Mistborn #02 The Well of Ascension

we last met ? Sazed shivered. "What is this about, Marsh?"
    "The Conventical of Seran is empty."
    Sazed paused. The Conventical was a Ministry stronghold to the south—a place where the Inquisitors and high obligators of the Lord Ruler's religion had retreated after the Collapse.
    "Empty?" Sazed asked. "That isn't likely, I think."
    "True nonetheless," Marsh said. He didn't use body language as he spoke—no gesturing, no movements of the face.
    "I. . ." Sazed trailed off. What kinds of information, wonders, secrets, the Conventical's libraries must hold .
    "You must come with me," Marsh said. "I may need help, should my brethren discover us."
    My brethren. Since when are the Inquisitors Marsh's "brethren" ? Marsh had infiltrated their numbers as part of Kelsier's plan to overthrow the Final Empire. He was a traitor to their numbers, not their brother.
    Sazed hesitated. Marsh's profile looked. . .unnatural, even unnerving, in the dim light. Dangerous.
    Don't be foolish , Sazed chastised himself. Marsh was Kelsier's brother—the Survivor's only living relative. As an Inquisitor, Marsh had authority over the Steel Ministry, and many of the obligators had listened to him despite his involvement with the rebellion. He had been an invaluable resource for Elend Venture's fledgling government.
    "Go get your things," Marsh said.
    My place is here , Sazed thought. Teaching the people, not gallivanting across the countryside, chasing my own ego .
    And yet. . .
    "The mists are coming during the day," Marsh said quietly.
    Sazed looked up. Marsh was staring at him, the heads of his spikes shining like round disks in the last slivers of sunlight. Superstitious skaa thought that Inquisitors could read minds, though Sazed knew that was foolish. Inquisitors had the powers of Mistborn, and could therefore influence other people's emotions—but they could not read minds.
    "Why did you say that?" Sazed asked.
    "Because it is true," Marsh said. "This is not over, Sazed. It has not yet begun. The Lord Ruler. . .he was just a delay. A cog. Now that he is gone, we have little time remaining. Come with me to the Conventical—we must search it while we have the opportunity."
    Sazed paused, then nodded. "Let me go explain to the villagers. We can leave tonight, I think."
    Marsh nodded, but he didn't move as Sazed retreated to the village. He just remained, standing in the darkness, letting the mist gather around him.

It all comes back to poor Alendi. I feel bad for him, and for all the things he has been forced to endure. For what he has been forced to become .

8
    VIN THREW HERSELF INTO THE mists. She soared in the night air, passing over darkened homes and streets. An occasional, furtive bob of light glowed in the mists—a guard patrol, or perhaps an unfortunate late-night traveler.
    Vin began to descend, and she immediately flipped a coin out before herself. She Pushed against it, her weight plunging it down into the quiet depths. As soon as it hit the street below, her Push forced her upward, and she sprang back into the air. Soft Pushes were very difficult—so each coin she Pushed against, each jump she made, threw her into the air at a terrible speed. The jumping of a Mistborn wasn't like a bird's flight. It was more like the path of a ricocheting arrow.
    And yet, there was a grace to it. Vin breathed deeply as she arced above the city, tasting the cool, humid air. Luthadel by day smelled of burning forges, sun-heated refuse, and fallen ash. At night, however, the mists gave the air a beautiful chill crispness—almost a cleanliness.
    Vin crested her jump, and she hung for just a brief moment as her momentum changed. Then she began to plummet back toward the city. Her mistcloak tassels fluttered around her, mingling with her hair. She fell with her eyes closed, remembering her first few weeks in the mist, training beneath Kelsier's relaxed—yet watchful—tutelage. He had given her this. Freedom. Despite two years as a Mistborn, she had never lost the sense of intoxicating wonder she felt when soaring through the mists.
    She burned steel with her eyes closed; the lines appeared anyway, visible as a spray of threadlike blue lines set against the blackness of her eyelids. She picked two, pointing downward behind her, and Pushed, throwing herself into an other arc.
    What did I ever do without this ? Vin thought, opening her eyes, whipping her mistcloak behind her with a throw of the arm.
    Eventually, she began to fall again, and