The Executioner's Rebellion (The Executioner's Song Book 4) Read online

  Finn smiled at Wella. He had never known her to be particularly faithful, though he had never really spoken to her about her faith. “What if Heleth wanted to challenge you?”

  “My days have been nothing but challenging.”

  Finn cocked his head to the side, watching her. “Why do you say that?”

  Wella waved her hand. “It’s of no matter, Finn Jagger. And it’s not the reason you came here. I suspect you came to learn if there is any way to counter this sedative. Ostia and melander are typically rarer than orphum, but for whatever reason, your sister has come into a significant supply of them.”

  “She didn’t tell me that,” Finn said.

  “Oh, don’t be upset by Lena. I don’t think she wanted to admit that she’s been shopping at other apothecaries.” Wella tapped the counter, and a bit of dust swirled. “Not that I could blame her. My suppliers have been a little less than satisfactory recently.” Wella looked up. “Someone with her knowledge needs to make sure she has the right kind of supplies for all that she does.”

  “Is there anything I can help with?”

  “Do you intend to go out into the forest and harvest for me, Finn Jagger?” When he shook his head, Wella cackled. “Then don’t you worry your pretty little head. Supply constraints are something I deal with from time to time. I just need to shift my suppliers. Or perhaps I need to venture out beyond the walls myself.” She frowned, her gaze drifting toward the door. “Given the current political climate in the city, that might not be all bad. I could go and gather my own supplies, and when I return, I wouldn’t have to worry quite so much about these so-called protests.”

  “Why do you call them ‘so-called protests’?” Finn asked.

  “Because they are protesting out of spite, not out of any desire to garner favor or promote change. If that were the case, I might even get behind them.”

  “You would?”

  Wella shrugged. “Should I not? I’ve lived in the city long enough to know that there are some who are treated well and others who are not. Even those who should be treated well are not.” She offered Finn a pointed look. “And those who act in a vile manner often get away with their behavior.” She drummed her fingers on the counter. “There was a time when I believed the gods would ensure only the faithful were given the upper hand, but over time, I’ve begun to realize that the gods don’t care who is faithful and who is not. All the gods care about is men and women celebrating them.”

  “You just said that Heleth would—”

  “I know what I just said,” Wella said. “And I’m not foolish enough to risk angering the gods, but that’s not to say that I think the gods are right in all things.”

  A shout drifted into the shop, and Finn shared a look with Wella before heading over to the door and pulling it open just a crack.

  The crowd had moved along the street and one of the men carried a staff, tapping it on the ground from time to time, the sound of it ringing out loudly. He prodded everyone forward, and Finn pulled the door closed before anyone saw him looking.

  Wella pushed up close to him.

  Finn shook his head. “We should stay inside,” he whispered.

  “They wouldn’t dare attack an old woman in this part of the city,” she said.

  “I don’t have the sense that they care so much where they attack.”

  “The damn fools don’t know that the Archers are going to sweep through here,” Wella said, shaking her head. “So many people are going to be caught up in this.”

  “So many people have already been caught up in this,” Finn said. “The last protest saw nearly one hundred people die.”

  “So many,” Wella said. “Something like that requires organization.”

  “I’m looking into that.”

  “And it requires funding.”

  Finn frowned.

  He should’ve thought about that. Men could organize freely, but to coordinate in such a way, and for people to be driven like that, it would take more.

  “Finn?” Wella asked.

  “I hadn’t considered that before,” he said.

  “You hadn’t considered what?”

  “Where they were getting their funds.”

  “I don’t know that you would be able to find anything. I was just saying…”

  “I know what you were just saying,” Finn said and smiled at Wella. “And I think you were right. They wouldn’t be able to do this without funding. I think what I need to do is chase down the source of it. If I can uncover that, then I can get to who might be responsible.”

  “And if no one is responsible?” Wella asked.

  “Why would you say that? You just said that this had to be funded. And we know there’s the Black Rose movement.”

  “Or perhaps there’s another possibility. Perhaps the protests have happened naturally.” She glanced to the door. “It didn’t take long for word to get out about the iron masters, the wardens, and the prisons, and people have started to hear about graft within the Archers. Rumors have been spreading. As they spread, it doesn’t take long for things to shift. The wind can change, and those who were content can find themselves unsettled and angry, and you know what happens when men become angry.”

  That may be all it was. If so, it was almost understandable, especially given what people had gone through lately, but he had a feeling it was something else. He had a feeling it was more than just that.

  Finn pulled the door open again, glancing outside for a brief moment, and noticed that the crowd had moved past. “You never said if there was an antidote, or some way to avoid the effect of the sedative,” Finn said.

  “None that I know of,” she said. “Like all things, a tolerance can be built, but it would be unusual unless you had plenty of access to it. There’s only one place in the kingdom with that.”

  “Where?”

  “The valley around Evertin in the north. That’s why it’s difficult to acquire in the first place.”

  Finn nodded. “Stay inside. Stay safe.”

