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

  Maybe it’s the Hand.

  Oscar might not have wanted to be seen offering him help in the Wenderwolf. That wouldn’t be altogether surprising. Oscar had built up his own crew over the last few years. They didn’t handle any jobs that were particularly dangerous, though Finn had heard some rumors about the kinds of things they did. It would fit that Oscar wouldn’t want to be seen sharing too much with the executioner’s apprentice.

  Finn stood fixed in the middle of the street, staring into the shadows as he tried to make out what had moved, but couldn’t. Finn thought there was something there. Even if he couldn’t see it, whatever was out there was real. There was an absence of sound that left a burst of adrenaline in his belly.

  Which meant that someone was following him.

  He moved along, but now some of the old training that he’d received all those years before from Oscar came back to him. He snuck carefully so that he wouldn’t be seen paying attention to anyone behind him, even though he used every opportunity to look over his shoulder, or to try to catch reflections in glass, or even to turn as if he were looking for someone behind him.

  Finn never caught a glimpse of who was back there.

  He quickened his pace.

  As he neared the end of the street, a demarcation between Olin section and the next, he felt as if there was more movement nearby. The buildings lining the streets there were mostly shops. At this time of night, they were all closed, sealed off until the next morning. None even had any lights in the windows.

  Finn glanced along the intersecting street.

  It had been a while since he’d been uncomfortable navigating the streets. He probably wouldn’t be, if not for what Oscar had said to him about Holden and his crew.

  Could that be one of Holden’s crew? If it was one of his crew, then Finn would have to be prepared for whatever Holden might have his men try.

  The sound of footsteps started to loom louder behind him.

  There weren’t any Archers out.

  That surprised him.

  There were plenty of crews who had ways of influencing the Archers. A few coins flashed in the right way would change a man’s mind. When Finn had been in his crew, the King had used the Archers in that way.

  He turned, ducking into a nearby alley.

  The alleys in Verendal could be twisty and confusing. Most avoided using them unless they’d spent considerable time navigating the alleys, knowing that otherwise they could end up getting lost—or trapped.

  In this case, Finn thought he knew where this one would lead, but there was a possibility it would veer off from where he expected it to go. He jogged through it, trying to step over anything unpleasant that might be there.

  A shadow at the end of the alley cut off the little bit of light that had been here.

  There was someone following him.

  His heart hammered. A cold sweat worked along his back, up his neck.

  Finn sprinted.

  If he remembered it the right way, he would reach the street not far from Meyer’s home. As he ran, he glanced behind him every so often, looking to see who trailed him, but he couldn’t make anything out in the darkness.

  Still, it felt like they were getting closer.

  Finn raced ahead. He scraped along the walls of the alley, bouncing from them, and then noticed light in the end of the alley.

  He was close.

  Darkness filled the alley.

  Someone was there. They would try to trap him.

  He couldn’t turn. There wasn’t any other way out.

  The only choice he had was to keep going.

  Lowering his shoulder, he slammed into the person at the end of the alley and barreled through them.

  Pain bloomed in his stomach, but he ignored it.

  Then he was out. Back on the street.

  He stumbled.

  Something hurt more than it should.

  Finn looked down.

  Blood?

  It poured from a wound on his stomach. He’d been stabbed. He turned but didn’t see the attackers. The alley was a dark smear behind him.

  Finn staggered forward.

  The river running through the city was near him. He could hear it burbling, though now it sounded almost as if it were rushing past him, a loud whooshing in his ears.

  Meyer’s training started to kick in.

  That sound in his ears wasn’t a good thing for him to notice. It meant that he was more injured than he’d realized. That the stab to his belly might be more than he would be able to survive.

  Meyer’s home was near. Help would be there.

  Reach Meyer.

  That was all he had to do.

  Finn staggered.

  When he reached the gate leading to the home, he could feel movement behind him.

  A shadow appeared out of the darkness.

  For a moment, he thought he saw Holden, but that had to be his imagination.

  He shoved on the gate.

  Something struck him from behind. Heat worked up his back.

  Finn grunted, then fell through the gate.

  He sprawled out, lying in place. Not moving.

  He lost track of how long he’d been lying there. Moments or hours. It all felt the same. Another attack didn’t come.

  He crawled toward the home.

  That was the only thing that he could think of doing.

  Move one leg.

  Then another. Force himself to keep moving.

  His back and his belly hurt. The injuries he’d sustained were likely fatal. He’d seen enough in his time with Meyer to know that he wouldn’t be able to survive what he’d gone through. Gods, Finn had questioned enough men to know that what he’d gone through wouldn’t be survivable.

  Reach the door.

  That was the only thought in his head.

  He dragged himself farther.

  Just a little bit more.

  Finn sagged.

  No.

  He forced himself to go on.

  With everything that he’d been through, he wasn’t about to let some street attack be the reason that he died. Meyer would be able to save him. He was as skilled as any physician in the city.

  Finn reached for the door.

