Chapter 7 #2
“He was just a little boy,” she continues. “A bright, beautiful boy with a laugh like music. He was … special. Could do things, see things others couldn’t. We tried to hide it for as long as we could, but you can’t bury an awakening. The academy came for him when he was five summers.”
Her hand finds mine, weathered fingers gripping with surprising strength. “They took him. Dragged him away screaming and reaching for me. It’s been fifteen years, and I can still hear those cries.”
A shudder runs through me, her anguish a palpable force. I swallow hard, forcing words past the lump in my throat. “I’m so sorry.”
She nods. “I never saw him again. They don’t let families visit. Don’t want us seeing what they do to them.”
The innkeeper stares into my eyes with a directness that makes me want to squirm. “But you’re not a child. You’re what, twenty summers? You’d have been at the academy for years by now. You’d have learned to control it, to hide it better than this.”
I break off our stare. She’s right, of course. A Soulren of my age should be a master at concealing the signs of soul-craving and reining in the darkness within. But I’m not. I’m a novice, flailing and fumbling, as unsure in my own skin as a newborn foal.
“You can’t be new,” she says, mostly to herself. “That’s impossible. Where is that Elite of yours? Why isn’t he managing you better?”
Her questions are too blunt, too on the nose, for me to keep up with.
I wet my lips, my mind racing as I search for an explanation that won’t send this kind woman into a panic or reveal the full truth of my situation. “I … I’m weaker than most. The Elite that’s with me, he’s been taking me to small villages, helping me learn to control it.”
It’s a partial truth, at least. Falcen has been guiding me, albeit reluctantly and often harshly.
After a long moment, she sighs and leans back, releasing my hand.
“A weak Soulren,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. But then, there’s so much about the Soulren ways that are kept under lock and key.”
I shrug helplessly. “I can’t explain it.”
Desperate to change the topic and hoping this woman is as empathetic as she seems to be, I ask, “Does soul-trafficking happen often in Brimhall?”
The innkeeper’s expression darkens as she looks away, her mouth thinning into a grim line.
“More often than most folks realize,” she says quietly. “Brimhall is a crossroads, a hub for trade from all corners of the realm. That draws all sorts, some less savory than others.”
“And no one stops them? Not even the town guards?”
She turns back to me. “The traffickers, they’re clever.
They know how to blend in.” The innkeeper barks a humorless laugh.
“The town guard is stretched thin as it is, and half of them are likely in the pockets of the traffickers. As for the Soulren...” She shakes her head.
“They have bigger concerns than a few missing townsfolk. Unless it threatens their precious soul supply, they turn a blind eye.”
I think of the wiry man and his hooded companion, of their casual discussion of “prime stock” and the prices souls can fetch.
This town is popular with traffickers because Elites aren’t often in their midst.
But tonight, one is.
“Can you tell me where the brothel is?” I ask while I push to my feet.
The innkeeper’s eyebrows shoot up. “Why in the Void would you want to go there?”
“Falcen needs to know about the soul-traffickers. He can do something about it.”
I’m gifted with her brows jumping into her hairline at my casual use of an Elite’s first name, which I’d been carefully avoiding saying out loud until now. But my thoughts are all over the place. My emotions, even more so. And my hunger…
The innkeeper studies me for a long moment, her lips pursed. “Lass, I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with that Soulren, but going to a brothel to fetch him is a fool’s errand. Men like him, they don’t take kindly to interruptions when they’re ... indisposed.”
My face heats at the insinuation, but I set my jaw stubbornly. “This is important. Lives are at stake.”
The innkeeper scoffs. “And you think that Elite will help you? He’s probably in on it. Elite Soulren are all the same, only out for their own gain.”
She’s not wrong, but I refuse to let doubt take hold. I may not fully trust Falcen yet, but I have to believe he’s not part of this vile trade. He saved my life, clothed and fed me. And, as he’s reminded me time and time again, the man is all about duty.
“I have to try.”
She sighs at my refusal to waver, her shoulders sagging. “Aye, you certainly are a strange one. Very well, it’s at the end of the street, past the bridge and near the river. But be careful, mind you. That part of town isn’t kind to young women wandering alone at sunset.”
“Thank you.” I race to the back exit, but halt at the door and glance at her over my shoulder. “I never got your name.”
She squints at me. “Soulren never cared to know it. But the name’s Lyndsey Maybel.”
“And your son’s?”
She jolts at the question, then clears her throat, pressing a hand to her neck. “Now, no one’s asked me that in a very long time.” Her eyes turn misty. “Jelson. Jelson Maybel.”
“I’ll try to find him, get him to send word to you.”
“Oh, now that’s—” Lyndsey waves her hand in front of her face to stave off a sudden rush of emotion and stands. “Thank you. Good luck to you, Strange One.”
I give a small smile, then step into the night.