The magister turned to Meyer. “Make preparations. We expect this to be carried out within the next two days.”
“Of course,” Master Meyer said.
He elbowed Finn, and they turned, heading out of the room.
Once they reached the door, Finn paused, glancing behind him to look to Bellut, though the juror paid little attention to him. Finn glowered at him, but only for a moment, then he had to hurry back out into the street after Master Meyer.
Once there, Meyer turned to him. “I saw what you were doing,” Meyer said. “If you cannot keep your emotions in check—”
“I kept my emotions in check.”
“You glared at him. Perhaps I’m the only one who noticed it, but if you want to find the justice you claim, you must be patient.”
“Patient? That one,” he said, motioning to City Hall, “was nearly the reason I hanged.”
“And now you have an opportunity to ensure that the king’s justice is carried out. Is that not what you want?”
Finn squeezed his eyes shut and then settled his irritation. He needed to find that calm center within him. “That’s what I want.”
“Good. Now, seeing as how we have a sentencing to prepare for, I expect you to inspect the gallows, ensure that it is intact, and prepare the Stone.” Meyer watched him. “Can I count on you to do that?”
“I can do it,” Finn said.
Meyer nodded. “Good. Meet me back at the house later. We will make sure you remember how to tie the rope. You will be the one to carry out this execution, especially as you were the one to lead the questioning.”
Meyer started off, leaving Finn alone in the street.
He had been giving Finn more and more responsibility, letting Finn lead questions during their interrogation of prisoners, though even as he did that, Finn still had not questioned any prisoners on his own. Not yet. He worked under the guidance of Master Meyer, and though he felt like he was ready to take the next challenge, to begin working on his own, it all depended upon when Meyer felt confident in Finn.
Which meant he needed to be careful with his agitation. He might be irritated with Bellut, but he did need to keep those emotions in check. It was no different from how he had needed to act when he was on the crew. You just didn’t show your anger with the leader of the crew. You might be frustrated, and you might not care for what role they gave, but you had to smile, take the shit they offered, and hope the next time you were given more responsibility.
He hurried through the city, making his way to the Teller Gate and then beyond. The gate was an enormous structure made out of wood and iron, and could be pulled open with levers from the massive wall surrounding the city. Named after one of the city architects, the Teller Gate was identifiable throughout the city, and easily spotted from the road beyond.
He needed to work quickly. If there was an issue with the gallows, they would need to repair it before the sentencing. As he stepped out of the gate, the open road leading up to the city spread before him. It wound beyond Verendal and headed to Vur, and then farther to the east, all the way to the capital. A dense forest lined the road, though there was no danger of the Alainsith out of that forest. That was farther to the north. Finn had never seen any of the Alainsith, though he had seen their artifacts when he’d broken into the palace, and he knew that the king continued to work with them to ensure stability between their people. Off to his left, the hegen section of the city pressed up against the outside walls. It was chaotic but vibrant. Most of the buildings were painted in bright colors, as the people in the hegen section cared for maintaining their homes, however much like shacks they might be.
None of that was what brought him out there. It was the Raven Stone, and he hurried over to it. It was a towering white stone, flat-topped, though the surface of the stone had been stained with blood over generations of sentences that had been carried out there. The stone itself was said to have always been situated outside of the wall of Verendal, though it looked out of place, as if one of the gods had simply taken an enormous rock and set it down, leaving it amidst a field of grasses.
The last execution had been two weeks before, long enough that Finn needed to ensure the stability of the gallows. It wouldn’t do for someone to be sentenced only to have the rope snap, or one of the timbers supporting the gallows to collapse.
He climbed the steps leading up to the Stone and stood on it for a moment. He had been a part of two dozen executions in the time that he’d served Master Meyer, and had been directly involved in many of them.
Finn made quick work of inspecting the timbers, checking the connections, testing for any sign of damage or cracking, anything that would imply that the gallows needed work before the next festival, but he found nothing. Finn moved on to testing the rope. Meyer preferred to tie a new knot each time and typically used a fresh rope with each condemned, but he also liked to have one hanging for show.
When he was done, he turned away from the gallows and sighted a figure standing near the edge of the hegen section.
He’d hesitated to return to Esmerelda. He still had the card he’d been given by the hegen in his pocket, and he carried it with him everywhere. Finn slipped his hand into his pocket, fingering the thick paper of the card, tracing his thumb along the edge and then along the surface. He had memorized the gold crown on the surface of the card long since, but he didn’t know what it meant. He glanced back at the city, and when he turned his attention to the hegen section again, the figure was gone.
Finn climbed down the steps of the Raven Stone. As he headed into the city, a dark cloud drifted overhead. It bloomed over the city, billowing up from some place just inside of the wall, and continued rising with an ominous plume of dark smoke.
He passed through the gate, and the smoke continued billowing up, getting thicker and darker than it had been.
This was not just smoke. This was a fire.
