“When?” Charon asked.
“Three days.”
Hector cackled again. “Three days to find the gods. Three days to find your faith. Three days—”
“Shut it!” Charon shouted.
Finn tried to rest but couldn’t.
They came for him sooner than he expected. Finn drifted. Dreams of his father had come to him. Even with everything he knew his father had done, he hadn’t been sentenced as Finn had, though his father had never broken into royal land.
The pair of iron masters who came for him were different from the ones he’d run from. If Finn thought that might make them more sympathetic, he was wrong. They grabbed him with a firm grip and dragged him to his feet, not even giving him much of a chance to wake up.
“Get moving,” they said.
“The Bastard begins his march to the grave! Time to beg and not be brave!” Hector cackled and banged on the bars of his cell.
The iron master on Finn’s left only shook his head. “You really are a crazy fuck,” he muttered.
They pulled Finn out of the hall, with Hector still cackling. When Finn reached the end of the hall, Charon shouted again. “Shut up!”
It only made Hector laugh even more.
Up the stairs.
They stopped at the next level.
The chapel.
They were going to torment me again? I couldn’t have that much time remaining, and this would be how I’d spend it?
They brought him past the room with the chapel.
Finn sighed as they passed and one of the iron masters chuckled. “No more of that,” he said. “The gods know you’ve got to be intact for the procession. Can’t have the people think we mistreat our Poor Bastards.”
The other guards laughed with him.
They stopped at another stair before guiding Finn up and to another hall. This one was shorter than the last. Four wooden doors with an iron frame around them lined the hall. They brought him to the first and opened it.
“Here’s your last room,” the first one said.
Finn headed into the cell.
It was larger than the other. The floor looked almost… clean. A narrow cot on one wall had a thin mattress. A basin with a pitcher of water rested on the ground near it.
“Think about what you want for your last meal. Make it worthwhile.”
They stepped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind them. Finn stood in the center of the room, looking around. It was probably ten paces in either direction. A narrow window along the top of one wall let in sunlight—actual sunlight.
This was the kind of place the crew could rescue him from.
They would come for him. They had to.
The sound of the iron masters’ voices drifted out from the small opening in the door. “Got another thief to hang. Wonder if he’ll cry all the way to the Stone like ol’ Lether did.”
“That Poor Bastard just shaking the whole time. Talking about his little daughter. Like that would change his fate.”
Finn had heard the name Lether before. A thief who’d hung a few years back. Other crews used his name as a warning for making a mistake. Not the King, though.
“Think this one will cry?”
“Never know. The way he ran…”
Finn couldn’t hear much else and didn’t care to listen.
“Wonder who they’ll get to replace the Lion,” the iron master said.
Finn perked up and headed to the door, stepping up on his toes to listen. The Lion would be replaced? The idea that the Lion would be the one to hang him didn’t sit well with him, but what did it really matter who did the deed? Finn could spit in his face, at least. Get one last kick at him for all that he’d done to him.
“Probably someone appointed by the crown again. The headsman didn’t care for the last one.”
“Got to find his own, then.”
“No one wants that job. Gods. You think we get pissed on.”
The other man grunted. “He was really a poor shit. Gutted and dropped into the river like that?”
“Not so much lion as a cub, was he?”
They both laughed, their voices growing more distant.
The Lion was gone?
It was hard to know how to feel. The Lion had tormented him, hurting him to the point where Finn could scarcely tolerate it any longer, driving him into helplessness and despair. Now he was gone. Maybe that meant no more torture.
Finn looked at the window before climbing onto the cot and trying to peer out of it. He could just get the top of his head up to the window, but not much beyond that. From the cot, he could see a little out of the window—a tower. Which church tower was that? In this section, it would be the Giver’s Tower. Bells at two and eight, a reminder to give freely to the church. It was meant for the gods, but they didn’t need the coin the way the church claimed they did. They had to build their towers somehow.
Getting back down, he sat on the edge of the cot.
There wouldn’t be much time remaining for him. A day or two.
This wasn’t how he imagined his last days, though he hadn’t given any thought to his last days. It was easier not to think like that.
A soft knock came at the door, and Finn looked up. When the door opened, a brown-cloaked priest stood across from him, the Book of Heleth clutched in hand.
Iron masters stood outside the door, watching Finn.
What did they think I’d do there? There wasn’t anything he could do. They’d proven he couldn’t run.
“I’m here to ask if you have anything to confess.” The priest had a soft voice that went with his delicate features. He looked young, at least younger than Finn. Though he stood stiffly in the doorway, it seemed he shifted from foot to foot nervously.
They sent a new priest to me, not even someone with experience?
Not that it mattered.
“What’s there to confess?” he asked.
“You would want to go to meet the gods with a joyous heart. The way to joy is acknowledging your sins and repenting. Heleth the Mother will welcome you back and guide you as you learn to walk with the other gods.”
