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

by D. K. Holmberg

  Finn frowned. “What investors?”

  “The bastards who keep harassing us to sell our strip of land. It was small enough the way it was.” He looked to the older man. “My father thought he would stay here, the same way his father did, but after the fire…”

  “We can rebuild, Denlir.”

  Denlir let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. “We don’t have the money to rebuild. We lost everything.” He turned to Finn. “If you’re not with the investors, then what are you here for?”

  “I’m here to ask a few questions about what happened.”

  “A fire happened.”

  The older man stopped what he was doing, wiping his hands on his pants and shaking his head. “Don’t mind my son. I’m Jamis Felter.” He stuck out his hand, and Finn reached for it, shaking. “We just been through so much this week, and it’s taken away all our manners.” He shot his son a hard look before turning back to Finn. “You said you were here to ask questions?”

  Finn nodded. “I’m tasked with investigating the fire.”

  Jamis waved his hand, sending his son away.

  “Tasked by who?” Denlir asked, as he waded into the remains of the nearest building and started picking through a dresser that still stood, though nothing else around it did. The fire was indiscriminate. So much of this section had burned, but there were other parts that had not. Some things within the buildings had burned while others had not.

  “Tasked by Master Henry Meyer, executioner for the king.”

  Jamis’s brow furrowed. “It’s about time we get some damn justice. I know David Sweth is locked up in Declan Prison. All of us know that. We just want to make sure he gets what’s coming to him.”

  “Are you sure he’s the one who did this?”

  “We were too busy trying to save as much as we could. We didn’t see anything. But if they say he did it, I’m sure he did it.”

  Finn just nodded. He wasn’t going to argue with Jamis, given what the man had gone through. “What can you tell me about the people who live on this street?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I suppose I would like to know if there is any way I can find others.”

  “Some have stayed in this section. They’re like me. Don’t have much else to do, no place else to go. And many of them have lived here their whole lives, as well. Others have gone to family, but…”

  “But what?”

  “But not too many have family to go to. You understand this isn’t the richest section of the city. Not like you.”

  Finn forced a smile. Not like him. He had gotten to that point already? People had started to believe that he had wealth just because he was dressed reasonably well?

  “Can you tell me about some of the people who lived here?”

  “Most are hard workers,” Jamis said. He pointed to the building across the street. “Matthew Roday and his family there were a second generation in that house. His wife had taken up working in a tavern at the end of the street. She was a cook. Damn good one, too. She would always bring over the best-tasting sweetbreads.” He glanced over to his son. “Not that I would tell his mother that. Matthew worked for the farrier and seemed to do good work, at least from everything I heard. A happy family.” He shrugged. “Like most of us. At least, like most of us had been.”

  Finn had the sense that Jamis wanted to talk, to share stories, and while that might be beneficial, he also wondered if perhaps there might be something more useful he could get out of Jamis, though it would take asking the right type of question.

  “I heard some people along the street were lost.”

  Jamis’s eyes darkened and he turned toward Denril. “Far too many people were lost. Not just on this street, but from what I hear, five souls returned to Heleth that night.”

  Five? Finn knew of one, and Oscar had heard ten. What was the real count?

  “Can you tell me anything about them?”

  “I can’t say with any certainty—anything other than rumors, at least. Most who talk about it don’t want to spread rumors, especially if they still live. Might be they simply decided to get away. Not that I could blame them. Given the fire and everything that happened here, it would be for the best to just move on.”

  “What about you?” Finn asked. “What do you intend to do?”

  “We have a developer coming through, looking to buy the land. A Benson. Says he can restore Jorend.” He nodded to his son still picking through the drawers of the chest. “My son’s not too thrilled with that, but we need the money. Can’t rebuild without it. Might be we end up moving somewhere else, but at least we can start over.”

  He didn’t need to say that moving somewhere else and away from this section meant moving to an even less well-off section.

  Jorend wasn’t the nicest section of the city, but it certainly was better than some. Better than the section where Finn had grown up.

  “Anything that you can tell me will help,” he said.

  “I’m not so sure there’s anything I can tell you that’ll matter for your investigation, but if it gets us justice, then I’ll do it.” He took a deep breath and looked along the street. “The ones I know for certain are Lima Phar and Bradley Aut. Lima was a wise woman, always helped us. I know she was out the night of the fire, trying to get people to safety. Got burned too badly and even the physician couldn’t save her.”

  Finn couldn’t imagine the horror of burning to death. It was a possible sentence, but it wasn’t one that was enacted very often.

  “What happened to Bradley?” Finn asked.

  “Don’t know. He was in one of the middle homes. They weren’t burning that hot when the whole thing started, but when they brought him out, he was gone. Lima tried helping him but said he was too far gone, so she moved on to help the others that she could.”

  Maybe it was the person he hadn’t been able to help.

  The smoke had been too thick. As had the flames.

  Meyer had taught that smoke could be just as bad as heat. It was a questioning technique, though one not used that often. Finn had never needed to do so. There were other techniques that he’d learned that were equally effective.