A fire in the city could be dangerous and devastating. Most were put out by the fire brigade, but not all. Having the Vinlen River run through the city gave a fire brigade an opportunity to extinguish most fires quickly, but Finn had seen entire homes burned within minutes. Lives destroyed.
He followed the smoke.
It didn’t take him long to find it.
The fire was situated in the Jorend section. It was a more run-down part of the city, similar to where he had grown up, and the homes were built close together and all made of wood. Massive flames crackled along the length of the street, running on either side. People scurried along the street, many of them racing free of the fire, but some ran back toward burning buildings. The fire brigade had already responded and worked to pump water through their hoses at the flames, but the fire burned hot and furious.
Somebody shouldered past him, and Finn looked over to see a dark-haired man racing away. Soot coated his face, and he covered his mouth with his arm, coughing.
A scream caught his attention, and he darted forward. The sound had come from a home consumed by smoke. Everyone around him ran away from the fire.
He raced toward the home and headed inside.
Smoke billowed around him, thick and oppressive.
Where had the sound come from?
Another scream, this time softer, but he could get a sense of direction.
Up.
Finn searched for the staircase. He had to fight through the smoke, coughing, and pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth to keep from breathing too much smoke. His studies had taught him just how dangerous fire could be, and he knew better than to linger here too long.
He found the stairs. He staggered up them.
At the top of the stairs, he found a body. Smoke made it difficult to see much of anything else. The child was small, curled into a ball, coughing weakly.
As he lifted them, they cried out again, though softer this time.
Finn ran, darting down the stairs, cradling the child carefully. Outside, he carried the child along the street. There had to be someone with t
his child.
“Nels!”
A panicked shout caught his attention over the crackling of the flames and the groaning of buildings as they collapsed.
Finn turned toward it.
A woman approached. Her face was covered in soot and smoke, tears streaming down her face.
“Nels?” She saw Finn and sprinted. “That’s my son!“
Finn handed the child over to her, coughing and unable to say anything.
He heard another cry for help. It was on the opposite side of the street where the flames were worse. The crowd around him was all trying to run away from the fire, but someone had to help.
He followed the shout. Another building consumed by smoke.
He started inside, ignoring the smoke, coughing to clear his lungs, and a burst of flame pushed him back.
Finn covered his face with his arm, trying to shield himself from the burning building, but he struggled. The smoke made it difficult to see anything, but he knew what he’d heard.
When the scream came again, he tried to push forward, but the flames were too much.
The heat was too much.
Someone grabbed him, dragging him back.
“Get out of there!” the man shouted.
Finn looked over. The man was dressed in wax leathers. He recognized the crest of the fire brigade.
“Someone is in there,” Finn said, coughing.
The sound of the scream inside of the home lingered in his mind.
“Can’t get in with the flame. Not without killing yourself. Get back.”
The man shoved him.
Finn staggered.
He couldn’t do anything to help the person he’d heard.
After all of the time that he had spent questioning people, he would’ve expected a scream wouldn’t have bothered him quite so much, but it stayed with him.
He watched as the fire brigade began to work, dragging their hoses, all connected to pumps and stretching to the river, and began to extinguish the fire.
Finn couldn’t help. All he could do was watch.
The flames grew, and something crackled, heat and energy building until it was too much for him to withstand. One of the fire brigade pushed him back as they approached to spray a nearby building.
There was no purpose in him staying there any longer.
The scream lingered with him, almost as if he could hear the person burning to death.
Despite being an executioner, it was a horrible sound.
Chapter Two
The kitchen was quiet. Many times Finn came to the kitchen early in the morning to find his sister Lena was already cooking—but not today. Finn pulled out the pan, set it on the stove, and got it heated, melting some grease in it. When it was crackling with heat, he threw in some sausages, along with a couple eggs, getting breakfast ready.
He coughed. His lungs still burned from running into the fire the day before.
“It’s you.”
Finn glanced over to Meyer, nodding. “I don’t know where Lena is this morning, but she’s probably busy with my mother.” Finn’s mother had started to come around. She still didn’t get out of bed, but she was alert. That was a positive change.
Meyer sniffed. “That’s too bad. Lena makes breakfast better than you do.”
“You can cook for yourself, if you would prefer.” He coughed again.
Making breakfast had been one of the first chores he’d taken upon himself when he’d moved in with Meyer.
Meyer took a seat at the table, resting his elbows and looking over at Finn. He offered a hint of a smile, more like a smirk, but with Master Meyer it was difficult to tell. “Are you prepared for the day?”
Finn stared at the bubbling grease, moving the sausages around and flipping them to make sure they were heated evenly. He needed to tell Meyer about Jorend, but he wanted to talk about work. “I think I’m as ready as I can be.”
“You’ve gone through this a few times now.”
Finn just nodded. It didn’t make it much easier. He tried to push away the nerves, but he had never managed to shake them entirely. Finn didn’t know if he ever would and didn’t know if he ever wanted to.
