Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

why.
    Renoux’s servants brought her a platter of fruits and breads. They set up a small stand beside her chair, and even gave her a crystalline cup filled with a glistening red liquid. She couldn’t tell if it was wine or juice, and she didn’t intend to find out. She did, however, pick at the food—her instincts wouldn’t let her pass up a free meal, even if it was prepared by unfamiliar hands.
    Sazed walked over and took a position standing just behind her chair to the right. He waited with a stiff posture, hands clasped in front of him, eyes forward. The stance was obviously intended to be respectful, but his looming posture didn’t help her mood any.
    Vin tried to focus on her surroundings, but this only reminded her of how rich the furnishings were. She was uncomfortable amid such finery; she felt as if she stood out like a black spot on a clean rug. She didn’t eat the breads for fear that she would drop crumbs on the floor, and she worried at her feet and legs—which had been stained with ash while walking through the countryside—marring the furnishings.
    All of this cleanliness came at some skaa’s expense, Vin thought. Why should I worry about disturbing it? However, she had trouble feeling outraged, for she knew this was only a front. “Lord Renoux” had to maintain a certain level of finery. It would be suspicious to do otherwise.
    In addition, something else kept her from resenting the waste. The servants were happy. They went about their duties with a businesslike professionalism, no sense of drudgery about their efforts. She heard laughter in the outer hallway. These were not mistreated skaa; whether they had been included in Kelsier’s plans or not was irrelevant.
    So, Vin sat and forced herself to eat fruit, yawning occasionally. It was turning out to be a long night indeed. The servants eventually left her alone, though Sazed continued to loom just behind her.
    I can’t eat like this, she finally thought with frustration. “Could you not stand over my shoulder like that?”
    Sazed nodded. He took two steps forward so that he stood next to her chair, rather than behind it. He adopted the same stiff posture, looming above her just as he had before.
    Vin frowned in annoyance, then noticed the smile on Sazed’s lips. He glanced down at her, eyes twinkling at his joke, then walked over and seated himself in the chair beside hers.
    “I’ve never known a Terrisman with a sense of humor before,” Vin said dryly.
    Sazed raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you hadn’t known any Terrismen at all, Mistress Vin.”
    Vin paused. “Well, I’ve never heard of one with a sense of humor. You’re supposed to be completely rigid and formal.”
    “We’re just subtle, Mistress,” Sazed said. Though he sat with a stiff posture, there was still something . . . relaxed about him. It was as if he were as comfortable when sitting properly as other people were when lounging.
    That’s how they’re supposed to be. The perfect serving men, completely loyal to the Final Empire.
    “Is something troubling you, Mistress Vin?” Sazed asked as she studied him.
    How much does he know? Perhaps he doesn’t even realize that Renoux is an imposter. “I was just wondering how you . . . came here,” she finally said.
    “You mean, how did a Terrisman steward end up as part of a rebellion intending to overthrow the Final Empire?” Sazed asked in his soft voice.
    Vin flushed. Apparently he was well versed indeed.
    “That is an intriguing question, Mistress,” Sazed said. “Certainly, my situation is not common. I would say that I arrived at it because of belief.”
    “Belief?”
    “Yes,” Sazed said. “Tell me, Mistress. What is it that you believe?”
    Vin frowned. “What kind of question is that?”
    “The most important kind, I think.”
    Vin sat for a moment, but he obviously expected a reply, so she finally shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “People often say that,” Sazed said, “but I find that it is rarely true. Do you believe in the Final Empire?”
    “I believe that it is strong,” Vin said.
    “Immortal?”
    Vin shrugged. “It has been so far.”
    “And the Lord Ruler? Is he the Ascended Avatar of God? Do you believe that he, as the Ministry teaches, is a Sliver of Infinity?”
    “I . . . I’ve never thought about it before.”
    “Perhaps you should,” Sazed said. “If, upon examination, you find that the Ministry’s teachings do not suit you, then I would be