Moving Targets and Other Tales of Valdemar

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Do you need to get away so soon?” he asked. “Surely your shift is over by now?”

  “I need to report back to the watchhouse, sir,” Hektor answered, rising. “And I have errands to run before I go home.”

  “Errands?”

  “The sweetshop and the herbalist. One of my grandfather’s birds is ailing.”

  “Well, I’m sure my friend will be along any moment. Just finish off that final cake, won’t you, or it will go stale. Now, you were telling me about this business of the iron market fire.”

  With reluctance, Hektor sat back down again.

  It was at least another half candlemark before they heard someone at the door. The old man called out a greeting, and Hektor rose at once as a heavyset man in the dark green cloak of the College of Healers entered the room. He came forward quickly to take the old man’s hand.

  “I only just learned of your accident or I would have come much sooner, Daedrus,” he apologized in a gruff tone. “You should have sent for me.”

  “Nonsense, Markus. I’m right as rain. You had lectures and rounds. Besides, I had my young rescuer here to keep watch over me. May I present Hektor Dann of the City Watch? One of Haven’s finest.”

  Hektor started, and Daedrus began to chuckle. “Well of course I know who you are, boy. Do you think I’m just some lonely old man who lets anyone into his home? The Danns may not be known within the second gate, but they’re well known beyond it. And I do most of my shopping beyond it.

  “We were just discussing the iron market fire, Markus,” he continued as the Healer began to examine the wound on his forehead.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. A bad business, that. Young Hektor lost his father, you know, who was trying to bring people out. It’s caused a lot of bad feelings in the neighborhood.”

  “Has it? Please stop moving your head, Daedrus.”

  “Indeed. There’s even some fear that the citizens of Iron Street may take matters into their own hands if the issue isn’t resolved to their satisfaction. Or so I’ve heard in the marketplace.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes. I suppose we should reconsider our supper at the White Lily if the streets are this unsettled.”

  “Quite right.” The Healer straightened. “Well, your head needs to be properly cleaned and possibly stitched before we can even think about supper, and I’m sure the young watchman would like to get home for his own.”

  Hektor moved immediately toward the door.

  “You will come and see me again, won’t you?” the old man called after him. “I quite enjoyed our conversation, and I’m eager to learn the outcome of this latest drama.”

  Making a mumbled promise, Hektor almost ran for the door.

  It was full dark by the time he reached the watchhouse. The captain had long since left, and it was with some relief that he made tracks for the herbalist’s. Grumbling all the while, the woman stuffed two small packets into his hand, accepted his money, then shoved him unceremoniously out the door. He just managed to catch the smell of meat pies wafting from the back before the door was shut firmly behind him. With a sigh, he headed for the sweetshop.

  It was closed, and no amount of pounding on the door could elicit a response. Glaring at the tightly locked shutters, Hektor turning toward home, imagining what his family would say.

  The scene that greeted him was not what he expected. Kasiath met him at the door, her face beaming.

  “Oh, Hektor, they’re wonderful. Such sweets. Come and see.”

  He allowed himself to be dragged into the kitchen, where the family were all crowded about the table. An open package of untouched sweets, each one nestled in its own little piece of wax paper, sat in the center. Beside it, a small card held a single letter D. Egan hovered impatiently behind his father, a deeply aggrieved expression on his face as Aiden gave his younger brother a suspicious frown.

  Hektor shrugged weakly, filling in the events of his evening as quickly as possible. “He must have known the shop would be closed,” he hazarded.

  “And how did he know you would be going there?” his brother demanded.

  “I told him. He wanted to talk, and you know how old men are, Aiden. I couldn’t get away.”

  Both his brother and their grandfather snorted at that.

  “We don’t take charity,” Aiden growled.

  “It wasn’t charity,” Hektor retorted angrily. “I didn’t know he would send ’em, but it was a nice thought from a lonely old man.” Grabbing one of the sweets, he stuffed it into his mouth with a defiant expression.

