The hegen section.
The hegen were a people who lived outside of the city, though Finn had never known why. Maybe it was because they preferred it or because they weren’t welcomed within the city walls. They were widely known to have access to magic, though Finn didn’t know if everyone could use magic or if only some of the hegen were witches. It was a place that he had always avoided going, though that was partly because he feared what the hegen would ask of him and what he might be willing to give.
Meyer remained quiet as they walked.
The homes were small, huts really. Many of them were painted brightly, as if to draw attention to the hegen, though not all were. The streets leading into the section were little wider than paths, though people still crowded along them.
As they neared the outskirts of the hegen section, Meyer started to slow. “You’ll need to let me do the questioning,” he said.
Finn nodded.
This part of the city didn’t scare him so much as make him nervous. It was in the kind of people he knew to be there, but it was more than that. It was the use of magic. Living near it and being confronted by it were different.
The streets running through the hegen section were different from those in the city. Within the city, the streets twisted and turned, creating a maze that protected the palace, but outside of the city, the narrow street that ran through was something else. He and Meyer had a hard time walking side by side, so Finn was forced to keep behind him, pacing as quickly as he could as they made their way through the narrow street.
The street itself twisted, but more often, it was as if a home had simply sprung up, forcing him to veer off and take a different turn. He quickly lost track of where they were.
“How do you navigate through here?” he whispered.
“You get used to it. They have their own sort of organization.”
“How often do you come out here?”
“As often as is needed.”
Meyer left it at that. There were others in the street, enough that Finn found himself looking all around him, staring at the people who were there. Most were dressed in colorful clothing. Scraps of mismatching fabrics. His drab clothing felt out of place comparatively.
The children he saw all had dark hair and dark eyes. Some were dirty, with smudges of dirt or soot on faces and arms, but not as many as he had imagined. The adults were dressed in bright colors, some almost a patchwork as if repairing damage to their clothing.
“What are you looking for out here?” Finn asked, following Meyer through the hegen neighborhood. Everything seemed disorganized, and though there were only a few dozen people out, he couldn’t shake how it felt as if the streets were filled.
“I investigate everything.”
It dawned on him what he meant. They were coming to investigate why the hegen would have asked Lind to do what he had.
“Even out here?”
“This is still the domain of the king. I will investigate all that is necessary for me to better understand what his people have done.”
They weaved through the street. Meyer paused at a storefront, looking in the window, frowning for a moment, before moving on. He did that several times before they stopped again. The streets emptied out the farther they went, with fewer and fewer people out as they wandered.
“What are you looking for?”
“I’m looking for signs of the hegen,” he said.
“All of this is hegen.”
“It is, but I’m looking for something in particular. With the Alainsith gathering and the king planning to meet, all of this is unusual.”
Finn waited for him to expand on that, but Meyer didn’t say anything more.
When he stopped at a door, he knocked.
It was a tidy building. The door was brightly painted red, so different than the other colors nearby. Finn stared at the door as Meyer knocked, his heart starting to race.
He had never been out in this section of the city.
He’d lived in the city for the entirety of his life, and he knew the hegen had been there for much of that. Still, coming into this section was only for fools or those who were desperate.
Like Lena had been.
Finn shook those thoughts away.
There was no answer at the door.
“It doesn’t look as if they’re home.”
Meyer rested his hand on the door, holding it there for a moment. “She’s home,” he said softly. “She has chosen not to answer.”
“Who?”
“Esmerelda.”
“Who is she?”
“One of the hegen with power.” Meyer knocked again.
Finn could only stare.
This was the home of a hegen witch?
A part of him wanted to know what she would look like, but another part, a part that was the practical one, knew that he needed to avoid their attention. It was the part that remembered the stories he’d been told as a child. The hegen always exacted a price.
It wasn’t always the price someone would want to pay, but it was a price.
“How do you know her?” Finn asked when the door still didn’t open.
“I have served many years,” he said.
He knocked again, lingering for a moment before shaking his head. He nodded to Finn.
They wandered through the hegen community a while longer. They took strange, twisting turns to the point where Finn got lost. That was a rare enough thing for him. He usually knew exactly where he was, and in this case, he found that he couldn’t keep track of where Meyer guided him. Many of the homes looked the same as the hegen home had looked. Every so often, he caught a glimpse of an older hegen, not just the children they had encountered for the most part, but then they disappeared.
“Where is everyone?”
“They have chosen to make themselves absent,” Meyer said. He let out a frustrated sigh. “It seems that we won’t find anything today.”
“Why not?”
“Because the hegen have chosen not to share.”
They wound through the streets until they reached the edge of the hegen section, the Raven Stone looming in the distance. Forest pressed upon the city on the far side, though as far as Finn knew, few ever dared to venture into the western edge. It put them too close to the Alainsith lands—and their magical influence. No one wanted to get any closer to that than necessary. Having the hegen along the edge of the city was considered bad enough.
