That last beggar, sitting against an old brick wall … there was something about him. Kelsier backed up, touching the beggar’s soul again, seeing a vision of a man with hands and face wrapped in bandages, white hair sticking out from beneath. Stark white hair, a fact not quite hidden by the ash that had been rubbed into it. Kelsier felt a sudden shock, a painful spike that ran up his fingers into his soul. He jumped back as the beggar glanced his direction. “You!” Kelsier said. “Drifter!” The beggar shifted in place, but then glanced another direction, searching the square. “What are you doing
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