The Executioner's Blade (The Executioner's Song Book 3) Page 2

  Finn had expected that of him, given what Holden stood accused of doing.

  There was a time when Finn had first been learning his trade where he’d begun to question whether someone who held out like this could actually be guilty of what they were accused of doing. That was before he’d come to learn how hard people could be.

  He had known that men could hold out. Gods, he had held out when it had been him sitting in that chair. But he had underestimated the limits of what a man could endure.

  Meyer had taught him to find those limits and exploit them.

  “Let me tell you a little more about what we might do together today, Holden,” Finn said. “We’ve used the boots. Most people find them unpleasant enough that they will do anything to have them removed. It can be a terrible sensation to have that boot strapped to your leg, the screws continuing to burrow deeper and deeper, the pressure building around your shins…”

  Finn paused, letting the words settle for a moment.

  Holden didn’t flinch.

  He hadn’t flinched when he’d been questioned the day before. Or the one before that.

  There had only so much time. Finn didn’t like being on a timeline like this and didn’t love the fact that even were he to get Holden to answer his questions, he still wouldn’t know what he needed. It wasn’t about the man’s guilt. Holden had admitted that the day before. This was about something more.

  “There are other ways of augmenting the boots,” Finn went on. He tapped a metal spike on the table, the sound a soft ringing. “I could add a little sharper feeling to the ongoing pressure.”

  He lifted the boots and brought them over to Holden, setting them on the ground. He left them there for a moment. Part of the torment was letting Holden’s mind do some of the work. Seeing the boots, remembering how they felt when they’d been applied, would be difficult for most. Holden didn’t even give it a second look.

  Finn returned to the table, lifted the spike, and carried it over to Holden, setting it on the ground near the boots. “This will focus the pain. I don’t have to use it, though. All you need to do is answer what I’ve asked.”

  Holden still didn’t react.

  Finn would have to be more aggressive. He could see that.

  It was a fine line he had to walk. Partly, he needed to try to convince Holden that it was in his best interest to answer, and partly he needed to make him answer. Either way would provide Finn with what he wanted.

  “All of this will be over the moment you tell me where to find Rachel Herns,” Finn said. “I know you haven’t been in the city for long, but I will learn what happened to her.”

  The one piece of information he’d been able to learn was that Holden wasn’t a local.

  Which made it worse.

  Holden looked up then. A dark smile crossed his face. “You won’t find her. Not before it’s done. Maybe the dogs will lead you to her.” He laughed, and the hollows of his eyes seemed even darker than before.

  Finn suppressed the flash of anger.

  One of the lessons Meyer had worked to instill within him was that he needed to control his emotions. The one doing the questioning could not lose control of himself. That was the way to failure. Not only was that a way to getting the wrong kind of information, but it led to vengeance rather than justice. And that was not serving the king, along with the people of the city.

  That was why he did the job. Not so much serving the king, though there was a part of him that felt that he needed to do it. Growing up, King Porman had never been anything other than a distant threat, one that became more acute as he’d become a thief. Finn had never thought that he would have a chance to see the king, let alone speak to him.

  “I think we will begin. You know the question. When you share with me where to find Rachel Herns, your suffering will be over.”

  That was what Finn wanted. To find her—hopefully alive.

  There had been other missing women over the last month, though Finn hadn’t managed to pin them on Holden and doubted the man would acknowledge his role now.

  Finn applied the boots. They were fitted on either side of the prisoner’s leg and then screwed tightly so they sealed around them. With a turn of the screw, he could apply increasing pressure. Finn quickly tightened them and then began to apply even more pressure. He had made a mental note about how much Holden had been able to withstand the day before, so that when he began to add more now, it should be enough that he wouldn’t tolerate it well.

  Holden barely made any sound.

  When it had been like that the day before, Finn had known there was a danger in continuing with this line of torment. The boots worked most of the time, but they weren’t infallible. There were people they wouldn’t work with.

  With the first boot in place, Finn moved on to the next.

  He watched Holden the entire time.

  There was still no reaction.

  Using the spike now would only injure him; it wouldn’t draw the answers that Finn needed out of him. For that, he would need a different approach.

  Finn took the spike, noting the way Holden looked at him, and carried it over to the table. There were a few other options there that he hadn’t attempted.

  He took a spool of thick wire, which he carried over to Holden.

  This wasn’t what he wanted to do, but he kept thinking about what he’d heard about Rachel Herns. A young woman about his sister’s age, trapped somewhere in the city, possibly injured.

  Finn didn’t want to fail her.

  There were times when this job was more than what he thought he could do. There were times when he hated it and hated what it made him do. There were other times when he knew it was necessary.

  This was one of those times when it was all of them.

  He crouched in front of Holden. “Seeing as how the boots haven’t bothered you, I’m going to try something different. The wire will penetrate your skin and go deep into the muscle. If I push hard enough, I can even strike bone. That’s when it really hurts. With this spool, I have plenty of wire. What’s better, the gauge of the wire is such that it won’t leave much in the way of a marking, so when it’s time to face your sentencing, there won’t be a delay.”

