Mistborn: The Final Empire (Mistborn, #1)

A dark figure jumped out of the bushes, hopping up onto the stone wall. Vin waited quietly as the figure ran along the wall and slipped down onto the other side.

Vin launched herself straight up into the air, then threw her handful of coins at the figure passing below. He immediately Pushed, sending the coins streaking away—but they were only a distraction. Vin landed on the ground before him, twin glass knives whipping from her sheathes. She lunged, slashing, but her opponent jumped backward.

Something’s wrong. Vin ducked and threw herself to the side as a handful of glittering coins—her coins, the ones her opponent had Pushed away—shot back down from the sky into her opponent’s hand. He turned and sprayed them in her direction.

Vin dropped her daggers with a quiet yelp, thrusting her hands forward and Pushing on the coins. Immediately, she was thrown backward as her Push was matched by her opponent.

One of the coins lurched in the air, hanging directly between the two of them. The rest of the coins disappeared into the mists, pushed sideways by conflicting forces.

Vin flared her steel as she flew, and heard her opponent grunt as he was Pushed backward as well. Her opponent hit the wall. Vin slammed into a tree, but she flared pewter and ignored the pain. She used the wood to brace herself, continuing to Push.

The coin quivered in the air, trapped between the amplified strength of two Allomancers. The pressure increased. Vin gritted her teeth, feeling the small aspen bend behind her.

Her opponent’s Pushing was relentless.

Will . . . not . . . be beaten! Vin thought, flaring both steel and pewter, grunting slightly as she threw the entire force of her strength at the coin.

There was a moment of silence. Then Vin lurched backward, the tree cracking with a loud snap in the night air.

Vin hit the ground in a tumble, splinters of wood scattering around her. Even tin and pewter weren’t enough to keep her mind clear as she rolled across the cobblestones, eventually coming to a dizzy rest. A dark figure approached, mistcloak ribbons billowing around him. Vin lurched to her feet, grasping for knives she’d forgotten that she’d dropped.

Kelsier put down his hood and held her knives toward her. One was broken. “I know it’s instinctual, Vin, but you don’t have to put your hands forward when you Push—nor do you have to drop what you’re holding.”

Vin grimaced in the darkness, rubbing her shoulder and nodding as she accepted the daggers.

“Nice job with the pouch,” Kelsier said. “You had me for a moment.”

“For all the good it did,” Vin grumbled.

“You’ve only been doing this for a few months, Vin,” he said lightly. “All things considered, your progress is fantastic. I would, however, recommend that you avoid Push-matches with people who weigh more than you.” He paused, eyeing Vin’s short figure and thin frame. “Which probably means avoiding them with pretty much everybody.”

Vin sighed, stretching slightly. She’d have more bruises. At least they won’t be visible. Now that the bruises Camon had given her face were finally gone, Sazed had warned her to be careful. Makeup could only cover so much, and she would have to look like a “proper” young noblewoman if she were going to infiltrate the court.

“Here,” Kelsier said, handing her something. “A souvenir.”

Vin held up the object—the coin they had Pushed between them. It was bent and flattened from the pressure.

“I’ll see you back at the mansion,” Kelsier said.

Vin nodded, and Kelsier disappeared into the night. He’s right, she thought. I’m smaller, I weigh less, and I have a shorter reach than anyone I’m likely to fight. If I attack someone head on, I’ll lose.

The alternative had always been her method anyway—to struggle quietly, to stay unseen. She had to learn to use Allomancy the same way. Kelsier kept saying that she was developing amazingly fast as an Allomancer. He seemed to think it was his teaching, but Vin felt it was something else. The mists . . . the night prowling . . . it all felt right to her. She was not worried about mastering Allomancy in time to help Kelsier against other Mistborn.

It was her other part in the plan that worried her.

Sighing, Vin hopped over the wall to search for her coin pouch. Up at the mansion—not Renoux’s home, but one owned by some other nobleman—lights were on and people milled about. None of them ventured deeply into the night. The skaa would fear mistwraiths; the nobility would have guessed that Mistborn had caused the disturbance. Neither one was something a sane person would want to confront.

Vin eventually traced her pouch by steel-line to the upper branches of a tree. She Pulled it slightly, tugging it down into her hand, then made her way back out to the street. Kelsier probably would have left the pouch behind—the two dozen or so clips it contained wouldn’t have been worth his time. However, for most of her life Vin had scrounged and starved. She just couldn’t force herself to be wasteful. Even tossing coins to jump with made her uncomfortable.

So, she used her coins sparingly as she traveled back toward Renoux’s mansion, instead Pushing and Pulling off of buildings and discarded bits of metal. The half-jumping, half-running gait of a Mistborn came naturally to her now, and she didn’t have to think much about her movements.

How would she fare, trying to pretend to be a noblewoman? She couldn’t hide her apprehensions, not from herself. Camon had been good at imitating noblemen because of his self-confidence, and that was one attribute Vin knew she didn’t have. Her success with Allomancy only proved that her place was in corners and shadows, not striding around in pretty dresses at courtly balls.

Kelsier, however, refused to let her back out. Vin landed in a crouch just outside Mansion Renoux, puffing slightly from exertion. She regarded the lights with a slight feeling of apprehension.

You’ve got to learn to do this, Vin, Kelsier kept telling her. You’re a talented Allomancer, but you’ll need more than Steelpushes to succeed against the nobility. Until you can move in their society as easily as you do in the mists, you’ll be at a disadvantage.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Vin rose from her crouch, then took off her mistcloak and stuffed it away for later retrieval. Then she walked up the steps and into the building. When she asked after Sazed, the mansion servants directed her to the kitchens, so she made her way into the closed-off, hidden section of the mansion that was the servants’ quarters.

Even these parts of the building were kept immaculately clean. Vin was beginning to understand why Renoux made such a convincing impostor: He didn’t allow for imperfection. If he maintained his impersonation half as well as he maintained order in his mansion, then Vin doubted anyone would ever discover the ruse.

But, she thought, he must have some flaw. Back in the meeting two months ago, Kelsier said that Renoux wouldn’t be able to withstand scrutiny by an Inquisitor. Perhaps they’d be able to sense something about his emotions, something that gives him away?

It was a small item, but Vin had not forgotten it. Despite Kelsier’s words about honesty and trust, he still had his secrets. Everyone did.

Sazed was, indeed, to be found in the kitchens. He stood with a middle-aged servant. She was tall for a skaa woman—though standing next to Sazed made her look diminutive. Vin recognized her as a member of the mansion staff; Cosahn was her name. Vin had made an effort to memorize all of the names of the local staff, if only to keep tabs on them.

Sazed looked over as Vin entered. “Ah, Mistress Vin. Your return is quite timely.” He gestured to his companion. “This is Cosahn.”

Cosahn studied Vin with a businesslike air. Vin longed to return to the mists, where people couldn’t look at her like that.

“It is long enough now, I think,” Sazed said.