Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

that,” Kelsier promised. He took a deep breath, ash falling lightly around him. Skaa cleaning crews were already back at work on the streets below, brushing up the dark ash. Behind, a guard patrol passed, nodding to Kelsier and Dockson. They waited in silence for the men to pass.
    “It’s good to be back,” Kelsier finally said. “There’s something homey about Luthadel—even if it is a depressing, stark pit of a city. You have the meeting organized?”
    Dockson nodded. “We can’t start until this evening, though. How’d you get in, anyway? I had men watching the gates.”
    “Hmm? Oh, I snuck in last night.”
    “But how—” Dockson paused. “Oh, right. That’s going to take some getting used to.”
    Kelsier shrugged. “I don’t see why. You always work with Mistings.”
    “Yes, but this is different,” Dockson said. He held up a hand to forestall further argument. “No need, Kell. I’m not hedging—I just said it would take some getting used to.”
    “Fine. Who’s coming tonight?”
    “Well, Breeze and Ham will be there, of course. They’re very curious about this mystery job of ours—not to mention rather annoyed that I won’t tell him what you’ve been up to these last few years.”
    “Good,” Kelsier said with a smile. “Let them wonder. How about Trap?”
    Dockson shook his head. “Trap’s dead. The Ministry finally caught up with him a couple months ago. Didn’t even bother sending him to the Pits—they beheaded him on the spot.”
    Kelsier closed his eyes, exhaling softly. It seemed that the Steel Ministry caught up with everyone eventually. Sometimes, Kelsier felt that a skaa Misting’s life wasn’t so much about surviving as it was about picking the right time to die.
    “This leaves us without a Smoker,” Kelsier finally said, opening his eyes. “You have any suggestions?”
    “Ruddy,” Dockson said.
    Kelsier shook his head. “No. He’s a good Smoker, but he’s not a good enough man.”
    Dockson smiled. “Not a good enough man to be on a thieving crew . . . Kell, I have missed working with you. All right, who then?”
    Kelsier thought for a moment. “Is Clubs still running that shop of his?”
    “As far as I know,” Dockson said slowly.
    “He’s supposed to be one of the best Smokers in the city.”
    “I suppose,” Dockson said. “But . . . isn’t he supposed to be kind of hard to work with?”
    “He’s not so bad,” Kelsier said. “Not once you get used to him. Besides, I think he might be . . . amenable to this particular job.”
    “All right,” Dockson said, shrugging. “I’ll invite him. I think one of his relatives is a Tineye. Do you want me to invite him too?”
    “Sounds good,” Kelsier said.
    “All right,” Dockson said. “Well, beyond that, there’s just Yeden. Assuming he’s still interested . . .”
    “He’ll be there,” Kelsier said.
    “He’d better be,” Dockson said. “He’ll be the one paying us, after all.”
    Kelsier nodded, then frowned. “You didn’t mention Marsh.”
    Dockson shrugged. “I warned you. Your brother never did approve of our methods, and now . . . well, you know Marsh. He won’t even have anything to do with Yeden and the rebellion anymore, let alone with a bunch of criminals like us. I think we’ll have to find someone else to infiltrate the obligators.”
    “No,” Kelsier said. “He’ll do it. I’ll just have to stop by to persuade him.”
    “If you say so.” Dockson fell silent then, and the two stood for a moment, leaning against the railing and looking out over the ash-stained city.
    Dockson finally shook his head. “This is insane, eh?”
    Kelsier smiled. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
    Dockson nodded. “Fantastic.”
    “It will be a job like no other,” Kelsier said, looking north—across the city and toward the twisted building at its center.
    Dockson stepped away from the wall. “We have a few hours before the meeting. There’s something I want to show you. I think there’s still time—if we hurry.”
    Kelsier turned with curious eyes. “Well, I was going to go and chastise my prude of a brother. But . . .”
    “This will be worth your time,” Dockson promised.

    Vin sat in the corner of the safe house’s main lair. She kept to the shadows, as usual; the more she stayed out of sight, the more the others would ignore her. She couldn’t afford to expend Luck keeping the men’s hands off of her. She’d barely had time to regenerate what she’d used a few