He trails off and hands me the sheet of paper. My heart sinks as I read over Willow’s translation.
I haven’t enough to travel at the moment, but I will soon. In Haven’s winter, I can meet you far away from the inn to discuss further and examine the gemstones.
I pass it to Enetta, reeling inside. “How can that be?”
Far from the inn. No one, except for Solarians, can survive outside of their home world or Havenfall. If I were to step into Fiordenkill or Byrn, I’d sicken and die within hours. The sphere of protection the inn offers extends to the town of Haven—but no farther. That’s what makes Havenfall special. Safe—the fact that we guard the only way in and out of Earth.
The Silver Prince shouldn’t be able to get in without us knowing, nor survive elsewhere. I watch Enetta’s brow wrinkle as she reads.
“It doesn’t necessarily mean there’s another doorway,” Marcus says, and I can tell he’s trying to keep an even keel. “He could mean to meet this trader in Byrn, far from the inn, though that’s an odd way of putting it. Or it could be deliberate. Could be he left this letter so we’d find it in case his plan went wrong.” Marcus turns to Graylin. “Have you and Willow found out anything more from the delegates?”
“The elder King of Byrn has agreed to rule in the Prince’s stead, since he’s still missing from Oasis,” Graylin replies. “They think he’s in hiding somewhere in the wildlands, outside the city walls.”
In the wildlands, or here on Earth, I think.
Graylin exudes calm, the characteristic Fiorden stoicism, but I can tell he’s anxious by the way he fidgets with his wineglass.
“Willow is interviewing all the Byrnisian delegates from the summit,” Graylin goes on. “Of course, she’s not making it obvious what she’s doing, but that means she’s slower to get answers. So far she says no one appears to know what the Silver Prince might be planning.”
“Do we think they’re telling the truth?” I ask. “The Byrnisians, I mean.”
Graylin tilts his head at Marcus, who is the one to answer. “We can’t know for sure. I figure we can run two scenarios, one where they’re honest and one where they’re not.”
Hearing that makes me sad. We never used to ask these kinds of questions, not me or Marcus or anyone. We used to trust the delegates unconditionally—that they meant well. At least I did.
“I hadn’t realized the extent of dissent against the Silver Prince in Oasis, and in Byrn more generally,” Graylin says, his long, dark fingers drumming the stem of his wineglass. “Of course we know about the nomads, who have never accepted the Prince’s rule and are therefore shut out of Oasis. But from the Byrnisian correspondence I have in my library from around the time of his ascension, it appears that there are some who didn’t entirely support his rule, even among those who elected to renounce their magic and stay in Oasis.”
“Hmm.” Marcus runs a hand through his curly hair, leaving it to spring back higher than before. “That’s good for us, right? Whatever he’s planning to do, the fewer people behind him, the better.”
“It could be good.” Enetta speaks for the first time. Her voice has a brittle quality. “Or it could mean that absent the responsibilities of the throne, he will feel free to do whatever he wishes, whatever all this”—she waves her hands over the pile of papers—“is.”
“We know he wanted control of Havenfall,” I say quietly.
I remember what he said that day we fought in the tunnels. His vision for the inn. Not just a crossroads. A throne room. For all the Realms.
“We still control the doorway,” Marcus says. “I’ve spoken to Sal about bringing more security in, but even with the team we have now, no one’s coming into Havenfall who we don’t let in. It’s a bottleneck.”
The words of Brekken and Cancarnette earlier this evening whirl together in my mind. Magpies. A knight who journeyed across the worlds. “What if he does have another way in?”
Marcus’s mouth turns down at the corners. “Then why would he need Havenfall at all?” he says heavily. “And it’s not as if we can go search the whole world for the Prince, especially when that would mean leaving the inn more vulnerable. I think it’s best that we stay on our guard here and hope that whatever he was trying to do, he’s given up.”
A suspicion is forming in my head. I know I should probably keep it to myself until I’m more sure of things, but I can’t stop myself from giving voice to it.
“It seems like a big coincidence,” I say. “That everything with the Silver Prince happened just as the soul trade was coming to light.” I look around the table; Marcus, Graylin, and Enetta are all looking intently at me, but I can’t make much of their expressions. “What if he’s involved with it somehow? I’ve been wondering how the silver traders moved their goods between the worlds without us knowing.” I take a deep breath. “We probably should have been watching more closely, but still … it doesn’t seem likely that all the souls and the silver came through Havenfall, does it? Maybe there are other openings, passageways between Fiordenkill and Byrn and Solaria. Or even in other places here on Earth.”
I turn to Marcus, wanting his support, wanting to be believed. He, more than anyone else, knows how important this is—in general, because it’s the right thing to do, and to us, our family. Nate—my brother—was a victim of the soul trade. And he might still be alive. But I don’t want to spend all our efforts on Nate—it would be all the more devastating, then, if we didn’t find him. Plus, the problem is way bigger than just one Solarian. Still, I can’t stop myself from hoping.
“Maybe if we look into the soul trade, we’ll learn more about the Silver Prince too,” I finish breathlessly.
Marcus’s expression is carefully neutral. “Then we run into the same problem. As horrible as the soul trade is, we don’t have the numbers or the resources to root it out. Not when it could be literally anywhere. If I could stop it, I would have already.”
“But we can narrow down where to look.” I glance at Enetta. “I was talking to Lord Cancarnette earlier, and he said something about magpies. People who collect magical artifacts. That must have something to do with the trade, right? If we got their names, if we investigated them …”
“I’ve heard tell of the magpies too,” Enetta says. Her voice isn’t harsh, but it isn’t exactly warm either. “But the rumors I’ve heard point to powerful people in our country. Influential ones. And relations with Havenfall are strained enough as it is. The Fiorden delegation will not appreciate being asked by the Innkeeper to spy on their own, as a favor to Solarians.”
My breath sticks in my throat. I want to argue, but I know Enetta is right. Half of the Fiordenkill delegation left the summit early a few weeks ago, angry and afraid because they found out a Solarian was on the grounds and I hadn’t told them. An unprecedented early departure, and it was my fault. I want to remind Enetta that they were never really in danger from the Solarian—Taya wouldn’t have hurt anyone—but that isn’t the point. The keeping secrets and telling lies is where I went wrong.