Mistborn #01 The Final Empire

had been quite . . . thorough.
    This seems extreme, even for the Ministry, she thought. What kind of person would do something like this?
    “Inquisitor,” Dockson said quietly, kneeling by a corpse.
    Kelsier nodded. Behind Vin, Sazed stepped into the room, careful to keep his robes clear of the blood. Vin turned toward the Terrisman, letting his actions distract her from a particularly grisly corpse. Kelsier was a Mistborn, and Dockson was supposedly a capable warrior. Ham and his men were securing the area. However, others—Breeze, Yeden, and Clubs—had stayed behind. The area was too dangerous. Kelsier had even resisted Vin’s desire to come.
    Yet, he had brought Sazed without apparent hesitation. The move, subtle though it was, made Vin regard the steward with a new curiosity. Why would it be too dangerous for Mistings, yet safe enough for a Terrisman steward? Was Sazed a warrior? How would he have learned to fight? Terrismen were supposedly raised from birth by very careful trainers.
    Sazed’s smooth step and calm face gave her few clues. He didn’t appear shocked by the carnage, however.
    Interesting, Vin thought, picking her way through shattered furniture, stepping clear of blood pools, making her way to Kelsier’s side. He crouched beside a pair of corpses. One, Vin noticed in a moment of shock, had been Ulef. The boy’s face was contorted and pained, the front of his chest a mass of broken bones and ripped flesh—as if someone had forcibly torn the rib cage apart with his hands. Vin shivered, looking away.
    “This isn’t good,” Kelsier said quietly. “Steel Inquisitors don’t generally bother with simple thieving crews. Usually, the obligators would just come down with their troops and take everyone captive, then use them to make a good show on an execution day. An Inquisitor would only get involved if it had a special interest in the crew.”
    “You think . . .” Vin said. “You think it might be the same one as before?”
    Kelsier nodded. “There are only about twenty Steel Inquisitors in the whole of the Final Empire, and half of them are out of Luthadel at any given time. I find it too much of a coincidence that you would catch one’s interest, escape, and then have your old lair get hit.”
    Vin stood quietly, forcing herself to look down at Ulef’s body and confront her sorrow. He had betrayed her in the end, but for a time he had almost been a friend.
    “So,” she said quietly, “the Inquisitor still has my scent?”
    Kelsier nodded, standing.
    “Then this is my fault,” Vin said. “Ulef and the others . . .”
    “It was Camon’s fault,” Kelsier said firmly. “He’s the one who tried to scam an obligator.” He paused, then looked over at her. “You going to be all right?”
    Vin looked up from Ulef’s mangled corpse, trying to remain strong. She shrugged. “None of them were my friends.”
    “That’s kind of coldhearted, Vin.”
    “I know,” she said with a quiet nod.
    Kelsier regarded her for a moment, then crossed the room to speak with Dockson.
    Vin looked back at Ulef’s wounds. They looked like the work of some crazed animal, not a single man.
    The Inquisitor must have had help , Vin told herself. There is no way one person, even an Inquisitor, could have done all this. There was a pileup of bodies near the bolt exit, but a quick count told her that most—if not all—of the crew was accounted for. One man couldn’t have gotten to all of them quickly enough . . . could he have?
    There are a lot of things we don’t know about the Inquisitors, Kelsier had told her. They don’t quite follow the normal rules.
    Vin shivered again.
    Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Vin grew tense, crouching and preparing to run.
    Ham’s familiar figure appeared in the stairwell. “Area’s secure,” he said, holding up a second lantern. “No sign of obligators or Garrisoners.”
    “That’s their style,” Kelsier said. “They want the massacre to be discovered—they left the dead as a sign.”
    The room fell silent save for a low mumbling from Sazed, who stood at the far left side of the room. Vin picked her way over to him, listening to the rhythmic cadence of his voice. Eventually, he stopped speaking, then bowed his head and closed his eyes.
    “What was that?” Vin asked as he looked up again.
    “A prayer,” Sazed said. “A death chant of the Cazzi. It is meant to awaken the spirits of the dead and entice them free from their flesh so that they may