Hoid Compendium :: Spoilers

[Miyabi]

Per suggestion of Mr. J in Natalie Perkins' thread Hoid?? I have brought all references of Hoid and his antics and put them in one big post for you all.

This post (And the next three.  [I happened to reach the post limit of 20k characters. . . . . .]) will be used to update all Hoid references as they are drawn to our attention.  The fifth post in this thread will be used to put generally supported theories or unconfirmed mentions of Hoid.

.::Liar of Partinel::.

Want to download an early version of the first six chapters?  Do it here.

Or what about a revision of chapter one?  Find it here.

.::Elantris::.

   
       "MAKE certain you deliver these tonight." Sarene said, pulling the lid closed
on the final box of supplies.

   The beggar nodded, casting an apprehensive glance toward the wall of Elantris, which stood only a few feet away. "You needn't be so afraid, Hoid." Sarene said. "You have a new king now.
Things are going to change in Arelon."

   Hoid shrugged. Despite Telrii's death. the beggar refused to meet with Sarene
during the day. Hoid's people had spent ten years fearing Iadon and his farms;
they weren't used to acting without the enveloping presence of night, no
matter how legal their intentions. Sarene would have used someone else to make
the delivery, but Hoid and his men already knew how and where to deposit the
boxes. Besides, she would rather the populace of Arelon not discover what was
in this particular shipment.

   "These boxes are more heavy than the ones before. my lady," Hoid noted
astutely. There was a reason he had managed to survive a decade on the streets
of Kae without being caught.

   "What the boxes contain is none of your business," Sarene replied, handing him a pouch of coins.
   Hoid nodded, his face hidden in the darkness of his hood. Sarene had never
seen his face. but she assumed from his voice that he was an older man.

.::Final Empire::.

      Hoid calmly put away the pipe, then climbed to his feet— though that didn’t make him much taller. The scrawny bald man bowed deeply in the misty night. “Greetings, my lord.”

       Kelsier paused in front of the man, arms tucked carefully inside his mistcloak. It wouldn’t do for a street informant to realize that the unidentified “nobleman” he was meeting with had the scars of Hathsin on his arms.
“You come highly recommended,” Kelsier said, mimicking the haughty accent of a nobleman.

       “I am one of the best, my lord.” Anyone who can survive as long as you have must be good, Kelsier thought. Lords didn’t like the idea of other men knowing their secrets. Informants generally didn’t live very long.

       “I need to know something, informant,” Kelsier said. “But first you must vow never to speak of this meeting to anyone.”

       “Of course, my lord,” Hoid said. He’d likely break the promise before the night was out—another reason informants didn’t tend to live very long. “There is, however, the matter of payment....”

       “You’ll have your money, skaa,” Kelsier snapped.

       “Of course, my lord,” Hoid said with a quick bob of the head. “You requested information regarding House Renoux, I believe....”
      
       “Yes. What is known about it? Which houses is it aligned with? I must know these things.”

       “There isn’t really much to know, my lord,” Hoid said. “Lord Renoux is very new to the area, and he is a careful man. He’s making neither allies nor enemies at the moment—he’s buying a large number of weapons and armor, but is probably just purchasing from a wide variety of houses and merchants, thereby ingratiating himself to them all. A wise tactic. He will, perhaps, have an excess of merchandise, but he will also have an excess of friends, yes?”
Kelsier snorted. “I don’t see why I should pay you for that.”

       “He’ll have too much merchandise, my lord,” Hoid said quickly. “You could make a clever profit, knowing that Renoux is shipping at a loss.”

       “I’m no merchant, skaa,” Kelsier said. “I don’t care about profits and shipping!” Let him chew on that. Now he thinks I’m of a Great House—of course, if he hadn’t suspected that because of the mistcloak, then he doesn’t deserve his reputation.

       “Of course, my lord,” Hoid said quickly. “There is more, of course....” Ah, and here we see it. Does the street know that House Renoux is connected to the rumblings of rebellion? If anyone had discovered that secret, then Kelsier’s crew was in serious jeopardy. Hoid coughed quietly, holding out his hand.

       “Insufferable man!” Kelsier snapped, tossing a pouch at Hoid’s feet.

