For a town that was even smaller than Sylvan so far as a permanent population was concerned, both the bakery and An Honorable Pelf saw a hearty amount of traffic. Calya quietly observed from her upper-level vantage, sipping her tea, the bread having been quickly demolished. Roxana was kindly, greeting most everyone by name with good cheer—even the few Avenor Guardsmen who came by, though they were among some of the briefest visits.
A sizeable amount of business seemed to take place via the port. Few large ships stopped, but smaller ones, both merchant vessels and the lighter craft used to ferry small goods or messages, came and went with regularity. Far more than the records at any of Helm Naval’s offices would suggest, considering how much of the shipping they handled for Graelynd.
More than the Coalition ledgers would reflect, too, if she were to guess.
Setting aside her empty teacup, Calya looked around at her friends. “So, who’s going first?”
“Wait.” Zhenya leaned over to tug on a braided cord of brown rope next to her seat by the wall, and it released the ties holding up gauzy, cream-colored hangings that draped over the wooden canopy frame and down to the floor. Woven in amongst the ordinary threads were thin strands that intermittently glowed a soft gold, forming a series of runes Calya didn’t recognize. The ambient noise of the bakery warped for a moment, a strange heaviness to the air inside the canopy, before it normalized again. Only this time, the outside sounds were the slightest bit muted.
“Fancy. When did you make these?” Eunny asked, running a finger across the glowing thread.
“On the trip over. They still need some work.” Zhenya squinted at the curtain closest to her seat. “Inscription work through thread isn’t my strong suit.”
“It’s safe to talk in this, then?” Calya asked.
“Enough. Just don’t shout.”
“This place sees far more activity than I would’ve thought.” She looked at Zhenya. “Froley’s a smuggler. That’s what you meant by ‘unconventional.’”
The inkmaker blushed, shoulders hunching up around her ears. “Yes, but they’re on our side!”
“Did you find out about our wards?” Anadae asked, gesturing to herself and Ezzyn.
“They arrived. I saw the proof of receipt myself, complete with my fucking name attached. Courtesy of Wembly, I’ve no doubt,” Calya snapped.
Anadae muttered a curse.
“We know Brint had a failed side project here that was shut down and handed off to someone else. But those offices down the street are practically empty.” Calya’s voice rose as her frustrations gained steam. “Those were Coalition mages in Sylveren robes we met, I’d bet HNE on it. And they’re blaming everything on a man who conveniently decided to disappear.”
“The Sentinels had a message from him,” Lowe said. “Matthias. He wrote last year, asking about how scope of authority might be handled in the event of malfeasance. We were looking into it, but then we got a follow-up message saying everything was fine. All communication since has been minimal, dodging our questions. With the distance, the border, no direct complaints… there wasn’t a lot we could do until now.”
Calya gave him an incredulous look.
Lowe held his hands up in defense. “I was going to tell you.”
“We have some answers about the side project. Kind of,” Eunny said with a grimace. “The Coalition bailed out Brint’s fuckup and took over the project through a proxy. Brought in some Sylveren grads on contract.”
“Who’s overseeing it on the Coalition side?” Calya asked.
“It was my mother,” Eunny said quietly.
“But she’s been…”
“Yeah.” Eunny ran a hand across her mouth. “Which might explain why shit’s gone sideways without her here to run it.”
Bioon Song was certainly a force to be reckoned with, and Calya didn’t doubt that Eunny’s now-disgraced mother had likely been the glue holding together the mysterious project out here in the Landing. But Bioon had only been caught and ousted from power within the last few weeks. Was Brint’s fuckery out here truly so quick to collapse without her to steer it, or had it already been going wrong and he was too inept to handle it? Neither scenario boded well for them.
Except they were going to fix it. Calya had sworn she wouldn’t leave until she had answers. Solutions. Proving Wembly’s deception would be difficult, for she imagined the crafty old man had taken steps to cover his tracks. But if she could expose more of the Coalition’s wrongdoing, if they were engaged in even more illicit activity than had been previously shown by Eunny and Ollas’s victory against Bioon Song, Calya would be… well, not a hero, but it would be newsworthy. Helm Naval’s reputation would gain favor amongst Graelynd’s fickle upper crust.
Her father would have no excuse to deny her ability to lead the company. She could fire Wembly herself.
Her daydream was interrupted by Anadae’s groan. “The Coalition. Wonderful. We should’ve brought an army.”
“And instead, we have one Sentinel of the Valley,” Calya said, then glanced at Ollas. “One and a half.”
“Hey!” Eunny cried at the same time Ollas smiled and said, “Fair enough.”
“Are all of the mages left here Coalition plants?” Calya asked, hands forming fists on the table.