Finn resisted the urge to smile. It wouldn’t do for him to argue with a priest in the little time he had left, though the idea that he would care whether he had the opportunity to walk with the gods left something to be desired.
“I don’t have anything I can confess,” he said.
“Then you’ve found the gods?”
Finn turned away, looking up at the window. “The gods don’t care if I find them. The only thing they care about is punishing me.”
“I serve the gods. As should you. I can help you find your first step with Heleth the Mother. From there, I am certain you would be able to find the next steps on your own. By the time you reach that fateful day, you would be well along the path to returning to the gods’ embrace.”
“Don’t bother,” he said.
Behind him, the iron masters glared at him.
What did it matter, anyway? He was going to die. Executed for the crime of breaking into the viscount’s home. Finn didn’t deny that he had done the crime, but could it really be so terrible as to warrant execution?
“I will visit with you again. Perhaps in the morning you will find repentance.”
“I doubt it,” Finn said.
The priest turned, nodding to the iron masters, and stepped out of the room.
They closed the door behind him and sealed it shut.
If there was a chance he’d find the embrace of the Mother, maybe he should take it. He shouldn’t risk the possibility he would die missing the opportunity to accept the gods. Finn stepped up on his toes, looking out the small window of the door, but the priest had already disappeared.
The hall was empty.
Finn took a seat on the cot, looking up at the window. He stared, watching the sky, thinking about when he used to look up at the sun as a younger boy, watching it with his father and sister, happier times.
The day passed slowly, bu
t it passed.
The crew didn’t come for him.
It was too much to expect.
At one point, he heard a scurrying sound and looked to see if Pinch might have come back, but there was no sign of him.
He would never have a chance to say goodbye to his mother and sister.
He would never have a chance to say goodbye to Oscar and Rock.
He would die alone.
Maybe he had always been alone, anyway.
Finn had felt separated since losing his father, and only when Oscar had brought him into the crew had Finn begun to feel as if he had a purpose. He had begun to belong.
By the time moonlight began to stream into the room, Finn still sat unmoving. At one point, the iron masters had returned, asking what he might want for a last meal. Finn had tried to think about what he might want, thinking he should come up with something exotic, but the only thing he really wanted was the stew his mother had once made. It had been years since she’d made it, a long time since she had been well enough to do so.
When a soft stirring came at the door, Finn barely registered it. He looked over.
“Finn,” a hushed voice whispered. “It’s Oscar.”
Finn stood on his toes, looking out of the door.
Oscar stood on the other side, wearing priest’s robes. His eyes were drawn, shadows formed within them. There was something haunted about the expression that he looked out at Finn with. Hope surged in Finn, for only a moment.
“How did you know?”
“I’ve been watching,” Oscar whispered. “Waiting for the right time.”
“Are you here to break me out? What about Rock?”
Oscar shook his head. “Rock is fine. I can’t get you out. I tried, but I can’t.” He was quiet a moment. “I needed to see you. When they announced the festival for the following day, I questioned the King. He didn’t think it was going to be you, but…”
Finn turned away. “You should get out of here before you’re caught. You’re a known associate of mine. They made a point of saying that at my sentencing.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“You should be. You’re the reason… It doesn’t matter.” He wasn’t about to make Oscar feel bad for what happened to him.
“I haven’t had the chance to thank you for what you did. You shouldn’t have come after me. All this for a damn ceramic bowl. Too many of our jobs have been stupid like that these days.”
Another bowl?
That’s what we’d gone into the viscount’s home for?
“Someone had to,” Finn said. He leaned on the door, resting his head. “Drink with Rock when it’s over. He’s going to be…” Finn realized he didn’t know how Rock would be. Angry, probably. “Just do that.”
“I will,” Oscar whispered.
Finn swallowed. “Does… Does my sister know?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Tell her that…” Finn didn’t know what to have Oscar tell his sister. Lena rarely went to the Gallows Festival. “Tell her I was banished from the city. It will be easier for her. And for my mother. Can you do that for me, Oscar? Let her believe that as long as possible.”
It probably wouldn’t work forever. Lena would eventually hear rumors.
There was a moment of silence. “I can do that.”
“Thank you for taking me in after what happened to my father.”
There was another moment of silence. “I’m sorry,” Oscar said. Somewhere along the hall, the thudding sound of boots along the stone rang out. “I can’t stay here. I’ll be there with you when they take you along the Blood Court.”
“Don’t,” Finn said. “None of you should come. You can’t get caught.”
“You need to see someone who cares.”
The sound of boots continued toward him. Oscar went silent, and Finn stood up on his toes, looking out through the small window, but the Hand was gone.
When the iron master reached him, the door opened, and he brought in a tray of food. His last meal. He set it on the ground. The iron master looked at him, an amused expression on his face. “You could have asked for anything, and this is what you request?”
“It’s comfortable,” Finn said.
The iron master met his eyes, then nodded. “Enjoy.” He turned away, stepping out of the door. “Poor Bastard,” he muttered.