       “Yes, my lord,” Hoid said, falling to his knees and searching about with his hand. “I apologize, my lord. My eyesight is weak, you know. I can barely see my own fingers held in front of my face.”

       Clever, Kelsier thought as Hoid found the pouch and tucked it away. The comment about eyesight was, of course, a lie—no man would get far in the underground with such an impediment. However, a nobleman who thought his informant to be half blind would be far less paranoid about being identified. Not that Kelsier himself was worried—he wore one of Dockson’s best disguises. Beside the beard, he had a fake, but realistic, nose, along with platforms in the shoes and makeup to lighten his skin.

       “You said there was more?” Kelsier said. “I swear, skaa, if it isn’t good...”

       “It is,” Hoid said quickly. “Lord Renoux is considering a union between his niece, the Lady Valette, and Lord Elend Venture.”

       Kelsier paused. Wasn’t expecting that... “That’s silly. Venture is far above Renoux.”

       “The two youths were seen speaking—at length—at the Venture ball a month ago.”

       Kelsier laughed derisively. “Everyone knows about that. It meant nothing.”

       “Did it?” Hoid asked. “Does everyone know that Lord Elend Venture spoke very highly of the girl to his friends, the group of nobleling philosophers that lounge at the Broken Quill?”

       “Young men speak of girls,” Kelsier said. “It means nothing. You will be returning those coins.”

       “Wait!” Hoid said, sounding apprehensive for the first time. “There is more. Lord Renoux and Lord Venture have had secret dealings.”

       What?

       “It is true,” Hoid continued. “This is fresh news—I heard it barely an hour ago myself. There is a connection between Renoux and Venture. And, for some reason, Lord Renoux was able to demand that Elend Venture be assigned to watch over Lady Valette at balls.” He lowered his voice. “It is even whispered that Lord Renoux has some kind of...leverage over House Venture.”

       What happened at that ball tonight? Kelsier thought. Out loud, however, he said, “This all sounds very weak, skaa. You have nothing more than idle speculations?”

       “Not about House Renoux, my lord,” Hoid said. “I tried, but your worry over this house is meaningless! You should pick a house more central to politics. Like, say, House Elariel . . .”

       Kelsier frowned. By mentioning Elariel, Hoid was implying that he had some important tidbit that would be worth Kelsier’s payment. It seemed that House Renoux’s secrets were safe. It was time to move the discussion along to other houses, so that Hoid wouldn’t get suspicious of Kelsier’s interest in Renoux. “Very well,” Kelsier said. “But if this isn’t worth my time...”

       “It is, my lord. Lady Shan Elariel is a Soother.”

       “Proof?”

       “I felt her touch on my emotions, my lord,” Hoid said. “During a fire at Keep Elariel a week ago, she was there calming the emotions of the servants.”

       Kelsier had started that fire. Unfortunately, it hadn’t spread beyond the guardhouses. “What else?”

       “House Elariel has recently given her leave to use her powers more at court functions,” Hoid said. “They fear a house war, and wish her to make whatever allegiances possible. She always carries a thin envelope of shaved brass in her right glove. Get a Seeker close to her at a ball, and you shall see. My lord, I do not lie! My life as an informant depends solely upon my reputation. Shan Elariel is a Soother.” Kelsier paused, as if musing. The information was useless to him, but his true purpose—finding out about House Renoux—had already been fulfilled. Hoid had earned his coins, whether he realized it or not.

       Kelsier smiled. Now to sow a little more chaos.  “What of Shan’s covert relationship with Salmen Tekiel?” Kelsier said, picking the name of a likely young nobleman. “Do you think that she used her powers to gain his favor?”

       “Oh, most certainly, my lord,” Hoid said quickly. Kelsier could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes; he assumed that Kelsier had given him a luscious bit of political gossip free of charge.

       “Perhaps she was the one who secured Elariel the deal with House Hasting last week,” Kelsier said musingly. There had been no such deal.

       “Most likely, my lord.”

.::Well of Ascensioin::.

      The elderly steward nodded, his head shaking. He didn't seem particularly frail--actually, he had that same air of controlled dignity that most stewards exhibited--but his body had a slow, chronic tremble.

.::Hero of Ages::.

