A rough bump jolted Aidan from his ruminations. He looked up to find a burly fur-clad man shaking his fists; a stream of guttural language poured out from the man’s mouth. All around the angry giant, a number of animal skins lay dashed in the mud. A small crowd gathered behind the incensed man as Aidan realized with a shock that he had just stumbled into a trader’s stall. He hastily mumbled an apology and gave the irate merchant a gold coin for his troubles. Shaken, he entered the marketplace proper.
If the press of people were the lifeblood of Tilverton, the marketplace was its heart. Every road flowed into it, from the Street of the Sorceress to the Great Moonsea Ride, all paths met here at the city’s center. He ignored the tantalizing smells of the marketplace-the heady aroma of spiced meats and the thick, gooey sweetcakes designed to entice a man’s coin from his pocket. Instead, he made straight for the Council Tower, a white stone bastion rising up from the marketplace like the finger of Torm.
The sounds of merchants hawking their wares seemed to fade away as he approached the tower. It was always like this. Standing in the shadow of the tower, his concentration intensified and his strength seemed to increase. It was the strength of assurance-that whatever befell the city, this tower, and the Purple Dragon garrison within it, would strive to set it right.
He approached the guards at the tower gate, sighing inwardly as they struggled to decide whether or not to salute. It’s all different, now, he thought. No matter how recent his retirement, he was an outsider. The memories of his service in the Purple Dragons were just that-memories-and the camaraderie he shared with his shieldmates, while no less real, would eventually fade. He felt an aching loss inside, like a wound to the gut.
Quickly he jostled past the guards, sparing them any further discomfort, and entered the building. As always, the tower’s first level literally hummed with ordered chaos, as uniformed soldiers and messengers scuttled about making reports and planning the watch. The captain entered the building with measured practice and walked up to a young soldier filing papers behind a desk. He knew the officer, a steady-nerved man named Joran.
“Excuse me, Sergeant,” he said in measured tones, “but may I see the commander?”
Aidan watched as Joran looked up, the officer’s face transforming from steadied boredom to carefully concealed joy.
“Captain Aidan, ‘tis good to see you again, sir.” Joran stood up quickly, scattering papers to the floor.
“At ease, son. It’s simply Aidan, now.” It hurt less if he said it quickly. “I’m supposed to see the commander. Is he in?”
Joran nodded. “Yes, Ca…sir. He asked not to be disturbed, but he’s expecting you.”
Aidan smiled gratefully and followed Joran up the stairs to Commander Haldan’s private office. The chamber was simply appointed, almost spartan, and very much like the commander himself. A sturdy desk took up one corner of the room, and a small fire burned in the mantle. Military accouterments hung on the walls, a testament to a lifetime of soldiering.
Haldan looked up as Aidan and the sergeant entered, breaking off a quiet conversation with a white-robed man. The captain saw his friend’s eyes widen in surprise, only to crease immediately in a familiar, wolfish grin. A quick word sent the white-robed man from the room, but not before Aidan caught a hostile glance from the stranger as he shouldered roughly past.
Aidan waited for Joran to shut the door before speaking. “Sorry to barge in Commander, but you wanted to see me. I hope I didn’t come at a bad time.”
Haldan rose from his seat, rubbing a salt and pepper beard. “Nonsense,” he said with a smile. “I always have time for one of my best captains-and friends.”
Aidan returned the smile, relief flooding through his body as he looked upon Haldan once more. The commander was solid and well built, an imposing officer whose martial training did not waver in the face of age and promotions. The man’s career was dotted with acts of bravery and selflessness, and his soldiers followed him as much out of love as duty. The two had met while recruits, both learning to hold a sword for the first time. Haldan had risen through the ranks quickly, leading with boldness and distinction. Thinking back on his friend’s career, Aidan knew that the commander deserved every accolade and promotion. He is the best of us, Aidan thought.