  “I won’t be able to do that, Finn.” When he looked back at her, she cackled softly. “Much like you, I need to help those men.”

  Finn nodded. “Just be safe.”

  He stepped out into the street, pulling the door closed behind him, and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders as he hurried along.

  He wanted to avoid the protests, but more than anything, he wanted answers. If this was somehow instigated by people within the city, he needed to know. If it wasn’t…

  If it wasn’t, then it was even harder for him. If this was just angry people, there might not be anything Finn could do about it. And that was the most difficult thing to comprehend.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Meyer approached Finn as he headed toward the old prison. Meyer’s brow was furrowed, and he wiped his hands on a towel, leaving Finn to question what he’d been doing. Lena was there, as was Wella, so Finn didn’t think Meyer would have been questioning the prisoners, but it was possible that he had dragged some of them away to ask them more about the Black Rose.

  “Anything?” Finn asked.

  He didn’t need much of a preamble at this point. Not now. Not with what they were dealing with.

  Meyer shook his head. “They don’t want to speak. And I’m starting to question whether they know anything.” He shook his head again. “None of them seem to believe there was anyone coordinating anything.”

  “Jonrath—”

  “I’m well aware that his presence complicates things,” Meyer said. He glanced along the street. Finn knew he was looking toward Declan.

  “I’ll get through to them,” Finn said.

  “I don’t like this,” Meyer said. “Citizens were killed during protests, protesters have attacked the Archers’ barracks, and then there were Archers murdered in response. None of this is going well.”

  It was more than just that. Even walking through the city, Finn felt the undercurrent of anger that simmered everywhere. People, especially in the o
uter sections, had an energy to them that he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the anger that he detected, but it might be something else—the rage that bubbled up, the fact that the protesters who killed the Archers would face one fate, while the Archers managed to escape any real consequences.

  “I wish the movement wouldn’t have killed those three Archers,” Finn said.

  Meyer held his gaze before turning his attention back to the prison. “Sentencing the Archers for killing the men might’ve gone a ways toward appeasing this,” Meyer said.

  “You would’ve agreed with that?” Finn wasn’t sure. He had a hard time reading Meyer these days. Since the protests had begun, he had been reserved.

  “All men need to face justice,” Meyer said. “And they had taken justice into their own hands. Just because they were Archers didn’t mean they had the right to do that. Even the king would see that.”

  Finn hoped that were true, but until they had a chance to prove it, he had no idea if there was going to be any way to convince the citizens of the city that even the Archers were not above reproach.

  “I haven’t found anything about the Black Rose,” Finn said.

  Meyer breathed out slowly. “I’m not sure we will find a singular person. There might be many people involved in this.”

  Finn had come to feel much the same way, but if there was more than one person involved, then they would have to bring down the entire movement.

  But there was something that made him question whether more than one person was involved. A hunch suggested this more than just a faceless movement. Somebody guided it. One person had to be responsible.

  “I’ve been looking through Reginald’s books, as well. If I chase the money, I think the answer is there, but that hasn’t been useful. Something Wella said to me suggested I needed to be more strategic, but with the protests and everything else, I guess I’ve been distracted.”

  Meyer chuckled. “It’s more than just the protests distracting you, isn’t it?”

  “Why is that?”

  “I saw you shining your shoes this morning.”

  Finn frowned. “I was going to meet with someone later.”

  “You don’t have to conceal your romantic interests from me, Finn. If you want to go visit with the hegen woman—”

  “It’s not Esmerelda.” Finn couldn’t even imagine pursuing her. “It’s a woman I met while investigating Reginald.”

  “You should be careful,” Meyer said.

  “She’s not guilty,” Finn said.

  “You want to make sure there are no perceptions of impropriety. That is always a challenge for us.”

  Meyer had cautioned him on that before. Usually it was about his connection to Oscar. It had never been about a woman.

  “In this case, Reginald owed her father some money, but I doubt she’s going to get it back from the crown.”

  “Can I offer a piece of advice?”

  Finn cocked his head to the side.

  “Don’t talk about your day with her.”

  “What?” Finn was surprised that Meyer would offer any sort of romantic advice.

  “Well, she will obviously know what you do, but she won’t want to know anything about what you do. You will find that it will be easier to avoid talking about it altogether.”

  “Was that what it was like for you?”

  “It was different then,” he said, his voice going soft. “But I didn’t tell her at first. I think I spoke of this with you once before, and how she was disappointed that I had hidden what I did from her.”

  “I won’t be hiding anything from Jamie.”

  “And you should not,” he said. “But steer the conversation toward something more pleasing. You are not merely an executioner.”

  “I know,” Finn said.

  Meyer clasped his hand on Finn’s shoulder. “You are not merely an executioner.” When he said it again, he looked into Finn’s eyes. “It is one aspect of what you are, one aspect of what you do, but even in that, you serve in a greater way.”

  Finn could only nod. He had never had a conversation like this with his own father, and having Meyer now speak to him like this felt strange, but also strangely comforting.