      No pulses came from behind. Soon, she moved on, pulling out Cett's instructions, searching out a second informant. She trusted Slowswift's words well enough, but she would like confirmation. She picked an informant on the other side of the spectrum—a beggar named Hoid whom Cett claimed could be found in a particular square late at night.

   A few quick jumps brought her to the location. She landed atop a roof and looked down, scanning the area. The ash had been allowed to drift here, piling in corners, making a general mess of things. A group of lumps huddled in an alley beside the square. Beggars, without home or job. Vin had lived like that at times, sleeping in alleys, coughing up ash, hoping it wouldn't rain. She soon located a figure that wasn't sleeping like the others, but sitting quietly in the light ashfall. Her ears picked out a faint sound. The man was humming to himself, as the instructions said that he might be doing.

   Vin hesitated.

   She couldn't decide what it was, but something bothered her about the situation. It wasn't right. She didn't stop to think, she simply turned and jumped away. That was one of the big differences between her and Elend—she didn't always need a reason. A feeling was enough. He always wanted to tease things out and find a why, and she loved him for his logic. However, he would have been very frustrated about her decision to turn away from the square as she had.

[Miyabi]

.::Warbreaker::.

“This is Hoid,” Lightsong said.  “Master storyteller.  I believe you had some questions you wished to ask. . . .”

   Siri laughed in relief, remembering only now her request to Lightsong.  She glanced at the priests below.  “Um, shouldn’t we be paying attention to the speeches?”

   Lightsong waved indifferently.  “Pay attention?  Ridiculous!  That would be far too responsible of us.  We’re gods, for the Colors’ sake.  Or, well, I am.  You’re close enough.  A god-in-law, one might say.  Anyway, do you really want to listen to a bunch of stuffy priests talk about sewage treatment?”

   Siri grimaced.

   “I thought not.  Besides, neither of us have votes pertaining to this issue.  So let us spend our time wisely.  We never know when we will run out!”

   “Of time?” Siri asked.  “But you’re immortal!”

   “Not run out of time,” Lightsong said, holding up his plate.  “Of grapes.  I hate listening to storytellers without grapes.”

   Siri rolled her eyes, but continued to eat the grape slices.  The storyteller waited patiently.  As she looked more closely, she could tell that he wasn’t quite as old as he seemed at first glance.  The beard must be a badge of his profession, and while it didn’t appear to be fake, she suspected that it had been bleached.  He was much really younger than he wanted to appear.

   Still, she doubted Lightsong would have settled for anyone other than the very best.  She settled back in her chair--which, she noticed, had been crafted for someone of her size.  I should be careful with my questions, she thought.  I can’t ask directly about the deaths of the old God Kings; that would be too obvious.

   “Storyteller,” she said.  “What do you know of Hallandren history?”

   “Much, my queen,” he said, bowing his head.  

   “Tell me of the days before the division between Idris and Hallandren.”

   “Ah,” the man said, reaching into a pocket.  He pulled out a handful of sand and began to rub it between his fingers, letting it drop in a soft stream toward the ground, its grains blown slightly in the wind.  “Her majesty wishes one of the deep stories, from long before.  A story before time began?”

   “I wish to know the origins of the Hallandren God Kings.”

   “Then we begin in the distant haze,” the storyteller said, bringing up another hand, letting powdery black sand drop from it, mixing with the sand that fell from the first hand.  As Siri watched, the black sand turned white, and she cocked her head, smiling at the display.

   “The first God King of Hallandren is ancient,” Hoid said.  “Ancient, yes.  Older than kingdoms and cities, older than monarchs and religions.  Not older than the mountains, for they were already here.  Like the knuckles of the sleeping giants below, they formed this valley, where panthers and flowers both make their home.

   “We speak of just ‘The valley’ then, a place before it had a name.  The people of Chedesh still dominated the world.  They sailed the inner sea, coming from the east, and it was they who first discovered this strange land.  Their writings are sparse, their empire long since been taken by the dust, but memory remains.  Perhaps you can imagine their surprise upon arriving here?  A place with beaches of fine, soft sand, with fruits aplenty, and with strange, alien forests?”

   Hoid reached into his robes and pulled out a handful of something else.  He began to drop it before him--small green leaves from the fronds of a fern.

