Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

her first night practicing Allomancy with Kelsier. I don’t even think of the empty streets as creepy anymore.
    The cobblestones were slick from mistwater, and the deserted street eventually disappeared into the distant haze. It was dark, silent, and lonely; even the war hadn’t changed very much. Soldier groups, when they attacked, went in clumps, striking quickly and trying to overrun the defenses of an enemy house.
    Yet, despite the emptiness of the nighttime city, Vin felt comfortable in it. The mists were with her.
    “Vin,” Kelsier said as they walked. “I want to thank you.”
    She turned to him, a tall, proud figure in a majestic mist-cloak. “Thank me? Why?”
    “For the things you said about Mare. I’ve been thinking a lot about that day . . . about her. I don’t know if your ability to see through copperclouds explains everything, but . . . well, given the choice, I’d rather believe that Mare didn’t betray me.”
    Vin nodded, smiling.
    He shook his head ruefully. “It sounds foolish, doesn’t it? As if . . . all these years, I’ve just been waiting for a reason to give in to self-delusion.”
    “I don’t know,” Vin said. “Once, maybe I would have thought you a fool, but . . . well, that’s kind of what trust is, isn’t it? A willful self-delusion? You have to shut out that voice that whispers about betrayal, and just hope that your friends aren’t going to hurt you.”
    Kelsier chuckled. “I don’t think you’re helping the argument any, Vin.”
    She shrugged. “Makes sense to me. Distrust is really the same thing—only on the other side. I can see how a person, given the choice between two assumptions, would choose to trust.”
    “But not you?” Kelsier asked.
    Vin shrugged again. “I don’t know anymore.”
    Kelsier hesitated. “This . . . Elend of yours. There’s a chance that he was just trying to scare you into leaving the city, right? Perhaps he said those things for your own good.”
    “Maybe,” Vin said. “But, there was something different about him . . . about the way he looked at me. He knew I was lying to him, but I don’t think he realized that I was skaa. He probably thought I was a spy from one of the other houses. Either way, he seemed honest in his desire to be rid of me.”
    “Maybe you thought that because you were already convinced that he was going to leave you.”
    “I . . .” Vin trailed off, glancing down at the slick, ashen street as they walked. “I don’t know—and it’s your fault, you know. I used to understand everything. Now it’s all confused.”
    “Yes, we’ve messed you up right properly,” Kelsier said with a smile.
    “You don’t seem bothered by the fact.”
    “Nope,” Kelsier said. “Not a bit. Ah, here we are.”
    He stopped beside a large, wide building—probably another skaa tenement. It was dark inside; skaa couldn’t afford lamp oil, and they would have put out the building’s central hearth after preparing the evening meal.
    “This?” Vin asked uncertainly.
    Kelsier nodded, walking up to tap lightly on the door. To Vin’s surprise, it opened hesitantly, a wiry skaa face peeking out into the mists.
    “Lord Kelsier!” the man said quietly.
    “I told you I’d visit,” Kelsier said, smiling. “Tonight seemed like a good time.”
    “Come in, come in,” the man said, pulling the door open. He stepped back, careful not to let any of the mist touch him as Kelsier and Vin entered.
    Vin had been in skaa tenements before, but never before had they seemed so . . . depressing. The smell of smoke and unwashed bodies was almost overpowering, and she had to extinguish her tin to keep from gagging. The wan light of a small coal stove showed a crowd of people packed together, sleeping on the floor. They kept the room swept of ash, but there was only so much they could do—black stains still covered clothing, walls, and faces. There were few furnishings, not to mention far too few blankets to go around.
    I used to live like this, Vin thought with horror. The crew lairs were just as packed—sometimes more so. This . . . was my life.
    People roused as they saw that they had a visitor. Kelsier had his sleeves rolled up, Vin noticed, and the scars on his arms were visible even by emberlight. They stood out starkly, running lengthwise up from his wrist past his elbows, crisscrossing and overlapping.
    The whispers began immediately.
    “The Survivor . . .”
    “He’s here!”
    “Kelsier, the Lord of the Mists . .