  It seemed so impossibly far away from him.

  All he needed was to reach it.

  Stretching his hand out toward the door, Finn struggled. He wanted to get to the door. To pound on it. Get Meyer’s attention.

  He couldn’t even get his arm out that far.

  Finn tried dragging himself farther. Trying to get just a little bit closer to the door, but he couldn’t.

  Everything hurt.

  The whooshing in his ears increased.

  Weakness washed over him. There was a dizziness with it. Colors flashed around the corners of his eyes.

  I’m dying.

  He’d been responsible for death. Ever since Meyer had claimed him, Finn had come to know death in a way that he hadn’t before, but he’d never felt it so acutely as he did now.

  Would the gods welcome me back?

  He strained again but still couldn’t reach for the door.

  When he’d been sentenced to die, the priests had claimed that all he had to do would be to embrace Heleth and he would be claimed by the gods in the afterlife. Finn had never been faithful. Even after coming to work with Meyer, his faith had been one of requirement, not one of true belief. It was better for him to use the gods during his questioning, so he never made it seem to the condemned that he didn’t believe.

  Now… now he wondered if this was retribution. That was the thought that stayed with him as he collapsed, his face sinking to the ground.

  Somewhere behind him he swore he heard laughter.

  Chapter Three

  Finn came awake to pain.

  There was darkness all around him, and at first, he thought this was the afterlife. Most of those stories about it spoke of lights. Colors. Many who nearly died had images that were impossible to believe, as if th
ose people had gone to sit near the gods themselves.

  This was nothing like it. It had darkness and pain.

  Pain didn’t mean the afterlife. Not unless he were punished.

  Which meant he’d lived.

  “Easy,” a distant voice said.

  Finn recognized the voice.

  There was pressure on his face. Cool, almost cold. Then the darkness eased.

  Finn could see.

  Everything was a bit of a blur, though he was able to make out just enough that he could see a pale orange light nearby coming from a lantern. Lena stood off to the side, her mouth pressed in a tight frown.

  Were he not dying, Finn might have laughed at that.

  There was a time when he wouldn’t have expected Lena to worry about him. They had never been close. When their father had been pinched, she had taken the responsibility of caring for their sickly mother. There had never been any concern for him other than disgust at what he’d done to try to provide for their family. That had changed when she’d come to stay with Meyer.

  “Lena?” His voice came out in a whisper.

  Lena stepped forward. “What happened?”

  Finn tried to move but still couldn’t. There was too much pain.

  Even thinking about moving caused pain to shoot through him.

  “I don’t know. Attacked.”

  Speaking was difficult.

  Finn focused on his injuries, thinking about what he could feel. That was the key to knowing just how injured he actually was. He remembered parts of the attack. The heat in his belly when he’d stepped out of the alley. The sharp pain in his back when he’d been stabbed from behind. Then falling.

  In addition to the stab wounds, he would have lost a lot of blood. There were limits to what men could withstand.

  “Should be dead,” he said.

  Lena squeezed his hand. Somehow, even that hurt. Finn didn’t remember getting injured there, but he must have.

  He looked around. Lena was the only one in the room with him.

  “How. Long?”

  “Only a day,” she said.

  A day lost looking for Rachel Herns might mean the difference between life and death. He needed to get Holden to talk, but he wouldn’t be in any shape for questioning for a while.

  “Meyer?”

  She leaned forward. “Henry was summoned away to the palace earlier. He hasn’t returned.”

  “You?”

  He tried to reach for his belly, but his hands didn’t feel like they worked.

  “There wasn’t anything that I could do for you. When you were brought here, you were pretty far gone. You’d lost a lot of blood. You… you weren’t going to make it.”

  Finn struggled to keep up with what she was telling him.

  Brought here?

  He looked around the room, this time really trying to look around it.

  “Where am I?” he asked.

  There wasn’t anything about the room that gave him any clue as to where he was. Just the lantern and Lena.

  He took a deep breath. A faint hint of a strange spice came to him. That was different. Unique. Familiar.

  If Meyer hadn’t helped him, then had Lena brought him to an apothecary? With wounds like he would have sustained, an apothecary wouldn’t have been enough to help heal him. He’d need a surgeon at worst, or a physician at best.

  This didn’t look like a physician’s home. They had seemed better lit. Given what they charged, they could afford to burn oil night and day.

  He took another deep breath.

  There was something recognizable in the spice.

  One truth that he’d learned in his time working with Meyer was that there really wasn’t much difference between what Meyer knew and what most of the physicians in Verendal knew. He had the knowledge of the apothecaries, the skill of the surgeons, and the wisdom of time.

  Finn had trained with Meyer, trying to gain an understanding of the types of medicines he used, studying anatomy and concoctions with as much fervor as he studied the other aspects of his profession. Meyer had demonstrated that most of his considerable income would come from healing, not from serving the city.

  He took another breath and realized why the spice smelled familiar.

  “Hegen,” he whispered.