   “Paradise, they called it,” Hoid whispered.  “A paradise hidden between the mountains, a land with pleasant rains that never grew cold, a land where succulent food grew spontaneously.”  He threw the handful of leaves into the air, and in the center of them puffed a burst of colorful dust, like a tiny flameless firework.  Deep reds and blues mixed in the air, blowing around him.  

   “A land of color,” he said.  “Because of the Tears of Edgli, the striking flowers of such brilliance that could yield dyes that would hold fast in any cloth.”

   Siri had never really though about how Hallandren would look to people who came across the Inner Sea.  She’d heard stories from the ramblemen who came into Idris, and they spoke of distant places.  In other lands, one found parries and steppes, mountains and deserts.  But not jungles.  Hallandren was unique.

   “The First Returned was born during this time,” Hoid said, sprinkling a handful of silver glitter into the air before him.  “Aboard a ship that was sailing the coast.  Returned can now be found in all parts of the world, but the first one--the man whom you call Vo, but we name only by his title--was born here, in the waters of this very bay.  He declared the Five Visions.  He died a week later.

   “The men of his ship founded a kingdom upon these beaches, then called Hanald.  Before their arrival, all that had existed in these jungles was the people of Pahn Kahl, more a mere collection of fishing villages than a true kingdom.”

   The glitter ran out, and Hoid began to drop a powdery brown dirt from his other hand as he reached into another pocket.  “Now, you may wonder why I must travel back so far.  Should I not speak of the Manywar, of the shattering of kingdoms, of the Five Scholars, of Kalad the Usurper and his phantom army which some say still hides in these jungles, waiting?  

   “Those are the events we focus upon, the ones men know the best.  To speak only of them, however, is to ignore the history of three hundred years that led up to them.  Would there have been a Manywar without knowledge of the Returned?  It was a Returned, after all, who predicted the war and prompted Strifelover to attack the kingdoms across the mountains.”

   “Strifelover?” Siri interrupted.

   “Yes, your majesty,” Hoid said, switching to a black dust.  “Strifelover.  Another name for Kalad the Usurper.”

   “That sounds like the name of a Returned.”

   Hoid nodded.  “Indeed,” he said.  “Kalad was Returned, as was Peacegiver, the man who overthrew him and founded Hallandren.  We haven’t arrived at that part yet.  We are still back in Hanald, the outpost-become-kingdom founded by the men of the First Returned’s crew.  They were the ones who chose the First Returned’s wife as their queen, then used the Tears of Edgli to create fantastic dyes which sold for untold riches across the world.  This soon became a bustling center of trade.”

   He removed a handful of flower petals and began to let them fall before him.  “The Tears of Edgli.  The source of Hallandren wealth.  Such small things, so easy to grow here.  And yet, this is the only soil where they will live.  In other parts of the world, dyes are very difficult to produce.  Expensive.  Some scholars say that the Manywar was fought over these flower petals, that the kingdoms of Kuth and Huth were destroyed by little drips of color.”
   The petals fell to the floor.

   “But only some of the scholars say that, storyteller?” Lightsong said.  Siri turned, having almost forgotten that he was with her.  “What do the rest say?  Why was the Manywar fought in their opinions?”

   The storyteller fell silent for a moment.  And then he pulled out two handfuls and began to release dust of a half-dozen different colors.  “Breath, your grace.  Most agree that the Manywar was not only about petals squeezed dry, but a much greater prize.  People squeezed dry.

   “You know, perhaps, that the royal family was growing increasingly interested in the process by which Breath could be used to bring objects to life.  Awakening, it was then first being called.  It was a fresh and poorly-understood art, then.  It still is, in many ways.  The workings of the souls of men--their power to animate ordinary objects and the dead to life--is something discovered barely four centuries ago.  A short time, by the accounting of gods.”

   “Unlike a court proceeding,” Lightsong mumbled, glancing over at the priests who were still talking about sanitation.  “Those seem to last an eternity, according to the accounting of this god.”

   The storyteller didn’t break stride at the interruption.  “Breath,” he said.  “The years leading up to the Manywar, those were the days of the Five Scholars and the discovery of new Commands.  To some, this was a time of great enlightenment and learning.  Others call them the darkest days of men, for it was then we learned to best exploit one another.”