  “Are there others you know about?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “You said you thought there were five people from the street who’d died.”

  Finn didn’t want to push Jamis. He clearly grieved something more than just losing his home, but at the same time, he needed to keep digging.

  “The others might not be gone. We haven’t seen them back here, or their families. So, it might just be that they didn’t want to come see what happened.”

  “How many people who live on this street haven’t come back?” Finn asked.

  Jamis shrugged. “Not many, truth be told. Most at least wanted to see what happened to their belongings and to see if there’s anything they can salvage. A couple down there”—he motioned toward one end of the street—“wanted to see if their neighbors suffered as bad as they did. A bit of feuding there.”

  A feud could explain the fires. If one family got mad enough at another…

  “We got lucky. There’s a bit of our things that are still intact. Not much, you know, but enough that we can pick through it. Might even find something of value.”

  By that, Finn suspected, he meant something to sell.

  These people had lost everything.

  Most of them wouldn’t have had that much to begin with, so for them to have gotten to the point where they didn’t have anything remaining, and what little they did, they were trying to collect so they could sell it…

  It broke his heart.

  The person responsible for this truly did deserve the king’s justice. As the apprentice executioner, Finn thought he could dig, and that he could find answers, and all he needed was to have the time with which to do so. Then he could report to the jurors about what he’d found. Even if it wasn’t Sweth, Finn was determined to look through this and find answers
.

  “Thanks for your time. It was helpful.”

  Jamis nodded. “You make sure that bastard gets what he deserves.”

  Finn just nodded. “I will do what I can.”

  He started off before pausing and looking back to Jamis. He’d already started picking through his belongings again. “You said something about developers?”

  Jamis shrugged. “They came through here looking for the owners of the properties. We don’t have much, you see, but this was ours. Had been for generations. It might not have been much now, but there was a time when Jorend was something more.” He closed his eyes. “Now it’s a memory. Guess that’s how all things are. Everything changes. You fight it and you get burned. You move with it and you can survive. That’s all I can say we want. Just to survive.”

  Finn nodded to him again, then started along the street.

  Those working at loading carts glanced briefly in his direction, but they didn’t pay much attention to him or watch for long. When they returned to their work, he understood. They probably got paid based on how much of the debris they removed, not by how long they were out working in the cool air.

  When he’d reached the midpoint of the street, seeing how many of the carts were already loaded, he was struck by a thought that hadn’t occurred to him before. Maybe Jamis’s words lingered in him, or maybe it was just his observation, but in a place of such destruction there was also the promise of something more. The section would rebuild. Probably with buildings that were nicer than what had been there before.

  Someone would profit from all of this. If he could find out who, maybe he could learn who was responsible. It might even be the developer seeking a way to get the homeowners to sell for less.

  Finn lingered a bit before making his way to the end of the street and then beyond.

  By the time he reached Meyer’s home, it was growing darker, though it wasn’t quite dark yet. It was still early for Finn to return. Most of the time when he came back to Meyer’s home, it was later in the evening.

  Lights glowed in the back windows of Meyer’s home.

  One came from Meyer’s office, which suggested he was working. That didn’t surprise Finn. Now that Finn worked with him, Meyer had taken to using his increased time to expand on his availability. Finn wished he would have a chance to work with Meyer more, though Meyer was typically reserved when it came to teaching Finn that aspect of his job. Finn hadn’t decided whether that was because Meyer feared Finn learning enough that he wouldn’t need him—so Finn could go off and set up his own apothecary business—or if it was simply that Meyer didn’t feel he was ready.

  The other light in the house came from the kitchen. That probably meant Lena, though it was possible his mother was downstairs in the kitchen.

  Finn hurried along the path leading to the house, pushed open the door, and hung his cloak. When he reached the kitchen, he heard his mother and Lena speaking softly to each other. Finn smiled. At least his mother was up—and downstairs. After what she’d told him the other day, he hadn’t known whether she would have been willing to come downstairs. She’d sounded almost as if she were ready to die. Finn wasn’t ready to lose her.

  He started toward the kitchen when Meyer’s office door came open. The older man caught sight of Finn and motioned him into the room.

  Finn started to say something but realized he wasn’t alone with Meyer.

  An older woman with silver hair sat on the cot along the wall. Her dress was older but well kept, with a fine embroidery around the collar. Her flat blue eyes looked at Finn for a moment before turning back to Meyer. A stoop to her back left her leaning forward, though she seemed balanced on the cot just fine.

  “I hope you don’t mind my apprentice joining,” Master Meyer said. “Moira, this is Finn Jagger. He’s been working with me for the better part of a year. He’s a promising apprentice.”

  Moira nodded. “I heard you had someone working with you. I think most in the city have heard, given the circumstances.”

  Meyer smiled tightly. “You can rest assured he has turned out even better than I’d hoped.”

  “I trust your judgment, Henry.”

  She obviously knew him reasonably well. Despite her aged clothing, there was something distinguished about her. Finn couldn’t quite place what it was. Perhaps it was the confident way she sat on the cot, despite her obvious discomfort.