  Egan sent up a loud wail, and all eyes turned to Aiden, who finally threw up his hands.

  “Fine, have ’em.” As the family pounced on the box, he scowled. “I’m goin’ out.”

  Hektor turned, noting that his brother was still in his watchman’s uniform.

  “Where?” he demanded.

  “The iron market.”

  “The captain set you on guard duty tonight?”

  “No. What’s it to you?”

  The family exchanged a worried look as Hektor gave a studied shrug.

  “Nothin’, ’cept I’m comin’ with you.”

  “I don’t need you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  The two brothers glared at each other; then Aiden threw up his hands again. “Do what you want.”

  Jakon and Raik looked up. “Should we?” Jakon began, and Hektor shook his head.

  “You’ll want to get some supper before your shift,” he answered. “We’ll be all right.” He glanced over at Sulia. “I promise.”

  The two brothers walked along the darkened street in uncomfortable silence until they reached the stretch of fallow field where the iron market was being rebuilt. Aiden nodded at the two watchmen on duty by the ruined gates, then made for the far eastern end. Leaning against a newly built stall, he pulled out his pipe, clearly settling in.

  Hektor cocked his head. “Why are we here, Aiden?” he asked. “There are guards.”

  Filling the bowl of his pipe, Aiden just shrugged. “You’re here ’cause you don’t trust me not to start somethin’. I’m here to make sure no one else does.”

  “The Candler’s Row folk?”

  “Nope, our folk.”

  “Then shouldn’t we be hoverin’ around the closes that lead to Candler’s Row?”

  Aiden shook his head. “They’ll meet here at the iron market.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “ ’Cause this here’s where we always met.”

  As his brother stuck a twig into the nearby lamp, Hektor stared into the darkness. “Got called into the captain’s office today,” he ventured.

  Aiden just grunted in reply.

  “He figures no one even remembers how the trouble ’tween us started.”

  Aiden touched the twig to his pipe, drawing in a deep breath. “What would he know about it?” he said, once the pipe caught.

  “Does anyone remember?”

  “I doubt it. It was long afore Granther’s day. But it don’t really matter how it started; it’s here now, and we’ve gotta deal with it now.”

  “Yeah, but how?”

  Aiden blew a long trail of smoke into the air. “I got no idea,” he admitted. He glanced sideways at his younger brother. “So, what else did you and the captain talk about?”

  Hektor started. “Nothin’ much else really,” he said a bit too quickly.

  “Bollocks. He offered you the sergeancy.”

  “I didn’t tell him yes or nothin’.”

  “Then you’re an idiot.”

  Hektor started. “What? But everyone knows it outta be you.”

  Aiden gave a bark of derisive laughter. “Why? ’Cause I’m the oldest?”

  “No, ’cause ... well, ’cause you’re ... All right, yeah, ’cause you’re the oldest. It’s your turn.”

  “Bollocks.” Aiden stared out at the pale half moon. “I knew he’d never name me sergeant, Hek,” he said quietly. “Not after
the inquiry an’ all.”

  “Nothing was proven,” Hektor declared loyally, and Aiden chopped a hand down to silence him.

  “Nothing needs to be proven. Everyone thinks they know what happened. They think I went to Candler’s Row that night to even the score for Charlie Woar.” He took a deep draw on his pipe. “And I shoulda,” he said more to himself than to Hektor. “Charlie and I are friends. It should have been me that went that night, not Da.”

  “Da? But I thought ... everyone thinks ...”

  “That he followed me? That he pulled me off a man on Candler’s Row? That the man almost died an’ Da an’ the Iron Street Watch covered the whole thing up ’cause I’m a Dann?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Aiden stared out past the gates, his expression unreadable. “Sometimes you get boxed in by what people think,” he said. “So boxed in you can’t hardly breathe. It starts makin’ your choices for you. I wanted to do justice by Charlie, but not like that. I wanted to find the folk that sowed those nails and bring ’em in, but the street wanted revenge, an’ they wanted it fast or they’d get it themselves. Da knew that. That’s why he went. But he wasn’t thinkin’ straight neither. He was drunk an’ angry, an’ he jumped the first man he saw on Candler’s Row. If I hadn’t followed him, he mighta killed ’im.”