   He began to drop two handfuls of dust, one bright yellow, the other black.  Siri watched, amused.  He seemed to be slanting what he said toward her, careful not to offend her Idris sensibilities.  What did she really know of Breath?  She’d rarely even seen any Awakeners in the Court.  Even when she did, she didn’t really care.  The monks had spoken against such things, but, well, she had paid about as much attention to them as she had her tutors.  

   “One of the Five Scholars made a discovery,” Hoid continued, dropping a handful of white scraps, small torn pieces of paper with writing on them.  “Commands.  Methods.  The means by which a Lifeless could be created from a single breath.  

   “This, perhaps, seems a small thing to you.  But you must look at the past of this kingdom and its founding.  Hallandren began with the servants of a Returned and was developed by an expansive mercantile effort.  It controlled a uniquely lucrative region which, through the discovery and maintenance of the northern passes--combined with increasingly skillful navigation--was becoming a jewel coveted by the rest of the world.”

   He paused and his second hand came up, dropping little bits of metal which fell to the stonework with a sound not like falling rain.  “And so the war came,” he said.  “The Five Scholars split, joining different sides.  Some kingdoms gained the use of Lifeless while others did not.  Some kingdoms had weapons others could only envy.

   “To answer the god’s question, my story claims one other reason for the Manywar: the ability to create Lifeless so cheaply.  Before the discovery of the single-breath command, Lifeless took fifty Breaths to make.  Extra soldiers--even a Lifeless one--are of limited use if  you can gain only one for every fifty men you already have.  However, being able to create a Lifeless with a single Breath. . .one for one. . .that will double your troops.  And half of them won’t need to eat.”

   The metal stopped falling.

   “Lifeless are no stronger than living men,” Hoid said.  “They are the same.  They are not more skilled than living men.  They are the same.  However, not having to eat like regular men?  That advantage was enormous.  Mix that with their ability to ignore pain and never feel fear. . .and suddenly you had an army that others could not stand against.  It was taken even further by Kalad, who was said to have created a new and more powerful type of Lifeless, gaining an advantage even more frightening.”

   “What kind of new Lifeless?” Siri asked, curious.

   “Nobody remembers, your majesty,” Hoid explained.  “The records of that time have been lost.  Some day they were burned intentionally.  Whatever the true nature of Kalad’s Phantoms, they were frightening and terrible--so much so that even though the details have been lost in time, the phantoms themselves live on in our lore.  And our curses.”

   “Do they really still exist out there?” Siri asked, shivering slightly, glancing toward the unseen jungles.  “Like the stories say?  An unseen army, waiting for Kalad to return and command them again?”

   “Alas,” Hoid said, “I can tell only stories.  As I said, so much from that time is lost to us now.”

   “But we know of the royal family,” Siri said.  “They broke away because they didn’t agree with what Kalad was doing, right?  They saw moral problems with using Lifeless?”

   The storyteller hesitated.  “Why, yes,” he finally said, smiling through his beard.  “Yes, they did, your majesty.”
   She raised an eyebrow.

   “Psst,” Lightsong said, leaning in.  “He’s lying to you.”

   “Your grace,” the storyteller said, bowing deeply.  “I beg your pardon.  There are diverging explanations!  Why, I am a teller of stories--all stories.”

   “And what do other stories say?” Siri asked.

[Miyabi]

.::Warbreaker :: Continued::.

   “None of them agree, your majesty,” Hoid said.  “Your people speak of religious indignation and of treachery by Kalad the Usurper.  The Pahn Kahl people tell of the royal family working hard to gain powerful Lifeless and Awakeners, then being surprised when their tools turned against them.  In Hallandren, they tell of the Royal family aligning themselves with Kalad, making him their general and ignoring the will of the people by seeking war with bloodlust.”

   He looked up, and then began to trail two handfuls of black, burned charcoal.  “But time burns away behind us, leaving only ash and memory.  That memory passes from mind to mind, then finally to my lips.  When all is truth, and all are lies, does it matter if some say the royal family sought to create Lifeless?  Your belief is your own.”

   “Either way, the Returned took control of Hallandren,” she said.

   “Yes,” Hoid said.  “And they gave it a new name, a variation on the old one.  And yet, some still speak regretfully of the Royals who left, bearing the blood of the First Returned to their highlands.”

   Siri frowned.  “Blood of the First Returned?”

