should not have existed. Mist died before daylight. Heat made it evaporate; even locking it inside of a closed room made it condense and disappear. It shouldn’t have been able to withstand the light of the rising sun.

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