Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

Kelsier.”
    “But he swears that it’s true,” Vin said. “And I . . . believe him, for some reason.”
    “It is very possible that there are legends I haven’t heard of,” Sazed said. “If the Keepers knew everything, then why would we need to keep searching?”
    Vin nodded, still a bit uncertain.
    Sazed continued to stir the soup. He seemed so . . . dignified, even while performing such a menial task. He stood in his steward’s robes, unconcerned with how simple a service he was performing, easily taking over for the servants the crew had dismissed.
    Quick footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Vin perked up, sliding off her stool.
    “Mistress?” Sazed asked.
    “Someone on the stairs,” Vin said, moving to the doorway.
    One of the apprentices—Vin thought his name was Tase—burst into the main room. Now that Lestibournes was gone, Tase had become the crew’s main lookout.
    “People are gathering in the square,” Tase said, gesturing toward the stairs.
    “What’s this?” Dockson said, entering from the other room.
    “People in the fountain square, Master Dockson,” the boy said. “Word on the street is that the obligators are planning more executions.”
    Retribution for the Pits, Vin thought. That didn’t take long.
    Dockson’s expression darkened. “Go wake Kell.”

    “I intend to watch them,” Kelsier said, walking through the room, dressed in simple skaa clothing and cloak.
    Vin’s stomach twisted. Again?
    “You all may do as you wish,” Kelsier said. He looked much better after his extended rest—his exhaustion was gone, replaced with the characteristic strength Vin had come to expect from him.
    “The executions are probably a reaction to what I did at the Pits,” Kelsier continued. “I’m going to watch those people’s deaths—because indirectly, I caused them.”
    “It’s not your fault, Kell,” Dockson said.
    “It’s all of our faults,” Kelsier said bluntly. “That doesn’t make what we do wrong—however, if it weren’t for us, these people wouldn’t have to die. I, for one, think that the least we can do for these people is bear witness to their passing.”
    He pulled open the door, climbing the steps. Slowly, the rest of the crew followed him—though Clubs, Sazed, and the apprentices remained with the safe house.
    Vin climbed the musty-aired steps, eventually joining the others on a grimy street in the middle of a skaa slum. Ash fell from the sky, floating in lazily flakes. Kelsier was already walking down the street, and the rest of them—Breeze, Ham, Dockson, and Vin—quickly moved to catch up with him.
    The safe house wasn’t far from the fountain square. Kelsier, however, paused a few streets away from their destination. Dull-eyed skaa continued walking around them, jostling the crew. Bells rang in the distance.
    “Kell?” Dockson asked.
    Kelsier cocked his head. “Vin, you hear that?”
    She closed her eyes, then flared her tin. Focus, she thought. Like Spook said. Cut through the shuffling feet and murmuring voices. Hear over the doors shutting and the people breathing. Listen. . . .
    “Horses,” she said, dampening her tin and opening her eyes. “And carriages.”
    “Carts,” Kelsier said, turning toward the side of the street. “The prisoner carts. They’re coming this way.”
    He looked up at the buildings around him, then grabbed hold of a raingutter and began to shimmy up a wall. Breeze rolled his eyes, nudging Dockson and nodding toward the front of the building, but Vin and Ham—with pewter—easily followed Kelsier up to the roof.
    “There,” Kell said, pointing at a street a short ways away. Vin could just barely make out a row of barred prison carts rolling toward the square.
    Dockson and Breeze entered the slanted rooftop through a window. Kelsier remained where he was, standing by the roof’s lip, staring out at the prison carts.
    “Kell,” Ham said warily. “What are you thinking?”
    “We’re still a short distance from the square,” he said slowly. “And the Inquisitors aren’t riding with the prisoners—they’ll come down from the palace, like last time. There can’t be more than a hundred soldiers guarding those people.”
    “A hundred men are plenty, Kell,” Ham said.
    Kelsier didn’t seem to hear the words. He took another step forward, approaching up onto the roof’s edge. “I can stop this. . . . I can save them.”
    Vin stepped up beside him. “Kell, there might not be many guards with the