Mistborn #03 The Hero of Ages

continued to serve him."
    "The Lord Ruler is dead," Marsh said with a snort. "He was an unprofitable servant as well."
    Yomen paled.
    "Let this city burn before the wrath of forty thousand koloss," Marsh said.
    Forty thousand koloss, Vin thought. He'd found more, somewhere. Attacking seemed the logical thing to do—he could finally capture the city, perhaps giving Vin a chance to escape in the chaos. Very logical, very smart. And yet, suddenly, Vin became sure of one thing.
    "Elend won't attack," she announced.
    Six eyes—two steel, two flesh, and two incorporeal—turned toward her.
    "Elend won't loose that many koloss upon the city," she said. "He's trying to intimidate you, Yomen. And you should listen. Would you still obey this creature, this Inquisitor? He disdains you. He wants you to die. Join with us instead."
    Yomen frowned.
    "You could fight him with me," Vin said. "You're an Allomancer. These monsters can be defeated."
    Marsh smiled. "Idealism from you, Vin?"
    "Idealism?" she asked, facing the creature. "You think it's idealistic to believe I can kill an Inquisitor? You know I've done it before."
    Marsh waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not talking about your foolish threats. I'm talking about him. " He nodded toward the army outside. "Your Elend belongs to Ruin, just as I do—just as you do. We all resist, but we all bow before him eventually. Only then do we understand the beauty there is in destruction."
    "Your god does not control Elend," Vin said. "He keeps trying to claim that he does, but that only makes him a liar. Or, perhaps, something of an idealist himself."
    Yomen watched, confused.
    "And if he does attack?" Marsh asked with a quiet, eager voice. "What would that mean, Vin? What if he does send his koloss against this city in a blood frenzy, sends them to slaughter and kill, all so that he can get what he thinks he needs so badly? Atium and food couldn't get him to come in . . . but you? How would that make you feel? You killed for him. What makes you think that Elend won't do the same for you?"
    Vin closed her eyes. Memories of her assault upon Cett's tower returned to her. Memories of wanton killing, Zane at her side. Memories of fire, and death, and an Allomancer loosed.
    She'd never killed like that again.
    She opened her eyes. Why wouldn't Elend attack? Attacking made so much sense. He knew he could take the city easily. However, he also knew he had trouble controlling the koloss when they reached too great a frenzy. . . .
    "Elend won't attack," she said quietly. "Because he's a better person than I am."

One might notice that Ruin did not send his Inquisitors to Fadrex until after Yomen had—apparently—confirmed that the atium was there in the city. Why not send them as soon as the final cache was located? Where were his minions in all of this?
    One must realize that, in Ruin's mind, all men were his minions, particularly those whom he could manipulate directly. He didn't send an Inquisitor because they were busy doing other tasks. Instead, he sent someone who—in his mind—was exactly the same thing as an Inquisitor.
    He tried to spike Yomen, failed, and by that time, Elend's army had arrived. So, he used a different pawn to investigate the cache for him and discover if the atium really was there or not. He didn't commit too many resources to the city at first, fearing a deception on the Lord Ruler's part. Like him, I still wonder if the caches were, in part, intended for just that purpose—to distract Ruin and keep him occupied.
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    ". . . AND THAT'S WHY YOU ABSOLUTELY must get that message sent, Spook. The pieces of this thing are all spinning about, cast to the wind. You have a clue that nobody else does. Send it flying for me."
    Spook nodded, feeling fuzzy. Where was he? What was going on? And why, suddenly, did everything hurt so much?
    "Good lad. You did well, Spook. I'm proud."
    He tried to nod again, but everything was fuzz and blackness. He coughed, prompting some gasps from a place far off. He groaned. Parts of him hurt quite sharply, though others just tingled. Still others . . . well, those he couldn't feel at all, though he thought he should have been able to.
    I was dreaming, he realized as he slowly came to consciousness. Why have I been asleep? Was I on watch? Should I go on watch? The shop . . .
    His thoughts trailed off as he opened his eyes. There was someone standing above him. A face. One . . . quite a bit uglier than the face he'd hoped to see.
    "Breeze?" he