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

  Meyer chuckled. “You can call it whatever you want, but it is vengeance. If you get your vengeance, what comes next? What will you sacrifice on behalf of your search?”

  “I see what you’re trying to tell me.”

  “I hope so. Now, I trust you can make the final preparations for the day?”

  “I can.”

  “Good. I have a few things that I need to do before we meet Ralston at Declan.”

  “Is there anything I can help with?”

  Meyer shook his head. “Not with this. I wanted to take a look at the fire in Jorend.”

  “I was there.” Finn shook his head, coughing again. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it before. Saved a kid. I wasn’t able to save another…” He swallowed, ignoring the way Meyer looked at him. “The fire was so hot, it forced me back. As far as I know, it burned much of that section to the ground. An entire street was devastated. I could help you look into it.” If there was anything for them to investigate, Finn wanted to be a part of it.

  Meyer shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. Besides, your tasks will keep you here. Finish whatever you need to do this morning, make arrangements for the sentencing, and be prepared.”

  Finn just nodded.

  When he finished up in the kitchen, he had still expected his sister to have come down, though Lena did not. He didn’t know why she had still not gotten up for the day. He paused in his small room, glancing to the desk pushed up against one wall and the stack of books. Now wasn’t the time for him to study. Now was the time for him to focus on getting himself ready for the sentencing.

  His gaze lingered on the hegen card he’d left on the desk. Finn picked up the card, flipping it over. The gold ink on it was slightly raised, and he traced his finger along the surface of the card.

  Finn stepped out of his room, closing the door, and reached into the closet outside, pulling out the sword Justice. It was a long blade, standing almost up to his chest if he were to rest the flat point on the ground. It took two hands to wield, and there was a weight behind it, enough that when he was to swing it, it would carry enough energy through.

  He carried the sword out into the front courtyard of Meyer’s home. A small stone wall encircled the home, high enough to prevent anyone from seeing inside, but not so high as to keep Master Meyer from looking beyond it. A tidy garden inside the wall had flowers and vegetables growing throughout. At this time of the year, the tomatoes were ripe and in bloom, but he had seen beds filled with carrots and potatoes and beans off to one side of the house. The flowers in the garden gave off a pleasing fragrance, as if to mask the type of work Meyer did.

  Finn found a stack of pumpkins near one end of the garden, and he carried them to where he worked. He stacked them up and focused, swinging the blade quickly. It sliced directly through the pumpkin.

  Finn worked through them, carving pumpkin after pumpkin, ensuring that his aim was accurate. He struck directly where he intended each time. When he had carved through a dozen pumpkins, Finn finally stopped. He grabbed the rag that he’d brought out and wiped off the blade, cleaning it before sticking it back in the sheath and replacing it in the closet. He looked down the hall but still didn’t see any sign of his sister. He was tempted to go and check on her, but he didn’t think anything had happened to her.

  Instead, he went back into the garden, cleaned pumpkin off the path, and paused when the sound of bells in the distance caught his attention.

  Finn looked down. He was dressed in his typical festival clothing, prepared for the Gallows Festival, wearing the gray leathers Meyer had purchased for him. The pumpkin splatter cleaned up easily off the leathers, and he straightened, gathering the rope he’d brought out, along with a few other supplies they might need, and stuffed them into a pouch before heading along the street toward Declan Prison.

  The crowd had already started to gather.

  There was always an energy in the air when it came to the Gallows Festival, and there was a time when Finn would have been equally as excited. Not quite as excited as during Fallow Fest, a celebration of the harvest, or Ordol’s Order, where the city still celebrated the end of the war with the Alainsith—something few in Verendal even remembered—or any of the other celebrations recognized by the churches, but the Gallows Festivals were more common. When he was working with his crew, the festival gave them a chance to move unencumbered, unmindful of the dangers of the Archers. Most people wanted to see the condemned and an opportunity to watch the sentencing carried out. Having a crowd to hide out in had always helped their jobs.

  Now he had a different feeling about it. Not excitement, but nervousness.

  Anxiety burrowed in his belly, and his stomach roiled a little bit, though he tried to ignore it. Thankfully, he’d eaten enough to settle his belly, but he didn’t want to ignore that feeling altogether. He figured it was normal and natural for someone to feel like that before carrying out the king’s justice.

  As he approached Declan Prison, he slowed. The prison was an enormous building, all of dark stone. It had a forbidding appearance. The entrance door was solid oak with crisscrossing bars of iron. Most people worried about others breaking out of prison, but having been inside of Declan as both a prisoner and as an executioner, Finn knew the issue wasn’t only in breaking out but also breaking in. Either would look poorly upon Master Meyer.

  He found Meyer standing outside of the prison, waiting.

  When he joined him, Meyer nodded. “It won’t be long,” Meyer said.

  He fell silent. The streets grew steadily busier the longer they stood there. Carts were moved into place to line the road, and hawkers prepared to sell food and crafts and other items, turning what was the last day of a man’s life into an opportunity for those who remained. The crowds pushed toward the street, though it wasn’t quite as pronounced near Declan as it was closer to the Teller Gate. Most people wanted to see the actual execution, and few wanted to watch the condemned emerge from the prison, though some did.

