Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

little frustrated with the text so far. The Lord Ruler hasn’t even told us what he is supposed to accomplish in those mountains! He claims that he’s doing something to protect the entire world, but that might just be his ego coming through.”
    He didn’t seem very egotistical in the text to me, Vin thought. Kind of the opposite, actually.
    “Regardless,” Kelsier said, “we’ll know more once the last few sections are translated.”
    It was growing dark outside, and Vin had to turn up her tin to see properly. The street outside her window grew visible, adopting the strange mixture of shadow and luminance that was the result of tin-enhanced vision. She knew it was dark, logically. Yet, she could still see. Not as she did in regular light—everything was muted—but it was sight nonetheless.
    Kelsier checked his pocket watch.
    “How long?” Vin asked.
    “Another half hour,” Kelsier said. “Assuming he’s on time—and I doubt he will be. He is my brother, after all.”
    Vin nodded, shifting so that she leaned with arms crossed across the broken windowsill. Though it was a very small thing, she felt a comfort in having the atium Kelsier had given her.
    She paused. Thinking of atium reminded her of something important. Something she’d been bothered by on several occasions. “You never taught me the ninth metal!” she accused, turning.
    Kelsier shrugged. “I told you that it wasn’t very important.”
    “Still. What is it? Some alloy of atium, I assume?”
    Kelsier shook his head. “No, the last two metals don’t follow the same pattern as the basic eight. The ninth metal is gold.”
    “Gold?” Vin asked. “That’s it? I could have tried it a long time ago on my own!”
    Kelsier chuckled. “Assuming you wanted to. Burning gold is a somewhat. . . . uncomfortable experience.”
    Vin narrowed her eyes, then turned to look back out the window. We’ll see, she thought.
    “You’re going to try it anyway, aren’t you?” Kelsier said, smiling.
    Vin didn’t respond.
    Kelsier sighed, reaching into his sash and pulling out a golden boxing and a file. “You should probably get one of these,” he said, holding up the file. “However, if you collect a metal yourself, burn just a tiny bit first to make certain that it’s pure or alloyed correctly.”
    “If it isn’t?” Vin asked.
    “You’ll know,” Kelsier promised, beginning to file away at the coin. “Remember that headache you had from pewter dragging?”
    “Yes?”
    “Bad metal is worse,” Kelsier said. “Far worse. Buy your metals when you can—in every city, you’ll find a small group of merchants who provide powdered metals to Allomancers. Those merchants have a vested interest in making certain that all of their metals are pure—a grumpy Mistborn with a headache isn’t exactly the kind of slighted customer one wants to deal with.” Kelsier finished filing, then collected a few flakes of gold on a small square of cloth. He stuck one on his finger, then swallowed it.
    “This is good,” he said, handing her the cloth. “Go ahead—just remember, burning the ninth metal is a strange experience.”
    Vin nodded, suddenly feeling a bit apprehensive. You’ll never know if you don’t try it for yourself, she thought, then dumped the dustlike flakes into her mouth. She washed them down with a bit of water from her flask.
    A new metal reserve appeared within her—unfamiliar and different from the nine she knew. She looked up at Kelsier, took a breath, and burned gold.
    She was in two places at once. She could see herself, and she could see herself.
    One of her was a strange woman, changed and transformed from the girl she had always been. That girl had been careful and cautious—a girl who would never burn an unfamiliar metal based solely on the word of one man. This woman was foolish; she had forgotten many of the things that had let her survive so long. She drank from cups prepared by others. She fraternized with strangers. She didn’t keep track of the people around her. She was still far more careful than most people, but she had lost so much.
    The other her was something she had always secretly loathed. A child, really. Thin to the point of scrawniness, she was lonely, hateful, and untrusting. She loved no one, and no one loved her. She always told herself, quietly, that she didn’t care. Was there something worth living for? There had to be. Life couldn’t be as pathetic as it seemed. Yet, it had to be. There