   “Yes, of course,” Hoid said.  “It was his wife, pregnant with his child, who became the first queen of this land.  You are his descendant.”

   She sat back.

   Lightsong turned, curious.  “You didn’t know this?” he asked, in a tone lacking his normal flippancy.

   She shook her head.  “If this fact is known to my people, we do not speak of it.”

   Lightsong seemed to find that interesting.  Down below, the priests were moving on to a different topic--something about security in the city and increasing patrols in the slums. 

   She smiled, sensing a subtle way to get to the questions she really wanted to ask.  “That means that the God Kings of Hallandren carried on without the blood of the First Returned.”

   “Yes, your majesty,” Hoid said, crumbling clay out into the air before him.

   “And how many God Kings have there been?”

   “Five, your majesty,” the man said.  “Including his Immortal Majesty, Lord Susebron, but not including Peacegiver.”

   “Five kings,” she said.  “In three hundred years?”

   “Yes, your majesty,” Hoid said, bringing out a handful of golden dust, letting it fall before him.  “The dynasty of Hallandren was founded at the conclusion of the Manywar, the first one gaining his Breath and life from Peacegiver himself, who was revered for dispelling Kalad’s Phantoms and bringing a peaceful end to the Manywar.  Since that day, each God King has fathered to a stillborn son who then Returned and took his place.”

   Siri leaned forward.  “Wait.  How did Peacegiver create a new God King?”

   “Ah,” Hoid said, switching back to sand with his left hand.  “Now there is a story lost in time.  How indeed?  Breath can be passed from one man to another, but Breath--no matter how much--does not make one a god.  Legends say that Peacegiver died by granting his Breath to his successor.  After all, can a god not give his life away to bless another?”

   “Not exactly a sign of mental stability, in my opinion,” Lightsong said, waving for some more grapes.  “You don’t encourage confidence in our predecessors, storyteller.  Besides, even if a god gives away his Breath, it doesn’t make the recipient divine.”

   “I only tell stories, your grace,” Hoid repeated.  “They may be truths, they may be fictions.  All I know is that the stories themselves exist and that I must tell them.”

   With as much flair as possible, Siri thought, watching him reach into yet another pocket and pull free a handful of small bits of grass and earth.  He let bits fall slowly between his fingers.

   “I speak of foundations, your grace,” Hoid said.  “Peacegiver was no ordinary Returned, for he managed to stop the Lifeless from rampaging.  Indeed, he sent away Kalad’s Phantoms, which formed the main bulk of the Hallandren army.  By doing so, he left his own people powerless.  He did so in an effort to bring peace.  By then, of course, it was too late for Kuth and Huth.  However, the other kingdoms--Pahn Kahl, Tedradel, Gys, and Hallandren itself--were brought out of the conflict.

   “Can we not assume more from this god of gods who was able to accomplish so much?  Perhaps he did do something unique, as the priests claim.  Leave some seed within the God Kings of Hallandren, allowing them to pass their power and divinity from father to son.”

   Heritage which would give them a claim to rule, Siri thought idly slipping a sliced grape into her mouth.  With such an amazing god as their progenitor, they could become God Kings.  And the only one who could threaten them would be. . . .

   The royal family of Idris, who can apparently trace their line back to the First Returned.  Another heritage of divinity, a challenger for rightful rule in Hallandren.

   That didn’t tell her how the God Kings had died.  Nor did it tell her why some gods--such as the First Returned--could bear children, while others could not.

   “They’re immortal, correct?” Siri asked.

   Hoid nodded, smoothly dropping the rest of his grass and dirt, moving into a different discussion by bringing forth a handful of white powder.  “Indeed, your majesty.  Like all Returned, the God Kings do not age.  Agelessness is a gift for all who reach the Fifth Heightening. ”

   “But why have there been five God Kings?” she asked.  “Why did the first one die?”

   “Why do any Returned pass on, your majesty?” Hoid asked.

   “Because they are loony,” Lightsong said.

   The storyteller smiled.  “Because they tire.  Gods are not like ordinary men.  They come back for us, not for themselves, and when they can no longer endure life, they pass on.  God Kings live only as long as it takes them to produce an heir.”

