Read Online The Bands of Mourning by Brandon Sanderson - Free Book Online Page B

the ancient days, the Last Emperor discovered a metal that transformed him into a Mistborn. A metal anyone could burn, it is said. This whispers of a hidden possibility, something lesser, but still incredible. What if one could somehow manipulate Identity and Investiture to create a set of bracers which imparted Feruchemical or Allomantic ability upon the person wearing them? One could make any person a Mistborn, or a Feruchemist, or both at once .”
    The room fell silent.
    A walnut bounced off VenDell’s head.
    He immediately turned to glare at Wayne.
    “Sorry,” Wayne said. “Just had trouble believing someone could be so melodramatic, so I figured you might not be real. Hadda check, ya know?”
    VenDell rubbed his forehead, breathing out sharply in annoyance.
    “This is all fascinating,” Wax admitted. “But unfortunately, it’s also impossible.”
    “And why is that?” VenDell asked.
    “You don’t even know how, or if, this would work,” Wax said, waving toward the screen. “And even if you could figure it out, you’d need a Full Feruchemist. Someone with at least two Feruchemical powers, as they’d need to be able to store their Identity in a metalmind along with another Feruchemical attribute. Rusts! To do what you proposed a moment ago, and create Allomancers too, you’d basically need someone who was already both Mistborn and Full Feruchemist.”
    “This is true,” VenDell said.
    “And how long has it been since a Full Feruchemist was born?”
    “A very, very long time,” VenDell said. “But, being born a Feruchemist isn’t the only way to make this happen.”
    Wax hesitated, then shared a look with Marasi. She nodded, and he strode across the room to pull back the wooden panel hiding his wall safe. He did the combination and removed the book that Ironeyes had sent him. He turned, raising it. “Hemalurgy? Harmony hates it. I’ve read what the Lord Mistborn had to say on the topic.”
    “Yes,” VenDell said. “Hemalurgy is … problematic.”
    “In part because we wouldn’t exist without it,” MeLaan said. “That’s not a particularly fun thing to know—that people had to be murdered in order to bring you to sapience.”
    “Creating new spikes is a horrid practice,” VenDell agreed. “We have no intentions of doing such a thing to experiment with Identity. Instead, we’re waiting. A Full Feruchemist is bound to be born among mankind eventually—particularly with the Terris elite working so hard to preserve and condense their bloodlines. Unfortunately, our … restraint will not be shared by everyone. There are those who are growing very close to understanding how all this works.”
    My uncle, Wax thought, looking down at the book in his fingers. So far as he could tell, Edwarn—the man known as Mister Suit—was trying to breed Allomancers. What would he do with Hemalurgy, if he knew about it?
    “We need to stay ahead of those who might use this for ill purposes,” VenDell said. “We need to experiment and determine how these Identity-free metalminds would work.”
    “Doing so will be dangerous,” Wax said. “Mixing the powers is incredibly dangerous.”
    “Says the Twinborn,” MeLaan said.
    “I’m safe,” Wax said, glancing at her. “My powers don’t compound—they’re from different metals.”
    “They may not compound,” VenDell said, “but they’re still fascinating, Lord Waxillium. Any mixing of Allomancy and Feruchemy has unanticipated effects.”
    “What is it about you,” Wax said, “that makes me want to punch you, even when you’re saying something helpful?”
    “None of us have been able to figure it out,” MeLaan said, waving for Wayne to toss her a walnut. “One of the cosmere’s great mysteries.”
    “Now, now, Lord Ladrian,” VenDell said, holding up his hands. “Is that the way to speak to someone who bears your ancestor’s hands?”
    “His … hands?” Wax said. “Are you speaking metaphorically?”
    “Ah, no,” VenDell