Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

the streets, however, had also left her with remarkable scars. Hopefully, he would be able to encourage the skills while helping heal the scars.
    “I’ll return tomorrow,” Marsh said as he reached the door.
    “Just don’t come by too early,” Kelsier said with a wink. “I’ve got some things to do tonight.”

    Vin waited quietly in her darkened room, listening to footsteps clomp down the stairs to the ground floor. She crouched beside her door, trying to determine if both sets had continued down the steps or not. The hallway fell silent, and eventually she breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
    A knock sounded on the door just inches from her head.
    Her start of surprise nearly knocked her to the ground. He’s good! she thought.
    She quickly ruffled her hair and rubbed her eyes, trying to make it appear as if she had been sleeping. She untucked her shirt, and waited until the knock came again before pulling open the door.
    Kelsier lounged against the doorframe, backlit by the hallway’s single lantern. The tall man raised an eyebrow at her disheveled state.
    “Yes?” Vin asked, trying to sound drowsy.
    “So, what do you think of Marsh?”
    “I don’t know,” Vin said, “I didn’t see much of him before he kicked us out.”
    Kelsier smiled. “You’re not going to admit that I caught you, are you?”
    Vin almost smiled back. Reen’s training came to her rescue. The man who wants you to trust him is the one you must fear the most. Her brother’s voice almost seemed to whisper in her head. It had grown stronger since she’d met Kelsier, as if her instincts were on edge.
    Kelsier studied her for a moment, then stepped back from the doorframe. “Tuck in that shirt and follow me.”
    Vin frowned. “Where are we going?”
    “To begin your training.”
    “Now?” Vin asked, glancing at the dark shutters to her room.
    “Of course,” Kelsier said. “It’s a perfect night for a stroll.”
    Vin straightened her clothing, joining him in the hallway. If he actually planned to begin teaching her, then she wasn’t going to complain, no matter what the hour. They walked down the steps to the first floor. The workroom was dark, furniture projects lying half finished in the shadows. The kitchen, however, was bright with light.
    “Just a minute,” Kelsier said, walking toward the kitchen.
    Vin paused just inside the shadows of the workroom, letting Kelsier enter the kitchen without her. She could just barely see inside. Dockson, Breeze, and Ham sat with Clubs and his apprentices around a wide table. Wine and ale were present, though in small amounts, and the men were munching on a simple evening snack of puffed barley cakes and battered vegetables.
    Laughter trickled out into the workroom. Not raucous laughter, such as had often sounded from Camon’s table. This was something softer—something indicative of genuine mirth, of good-natured enjoyment.
    Vin wasn’t certain what kept her out of the room. She hesitated—as if the light and the humor were a barrier—and she instead remained in the quiet, solemn workroom. She watched from the darkness, however, and wasn’t completely able to suppress her longing.
    Kelsier returned a moment later, carrying his pack and a small cloth bundle. Vin regarded the bundle with curiosity, and he handed it to her with a smile. “A present.”
    The cloth was slick and soft in Vin’s fingers, and she quickly realized what it was. She let the gray material unroll in her fingers, revealing a Mistborn cloak. Like the garment Kelsier had worn the night before, it was tailored completely from separate, ribbonlike strips of cloth.
    “You look surprised,” Kelsier noted.
    “I . . . assumed that I’d have to earn this somehow.”
    “What’s there to earn?” Kelsier said, pulling out his own cloak. “This is who you are, Vin.”
    She paused, then threw the cloak over her shoulders and tied it on. It felt . . . different. Thick and heavy on her shoulders, but light and unconstraining around her arms and legs. The ribbons were sewn together at the top, allowing her to pull it tight by the mantle if she wished. She felt . . . enveloped. Protected.
    “How does it feel?” Kelsier asked.
    “Good,” Vin said simply.
    Kelsier nodded, pulling out several glass vials. He handed two to her. “Drink one; keep the other in case you need it. I’ll show you how to mix new vials later.”
    Vin nodded, downing the first vial and tucking the second into her belt.
    “I’m having