As she looked around, she noticed how unhappy they looked. They had just spent weeks celebrating, feasting, and being entertained, yet they appeared bloated, lifeless, and disheveled. It was a contradiction that she struggled to understand. When the gray-haired man said something about debt repayment and release, a small handful of villagers walked over to a table, signed something, and began to walk away, down the trail from whence they came.
Maren thought about going back to Laor. She missed her books and hadn’t seen Earl as she had hoped. She also missed her sketch paper and pencils. She was excellent at drawing pictures and her bedroom walls were covered with her artwork. She decided to walk over to the table that the townsfolk had visited before departing and sign the paper so she could leave too.
When she approached the table, an irritable-looking man pushed a paper toward her and spoke words she didn’t understand. He then sat scowling at her with his arms crossed. “Well?” he grunted.
The young girl felt anxious, confused, and embarrassed all at once. Her face went flush, and she aggressively massaged her ear as she stared back at the man. She then realized that she had no idea how to return home. Even if she did sign the paper, it would be dark soon and she would most certainly be lost. Her stomach began to growl again so she simply said, “Never mind,” and walked back to the group.
As she returned to the center of the camp, she heard the man on the crate say something about possession and life-rights and then the group dispersed, with most of them returning to their cages. With nothing else to do, Maren returned to her cage too. She sat leaning against the back of it and, shortly after, a man came by and tossed a few loafs of bread inside with a couple canteens filled with water. One of the other slaves handed her a chunk of bread and she nibbled on it, but the growling in her stomach had subsided and her appetite seemed to have gone away.
As Son sat and stared into the fire dancing in front of him, he replayed the last several days in his mind. He could clearly see the evidence that he’d missed while in the moment. It deepened his anger toward himself, and he would have given anything to relive the experience differently.
As if knowing what the boy was thinking, the man from the north broke the night’s silence. “If only we saw today with the clarity we see yesterday,” he mused. His demeanor was less harsh than earlier, and he stroked his wife’s hair as she slept on the ground next to him.
“But I did see something,” the boy lamented. “She was always going into town. She claimed that someone had stolen Earl. Her clothes were even fitting too tightly. I was just too preoccupied with the things I wanted to get done to notice.”
Dulnear took a deep breath and released it with a whispered word in his native tongue. He then looked at Son and said, “To notice another is one of the greatest gifts you can bestow upon them. I am very disappointed that this has happened. However, you are still rather young, and noticing is a skill which takes time and effort to develop.”
“I only wish—” the boy began.
“Save your wishing for another time, boy,” the warrior urged. “You cannot change what has happened. Focus your energy on retrieving Maren instead of wasting it on regretting your mistake.”
Son knew that his friend was right, but it didn’t make how he felt any easier. “What do you think is going to happen?” he asked.
“I do not know,” the man from the north admitted. “But we will do whatever it takes to bring her home.” He then paused for a moment. “I need you to know something though. I will not be pulling punches, nor will I stay my sword. Slavers care not for the lives of others. To them, people are simply a commodity to be exploited. They are the lowest of low. They seek only profit; their only interest is their own, and they will prey on the most vulnerable to get what they want.”
“Then why is it not against the law to do what they do?” the boy asked.
“As long as people are not forced to sign away their life-rights, then what they do is legal. It matters not what means they use to dig their hooks into people, as long as they can persuade them to go with them by choice.”
Son thought for a moment, again replaying the last several days in his mind. “When Maren came home without Earl, I should have insisted on checking out the festivities myself,” he groaned.
“Perhaps,” Dulnear answered. “Or perhaps you would have fallen into the slaver’s snare alongside of her.”
“That would never happen to me,” the boy stated confidently.
“That may be true,” the warrior said. “Or it may not be.”
Trying not to take offense at his words, Son asked, “What does that mean?”
“It means that we are never as strong as we think we are,” the northerner explained. “And assuming that we are strong enough to resist even the smallest of temptations only weakens our defenses against them.”
Son pondered the man’s words as they settled on his shoulders. As he did, his thoughts began to shift, and he recalled his impatience with Maren. He remembered raising his voice and speaking harshly toward her. “Sometimes I wonder if Maren has any resistance to temptation at all,” he speculated out loud.
“What are you saying?” Dulnear asked.
“Only that she seems to give little