Meyer guided them back toward the city, and when they neared the gate, Finn looked back toward the hegen section.
Lights shone brightly, and he saw movement in the streets.
“We could go back,” he said.
“It would change nothing,” Meyer said. “Until they choose otherwise, we will not find what we need.”
“And what is that?”
“A reason why the hegen have called in so many favors recently.”
The road led through the main part of the city, winding past wealthy merchants. The streets were cleaner, the air having a different scent, and there was a vibrancy within this part of the city. In the distance, the pure, sweet sounds of a bell tolling rang out. The Church of Fell, Finn suspected, celebrating a god Finn had never fully understood, though it was one of the few religious places he’d ever set foot in. That was only because entering Fell was considered something of an honor, and when his father had brought him and Lena to the church, they’d gone willingly—despite neither of them having gone to church that often.
“Where are we heading now?”
He appreciated that Meyer didn’t mind the questions. The King had tolerated them within the crew—up to the point where someone questioned his approach to a job. Oscar could get away with it, but Finn and Rock would have to mutter about things over ale after they learned details.
What he wouldn’t give to sit and have a drink with Rock again. That would at least feel normal. Not like any of this.
“Another task for the day.”
“It’s getting l
ate.”
“Do you think the time of day matters?”
Finn looked around him. The sun had started to set, so he knew it was late enough that most of the shops would be closing. Once it got dark, there weren’t many others who came out into the streets in these sections. It had made it easier to take jobs there.
“The last few days, you’ve ended before it was too dark.” Other days, he’d returned home, dismissing Finn. Because he hadn’t known whether he wanted to run or not, Finn hadn’t lingered around the house, wandering until it was late enough and only then heading back.
“Today is different.”
“What else do you have to do? Is there a prison in this part of the city?” Finn smiled as he said it. All of the prisons were in the city's outer areas, many of them near the walls. All of them were in less desirable parts of the city, though he had wondered if that was because of the prison or if the prison was placed there for that purpose.
“Yes, but that isn’t where we’re heading.”
Finn frowned. “Where is the prison in this part of the city?”
“I need silence to collect my thoughts.”
Finn didn’t push.
Instead, he looked around the streets. It was strange to him to come through this part of the city without planning a job. He knew where he was—the Perend section was one of the wealthier merchant sections, and the shops there all catered to those with significant wealth. There were jewelers there that had pieces worth more than most would make in a year. Some that were worth more than most would make in their lives. Artists occupied one end of the section, and he’d heard rumors that some of the art would sell for even more than the most valuable jewels. Finn couldn’t imagine paying something like that for a painting, but men with money could be fools.
What they didn’t find there were butchers. Bakers. Taverns.
None of the kind of places where he would have liked to spend his time.
What did he need to collect his thoughts for?
Were they heading to a particularly difficult interrogation?
That seemed unlikely. The executioner didn’t fear the interrogations he did. He’d only observed a few, but it didn’t seem as if Meyer relished them or that he was particularly troubled by them. They were simply a part of the job. He questioned, and men answered. Or they didn’t, and he continued to question.
The bells stopped tolling. Finn hadn’t paid attention to how many bells there’d been, but from the angle of the sun, he thought he knew.
Then the street turned.
In the distance, he saw the palace rising high in front of them.
It was magnificent. Sunlight trailed along the spires, giving it something of a gleaming appearance, making it seemed as if the gods blessed the palace. More guards were atop the wall than Finn was accustomed to seeing, and he realized where they headed—and why.
The king had come to the city.
That was why Master Meyer had to collect his thoughts.
He was heading to the palace on behalf of Finn.
Meyer never slowed as they approached as Finn wanted to, though this was Finn’s fate rather than Meyer’s, so perhaps it wasn’t quite as intimidating to him. Not the way it was for Finn.
“You didn’t tell me we were meeting with the king today,” Finn said as they neared the palace. With each step, the trepidation within him continued to grow. He shouldn’t be surprised that they were coming to the palace, either. Finn had known the expectation. It hadn’t changed in the time that he’d been working with Meyer. He’d known that he would be brought there and that he would have to present himself before the king.
It might be for the best that he didn’t have the time to prepare. Had he known, he might not have had the focus he needed throughout the day.
“You knew the timeline.”
He had, but he thought it was a general timeline. Finn figured he’d have a chance to prepare better. Having it sprung on him like this didn’t give him a chance to prepare himself at all.
They reached the gate outside of the palace. A pair of guards stood watch on either side of the gate. The Archers atop the wall were more than enough intimidation.
His gaze drifted to the Archers. They each had the stripe of the palace Archers.
They would be skilled. The kind of men he’d been warned to be careful around. The kind of men Finn had always tried to avoid. Now he headed toward a place where they would be in significant numbers.