   Siri started.  “That’s commonly known?” she asked, then cringed slightly at the potentially suspicious comment.
   “Of course it is, your majesty,” the storyteller said.  “At least, to storytellers and scholars.  Each God King has passed from this world shortly after his son and heir was born.  It is natural.  Once the heir has arrived, the God King grows restless.  Each one has sought out an opportunity to use up his Breath to benefit the realm.  And then. . . .”

   He threw up a hand, snapping his fingers, throwing up a little spray of water which puffed to mist.
 
   “And then they pass on,” he said.  “Leaving their people blessed and their heir to rule.”

   The group fell silent, the mist evaporating in front of Hoid.

   “Not exactly the most pleasant thing to inform a newlywed wife, storyteller,” Lightsong noted.  “That her husband is going to grow bored with life as soon as she bears him a son?”

   “I seek not to be charming, your grace,” Hoid said, bowing.  At his feet, the various dusts, sands, and glitters mixed together in the faint breeze.  “I only tell stories.  This one is known to most.  I should think that her majesty would like to be aware of it as well.”

   “Thank you,” Siri said quietly.  “It was good of you to speak of it.  Tell me, where did you lean such an. . .unusual method of storytelling?”

   Hoid looked up, smiling.  “I learned it many, many years ago from a man who didn’t know who he was, your majesty.  It was a distant place where two lands meet and gods have died.  But that is unimportant.”

   Siri ascribed the vague explanation to Hoid’s desire to create a suitably romantic and mysterious past for himself.  Of far more interest to her was what he’d said about the God Kings’ deaths.

   So there is an official explanation, she thought, stomach twisting.  And it’s actually a pretty good one.  Theologically, it makes sense that the God Kings would depart once they had arranged for a suitable successor.

   But that doesn’t explain how Peacegiver’s Treasure--that wealth of Breath--passes from God King to God King when they have no tongues.  And, it doesn’t explain why a man like Susebron would get tired of life when he seems so excited by it. 

   The official story would work fine for those who didn’t know the God King.  It fell flat for Siri.  Susebron would never do such a thing.  Not now.

   Yet. . .  Would things change if she bore him a son?  Would Susebron grow tired of her that easily?

   “Maybe we should be hoping for old Susebron to pass, my queen,” Lightsong said idly, picking at the grapes.  “You were forced into all this, I suspect.  If Susebron died, you might even be able to go home.  No harm done, people healed, new heir on the throne.  Everyone is either happy or dead.”

   The priests continued to argue below.  Hoid bowed, waiting for dismissal.

   Happy. . .or dead.  Her stomach twisted.  “Excuse me,” she said, rising.  “I would like to walk about a bit.  Thank you for your storytelling, Hoid.”

   With that--entourage in tow--she quickly left the pavilion, preferring that Lightsong not see her tears.

[Miyabi]

Reserved for later book postings.

[Miyabi]

.::Confirmed::.

Hoid is ONE person.

Hoid is usually someone who passes information, generally a story teller.

Hoid can travel between worlds.

.::Unconfirmed Due To Non-Canon References::.

There was a second Hoid, but he is not the Hoid that we see in aforementioned books.

Hoid could have once been called Midius, who was a student of the original Hoid.

Hoid is a Lightweaver.

.::Unconfirmed::.



.::Weird Coincidences (or are they?!)::.

A Hoid is an anagram of Idaho

Hoid backwards is Dioh an Dios means God

Hoid could stand for Hero Of Infinite Dimensions

.::Have Something To Contribute::.

Want to put something here?  Just post it in the thread and I'll get it up here.  I'll spend the next day or two putting theories from the other thread on here so they can all be seen in one place.

[Plasman]

Going off of what it says in WoA, i think it may be possible that all the traveling between worlds that Hoid does is effecting his body somehow causing the strange shaking. either that or he's not used to the climate of this particular planet...

[Miyabi]

I think it's all just part of the facade to keep people guessing so that they don't catch on to him.  I mean in FE he appeared to be wealthy where in HoA he was a beggar.

[Red, White, and Joker]

Chris, I must admit, this is beyond ANYTHING that I was thinking! I stand in awe of your awesomeness!

*bows*

[Miyabi]

It took me all day (with some help from Mi'ch) to find all these references.

[Red, White, and Joker]

O.o

Holy crap. You got all of those in one day?!?

