Moving Targets and Other Tales of Valdemar

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.”