  Finn noticed an older man standing off to the side, his eyes drawn and watching the prison door. Finn motioned to Meyer and said, “Who do you think that is?”

  “Perhaps one of the victims’ families,” Master Meyer said.

  “Should we try to move him out of the way?”

  “The Archers will take care of that,” Meyer said.

  “If he’s injured before we have a chance to sentence him…”

  “The Archers will take care of that,” Meyer said again.

  Finn just sighed. There was no point in saying too much. Meyer was right. The Archers would protect against it, and he didn’t need to get involved.

  Finally, the door to Declan came open, and a balding priest of Heleth emerged, dressed in his brown robes of office, and guided Ralston out. The priest had the book of Heleth propped open his arms and was speaking softly. Finn had been through this procession enough times he recognized the words the priest might say, the passage that he might read from the Book, and wondered how Ralston reacted. Many of the condemned found religion, even if they hadn’t done so before.

  “Did you visit with him earlier today?” Finn asked.

  “Briefly,” Meyer said.

  “What did he say?”

  “He remained unrepentant,” Meyer said.

  Committing a crime was bad enough, but not feeling remorse for the crime, or making amends for what was done, was a greater crime according to Master Meyer.

  The priest guided Ralston forward, and there were a pair of Archers on either side of him to ensure that he marched along with them. Ralston had been dressed in the grays of the condemned; the Sinner’s Cloth. Finn still had his own Sinner’s Cloth. He never took it out of the closet, though he hadn’t gotten rid of it. He used it as a reminder for where he’d been and what he still might face.

  When the priest neared Meyer, he nodded to him. Though already balding, he was a younger man, one whom Finn had met a few times. Dedicated to Heleth, Garrett was devoted, but also had
a way with the condemned. He always managed to sound as if he were truly sympathetic to their plight; as if he wanted nothing more than to help them find salvation.

  They started forward, moving through the street. The crowd lining the street watched, and occasionally food would get thrown at Ralston. It was more frequent with a rapist than it was with murderers or thieves, and Finn had learned which of the vegetables hurt the most. By the time they reached Teller Gate, Finn was murmuring the words of Heleth along with Garrett and keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.

  The Raven Stone rose up in front of them, and like most prisoners, as soon as Ralston saw it, his demeanor shifted. His shoulders slumped, and his steps faltered. He began speaking the words of Heleth along with Garrett, joining in with Finn.

  Meyer glanced over to Finn, nodding, and they took up a position on either side of Ralston, moving the Archers out of the way. They guided him forward, reaching the Raven Stone and the gathered jurors along with the magister. Even the viscount had come out, which wasn’t always the case with these criminals. The priest guided Ralston up the steps of the Raven Stone before standing and praying with him.

  Meyer stepped forward, speaking quietly to the magister before turning and nodding to Finn. “Are you ready?” Meyer asked softly.

  “I’ve done this before.”

  “You have, but that doesn’t change the question. Are you ready?”

  Finn took a deep breath, pushing down the nerves that threatened to unseat him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do this, even. Finn knew what was expected of him, and he was ready to do anything to complete this sentencing. Besides, Ralston deserved it.

  It was just the conversation he’d had with Meyer kept going through his head. He had to move past the idea that somebody deserved anything, and simply carry out the king’s justice.

  At the top of the stairs, Meyer standing alongside him, Finn approached Ralston.

  “Ralston Jol, I, Finn Jagger, executioner for the king, will carry out your sentencing. Do you have any final words?”

  Ralston looked up at him, his eyes wide, and then he swept his gaze out over the crowd before turning back to Finn. “It was worth it.”

  Finn took a deep breath. That made it easier for him.

  He pulled the rope out of his pouch, tested the knot, and climbed over to the gallows, situating the rope. Once it was secured, he took Ralston by the arm. He tried to fight, but Finn held firmly, forcing him up the small ladder leading to the gallows. Once he had climbed up, Finn placed the noose around the condemned man’s neck, securing it tightly.

  “Do you enjoy this?” Ralston hissed at him.

  “You’re getting what you deserve.”

  Ralston grunted. “I deserved more women.”

  Finn took a deep breath, climbed down the platform, and then looked out over the gathered jurors and magister. His gaze lingered the longest on Bellut, and then Finn kicked, sending the platform out and Ralston dropping. His neck snapped, and he stopped breathing immediately.

  Finn never took his gaze off of Bellut.

  In the distance, he could see the hegen standing at the edge of their section, and one among them stood more prominently, as if watching, waiting for their prize.

  Chapter Three

  The narrow streets of this section were unfamiliar to Finn. He knew most of the streets in Verendal but none in the hegen section, where the paths often twisted suddenly, or the buildings looked as if they would topple onto his head. The people there often cast him a side-eyed stare, but he had learned long since to ignore such looks when sneaking through the city, so he wasn’t about to pay any attention to them now that he had no reason to hide his presence.

  A younger man wearing the vibrant colors of the hegen jostled past Finn. Dark hair hung loose around his shoulders, and nothing more than a sliver of his black eyes was visible beneath the hair hanging down. Finn still felt a strange stirring, as if he had somehow irritated the man.