  “I just want to do what is asked of me,” Finn said.

  “Maybe it’s time you stop worrying about what the king wants out of you, or what I want out of you.”

  “I’m your apprentice,” Finn said to him.

  Meyer chuckled. “You are a journeyman now, so you have a measure of independence. But you still serve. I’m not saying that you won’t,” Meyer added, smiling slightly. “What I’m suggesting is that perhaps it’s time you do what you do best. Trust yourself. Trust your own instincts.”

  Finn had been trying to find answers the way he thought Meyer wanted him to. The way he thought the king wanted him to.

  But that had never been how he had found answers, had it?

  He had always relied upon a certain part of himself to find answers that others wanted to keep hidden. It was how he had thwarted multiple attacks on the city already.

  Could he do so again?

  “There’s still quite a bit of the day left,” Meyer said, releasing his shoulder. “And you aren’t needed here. Your sister and Wella have things well in hand, and I can manage with questioning. If I uncover anything, I will let you know.”

  There was something in the way he said it that suggested Meyer didn’t expect to uncover anything.

  “I think I’m going to visit Oscar again,” Finn stated.

  “Will he know anything?”

  Finn shrugged. “He doesn’t want to get in the middle of everything, but I think he still wants to help. And with what we’ve been going through, I think we need as much help as we can get.”

  Meyer nodded and turned away.

  Finn made his way through the streets. He passed patrolling Archers, many of them glancing in his direction, looking at him with suspicion until they either recognized him or questioned him, taking his word for his position. There were very few people out shopping. The protests had forced so many people inside.

  The city felt wrong.

  That was the only way Finn could describe it. Throughout his years in Verendal, he had never seen anything like this. Even when there had been a magical threat within the city, it hadn’t felt quite so extreme.

  Worse, it made it seem as if the king was crushing the people.

  Which was the very thing the protesters were angry about.

  He reached the Olin section and the Wenderwolf. There were no Archers here, thankfully. Finn was acutely aware of how he might bring attention to the Wenderwolf, especially considering how he had already brought it more than enough attention. He stepped inside and frowned.

  Everything was quiet.

  There was no music. No activity. No patrons, really.

  The door to the kitchen opened, and Annie poked her head out.

  As soon as she saw him, she frowned.

  “I just have a question for him,” he said.

  “Like the last time?”

  “Nothing like the last time,” Finn said.

  The door closed as she disappeared into the kitchen. Finn stood, not wanting to take a seat. It felt strange being in the Wenderwolf when it was empty—at least in the daytime. Finn had been here late at night when it had been empty, and there had been plenty of times when he had come in during the day when it had been quiet, but this was something else.

  When Oscar appeared, he had one hand near his waist. A knife.

  When he saw Finn, he relaxed, though not entirely.

  “Damn, Finn. I didn’t know it was you.”

  “I thought Annie would’ve told you.”

  “She only told me that we had a visitor.”

  Finn frowned. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.” He motioned to one of the tables. “Can we sit?”

  Oscar nodded. They took a seat at the table, across from each other. It was a far cry from when Finn used to sit in the booth wit
h him. Now it felt so much more formal. There was nothing relaxed about sitting with Oscar. And this was supposed to be his oldest friend.

  “We’re still looking into the Black Rose,” Finn said.

  “That’s why you came here?”

  “I just wanted to know if you had come across anything.” He glanced behind him. “I don’t know how much time you’ve spent out in the streets, but things are unsettled.”

  Oscar grunted. “I’ve spent enough time to know that much. Men can’t move anywhere without having a pair of Archers trailing after them. I didn’t know we had so many damn Mark Archers in the city in the first place.”

  “The king has brought palace Archers out to patrol.” That wasn’t all, though. There were the Realmsguard, though Finn hadn’t seen many of them. “He wants to keep everything calm.”

  Oscar grunted again. “He’s not going to calm things down that way. People are upset, Finn. You don’t just wipe that away. It takes time. It takes change.”

  Finn nodded. “I know. And with the Archers dying, there won’t be the justice there should have been.”

  Oscar leaned forward, resting his hand on the table. “You should know that quite a few men are claiming responsibility for that.”

  Finn shook his head. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Have you been chasing down leads?”

  “I doubt there are going to be many useful leads with a crime like that.”

  “Maybe,” Oscar said. He watched Finn, and there was a question glittering in his eyes, one that Finn wasn’t quite sure how to read. “Would you—”

  “They would need to face justice,” Finn said.

  Oscar nodded slowly. “Not that I know anything,” he went on, leaning back. “Just rumors. You know how those can be. Especially in the outer sections of the city.”

  Finn regarded him, waiting for Oscar to say something more, but he didn’t. “Have you found anything?”

  “I thought you didn’t want me to look.”

  Finn had told him that, but he had known Oscar would look. Even though Finn wanted his friend to find his way out of Olin, and for him to have the opportunity for respectability that he wanted, Finn also wanted answers.