*forehead is on the floor*

[Miyabi]

There's actually a LARGE amount more that I would like to post.  I'm just not sure if I'm allowed to post anything about Liar.  You can find Liar if you look hard enough for it.

[zas678]

I got some more stuff to add- this is from Brandon's Barnes & Noble Q&A

Who is Hoid in WoA? We (TWG) have found some candidates:
     
Wolfhound merchant
Terris person that Elend meets after Vin went back to Luthadel
Teur or old Jed (the two Skaa in the first Sazed chapter)
Crazy canibal Skaa (I doubt it though)
     
We already know it isn't the man who discovered duralumin, or the skaa leader outside the dress shop, or the old skaa who waits with the Holy First Witness when the koloss attack.
     
I think those were all of the characters that we found as candidates.

People are really close to this one, and I noticed that later in this thread, you or someone else mentioned the footprints in the deleted scene.
 
Hoid's appearance in MB:WA is a little unlike the others.  When the scene at the Well was moved in revision, one of Hoid’s  major influences on the book had to go  (For various reasons.) Left in the book is only one little hint, really.  A character notices something odd about someone, but doesn't dwell on it.  You can probably find the line if you look very closely.
 
Let me say this.  Hoid got wrapped up in things he didn't expect to be involved in, and they dominated much of his time during the events of MB:WA.  He spent most of the book in a different place from most of the viewpoint characters.  He's only near them for a very short time, and he's deeply in disguise.  I couldn't include his name, as he'd never have used the name "Hoid" for himself there, because it wouldn't have been right for the disguise.  He'd have used another pseudonym.  (He didn't, by the way, mention one.)
 
I've probably said too much already.  Now, perhaps what people should asking me is this: “What Hoid has been up to in all of these books?”  Or, maybe they shouldn't ask me, as I wouldn't be likely to answer.  (There are clues in the novels, however.)  No, he’s not just hanging out.  Yes, I know what he’s been doing.  Will I write his scenes some day?  Maybe.  We’ll see.  There may be short stories posted on my website.

So, Brandon. Hoid. I remember you saying at the I.F. signing last year that he was in WoA. We, your dedicated fans who like scouring books searching for obscure characters who have any possibility of being the mysterious Hoid, have yet to find him. Peter sent us on a hunt for him (Hoid, not Peter...) in the deleted scenes, and we found his boot-print.

Now, I think he broke the pottery there too--the one holding the larasium--and since there's broken pottery in the actual version, I think he may have snuck into the cavern and broken it as well. If so, is this Hoid's part in WoA? This trace of him? I commend you if it is. It is clever, making us think it was a person, when in fact it's just something he did.

You are on the right track, but wrong on one point.  Hoid does appear in the book.

I had originally toyed with making his touch on the novel more obscure, but decided that I wanted to be consistent with the other novels by actually having him appear.  Once I realized I’d probably cut the scene with the footprint, I decided I needed this actual appearance even more badly.

Fortunately, I knew what Hoid had been up to all this time, and had placed him in a position where several characters could run into him.  In WoA, Hoid believed (as Vin did) that the Well was in the North, even though it was not.  He spent much of the book pursuing this idea.

Through events, however, he discovered he was wrong.  He made the realization after Vin did, but only because of a chance meeting.  (This is recorded in the books.  Let’s just say he was listening in when someone implied that the Well was in Luthadel.)

He hurried to Luthadel, and was in the town, skulking about in the last parts of the novel.  He isn’t seen here, though he does still infiltrate the Well.  (Hoid is quite proficient at manipulating Shadesmar for his own ends.)

It was latter confirmed by many sources that the old Terrisman who talks to Elend in WoA is indeed Hoid.

Edit- I seem to remember somewhere Brandon mentioning that Hoid broke the pottery to help Elend. Was that just a theory that we had, or did it come from Brandon/Peter?

[Miyabi]

Thanks Zas, as soon as I find the actual lines I will edit them in to replace the WoA reference I currently have.

[firstRainbowRose]

I THINK that was confirmed.  However, the HoA confirmed Hoid ref is posted in the first bit.  (Chris, you never sent me the full doc btw)

[Miyabi]

Catch me on messenger tomorrow and I'll send it to you.

EDIT :: Just to clarify.  So Hoid was the Terrisman and he broke the pot?