  He paused at a street corner. Most of the streets in the hegen section were difficult to navigate, and when one ended, it flowed into the next. It was easy to see why the others passing him would be irritated by his presence. He was the only non-hegen there. Few from within the city ever traveled to the hegen section, and then only when they had reason to do so. They often found that the cost was more than they were willing to bear.

  Finn flipped the card he carried in hand.

  The card was his marker that something would be asked, but he still didn’t know what that might be. The only thing he had was the card, the symbol of the crown, and a small trail of painted blood along the card that left Finn wondering what else the hegen might know.

  The fading sunlight caught the card, making the ink appear alive.

  The crown had changed in the time that he’d had the card. Most of the time, it looked only a little different from when he’d first been given it. Other times, though, it looked almost as if the ink had smeared along the edges of the card, leaving it trailing down the face.

  He started forward again. Finn had a better idea of where he needed to travel in the section, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get a little disoriented coming into it. The streets looked as if they were designed to confuse and make it difficult to pass through, probably so that he’d be forced to ask someone for directions and incur additional cost with the hegen. Finn refused. He already felt as if he were in deep enough with them.

  The red door of Esmerelda’s house appeared in the distance. In the fading daylight, it looked painted in blood. Considering the kind of magic they used, that wouldn’t be altogether surprising. When he’d passed the Raven Stone on his way to this section, he’d seen the shadowy movement of figures behind the rock, though hadn’t seen any of the hegen. The last execution had been yesterday, which meant the hegen would have had plenty of time to have picked over the body for whatever prizes they wanted from it.

  Finn looked at the card again before stuffing it into his pocket.

  As he approached the door, three hegen started down the street toward him. They were younger, though with the hegen, Finn had learned it was difficult to know for sure. Some of the hegen like Esmerelda looked older at first, but he had come to think she wasn’t quite as mature as he had first believed.

  “What are you doing here?” a blond boy said as he started toward Finn. “You don’t belong in this section. This is for our—”

  The girl walking next to him elbowed him in the side, turning to smile at Finn. “Don’t mind Danior. He’s just jealous.”

  Finn looked around him. He hadn’t expected any trouble by coming to the hegen section, and certainly had never had any trouble when he’d come before, but he hadn’t been as fully established as Meyer’s apprentice then. He’d still been trying to build his place. Now there was no doubt about how he served Meyer, which might mean that the hegen were less interested in having him around. There certainly were others in the city who felt that way.

  “I came to visit Esmerelda,” Finn said, nodding to her door.

  “She’s not here,” Danior said quickly. “So, you might as well leave.”

  “Would you stop?” The girl turned to Finn, flipping her pale hair over one shoulder and flashing a quick smile. “She can be tricky. Just be careful.”

  “I know,” Finn said.

  “Don’t you know who that is?” the third person asked, leaning closer to the girl.

  “He looks to be a young man who’s come to find a love potion, Elian.”

  Elian held his gaze on Finn, something in his expression darkening. Finn had thought that Danior might be the one to be concerned about, but Elian reminded him of some of the bruisers who worked the crews in the rest of the city.

  “Not a love potion,” Finn said. “I just have a few questions for her.”

  “She’s not the kind to answer too many questions,” the girl said.

  “He said he knows,” Danior said.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  Danior tippe
d his head toward Finn. “He said he knows, Kezia.”

  Kezia grinned at him. “That means you’ve been here before. Why haven’t I seen you?”

  “Because of her,” Danior said, looking back toward Esmerelda’s home. “That’s why he’s here.”

  “What’s the executioner doing here meeting with her?” Elian asked.

  “Executioner?” Kezia turned toward Finn, and some of the happiness in her face slipped. Only a little, then she forced a renewed smile. “Is that what you are?”

  “I’m an apprentice,” Finn said. Standing there and talking to the hegen felt strange. He was constantly aware of the possibility of hegen magic.

  “How long have you been an apprentice?” Kezia asked.

  “Kezia!” Danior snapped. “Don’t you know that we’re supposed to leave him alone?”

  “Why can’t I ask questions?”

  “You know the reason.”

  Finn frowned. Why were they supposed to leave him alone?

  “Come along,” Danior said. “Just leave him be.”

  He took her arm, dragging Kezia with him. Elian followed more slowly, casting a long look over his shoulder every so often until they disappeared around the corner, leaving Finn once more alone in the hegen streets. Somewhere distant, music drifted toward him, a different rhythm from what was found in the rest of Verendal. It was almost boisterous, though a steady drumbeat felt as if it were meant to carry him forward, guiding him along with the rhythm.

  Finn pulled the card back out of his pocket, eyeing it again. The golden crown hadn’t changed, though he wasn’t sure why he expected it would.

  Sunlight had faded even more, and he hurried forward to Esmerelda’s door before it got any later. He wasn’t necessarily the superstitious type, but he didn’t want to be in the hegen section much after dark if he could help it. He may have learned the hegen weren’t what he’d feared for so long, but that didn’t mean they were harmless. If anything, he knew the opposite. He’d seen confirmation of their magic.

  After knocking, he took a step back and waited.