  Finn watched Holden, hoping that he’d say something.

  He didn’t.

  “When you tell me how to find Rachel Herns, this will be over.” Finn took a deep breath. “Let’s begin.”

  Chapter Two

  The sun had set, leaving the city in darkness. Finn hurried along the streets, heading back toward home, before pausing and taking a different direction. What did it matter if he returned early tonight?

  Besides, he thought that he might visit with Oscar. It had been long enough, and he knew what Oscar would say to him, but more than that, he wondered if Oscar might be able to help him with this case. He made his way to the Olin section and to the Wenderwolf tavern. There were times when he wished he could visit more often, because it was familiar and the ale was good, but the memory of what he’d done in the tavern and who he’d once been made that difficult for him.

  The tavern was situated near the nicer part of Olin, if any part could really be considered nice. When he was younger, Finn had viewed the sections of the city differently than he did now. Olin was perfectly fine, though it paled compared to the central sections of the city in terms of the wealth found within it.

  A sign hanging out front had been recently painted, depicting the massive head of a wenderwolf etched into the wood. It wobbled in the faint breeze gusting through the streets that carried some of the scent of the nearby forest, that of pine and damp earth and cold. Music drifted into the street from inside, a jaunty sound meant to get people dancing.

  Finn sighed before entering.

  The tavern hadn’t changed much over the years. Several booths took up space near the front of the tavern, with tables near the back that could be pushed out of the way for those dancing. The troupe performing at the back included a lutist, a singer, and a
drummer, the steady rhythm of their music even louder inside the tavern.

  Finn made his way toward the back corner and an empty booth there, taking a seat. It wasn’t long before a young blonde waitress in a snug-fitting dress that revealed ample cleavage came by, nodding to him.

  “Hey there, Gina,” he said.

  “Finn. It’s been a right while since you’ve been in.” She shifted the tray she held and smiled, a hint of a dimple forming in the corner of her mouth.

  “I know. You see him recently?”

  Gina looked around the tavern briefly, lingering on the door a moment, before settling her blue-eyed gaze on him. “You asking for work or for your friend?”

  “My friend. Only my friend.”

  She regarded him a long moment. “He’s been here. Should be back soon. Can I bring you a mug of ale while you wait?”

  “That would be great.”

  She sauntered off, flashing wide smiles at others around the tavern as she went.

  Finn leaned back, tapping his foot in time to the music. The troupe was skilled, though that wasn’t surprising. Annie only hired the best she could get.

  When Gina brought a mug of ale over and set it in front of him, she leaned forward. “What’s got your goat tonight?”

  “Nothing I can talk about.”

  “That right?”

  Finn took a sip of the ale. The ale at the Wenderwolf really was some of the best in the city. “It’s more that it’s not anything I want to talk about.”

  “Something like that?”

  “It’s bad, Gina. Real bad.”

  “You want to share anything, you know I’ll listen.”

  Finn nodded and Gina disappeared. He took a few more sips of his ale and had nearly finished the mug when a shadowy form took a seat across from him.

  “Shuffles,” Oscar said, sliding into the booth across from him. He was dressed in an inky black jacket and pants—clothing thieves referred to as darks. He had a lean, angular face, and his graying hair was cut short. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, leaving the light to reflect upon the pale scar on his cheek. “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”

  Finn frowned. Oscar was connected throughout the city. “Why not tonight?”

  Oscar regarded him, leaning back. The scar twitched just a little. “Looks like I know something you don’t. Might be there’s a price involved in such knowledge.”

  “The price being me having saved your life?”

  Oscar grunted. “How long do you figure you get to use that?”

  Finn grinned at him. “I was hoping for a few more years out of it.”

  Gina slithered over to the table, carrying another mug of ale, and set it in front of Oscar. He offered a hint of a smile to her, nothing more, before she went scurrying away from him.

  “What’s this about?” Oscar said, leaning back and taking a long drink.

  “Can’t it be about me wanting to see an old friend?”

  Oscar grunted. “Getting older every day, too.” He was quiet for a few moments as he sipped his ale. The music behind him came in a rhythm that Finn struggled to ignore. Oscar didn’t seem to have the same difficulties. “You don’t come here often enough for there not to be a reason, Finn.”

  Finn this time, not Shuffles.

  “I can come for the ale.”

  “Nobody going to stop you coming in here like you used to. Annie don’t much care for what happened to the King, but I’ve made sure she understood what he was doing to us.”

  Finn looked around the tavern until he saw the owner. She was about Oscar’s age and had always had an easygoing smile when it came to Finn. At least, before Finn had not only turned on the King but been the one to carry out his execution.

  “I wish she’d let me apologize,” he said softly.

  “For what?” Oscar leaned forward. “That’s something you’ve got to come to terms with, Finn. You didn’t do anything other than what you were supposed to do. The King got what was coming to him, the same as so many people in this section. The only thing that troubles her is…”

  “Is what?”

  “Don’t matter.” Oscar took another drink and set the mug down.

