Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

opportunity did arrive . . .
    He dropped to the ground just outside of the Sootwarrens, then pulled his mistcloak tight and walked along the street with a confident step. His contact sat in the doorway of a closed shop, puffing quietly on a pipe. Kelsier raised an eyebrow; tobacco was an expensive luxury. Hoid was either very wasteful, or he was just as successful as Dockson implied.
    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