Read Online Mistborn #01 The Final Empire by Brandon Sanderson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brandon Sanderson
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on?
The newcomer finally stepped into the room. The rest of Camon’s crew remained sitting at their tables. They looked surprised, but oddly unworried.
He’s using Luck on them all. But . . . how can he do it to so many at once? Vin had never been able to store up enough Luck to do more than give the occasional, brief push.
As the newcomer entered the room, Vin could finally see that a second person stood in the stairwell behind him. This second man was less imposing. He was shorter, with a dark half beard and close-cropped straight hair. He also wore a nobleman’s suit, though his was less sharply tailored.
On the other side of the room, Camon groaned and sat up, holding his head. He glanced at the newcomers. “Master Dockson! Why, uh, well, this is a surprise!”
“Indeed,” said the shorter man—Dockson. Vin frowned, realizing she sensed a slight familiarity to these men. She recognized them from somewhere.
The Canton of Finance. They were sitting in the waiting room when Camon and I left.
Camon climbed to his feet, studying the blond newcomer. Camon looked down at the man’s hands, both of which were lined with strange, overlapping scars. “By the Lord Ruler . . .” Camon whispered. “The Survivor of Hathsin!”
Vin frowned. The title was unfamiliar to her. Should she know this man? Her wounds still throbbed despite the peace she felt, and her head was dizzy. She leaned on the table for support, but did not sit.
Whoever this newcomer was, Camon obviously thought him important. “Why, Master Kelsier!” Camon sputtered. “This is a rare honor!”
The newcomer—Kelsier—shook his head. “You know, I’m not really interested in listening to you.”
Camon let out an “urk” of pain as he was thrown backward again. Kelsier made no obvious gesture to perform the feat. Yet, Camon collapsed to the ground, as if shoved by some unseen force.
Camon fell quiet, and Kelsier scanned the room. “The rest of you know who I am?”
Many of the crewmembers nodded.
“Good. I’ve come to your lair because you, my friends, owe me a great debt.”
The room was silent save for Camon’s groans. Finally, one of the crewmen spoke. “We . . . do, Master Kelsier?”
“Indeed you do. You see, Master Dockson and I just saved your lives. Your rather incompetent crewleader left the Ministry’s Canton of Finance about an hour ago, returning directly to this safe house. He was followed by two Ministry scouts, one high-ranking prelan . . . and a single Steel Inquisitor.”
No one spoke.
Oh, Lord . . . Vin thought. She’d been right—she just hadn’t been fast enough. If there was an Inquisitor—
“I dealt with the Inquisitor,” Kelsier said. He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. What kind of person could so lightly claim to have “dealt” with an Inquisitor? Rumors said the creatures were immortal, that they could see a man’s soul, and that they were unmatched warriors.
“I require payment for services rendered,” Kelsier said.
Camon didn’t get up this time; he had fallen hard, and he was obviously disoriented. The room remained still. Finally, Milev—the dark-skinned man who was Camon’s second—scooped up the coffer of Ministry boxings and dashed forward with it. He proffered it to Kelsier.
“The money Camon got from the Ministry,” Milev explained. “Three thousand boxings.”
Milev is so eager to please him, Vin thought. This is more than just Luck—either that, or it’s some sort of Luck I’ve never been able to use.
Kelsier paused, then accepted the coin chest. “And you are?”
“Milev, Master Kelsier.”
“Well, Crewleader Milev, I will consider this payment satisfactory—assuming you do one other thing for me.”
Milev paused. “What would that be?”
Kelsier nodded toward the near-unconscious Camon. “Deal with him.”
“Of course,” Milev said.
“I want him to live, Milev,” Kelsier said, holding up a finger. “But I don’t want him to enjoy
The newcomer finally stepped into the room. The rest of Camon’s crew remained sitting at their tables. They looked surprised, but oddly unworried.
He’s using Luck on them all. But . . . how can he do it to so many at once? Vin had never been able to store up enough Luck to do more than give the occasional, brief push.
As the newcomer entered the room, Vin could finally see that a second person stood in the stairwell behind him. This second man was less imposing. He was shorter, with a dark half beard and close-cropped straight hair. He also wore a nobleman’s suit, though his was less sharply tailored.
On the other side of the room, Camon groaned and sat up, holding his head. He glanced at the newcomers. “Master Dockson! Why, uh, well, this is a surprise!”
“Indeed,” said the shorter man—Dockson. Vin frowned, realizing she sensed a slight familiarity to these men. She recognized them from somewhere.
The Canton of Finance. They were sitting in the waiting room when Camon and I left.
Camon climbed to his feet, studying the blond newcomer. Camon looked down at the man’s hands, both of which were lined with strange, overlapping scars. “By the Lord Ruler . . .” Camon whispered. “The Survivor of Hathsin!”
Vin frowned. The title was unfamiliar to her. Should she know this man? Her wounds still throbbed despite the peace she felt, and her head was dizzy. She leaned on the table for support, but did not sit.
Whoever this newcomer was, Camon obviously thought him important. “Why, Master Kelsier!” Camon sputtered. “This is a rare honor!”
The newcomer—Kelsier—shook his head. “You know, I’m not really interested in listening to you.”
Camon let out an “urk” of pain as he was thrown backward again. Kelsier made no obvious gesture to perform the feat. Yet, Camon collapsed to the ground, as if shoved by some unseen force.
Camon fell quiet, and Kelsier scanned the room. “The rest of you know who I am?”
Many of the crewmembers nodded.
“Good. I’ve come to your lair because you, my friends, owe me a great debt.”
The room was silent save for Camon’s groans. Finally, one of the crewmen spoke. “We . . . do, Master Kelsier?”
“Indeed you do. You see, Master Dockson and I just saved your lives. Your rather incompetent crewleader left the Ministry’s Canton of Finance about an hour ago, returning directly to this safe house. He was followed by two Ministry scouts, one high-ranking prelan . . . and a single Steel Inquisitor.”
No one spoke.
Oh, Lord . . . Vin thought. She’d been right—she just hadn’t been fast enough. If there was an Inquisitor—
“I dealt with the Inquisitor,” Kelsier said. He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. What kind of person could so lightly claim to have “dealt” with an Inquisitor? Rumors said the creatures were immortal, that they could see a man’s soul, and that they were unmatched warriors.
“I require payment for services rendered,” Kelsier said.
Camon didn’t get up this time; he had fallen hard, and he was obviously disoriented. The room remained still. Finally, Milev—the dark-skinned man who was Camon’s second—scooped up the coffer of Ministry boxings and dashed forward with it. He proffered it to Kelsier.
“The money Camon got from the Ministry,” Milev explained. “Three thousand boxings.”
Milev is so eager to please him, Vin thought. This is more than just Luck—either that, or it’s some sort of Luck I’ve never been able to use.
Kelsier paused, then accepted the coin chest. “And you are?”
“Milev, Master Kelsier.”
“Well, Crewleader Milev, I will consider this payment satisfactory—assuming you do one other thing for me.”
Milev paused. “What would that be?”
Kelsier nodded toward the near-unconscious Camon. “Deal with him.”
“Of course,” Milev said.
“I want him to live, Milev,” Kelsier said, holding up a finger. “But I don’t want him to enjoy
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