“I found it quite interesting that she changed her mind and chose not to kill me, even though I was the only one who knew her true mission,” Hedda said.
Valek noted her use of the past tense. “Instead she concocted a story of your demise. Risky.”
“Compassionate. As you said, I aided her in her time of need.”
He tapped a finger on the edge of his empty glass. “The Onora puzzle takes another unexpected turn.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure her out. You always do.” She splashed a generous amount of brandy into his glass. Hedda raised hers and said, “To solving puzzles.” They clinked.
The alcohol left a fiery trail down his throat. “Speaking of puzzles, have you heard anything about these Storm Thieves?”
“I may have. It’s probably just gossip and rumors,” she hedged.
Valek dug a gold coin from his pocket and set it on the desk. “How about now?”
She snatched it in one quick motion. “Damn foolish kids.” Jabbing a finger at Valek, she scowled. “I knew they’d eventually attract too much attention.”
“They’ve been rather successful for a bunch of foolish kids.”
“That’s because no one had linked their petty and seemingly random crimes until recently. Because, like most criminals, they grew bolder and hit bigger targets, and it was just a matter of time until...” Hedda swept a hand, indicating Valek.
“Do you know where they’ve been operating from?”
“No. No one does. That’s why they still haven’t been caught.”
“Do you know who is involved?”
“Well... I’ve heard rumors.”
Valek understood the hint. He dropped another gold coin on the desk. This one disappeared as quickly as the first.
“They’re a group of teenagers—mostly the children of fishermen. The thefts started at the beginning of the cooling season, when the fleet arrived in port waiting for warmer weather and calmer seas.”
So a bunch of bored kids taking advantage of the storms, but they’d been rather smart. Too smart. Valek suspected a more experienced person led them. “Anything else?”
“I’ve lived on the coast all my life. In sixty-two years, we’ve never had a cold season like the one we just had.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’ve always had plenty of snow, rain, wind and fog. This past year, we’ve had more storms, but they don’t last near as long and they always rage overnight.”
Valek considered. “The Commander has allowed Stormdancers up on the northern ice sheet.”
“And they tamed the nasty blizzards sweeping down from the north, but these others are blowing in from the west.”
Ah. “Magic?” He’d suspected it before, but not for the storms.
She shrugged. “Maybe. You’ve killed all my magicians, so I can’t say for sure.”
He didn’t bother to correct her. The Commander had ordered their executions soon after the takeover, but they’d had more than enough time to escape to Sitia. Valek had made sure of that.
Thanking Hedda for the information, Valek reminisced with her for a while before he left. “Keep your low profile, and when your young idiot is ready, have him request a transfer to the Commander’s company.”
She smiled. “His name is Gannon.”
No surprise he was the one Colonel Ransley mentioned as showing promise.
As Valek hiked back to the garrison, he mulled over all he’d learned from Hedda. He concentrated on the Storm Thieves, putting himself in their place. Bored and physically able to climb ropes and rigging on heaving seas, the young fishermen would have no trouble scaling a wall. They’d also been on boats most of their lives, knew the currents and tides and could spot all the warning signs of approaching foul weather. Valek had no problem believing they were the thieves; however, the fact that his corps hadn’t been able to catch them or discover their hideout didn’t fit. Magic could explain it. Or an older leader. Or both.
When he returned to the garrison, he checked on Onyx. The black horse’s coat gleamed and his tail and mane had been combed. Onyx snuffled Valek’s empty hand, searching for a treat. Valek laughed when Onyx’s ears dropped in obvious disappointment. He fed the horse a carrot before swinging by the canteen in time for supper.
The loud rumble of voices dwindled and then ceased by the time he’d grabbed a bowl of clam stew, a hunk of bread and a wedge of cheese. He scanned the tables of soldiers. Predominantly male, most of them averted their gazes. However, in the back right corner, a table full of female soldiers ate. Much to their terrified surprise, he joined them. The first thing he noticed was they were all low-ranking, and not a commissioned officer among them.
Once they recovered from their shock and overcame their fear of him, they answered his questions about the garrison’s male-dominated leaders.
“Is it true that half of the Commander’s personal guard are female?” asked a woman who introduced herself as Sergeant First Class Jaga.
“Yes. And half of his advisers. In fact, the Commander would be upset with the ratio at this garrison. What happened to all your colleagues?”
“Transferred. We stayed because we have family nearby,” Jaga said.
“Any inappropriate behavior, Sergeant?”
“No, sir.”
She didn’t hesitate or exchange glances with her colleagues, which meant she told the truth. Good. He asked her about the higher-ranking officers.