The Well of Ascension: Book Two of Mistborn

“I said, ‘If the birds had such kinship that when one of them died, so did the other one, then what did the second firebird lose? Is there a third thing in this world, at least as powerful as Life and Death?’ ” Smithy sighed and rolled his eyes. “I know where this one’s going.” Mara paid no attention to him. She waved at him to hush. “What was it?”

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“I need not repair anything,” Abah protested. “I was not alive back then so have no responsibility for the Night of Knives. I don’t know why they hate me.” “None of us was alive,” Naranpa said, “save Haisan, and him likely a child. But alive or not, we bear the burden.” And we all reap the benefit, she thought, but thought it best not to utter some

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What she wouldn’t have given to be able to go among them unnoticed, to adopt their monochrome skin for a year and walk their highways, see their grand cities. Instead, she and the others had ordered the murder of the Alethi king in a desperate gambit to stop the listener gods from returning. Well, that had worked—the Alethi king hadn’t been able to

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“No.” Taravangian sounded very tired. “Some of those men you killed were my dear friends, Szeth-son-son-Vallano.” “More insurance?” Szeth spat. “To keep yourself from suspicion?” “In part. And in part because their deaths were necessary.” “Why?” Szeth asked. “What could it possibly have served?” “Stability. Those you killed were among the most powe

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