Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

Sazed stood a short distance away, beside the steel ladder that the lookouts had been using to get atop the building.
    “Yes, Saze?” she asked tiredly, reaching out to Pull up the three coins she’d been using as anchors to stabilize her like the legs of a tripod. One of them was twisted and bent—the same coin she and Kelsier had gotten into a Pushing match over so many months ago.
    “I’m sorry, Mistress,” Sazed said. “I simply wondered where you had gone.”
    She shrugged.
    “It is a strangely quiet night, I think,” Sazed said.
    “A mournful night.” Hundreds of skaa had been massacred following Kelsier’s death, and hundreds more had been trampled during the rush to escape.
    “I wonder if his death even meant anything,” she said quietly. “We probably saved a lot fewer than were killed.”
    “Slain by evil men, Mistress.”
    “Ham often asks if there even is such a thing as ‘evil.’ ”
    “Master Hammond likes to ask questions,” Sazed said, “but even he doesn’t question the answers. There are evil men . . . just as there are good men.”
    Vin shook her head. “I was wrong about Kelsier. He wasn’t a good man—he was just a liar. He never had a plan for defeating the Lord Ruler.”
    “Perhaps,” Sazed said. “Or, perhaps he never had an opportunity to fulfill that plan. Perhaps we just don’t understand the plan.”
    “You sound like you still believe in him.” Vin turned and walked to the edge of the flat-topped roof, staring out over the quiet, shadowy city.
    “I do, Mistress,” Sazed said.
    “How? How can you?”
    Sazed shook his head, walking over to stand beside her. “Belief isn’t simply a thing for fair times and bright days, I think. What is belief—what is faith—if you don’t continue in it after failure?”
    Vin frowned.
    “Anyone can believe in someone, or something, that always succeeds, Mistress. But failure . . . ah, now, that is hard to believe in, certainly and truly. Difficult enough to have value, I think.”
    Vin shook her head. “Kelsier doesn’t deserve it.”
    “You don’t mean that, Mistress,” Sazed said calmly. “You’re angry because of what happened. You hurt.”
    “Oh, I mean it,” Vin said, feeling a tear on her cheek. “He doesn’t deserve our belief. He never did.”
    “The skaa think differently—their legends about him are growing quickly. I shall have to return here soon and collect them.”
    Vin frowned. “You would gather stories about Kelsier?”
    “Of course,” Sazed said. “I collect all religions.”
    Vin snorted. “This is no religion we’re talking about, Sazed. This is Kelsier.”
    “I disagree. He is certainly a religious figure to the skaa.”
    “But, we knew him,” Vin said. “He was no prophet or god. He was just a man.”
    “So many of them are, I think,” Sazed said quietly.
    Vin just shook her head. They stood there for a moment, watching the night. “What of the others?” she finally asked.
    “They are discussing what to do next,” Sazed said. “I believe it has been decided that they will leave Luthadel separately and seek refuge in other towns.”
    “And . . . you?”
    “I must travel north—to my homeland, to the place of the Keepers—so that I can share the knowledge that I possess. I must tell my brethren and sisters of the logbook—especially the words regarding our ancestor, the man named Rashek. There is much to learn in this story, I think.”
    He paused, then glanced at her. “This is not a journey I can take with another, Mistress. The places of the Keepers must remain secret, even from you.”
    Of course, Vin thought. Of course he’d go too.
    “I will return,” he promised.
    Sure you will. Just like all of the others have.
    The crew had made her feel needed for a time, but she’d always known it would end. It was time to go back to the streets. Time to be alone again.
    “Mistress . . .” Sazed said slowly. “Do you hear that?”
    She shrugged. But . . . there was something. Voices. Vin frowned, walking to the other side of the building. They grew louder, becoming easily distinct even without tin. She peered over the side of the rooftop.
    A group of skaa men, perhaps ten in number, stood in the street below. A thieving crew? Vin wondered as Sazed joined her. The group’s numbers were swelling as more skaa timidly left their dwellings.
    “Come,” said a skaa man who stood at the front of the group. “Fear not the mist! Didn’t the Survivor name himself