Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

and sent two after you.”
    Why? Vin thought. Did they simply want to concentrate their energy on the weakest enemy first? Or, is there another reason? She sat back thoughtfully, working through the events of that night.
    “Sazed,” Vin she finally said. “He saved me. The Inquisitor was about to kill me, but . . . Dox, what is he?”
    “Sazed?” Dockson asked. “That’s probably a question I should let him answer.”
    “Is he here?”
    Dockson shook his head. “He had to return to Fellise. Breeze and Kell are out recruiting, and Ham left last week to inspect our army. He won’t be back for another month at least.”
    Vin nodded, feeling drowsy.
    “Drink the rest of your water,” Dockson suggested. “There’s something in it to help with the pain.”
    Vin downed the rest of the drink, then rolled over and let sleep take her again.

    Kelsier was there when she awoke. He sat on the stool by her bed, hands clasped with his elbows on his knees, watching her by the faint light of a lantern. He smiled when she opened her eyes. “Welcome back.”
    She immediately reached for the cup of water on the bed-stand. “How’s the job going?”
    He shrugged. “The army is growing, and Renoux has begun to purchase weapons and supplies. Your suggestion regarding the Ministry turned out to be a good one—we found Theron’s contact, and we’ve nearly negotiated a deal that will let us place someone as a Ministry acolyte.”
    “Marsh?” Vin asked. “Will he do it himself?”
    Kelsier nodded. “He’s always had a . . . certain fascination with the Ministry. If any skaa can pull off imitating an obligator, it will be Marsh.”
    Vin nodded, sipping her drink. There was something different about Kelsier. It was subtle—a slight alteration in his air and attitude. Things had changed during her sickness.
    “Vin,” Kelsier said hesitantly. “I owe you an apology. I nearly got you killed.”
    Vin snorted quietly. “It’s not your fault. I made you take me.”
    “You shouldn’t have been able to make me,” Kelsier said. “My original decision to send you away was the right one. Please accept the apology.”
    Vin nodded quietly. “What do you need me to do now? The job has to go forward, right?”
    Kelsier smiled. “Indeed it does. As soon as you’re up to it, I’d like you to move back to Fellise. We created a cover story saying that Lady Valette has taken sick, but rumors are starting to appear. The sooner you can be seen in the flesh by visitors, the better.”
    “I can go tomorrow,” Vin said.
    Kelsier chuckled. “I doubt it, but you can go soon. For now, just rest.” He stood, moving to leave.
    “Kelsier?” Vin asked, causing him to pause. He turned, looking at her.
    Vin struggled to formulate what she wanted to say. “The palace . . . the Inquisitors . . . We’re not invincible, are we?” She flushed; it sounded stupid when she said it that way.
    Kelsier, however, just smiled. He seemed to understand what she meant. “No, Vin,” he said quietly. “We’re far from it.”

    Vin watched the landscape pass outside her carriage window. The vehicle, sent from Mansion Renoux, had supposedly taken Lady Valette for a ride through Luthadel. In reality, it hadn’t picked up Vin until it had stopped briefly by Clubs’s street. Now, however, her window shades were open, showing her again to the world—assuming anyone cared.
    The carriage made its way back toward Fellise. Kelsier had been right: She’d had to rest three more days in Clubs’s shop before feeling strong enough to make the trip. In part, she’d waited simply because she had dreaded struggling into a noblewoman’s dresses with her bruised arms and wounded side.
    Still, it felt good to be up again. There had been something . . . wrong about simply recovering in bed. Such a lengthy period of rest wouldn’t have been given to a regular thief; thieves either got back to work quickly or were abandoned for dead. Those who couldn’t bring in money for food couldn’t be allowed to take up space in the lair.
    But, that isn’t the only way people live, Vin thought. She was still uncomfortable with that knowledge. It hadn’t mattered to Kelsier and the others that she drained their resources—they hadn’t exploited her weakened state, but had cared for her, each one spending time at her bedside. Most notable among the vigilists had been the young Lestibournes. Vin didn’t even feel that she knew him very well, yet Kelsier said that the