Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

Lord of the Mists? Did he not say that we have nothing to fear from them? Indeed, they will protect us, give us safety. Give us power, even!”
    As more and more skaa left their homes without obvious repercussion, the group began to swell even further.
    “Go get the others,” Vin said.
    “Good idea,” Sazed said, moving quickly to the ladder.
    “Your friends, your children, your fathers, your mothers, wives, and lovers,” the skaa man said, lighting a lantern and holding it up. “They lie dead in the street not a half hour from here. The Lord Ruler doesn’t even have the decency to clean up his slaughter!”
    The crowd began to mutter in agreement.
    “Even when the cleaning occurs,” the man said, “will it be the Lord Ruler’s hands that dig the graves? No! It will be our hands. Lord Kelsier spoke of this.”
    “Lord Kelsier!” several men agreed. The group was getting large now, being joined by women and youths.
    Clanking on the ladder announced Ham’s arrival. He was joined shortly by Sazed, then Breeze, Dockson, Spook, and even Clubs.
    “Lord Kelsier!” proclaimed the man below. Others lit torches, brightening the mists. “Lord Kelsier fought for us today! He slew an immortal Inquisitor!”
    The crowd grumbled in assent.
    “But then he died!” someone yelled.
    Silence.
    “And what did we do to help him?” the leader asked. “Many of us were there—thousands of us. Did we help? No! We waited and watched, even as he fought for us. We stood dumbly and let him fall. We watched him die!
    “Or did we? What did the Survivor say—that the Lord Ruler could never really kill him? Kelsier is the Lord of the Mists! Is he not with us now?”
    Vin turned to the others. Ham was watching carefully, but Breeze just shrugged. “The man’s obviously insane. A religious nut.”
    “I tell you, friends!” screamed the man below. The crowd was still growing, more and more torches being lit. “I tell you the truth! Lord Kelsier appeared to me this very night! He said that he would always be with us. Will we let him down again?”
    “No!” came the reply.
    Breeze shook his head. “I didn’t think they had it in them. Too bad it’s such a small—”
    “What’s that?” Dox asked.
    Vin turned, frowning. There was a pocket of light in the distance. Like . . . torches, lit in the mists. Another one appeared to the east, near a skaa slum. A third appeared. Then a fourth. In a matter of moments, it seemed like the entire city was glowing.
    “You insane genius . . .” Dockson whispered.
    “What?” Clubs asked, frowning.
    “We missed it,” Dox said. “The atium, the army, the nobility . . . that wasn’t the job Kelsier was planning. This was his job! Our crew was never supposed to topple the Final Empire—we were too small. An entire city’s population, however . . .”
    “You’re saying he did this on purpose?” Breeze asked.
    “He always asked me the same question,” Sazed said from behind. “He always asked what gave religions so much power. Each time, I answered him the same. . . .” Sazed looked at them, cocking his head. “I told him that it was because their believers had something they felt passionate about. Something . . . or someone.”
    “But, why not tell us?” Breeze asked.
    “Because he knew,” Dox said quietly. “He knew something we would never agree to. He knew that he would have to die.”
    Breeze shook his head. “I don’t buy it. Why even bother with us, then? He could have done this on his own.”
    Why even bother . . . “Dox,” Vin said, turning. “Where’s that warehouse Kelsier rented, the one where he held his informant meetings?”
    Dockson paused. “Not far away, actually. Two streets down. He said he wanted it to be near the bolt-lair. . . .”
    “Show me!” Vin said, scrambling over the side of the building. The gathered skaa continued to yell, each cry louder than the one before. The entire street blazed with light, flickering torches turning the mist into a brilliant haze.
    Dockson led her down the street, the rest of the crew trailing behind. The warehouse was a large, run-down structure squatting disconsolately in the slum’s industrial section. Vin walked up to it, then flared pewter and smashed off the lock.
    The door slowly swung open. Dockson held up a lantern, and its light revealed sparkling piles of metal. Weapons. Swords, axes, staves, and helmets glittered in the light—an incredible silvery hoard.
    The crew stared at the room in