  “So you covered it up an’ took the blame? Why?”

  “Made more sense. Da was a respected member of the Watch, an’ I’ve been the family troublemaker since I was a little. Like I said, you get boxed in.”

  “You coulda told folk the truth.”

  “No one wanted to hear it, Hek. Just like now.” Aiden turned a suddenly intense look on his brother’s face. “You figure the fire was an accident?”

  “The Guard said it was.”

  “But do you figure it was?”

  Hektor stared out at the blackened field. “I dunno. I guess not, probably,” he admitted.

  “An’ if you figure not, what do you expect the street to figure? They figure it was set deliberate. An’ they want the score settled, an’ they want it settled by me, ’cause that’s what I do for ’em.”

  “But the Candler’s Row folk ain’t stupid,” Hektor protested. “They gotta know it too, an’ they’ve gotta be waitin’ for you to make your move.”

  “Right. But the longer I don’t, the more likely it is that Linton or someone else is gonna. Or worse,” he added, “someone from Candler’s Row’s gonna figure the best way to belay our strike is to make their own.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Aiden shrugged. “Folk expected Da to lead with his fists. They expect me to do the same. But they don’t expect you to, an’ that’s a good thing. It leaves you free to make your own choices. Maybe you can sort somethin’ out. You’re smart.”

  “The captain said I had an even temper,” Hektor noted sarcastically.

  “That’s just compared to mine. You’re a compromise, Hek. The captain don’t want any Dann promoted, but the Watch and the street does. He didn’t just post your name though, did he?”

  “No, he asked me if I would take it first.”

  “ ’Cause he don’t wanna to look like a fool if you say no. He wants things to look smooth, even if they ain’t.”

  Hektor rubbed his face. “It’s all too complicated,” he complained.

  “Then make it simple. Do what’s right by the family. Take the promotion. We need the money.”

  “But what do we do about Iron Street and Candler’s Row? Do we ask a Herald to mediate or somethin’?”

  Aiden snorted. “Mediate with who? They’re all shopkeepers and tradesmen by day. The Guard said it was an accident. That shoulda been the end of it, but it wasn’t, ’cause they’re all vigilantes by night. The Heralds can mediate all they like, but it won’t change folk, ’cause they don’t wanna be changed.”

  “Then we have to make ’em change,” Hektor argued. “An we gotta start by provin’ the fire was an accident.”

  “How?”

  Hektor straightened. “By askin’ someone who knows about this kinda thing,” he said. “Someone they respect. We ask an Artificer.”

  “And this is where the fire started?”

  Standing in the charred ruins of the market’s one permanent forge, Daedrus turned an expectant look on Hektor.

  “Yes, sir. There’s been a lot of rebuild around the perimeter, but not here in the middle. No one’s wanted to go near it as yet, I ’spect. The Fair Master died inside.”

  “I see, yes, very interesting, very interesting indeed.”

  The retired Artificer had been puttering about the iron market for over an hour, muttering to himself and drawing an ever-growing crowd of onlookers beyond the gates. “I think I should like to bring in a few of my colleagues as consultants if you don’t mind,” he said. “If you could send someone to the Compass Rose Tavern and have them bring back, oh ...” he waved a hand absently. “... whoever happens to be there.”

  “Yes, sir. Paddy?” Hektor jumped as Padreic appeared at his elbow immediately. “You know where the Compass Rose is?” When the boy nodded vigorously, he gestured. “Off you go then on your first assignment.” As his brother took off at a dead run, Hektor turned back to the old man. “Was there anything else, sir?”

