way."
"Not right now, there isn't," Vin said, walking up to him, putting a hand on his arm. "They need you, Elend. You know that they do."
He nodded. "I know it. I just can't help thinking that a better man would have found a way to make the will of the people work along with his rule."
"You did," she said. "Your parliamentary assembly still rules in Luthadel, and the kingdoms you reign over maintain basic rights and privileges for the skaa."
"Compromises," Elend said. "They only get to do what they want as long as I don't disagree with them."
"It's enough. You have to be realistic, Elend."
"When my friends and I met together, I was the one who spoke of the perfect dreams, of the great things we'd accomplish. I was always the idealist."
"Emperors don't have that luxury," Vin said quietly.
Elend looked at her, then sighed, turning away.
Vin stood, watching Elend in the cold lantern-light of the cavern. She hated seeing such regret, such . . . disillusionment in him. In a way, his current problems seemed even worse than the self-doubt he had once struggled with. He seemed to see himself as a failure despite what he had accomplished.
And yet, he didn't let himself wallow in that failure. He moved on, working despite his regret. He was a harder man than he had once been. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The old Elend had been a man who was easily dismissed by many—a genius who had wonderful ideas, but little ability to lead. Still, she missed some of what was gone. The simple idealism. Elend was still an optimist, and he was still a scholar, but both attributes seemed tempered by what he had been forced to endure.
She watched him move along one of the storage shelves, trailing a finger in the dust. He brought the finger up, looking at it for a moment, then snapped it, throwing a small burst of dust into the air. The beard made him look more rugged—like the wartime commander he had become. A year of solid training with Allomancy and the sword had strengthened his body, and he'd needed to get his uniforms retailored to fit properly. The one he wore now was still stained from battle.
"This place is amazing, isn't it?" Elend asked.
Vin turned, glancing into the darkness of the storage cavern. "I suppose."
"He knew, Vin," Elend said. "The Lord Ruler. He suspected that this day would come—a day when the mists returned and food would be scarce. So, he prepared these supply depots."
Vin joined Elend beside a shelf. She knew from previous caverns that the food would still be good, much of it processed in one of the Lord Ruler's canneries, and would remain so for years in storage. The amount in this cavern could feed the town above for years. Unfortunately, Vin and Elend had more to worry about than a single town.
"Imagine the effort this must have taken," Elend said, turning over a can of stewed beef in his hand. "He would have had to rotate this food every few years, constantly packing and storing new supplies. And he did it for centuries, without anyone knowing what he was doing."
Vin shrugged. "It's not so hard to keep secrets when you're a god-emperor with a fanatical priesthood."
"Yes, but the effort . . . the sheer scope of it all . . ." Elend paused, looking at Vin. "You know what this means?"
"What?"
"The Lord Ruler thought it could be beaten. The Deepness, the thing that we released. The Lord Ruler thought he could eventually win."
Vin snorted. "It doesn't have to mean that, Elend."
"Then why go through all of this? He must have thought that fighting wasn't hopeless."
"People struggle, Elend. Even a dying beast will still keep fighting, will do anything to stay alive."
"You have to admit that these caverns are a good sign, though," Elend said.
"A good sign?" Vin asked quietly, stepping closer. "Elend, I know you're just trying to find hope in all this, but I have trouble seeing 'good signs' anywhere lately. You have to admit now that the sun is getting darker. Redder. It's even worse down here,