  It had seemed to Finn that he’d been drinking quite a bit of the ale, but now that he looked at Oscar’s mug, he realized he’d barely had more than a few swallows. That was a measure of how much Oscar felt uncomfortable with Finn’s presence.

  “I’m looking for a girl,” Finn finally said.

  “So, you are here officially.”

  Finn shook his head, letting out a long sigh. “Not really. A man named Holden is held in Declan—”

  “Holden? As in Holden Grimes? The Pale Bastard?”

  Finn snorted. “I didn’t know he’d been named.”

  “That one is dangerous,” Oscar said. When he tipped back his ale this time, he took a long swallow. “Came to the city only a few weeks back. Got settled in quickly. Turning down easy jobs that a new crew shouldn’t ignore. Damn bastard already had a crew and thinks he can swing his dick around here and push us out?”

  It was more irritation than he’d expected from Oscar, but then, a competing crew would do that. At least now he knew that Holden had a crew.

  Which made abducting a girl all the stranger.

  Crews were for thieving and protection. Not crimes like kidnapping and rape.

  Unless they intended to ransom her.

  So far, that hadn’t appeared to be Holden’s intention.

  “What did he do?” Oscar asked.

  “Probably many things, but we’ve got him held because of a girl. A woman by the name of Rachel Herns. She’s not the only one he’s taken lately and probably not the last. I… I want to find her, but I need to know if there are others we can save.”

  “So, you were hoping that I might be able to help you figure out where he’s got her stashed before he ransoms her.”

  That was if he wanted to ransom her. Or any of the others he might have. “That, and I came to see an old friend.”

  Oscar rested his hands on the table. “The Pale Bastard isn’t someone to mess with, Finn.”

  “He’s in Declan.”

  “As were you. And Rock, if I remember. There are ways of getting in and out of there, even if you don’t want to see them. The Pale Bastard has already proven to be dangerous. If he’s started in with abductions already, that means he’s got a bigger crew than I thought. You’d better be careful, Finn.”

  “He’s in Declan,” Finn said again. The warden and the iron masters weren’t about to let someone like that out. “And I need to find this girl before whatever he intended for her happens.”

  “She’s already dead,” Oscar said, squeezing his hands around the mug of ale, knuckles going white. “You’d be better off focusing on carrying out his sentence—and preparing for the possibility that his crew is going to try to spring him.”

  “He hasn’t been sentenced yet.”

  “What?”

  Finn shrugged. “We wanted to find this girl. He’s made it clear that he has her and that something awful will happen to her if we don’t find her, so we’ve been focused on that. And learning how many others he’s taken.”

  “When is he getting sentenced?”

  “I don’t know. Meyer probably does.”

  Most of the time, Meyer included Finn in the sentencing. Finn had gone to City Hall often enough that he knew the Archers working by name, along with the names of all of the jurors, though that still didn’t mean it was a place that he enjoyed visiting. He still had his own memories of the place.

  “If you want my help, it’s this. Make sure he gets sentenced quickly. Take care of that man before he does the same to you.”

  Oscar lifted the mug of ale and started to drink.

  Finn sighed. He’d thought there might be some help coming there. “If you hear of anything, let me know.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Can’t make any promises about this one, Finn.” Oscar
flicked his gaze up at him before looking back at his ale.

  Finn nodded. There weren’t too many times where his job and his responsibilities put him at odds with Oscar. Finn had made a point of avoiding hearing anything that might pose difficulty for him with Oscar, not wanting to be placed into a position where he’d be the one to need to do something about Oscar. Not that Meyer would even try to put Finn into that position. He understood the connection Finn had to the man known as the Hand, even if he never questioned Finn.

  Finishing his drink, Finn got to his feet and tapped the table. “Anything you might be able to tell me, Oscar.”

  “I heard you,” Oscar said, this time his voice more strained.

  Finn nodded to Gina before making his way out.

  Once outside, he stood looking over at the tavern. The music sounded muted outside, the jaunty songs now shifted, something less than what they had been before. Finn backed along the street, shaking his head, disappointed in Oscar for the first time that he could remember.

  There wasn’t honor among thieves, but there was respect. Even fear.

  It might be fear that drove Oscar now.

  Finn needed to better understand the reason why.

  Here he had thought that he understood Holden, but apparently, he needed to find out more about him. He had a crew. Getting a handle on Holden would require him to try to do something that he hadn’t in a while. Could he even look the part any longer?

  Finn had only a few items of clothing from that time. Most were buried in his wardrobe, forgotten over the years. There hadn’t been much of a reason for him to hold on to them. Not when most of his days were spent with Meyer, visiting prisons, investigating what they uncovered, and collecting various healing balms from the apothecaries that Meyer liked to frequent.

  He made his way through the streets, his mind racing as he struggled to come up with what he would need to do. Find answers. That was the key.

  Oscar had given him some information about where to start.

  As he headed back to Meyer’s home, he had a vague feeling that someone followed him. Finn paused. He didn’t worry about being out in the streets the way he once would have, even if he was out beyond the curfew, but someone trailing after him left him a little troubled.