The Archers at the gate nodded to Meyer and let him pass.
Finn felt a strange thrill at the idea that he’d be allowed to head into the palace grounds. This was a place where he’d never expected to be permitted. His gaze looked everywhere, still looking for weakness within the grounds but not finding anything. The Archers had the grounds covered.
That had to be for the king. Without the king, Finn wondered if it would have been as well guarded. When he’d been near the grounds before, he didn’t recall as many Archers around.
“Keep up,” Master Meyer said.
Not only were there Archers stationed all around the walls, there were a few Archers patrolling. “Are there always so many guards?” Finn asked.
Meyer looked around. “That’s what you notice?”
“I was thinking about what I’d heard about Dalton Pegg and how he’d—”
“The stories you heard about Pegg were likely fabrications.”
“He didn’t attempt to break into the palace grounds?”
“He did.”
“Did he steal anything?”
“Not that I was able to ascertain.”
“Then why was he executed?”
Meyer paused and looked over at him. “He was executed because the jurors and the magister sentenced him to that fate. It was up to me to carry out his sentencing, and I did it.”
“Did he deserve it?”
“That is not my place to decide. As we’ve previously discussed.”
Finn wanted to say something more, to object about how it was that he could simply carry out a sentencing like that, but they neared the main entrance to the palace.
They had passed through an enormous garden that made the one in the viscount’s yard look tiny by comparison. Another pair of Archers stood guard on either side of the door leading into the palace.
They barred Master Meyer’s entrance.
“I am Henry Meyer, first of the inquisitors, the king’s Master Executioner. I present myself with Finn Jagger, condemned and saved by the Executioner’s Right.” The words had something of a formal feel to them, and Finn realized why.
Meyer didn’t talk to the guards. He spoke to the man standing behind them.
The door had been cracked slightly. Barely enough that Finn could hardly see who looked outside, but enough that he realized someone was looking beyond.
The door opened widely. “They may pass.”
This came from an older man, thin and with graying hair. He was dressed all in white, though he had maroon and black embroidered on the sleeves in the crest of the crown. The king’s crest had a massive wolf head worked over crossed blades, the wolf looking as if it were snarling.
Meyer motioned for Finn to follow.
He stepped into the most ornate room he’d ever seen.
Gilded wood paneling ran from floor to ceiling, and a golden wolf’s head was worked into the ceiling. Marble gleamed within the tiles, the walls, and even the massive pillars rising in front of him. Portraits twice as tall as him were hanging on the wall. Finn recognized King Porman Arcald, having seen him parading into the city during one of his visits, but there were portraits of other kings as well. Those who’d come before. Porman’s father, King Ordol the Pious, and then before him was the last of the Theren line, King Yofun the Damned. Not that he would have claimed that title during his life, but he had made the mistake of warring with the Alainsith people—and failed.
Finn knew the same stories as anyone who’d grown up in Verendal. Ordol had negotiated the peace with
the Alainsith, such as it was. The kingdom kept their cities, but the Alainsith prevented access—and expansion—to the forest on the western edge, and the nation of Yelind to the south prevented expansion in that direction.
“You will follow me,” the older man said.
Finn’s gaze settled on a magnificent vase in one corner, all finely painted and covered with gold he suspected was worth more than he’d ever seen. There were dozens of sculptures, all of them made to look like great heroes of the past, and all of them holding weapons as if anyone who came through there had to do so with their permission.
They were led to a room along the hallway.
He hadn’t expected to see King Porman in person.
The king was smaller than Finn had imagined. Probably a hand shorter than Finn, and slight of build, he sat atop a gilded chair in the center of the room with distinct carvings shaped like a wolf’s head in the armrest. Five men circled him, one of them the viscount wearing the maroon and black of his station. Finn recognized Bellut as well. He hadn’t seen him since his sentencing.
The older man cleared his throat. “I present Master Henry Meyer, the king’s executioner.”
The others turned toward them, the quiet conversation they’d been having suddenly dying off. Finn felt a lump rising in his throat and began to wonder if this was a mistake.
If this went wrong, he would be sentenced to die. From the odd look the viscount gave him, that was what he wanted. Perhaps he did for having broken into his home.
A tall, regal-appearing man standing next to the king’s throne nodded toward them. He had a long robe striped in maroon and black, embroidery running along each sleeve. He held a twisted staff, leaning on it as if he could no longer bear his weight otherwise. He might be much older than the king, but he looked more kingly than Porman.
“Master Meyer. The gods grace our meeting again.”
The executioner bowed his head, leaning at the waist.
Finn followed his example, bowing along with Meyer, looking up as he did.
He had a sense Bellut was appraising him. More than that, he had a sense that viscount watched with irritation in his eyes. He looked away, not wanting to meet his gaze.
The Executioner's Right (The Executioner's Song Book 1) Page 17