  Lena squeezed his hand again. “We didn’t have any choice.”

  Finn tried to lick his lips. “What. Price?”

  She leaned close. “I don’t know. Whatever it is, I’ll pay it. If it means that you survive, it will be worth it.”

  Finn rested his head back. “Won’t. Be you.”

  “What? It will. I was the one who brought you here.” She ran the cold cloth across his forehead again.

  That was where the strange scent of spice came from. The odor invigorated Finn. He tried not to think of why or what might be in it.

  Lena might have to pay some price, but he doubted she would be asked much.

  It was me.

  They had already used him before. Finn had been caught up in their strange machinations, not really knowing how, but coming to understand that they planned far more than what he had ever believed when he was younger.

  Lena wasn’t the one of value to the hegen.

  That was Finn.

  He tried thinking about what they would ask of him, but his mind didn’t work the way it should. He was tired. Some distant part of his mind knew that tiredness was dangerous and that he should fight to stay awake, but he couldn’t. His eyes fell shut and he drifted.

  Finn had strange dreams.

  This time, there were colors. Flashes of bright lights. A tingling that seemed as if it were real. Distantly, he felt as if there was some sort of darkness coming for him.

  Could that be one of the gods coming to collect me?

  When he came awake, the lantern light remained the same. Pale light that glowed in the room. Nothing else.

  Finn tried to move and found that he could this time. The pain in his body had eased.

  Hegen magic.

  That had probably been the reason for the dreams. They’d been using their magic on him. If he didn’t hurt, then could he sit? Finn shifted on the bed and lifted his head.

  He was alone. Lena had left him.

  Either that or the hegen had demanded something of her.

  Finn tried to get up and out of the bed, but his legs didn’t work quite the way that he wanted them to. He focused on moving, on trying to get his legs shifted and out of the bed, and found that he could.

  There had been a moment during the attack, nothing more than that, where he’d begun to wonder if he might have been paralyzed in the attack. A knife to the back could do that. Even a sharp blow to the back could do that.

  Finn wiggled his toes. Tested his legs. They worked.

  Then he sat upright.

  He wobbled for a moment. A wave of dizziness washed through him. That would be the blood loss. The hegen might be able to heal with their particular magic, but could they replenish his blood?

  Finn remained seated on the edge of the bed for a long moment.

  He was still dressed in the same pants he’d worn during the attack. His shirt and jacket were missing.

  Looking down, he found the wound on his belly.

  Or what remained of the wound on his belly.

  Little more than a pink line remained. It looked as if it had been stitched by the finest surgeon and completely healed.

  Tracing his finger over the scar, he shook his head. He knew that hegen magic was powerful. He’d never felt it.

  “That was a particularly difficult wound to close.”

  Finn looked over to the door. Esmerelda stood in the other room in a pale yellow gown that accented her figure, dark wavy hair falling to her shoulders. A trace of a smile curved her full lips as she carved through a long length of bone with an enormous knife. It cut through it as well as Justice cut through everything.

  “Did she find you or did you ask her to bring me to you?” Finn asked, shif
ting himself to test his feet. The ground was rough against his bare skin, and he looked for his boots, finding them near the door. He would need a shirt, though Esmerelda would likely have some task he would have to complete in order for him to be clothed properly.

  She turned to him, looking up from her work. “You fault them for bringing you to me?”

  “Them?”

  Esmerelda stepped into the room. “You don’t know.”

  Finn stood. He wobbled for a moment but then managed to stand. There wasn’t any pain in his stomach or his back. The hegen healing had saved him.

  He should be pleased. At least, he should be thankful. Finn couldn’t help but worry about the cost. What would Esmerelda ask of him this time?

  “Such wounds,” she said, sliding over to him and touching his belly.

  Finn tensed. Her touch was cool, reminding him of the way the cloth had felt on his forehead, and his skin tingled where she touched.

  That wasn’t all that tingled.

  Esmerelda was beautiful in a strange and exotic way, but he’d spent time with the hegen before. His relationship with Jasmine had been brief and the differences between them too difficult to overcome, mostly because of his commitment as an executioner, not because she was hegen. Few people wanted to spend time with an executioner, and he’d hoped things would be different with Jasmine, though it had been his duties that had kept him away rather than any feeling of avoiding the executioner like he found with so many he’d pursued. Anything with Esmerelda would have the same difficulties, and that assumed she would even be interested.

  He pushed those thoughts away.

  “I suppose I should thank you.”

  “That is customary when one friend helps another.”

  Finn stepped back. “Is that what we are now?”

  “Are we not?”

  “What’s the price?”

  She frowned at him. “Must you immediately turn to such questions?”

  “There is a price, isn’t there?”

  She smiled, somehow making it look sad. “All magic comes with a price, Finn Jagger.”

  The times that he’d been around the hegen before, there had been no admission of magic. There had been an acknowledgement of what they did, but nothing more than that.

  “What will you ask of me?”