  Tugging at the plaster bandage on his forehead, Daedrus nodded. “Well, it would help me to come to a more accurate conclusion if I could consult with someone knowledgeable in the circumstances under which this area would be made use of. Do you know of anyone like that?”

  “Sir?”

  “A smith, Watchman, who is familiar with the forge.”

  “Oh.” Scanning the crowd, Hektor spotted a familiar face. “Yes sir, I do.”

  It only took Linton a moment to understand what Daedrus required. Tipping his cap back, he scratched his head thoughtfully. “This be the market forge,” he explained. “The Fair Master’s in charge of it, though he don’t usually work it hisself. We all work it through the fair to cast a horseshoe or make somethin’ small as a customer might want.”

  “And the Fair Master sets the forge schedule?” Daedrus asked. “He sees to it that every smith who needs it gets a chance to make use of it?”

  “Every local smith,” Linton corrected. “Only Haven smiths can use the market forge. That’s tradition. If a smith from outside wanted somethin’, he’d have to ask one of us for it.” He snorted. “An’ good luck to ’im.

  “My cousin Bri was Fair Master for years,” he continued. “Did a good job he did, too, keepin’ everything movin’ along smoothly. There weren’t never too much waitin’.” He frowned. “Come to think of it, with him gone, I reckon I’m Fair Master now.”

  Daedrus nodded. “And so he, your cousin Bri, would know everyone who made use of the forge. As you will next year?”

  “Yep.”

  “So it would be very unusual to have a stranger lurking about unescorted?”

  Linton snorted. “Wouldn’t happen at all. We keep an eye out; we all do.”

  “I see. Ah, here come my colleagues.”

  Daedrus turned as more than two dozen Artificers and students descended on the iron market. He’d set Hektor and Aiden to checker off the entire field with a ball of twine pulled from his voluminous cloak, and now he sent each of his consultants off to an individual square to take measurements and make notes. As the Artificers spread out, he returned his attention to Linton.

  By late afternoon the Artificers had finished their investigation and were now clustered about the ruined forge, comparing their findings. Several other smiths had been drawn into the conversation, and, as the sun sent long fingers of shadow across the field, Hektor could hear their voices rising and falling as they argued over the events leading up to the fire. But one thing they all agreed on was that no one except a local smith was ever allowed near the market forge. After a particularly heated piece of debate, he heard Linton’s voice rise above the rest.

  “ ’Course any fool can see it started by accident, righ
t here. Sparks is what done it, sparks an’ wind. It’s happened before more’n two decades back; Bri told me hisself. Nearly sent the whole fair up that time.”

  Shaking his head, Hektor turned to find Captain Torell standing beside him. He started.

  “Sir.”

  “It seems the street is close to its verdict,” the captain said dryly.

  “Yes, sir.” Hektor shrugged. “Folk here don’t take too kindly to bein’ told what’s what.” He glanced over to where Linton was now jabbing another smith in the chest to emphasize his point. “They’d rather do the tellin’.”

  “So I see. And I imagine the people of Candler’s Row are much the same.”

  “I ’spect so, sir.”

  “Do you have a plan that will take the wind out of their sails as well?”

  “Sir?”

  “Never mind, one crisis at a time.” The captain now turned as Daedrus called out to them.

  “An accident,” the old man said once they’d joined the crowd of smiths and Artificers. “Tragic, very tragic, but avoidable in the future, I think. Yes, very much so. We have some ideas for the rebuild that will prove quite advantageous.”

  Turning, he pulled a small metal disc from the depths of his cloak. “Does anyone have a ... oh, thank you.” He accepted one of the dozen small hammers that were immediately held out to him and, reaching up, affixed the disc to the forge with two tiny nails.

  “Artificer’s seal,” he said in answer to Hektor’s questioning expression. “Usually we place them after the building is complete, but as this project was in fact an investigation, not a construction, I think it’s neither unreasonable nor premature to place it now, hm?”