Mistborn #03 The Hero of Ages

the precise words, and despite the ash, he found the spot—a place where the cobbles were disturbed. Then, he began to dig.
    Kelsier, the Survivor of Hathsin, had indeed appeared to his followers that night years ago. Or, at least, his bones had. OreSeur had been commanded to take the Survivor's own body and digest it, then appear to the faithful skaa and give them encouragement. The legends of the Survivor, the whole religion that had sprung up around him, had been started by a kandra.
    And TenSoon had eventually killed that kandra. But not before learning his secrets. Secrets such as where OreSeur had buried the bones of the Survivor, and how the man had looked.
    TenSoon smiled as he unearthed the first bone. They were years old now, and he hated using old bones. Plus, there would be no hair, so the one he created would be bald. Still, the opportunity was too valuable to pass up. He'd only seen the Survivor once, but with his expertise in imitation . . .
    Well, it was worth a try.
    Wellen leaned against his spear, watching those mists again. Rittle—his companion guard—said they weren't dangerous. But, Rittle hadn't seen what they could do. What they could reveal. Wellen figured that he had survived because he respected them. That, and because he didn't think too hard about the things he had seen.
    "You think Skiff and Jaston will be late to relieve us again?" Wellen asked, trying again to start a conversation.
    Rittle just grunted. "Dunno, Wells." Rittle never did care for small talk.
    "I think maybe one of us should go see," Wellen said, eyeing the mist. "You know, ask if they've come in yet. . . ." He trailed off.
    Something was out there.
    Lord Ruler! he thought, cringing back. Not again!
    But, no attack came from the mists. Instead, a dark figure strode forward. Rittle perked up, lowering his spear. "Halt!"
    A man walked from the mists, wearing a deep black cloak, arms at his sides, hood up. His face, however, was visible. Wellen frowned. Something about this man looked familiar. . . .
    Rittle gasped, then fell to his knees, clutching something at his neck—the pendant of a silver spear that he always wore. Wellen frowned. Then he noticed the scars on this newcomer's arms.
    Lord Ruler! Wellen thought in shock, realizing where he'd seen this man's face. It had been in a painting, one of many available in the city, that depicted the Survivor of Hathsin.
    "Rise," the stranger said, speaking in a benevolent voice.
    Rittle stood on shaking feet. Wellen backed away, uncertain whether to be awed or terrified, and feeling a little of both.
    "I have come to commend your faith," the Survivor said.
    "My lord . . ." Rittle said, his head still bowed.
    "Also," Kelsier said, raising a finger. "I have come to tell you I do not approve of how this city is being run. My people are sick, they starve, and they die."
    "My lord," Rittle said, "there is not enough food, and there have been riots seizing that which was stockpiled. My lord, and the mists kill! Please, why have you sent them to kill us!"
    "I did no such thing," Kelsier said. "I know that food is scarce, but you must share what you have and have hope. Tell me of the man who rules this city."
    "King Penrod?" Rittle asked. "He rules for Emperor Elend Venture, who is away at war."
    "Lord Elend Venture? And he approves of how this city is being treated?" Kelsier looked angry. Wellen cringed.
    "No, my lord!" Rittle said, shaking. "I . . ."
    "Lord Penrod is mad," Wellen found himself saying.
    The Survivor turned toward him.
    "Wells, you shouldn't . . ." Rittle said, but then trailed off, the Survivor shooting him a stern look.
    "Speak," the Survivor said to Wellen.
    "He speaks to the air, my lord," Wellen said, averting his eyes. "Talks to himself—claims that he can see the Lord Ruler standing beside him. Penrod . . . he's given lots of strange orders, lately. Forcing the skaa to fight each other for food, claiming that only the strong should survive. He kills those who disagree with him. That kind of thing."
    "I see," the Survivor said.
    Surely he knows this already , Wellen thought. Why bother asking?
    "Where is my Heir?" the Survivor asked. "The Hero of Ages, Vin."
    "The Lady Empress?" Wellen asked. "She's with the emperor."
    "Where?"
    "Nobody knows for certain, my lord," Rittle said, still shaking. "She hasn't returned in a long time. My sergeant says that she and the emperor are fighting in the South, fighting koloss. But I've heard other men say the army went to