Standing in Haldan’s office once more, Aidan felt pride at their friendship. No matter the outcome of his present situation, he knew that he could always rely upon Hal-dan.
“So, Aidan,” the commander spoke, his resonant baritone easily filling the office, “I don’t suppose you know why I’ve asked you here?”
The question hung in the air like pipeweed smoke. Aidan began to answer his former commander’s lightly phrased question and then stopped. For just a second, he thought he saw an expectant gleam in Haldan’s eye. Then it was gone, replaced by the officer’s ever-present mask.
Haldan cleared his throat, and Aidan realized that he’d been staring silently at the commander. He breathed deeply and said, “Yes. It’s about the attack in the alleyway.”
Haldan rubbed his beard before speaking. “Go on.”
Slowly, Aidan recounted the events that had occurred on the night of the attack. Strangely enough, he found himself reluctant to speak about Morgrim and the dark priest’s purpose. It all seemed like an empty dream, a substanceless fear that vanished in the light of Haldan’s solid presence.
When Aidan finished the tale, the commander leaned forward. “How did you survive against such odds?” he asked.
Aidan heard the keen interest in his old friend’s voice. He wanted to tell Haldan the truth, to confess his involvement with Cyric’s priest. Instead he laughed and said, “It’ll take a lot more than a few cutpurses to kill this old soldier.”
Haldan’s answering smile hit him like a spear. There it was. He had lied to his friend and former commanding officer. Why? Aidan tried to think, but his shame and guilt snapped at his thoughts like hounds upon the hunt.
Haldan rose and walked toward a bright shield on the wall. “Well, that explains what happened, but why didn’t you report this to me instead of going off on your own?”
Aidan turned toward the commander, inwardly cursing the night he had met Morgrim. “At first, I was too shaken. Then, I decided that I could make more progress using unofficial methods. Believe me Haldan, I was going to report to you as soon as I uncovered anything solid.”
How easy the half-truths came now that he had lied once.
Haldan nodded as Aidan finished and said, “Perhaps you can tell me what you’ve already uncovered.” He turned from the shield and looked at Aidan.
The commander’s dispassionate tone confused Aidan. He wasn’t quite sure how he had expected Haldan to react, but it wasn’t like this. Unsure of his footing, he answered the question as truthfully as he dared. “I don’t believe the attack was an accident. The thieves seemed intent upon stealing the dagger I received as a gift from Lady Rowanmantle.”
'Are you sure of this, Aidan?” Haldan asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “Whoever attacked me knew exactly where to find me.” Once again, he hated not telling Haldan everything, but Morgrim had planted a dark seed of doubt and it had sprouted.
“I agree with your assessment,” Haldan said after a moment’s pause. “Rest assured that we will send out our best investigators to get to the bottom of this.”
“With all due permission, sir. I would like to assist in the investigation.”
Haldan sat back behind the desk and steepled his fingers together. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Aidan. You are no longer a member of the Purple Dragons, and I can’t risk putting a Cormyrean citizen in harm’s way.”
“But-” Aidan started to protest, but Haldan interrupted.
“I’m sorry Aidan, I really am. You’ll always have an honored place among the Dragons as long as I’m in command, but I can’t involve you in official inquiries.”
Aidan stood up, trying hard to control his growing anger, his hands clenched into fists. “Haldan,” he said, trying to appeal to his friendship with the commander, “I have the best chance of identifying whoever attacked me and finding out exactly who planned it. I’m the most logical candidate to-”
Haldan’s fist smashed down on his desk, “Aidan, for the last time… you are not to pursue this investigation at all! Do you understand me?” he thundered, not waiting for Aidan’s nod. “If I find that you went against my orders, I’ll jail you for interfering in official business. Is that clear?”
Aidan, stunned at his friend’s outburst, didn’t reply at first. In all the years he had known Haldan, the man had never shouted at him. Anger and hurt gave voice to his reply. “Abundantly clear,” Aidan said in a clipped tone.
