“Don’t know. They’ve drafted every able-bodied person. Benn said the Daviians are in league with Ixia, and once a person’s drafted they hypnotize him. They plan to use them in the army to turn Sitia into another Ixian Military District. MD-9!”

The boy regaled me with even wilder speculation. I knew the Commander wasn’t in league with the Daviians, but the possibility of using the Sitian army against Sitia sounded like a Vermin tactic.

When we finished with the horses, I entered the inn. Marrok had already paid for two rooms for the night.

“We’re running out of money,” he said.

“Are the others here?” I asked.

“Ari and Janco are in the dining room. Leif and Moon Man haven’t arrived yet.”

That worried me. It had been thirteen days since we had left to rescue the hostages. Plenty of time for them to discover anything about the Keep’s emergency tunnel.

In the back corner of the inn’s common room, Ari and Janco held court. Drinking from tankards of ale, they were surrounded by a group of merchants. Serious expressions gripped all their faces and they peered at us with suspicion.

Marrok and I picked a table on the far side of the room. Eventually, the knot of people disbanded and Ari and Janco joined us. Ari had dyed his hair black and both of them had darkened their skin.

“Janco, do I see freckles?” I asked, failing to suppress a snicker.

“Don’t laugh. It’s this southern sun. It’s the middle of the cold season and it’s sunny! Bah.” He looked at me. “Although, I’d rather have freckles than be bald!”

I put my hand to my hair. “It’s growing.”

“Enough,” Ari said, and the mood around our table immediately dampened. “Were you successful?”

The question stabbed into me as if his words were flaming daggers. I struggled to collect my thoughts; to shoo my emotions away from the black, burning grief that refused to die down. Marrok saw my inability to answer and he told them about Tauno, the rescue and about Valek. To see my pain and shock reflected in my friends’ eyes became unbearable. I excused myself and went outside.

Taking deep breaths of the cool night air, I wandered through the town. A few people walked along the dirt streets, carrying lanterns. I felt a tug on my cape as my bat landed on my arm. He stared at me with a sense of purpose in his eyes then flew off to the left. He returned, swooping around my head and again flew to the left. Getting the hint, I followed him until we reached a dilapidated building.

The bat settled on the roof as if waiting. I pulled the warped door open with trepidation, but the interior held a collection of discarded barrels and broken wagon wheels. When I turned to leave, I stepped on a wooden ball. A child’s toy. I picked it up and examined it. My bat wanted me to find or see something in here.

I squashed my growing frustration and concentrated on using my other senses. Closing my eyes, I inhaled. The musty smell of decay dominated, but I detected a faint whiff of lemons. I followed the clean and pure scent—not easy as I tripped and banged my shins on the clutter—until I stood in the back corner. There a tingle danced on my skin, raising the hair on my arms. Instinctively I whispered, “Reveal yourself,” and opened my eyes.

Gray light bloomed before me and transformed into a young boy. He sat on one of the barrels.

A ghost. A lost soul.

“Where is my mother?” he asked with a thin, tentative voice. “She was sick, too. She went away and never came back even when I cried for her.”

I moved closer to the boy. The light from him illuminated the room. The rusted remains of a bed frame and other items indicated the area had been used as the child’s bedroom long ago.

My bat fluttered in and circled above the boy’s head. I waved it away and muttered, “Yes, yes, I know. I get it.”

With a squeal sounding like an exasperated finally, he flew out.

I asked the child questions about his mother and family. Just as I suspected, they had lived and died here many years ago.

“I know where they are,” I said. “I can take you to them.”

The boy smiled. When I held out my hand, he grabbed it. I gathered him to me, inhaling his soul before sending it to the sky.

The true job of a Soulfinder.

Not to save souls and return them to their bodies, but to guide them to where they belonged. My true purposed flared to life finally. Stono and Gelsi should have both been released to the sky. Their personalities changed because they were unhappy at being denied peace.

Death was not the end. And I knew Valek waited for me, but he wouldn’t want to see me until I finished finding all the lost and misplaced souls and sent them to their proper destinations.

There hadn’t been a Soulfinder in over a hundred and twenty-five years. Why wasn’t Sitia filled with lost souls? Perhaps they were rare.

Renewed determination to find a way to defeat the Fire Warper spread throughout my body. I left the building and stopped. Five souls hovered in different locations along the street. The leathery flap of wings announced my bat’s arrival. He settled on my shoulder.

“Did you call them?” I asked the bat. “Or did I?” I guess I should have been more specific when I called to the boy. Either that, or now I’d learned a trick I couldn’t shut off.

I gathered and released souls as I headed back to the Cloverleaf Inn. Most went to the sky. One dripped with hate and when he sank into the ground, I worried I might have increased the Fire Warper’s powers.