The door closed behind him, the sound of the key in the lock sealing him inside.
Finn looked down at the tray. The stew looked nothing like what his mother had made, but it smelled better than what he’d eaten in the last few days.
He lifted it, carrying it over to the cot, and took a seat. As he started eating, he closed his eyes, trying to think back to happier times, trying to think back to when he had been younger, before he had lost his way, dragged into a life that his mother never wanted for him. Even his father hadn’t really wanted this life for him. It was the reason Oscar had resisted bringing him along, but Finn had been persistent.
Oscar might blame himself, but really it was Finn’s fault.
How could it be anything else?
At one point, he thought he saw a pair of eyes and thought of Pinch.
Finn looked away. He had already betrayed Finn. Finn wasn’t about to offer him any of his food in the time he had remaining.
The crew wasn’t coming for him. No one was.
He was alone.
And he would die.
When he finished the stew, he leaned back against the cell wall and looked up at the window, staring at the night sky, the faint moonlight streaming in, and he wept.
Chapter Nine
The jingle of keys at the door jostled Finn awake. He stirred from where he sat upright on the cot, glancing up at the window, realizing that sunlight now drifted in, shining a shaft of light on the opposite wall.
It was morning.
Morning meant his execution.
Finn looked over. He didn’t have the energy to even look up. Not that it would matter. When they came for him, they would take him away, and he would have no choice but to go with them.
The door came open, and a person he hadn’t expected to see entered. Finn recognized the executioner from his sentencing. He had a wrinkled face, broad shoulders, and strong hands, and he was dressed in gray leathers.
“This is how it starts?”
“I am here to prepare for your sentencing,” the executioner said. He had a deep, almost gravelly voice. He entered the room, closing the door, but didn’t bother to lock it again.
Not that it mattered much when it came to the executioner. Finn doubted he would be able to escape. Though he hadn’t seen any iron masters, doubtlessly they were out there.
The executioner strode across the room, and he motioned for Finn to sit up.
Begrudgingly, he agreed, sliding to the edge of the cot. If the executioner wanted him to stand, he would have to force him up. Finn wasn’t going to do all of it for him.
The executioner traced a finger around his shoulders, working up to his neck and then around. Finn shuddered at the touch; understanding filled him. The executioner wanted to know what length of rope he needed.
The reality of what he faced sank in even more than it had before. His heart started to hammer, and sweat beaded on his brow.
The executioner stepped back from him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why did you do it?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters.”
Finn sighed. He looked down, staring at his hands. They trembled slightly, and he forced them against his thighs to keep them from shaking. He might die today—well, he would die today; there was no might about it—but that didn’t mean he had to go out shaking and scared. He would have to find strength within him.
“It doesn’t matter to you or the others.”
“Did Gerdan ask why you did it?”
“He didn’t care about why. He wanted to know who else was involved.”
“That is our responsibility.�
�
“He didn’t care why.”
The executioner grunted. There was something that reminded Finn of Oscar in the way that he did. “You didn’t reveal your crew.”
“I was alone,” Finn said.
The executioner grunted again. “Alone, but the grounds of the garden showed at least two other sets of prints. Possibly three.” He tipped his head to the side, shrugging. “I was curious, so I went to take a look for myself. Sometimes, the captain of the Archers gets a little complacent and overlooks simple details. You had a crew with you. Given what they claim about you, and that you are a known associate of the Hand, I suspect you’re in his crew.”
“I’m not in his crew,” Finn said softly. Not anymore.
“I imagine you were trying to make a name for yourself. Perhaps the Hand forced you to do this so that you could become a full member of the crew.”
“I wasn’t forced by the Hand to do anything,” Finn said.
And he’d already been a part of the crew. Oscar had brought him in, which was the reason Finn had gone after him. He owed him for more than he’d ever admitted to Oscar.
“You did it voluntarily, then.” The executioner stopped at the door, resting his hand on it.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I might. And you might find it valuable to share.” The executioner shook his head. “The priest will visit with you soon. You will be given the opportunity to confess one more time. Most men find it comforts them to confess in their final moments. I encourage you to find whatever peace you need and make amends with whatever god you celebrate.”
The executioner stepped out of the door, closing and locking it behind him.
Finn sat on the edge of the cot. His heart still hammered, and he wiped the sweat away from his forehead.
It seemed as if time quickened, moving much more rapidly now than it had before. The door opened up again, and the priest was there, the same man Finn had sent away before.
He looked at Finn with a mixture of sorrow and a little bit of pity. He studied him for a moment. “It is time,” he said.
Finn took a deep breath and got to his feet.
He was going to be strong for himself. Not for any other reason than that, only so that he wouldn’t leave this world in a way that would dishonor him or his family. He had spent too much of his life as a dishonorable, and he had no interest in leaving it that way.
The Executioner's Right (The Executioner's Song Book 1) Page 11