Mistborn: The Final Empire (Mistborn #1)(64)

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-con?dence, 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, puf?ng 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 Steel-pushes 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 ?aw. 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.

“Probably,” Cosahn said. “But I cannot perform miracles, Master Vaht.”

Sazed nodded. “Vaht” was, apparently, the proper title for a Terrisman steward. Not quite skaa, but de?nitely not noblemen, the Terrismen held a very strange place in imperial society.

Vin studied the two of them suspiciously.

“Your hair, Mistress,” Sazed said with a calm tone. “Cosahn is going to cut it for you.”

“Oh,” Vin said, reaching up. Her hair was getting a bit long for her taste—though somehow she doubted that Sazed was going to let her have it cropped boyishly short.

Cosahn waved to a chair, and Vin reluctantly seated herself. She found it unnerving to sit docilely while someone worked with shears so close to her head, but there was no getting around it.

After a few moments of running her hands through Vin’s hair, “tisk”ing quietly, Cosahn began to snip. “Such beautiful hair,” she said, almost as if to herself, “thick, with a nice deep black color. It’s a shame to see it cared for so poorly, Master Vaht. Many courtly women would die for hair like this—it has just enough body to lie full, but is straight enough to work with easily.”

Sazed smiled. “We’ll have to see that it receives better care in the future,” he said.

Cosahn continued her work, nodding to herself. Eventually, Sazed walked over and took a seat just a few feet in front of Vin.