Moving Targets and Other Tales of Valdemar

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.”