“He deserves it,” he said. He pulled one of the sausages off, slipping it onto a plate and handing it over to Meyer. “If anybody deserves what’s coming to them, it’s Ralston Jol.”
He flipped the eggs and waited until they were done cooking before using the spatula and handing one to Meyer. Finn scooped the other egg and the other sausage for himself.
Meyer had trained him not to eat too much on the morning of an execution. He needed to find a balance those mornings between settling his stomach with just enough food and not overeating so that he didn’t get sick while carrying out the execution. It wouldn’t look good for the executioner to vomit all over the top of the Raven Stone.
“We work on more than just what he deserves. We need to ensure we’re carrying out justice.” Meyer settled his elbows down on the table, looking across at Finn. “This is not about vengeance. I feel like I’ve been having this conversation with you too often these days, but perhaps a reminder is necessary.”
“You don’t need to remind me,” Finn said.
“You look at what we’re doing as if this is something to satisfy our needs.” Meyer shook his head. “When the jurors asked the question about what the families requested of us, it’s not an unusual request. There was a time when families helped decide the sentencing.” He took a bite of his sausage, chewing slowly. “It was a darker time, and one I’m thankful that we’ve moved past. It’s unnecessary for us to carry out the sentencing families request of us. That is not the reason we do this.”
“The people Ralston wronged need to know that the king understands their need for justice.”
“That is true,” Meyer said, taking another bite of his sausage.
Finn looked down at his plate, scooping up the egg and chewing slowly, working through it. “We carry out sentencing for the king, but we also carry it out to ensure that others will see it and be deterred.”
“Also true.”
“And the families of those he’s hurt are offered a little bit of retribution.”
“They are,” Master Meyer said, settling his arms down on the table. “What do you think they would do if they were given the chance to request their own justice?”
Finn shrugged. “I don’t know. They’d probably want to hang him themselves.”
Meyer grunted, and he finished the rest of his sausage as he chewed slowly. “I had been an apprentice back when the tradition still held that families of the wronged could request specific sentencing. A time when we dealt with a rapist like Ralston, and the family wanted vengeance during the sentencing. Do you know what they requested?”
“I don’t.”
“A broomstick.”
Finn frowned. “They wanted to beat him to death with a broomstick?”
“No. They wanted to shove the broomstick inside him, to recreate the trauma their loved one experienced.”
A wave of nausea worked through him. What would happen if he were asked to do something like that? “What happened?”
“My master executioner at the time, a man by the name of Wilhem Vorges, was forced to carry it out.” Meyer closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I have seen some horrific things in my time serving the king, but that stands among the worst.” He shook his head again. “They strapped him down, bending him over, and he was forced to slam the broomstick inside him until his intestines exploded.”
Finn swallowed. “That wouldn’t kill him straight away.”
“No. And I knew the same. That was the challenge, though. Those who requested the sentencing had no idea. They sought only a way to torment him in the time before his dying. They certainly accomplished that. He was tormented, but his death was slow and painful.”
“I imagine they approved of that.”
“They approved, but was that justice? Or was it simply vengeance?”
; “Was it not both?”
Meyer took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’s a question I find myself pondering from time to time.” He looked up, holding Finn’s gaze. “It’s a question all who pursue this work struggle with. As an executioner, we’re tasked with carrying out the sentence the jurors demand. While we can make recommendations, we are often overruled. The challenge is knowing when to step in and to be more forceful with our recommendations, and when to stand aside and let justice border on vengeance.”
“The jurors permitted Ralston to hang.”
“They did. And to their credit.” Meyer got to his feet, carrying his plate to the washbasin. “The alternative was worse. I could imagine them sentencing him to be quartered, but that was not the request.”
“What would you have done if they had?”
Meyer glanced back at Finn. “I would have done it. His crimes warranted the sentence offered, but they could’ve warranted a more severe sentence.”
Finn finished eating, chewing slowly until he was done there and then set his plate into the washbasin next to Meyer’s. “Are you telling me this because you want me to be prepared for whatever sentence befalls Bellut?”
“I’m telling you this so that you understand there are times when the vengeance you seek is not available. You must find satisfaction in the king’s justice, whatever that might be. I can’t tell you what that will be for you, and I can’t tell you what that justice might look like, only that you have to find it for yourself.” Meyer regarded him a moment. “How many crimes do you think are committed within the city every day?”
“Probably quite a few,” Finn said.
“How many of those crimes draw the attention of the Archers?”
Finn had some experience with that. When working jobs with his crew, he had gotten away with quite a few crimes and had never gotten caught. “Not many.”
“How many people have been wronged by those crimes?”
“I suppose all of them at some point.”
“Exactly. Every single one of those people want the same vengeance as you want.”
“It’s not vengeance, but people getting punished who deserve it,” Finn said.
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