Mistborn #02 The Well of Ascension

but held his ground.
    "Tell me what you wish of me!" he said forcefully.
    The thing pointed again. Elend cocked his head. It certainly didn't seem threatening. In fact, he felt an unnatural feeling of peace coming from it.
    Allomancy? he thought. It's Pulling on my emotions!
    "Elend?" Spook's voice drifted out of the mists.
    The figure suddenly dissolved, its form melting into the mists. Spook approached, his face dark and shadowed in the night. "Elend? What were you saying?"
    Elend took his hand off his sword, standing upright. He eyed the mists, still not completely convinced that he wasn't seeing things. "Nothing," he said.
    Spook glanced back the way he had come. "You should come look at this."
    "The army?" Elend asked, frowning.
    Spook shook his head. "No. The refugees."

    "The Keepers are dead, my lord," the old man said, sitting across from Elend. He didn't have a tent, only a blanket stretched between several poles. "Either dead, or captured."
    Another man brought Elend a cup of warm tea, his demeanor servile. Both wore the robes of stewards, and while their eyes bespoke exhaustion, their robes and hands were clean.
    Old habits , Elend thought, nodding thankfully and taking a sip of the tea. Terris's people might have declared themselves independent, but a thousand years of servitude cannot be so easily thrown off .
    The camp was an odd place. Spook said he counted nearly a thousand people in it—a nightmare of a number to care for, feed, and organize in the cold winter. Many were elderly, and the men were mostly stewards: eunuchs bred for genteel service, with no experience in hunting.
    "Tell me what happened," Elend said.
    The elderly steward nodded, his head shaking. He didn't seem particularly frail—actually, he had that same air of controlled dignity that most stewards exhibited—but his body had a slow, chronic tremble.
    "The Synod came out into the open, my lord, once the empire fell." He accepted a cup of his own, but Elend noticed that it was only half full—a precaution that proved wise as the elderly steward's shaking nearly spilled its contents. "They became our rulers. Perhaps it was not wise to reveal themselves so soon."
    Not all Terrismen were Feruchemists; in fact, very few were. The Keepers—people like Sazed and Tindwyl—had been forced into hiding long ago by the Lord Ruler. His paranoia that Feruchemical and Allomantic lines might mix—thereby potentially producing a person with his same powers—had led him to try and destroy all Feruchemists.
    "I've known Keepers, friend," Elend said softly. "I find it hard to believe that they could have been easily defeated. Who did this?"
    "Steel Inquisitors, my lord," the old man said.
    Elend shivered. So that's where they've been .
    "There were dozens of them, my lord," the old man said. "They attacked Ththingdwen with an army of koloss brutes. But, that was just a distraction, I think. Their real goal as the Synod and the Keepers themselves. While our army, such as it was, fought the beasts, the Inquisitors themselves struck at the Keepers."
    Lord Ruler. . . Elend thought, stomach twisting. So, what do we do with the book Sazed told us to deliver to the Synod? Do we pass it on to these men, or keep it?
    "They took the bodies with them, my lord," the old man said. "Terris is in ruins, and that is why we are going south. You said you know King Venture?"
    "I. . .have met him," Elend said. "He ruled Luthadel, where I am from."
    "Will he take us in, do you think?" the old man asked. "We have little hope anymore. Tathingdwen was the Terris capital, but even it wasn't large. We are few, these days—the Lord Ruler saw to that."
    "I. . .do not know if Luthadel can help you, friend."
    "We can serve well," the old man promised. "We were prideful to declare ourselves free, I think. We struggled to survive even before the Inquisitors attacked. Perhaps they did us a favor by casting us out."
    Elend shook his head. "Koloss attacked Luthadel just over a week ago," he said quietly. "I am a refugee myself, Master Steward. For all I know, the city itself has fallen."
    The old man fell silent. "Ah, I see," he finally said.
    "I'm sorry," Elend said. "I was traveling back to see what happened. Tell me—I traveled this way not long ago. How is it that I missed you in my journey north?"
    "We didn't come by the canal route, my lord," the old man said. "We cut across country, straight down, so that we could gather supplies at Suringshath. You. . .have no further