  “Would you mind sharing with Finn what you shared with me?”

  Moira nodded. “I would be happy to. How can he learn otherwise, eh, Henry?”

  Meyer just tipped his head, and he took a seat behind his desk, clasping his hands together in front of him. He nodded to Finn.

  It was unusual for Meyer to call Finn like this. It was almost as if Meyer were testing him—though why test him like this? Finn hadn’t enough time to study healing to help a woman like Moira.

  He glanced over to Meyer and found him engrossed in a book folded open in front of him. Finn tried to get his attention, staring at him intensely, but Meyer ignored him.

  Finn turned his attention back to Moira, and he tried to offer a reassuring smile. He didn’t have any experience even starting this conversation, so he didn’t know quite where to begin. It wasn’t like an inquisition, not the way it was when he went to a prison, and he certainly didn’t have to confront her the way that he would some of the prisoners.

  Maybe that was Meyer’s point.

  Finn took a chair and pulled up in front of the cot, taking a seat and smiling at Moira. “What can I do to help you?”

  Moira leaned forward, and with her stooped back, almost looked as if she were going to fall forward. She managed to balance in place and didn’t fall off of the cot, which Finn took as a victory.

  “As I explained to Henry, I’ve noticed significant fatigue. It’s new, so I don’t think it’s merely my age.” She laughed softly, a sparkle coming to her eyes. “Though I wouldn’t be terribly surprised if age was responsible for some of it.”

  “How long have you felt fatigued?”

  “The better part of two weeks. I’ve been sleeping most of the day. I can only stay awake for a few hours at a time. When I’m awake, I feel like I’m in a fog.”

  Finn nodded politely. “You don’t seem like you’re in a fog now.”

  “Only because of what Henry provided.” She pulled a small glass jar out from alongside her, and held it up.

  It was a thick, yellowish liquid, and Finn wondered if he might be able to determine what Meyer had given her. In his studies of apothecary medicine, he knew of various compounds that might offer some benefit to fatigue, primarily targeting alertness, but none of them had a yellowish coloration.

  “It has been quite effective. It’s given me six hours up and awake. It still not enough. I would like to get back to my normal day. I can sleep when I’m dead, you know.”

  Finn found himself smiling. Moira amused him, which was probably the reason Meyer had brought him in on this one. Somebody who wouldn’t mind him asking all of these personal questions, and somebody who obviously had a sense of humor about all of it.

  “Have you noticed anything else? Lack of appetite? Loss of smell? Headaches?” He tried to think of other symptoms that might be tied into it, his mind going to his most recent apothecary textbook, but Gisles was difficult for him to work through.

  “Nothing other than the fatigue. Well, that’s not entirely true. I haven’t been eating quite as much, but that’s because I haven’t been awake as much. When I am awake, there is simply so much for me to do that I don’t focus on dining.” She looked down at herself. “I barely keep my clothes together.”

  She was well-dressed, so Finn wondered what he must look like to her. “Are there any others around you suffering from a similar set of symptoms?”

  “My husband is long gone, Mr. Jagger. My son no longer lives with me, and I have a cleaning woman who comes in several times a week, but she has been well. These days, she hasn’t done so much cleaning. Not that there�
��s been a need. She’s been focusing on trying to make me broths and stews and other things to keep my weight up.”

  “I see.”

  “What do you suggest that I do?”

  Finn glanced over to Meyer, but found him still absorbed in his book.

  “May I see what Master Meyer has offered you?”

  Moira handed him the jar, and he took the stopper off, bringing it to his nose and sniffing. Wella’s instruction on how to analyze what another apothecary had given someone came back to him. The aroma coming from the jar had a bit of a spice to it, and he picked up a hint of gersil and rose. The rose would be mostly for flavor, but the gersil could act as a bit of a stimulant. It wasn’t very aggressive. Mild, for that matter. If that was all that Master Meyer had given her, then something even more potent might be beneficial to her.

  Finn wasn’t entirely certain if that was all that was in the compound. He wouldn’t know unless he tested. He dabbed a finger into the liquid and brought it to his tongue, tasting it.

  He tensed slightly, fearing that he might suddenly have his tongue go numb the way that it had when he had been in Wella’s shop, but it didn’t. It had a tangy flavor, and he could taste the rose, and his heart fluttered for a moment.

  His mind cleared. Even a mild stimulant worked quickly. At least this one did.

  He glanced to Master Meyer and frowned. There was something more than just the gersil in the compound. It gave it the more vibrant taste, and it was the reason that everything had become more alert for him, but it seemed to Finn that perhaps it was the oil he’d used.

  What oil would offer a level of alertness?

  He hadn’t studied enough. He didn’t know enough.

  Finn smiled slightly. “I could offer you more of a stimulant to see if that would help,” he said to Moira. “It would give us more time to get to the bottom of what you are dealing with.”

  Moira glanced over to Master Meyer. “Did you hear that?” Finn’s heart sank, suddenly worrying that he had said the wrong thing. This was a test, of course, and he didn’t want to fail it. “He’s willing to offer me another stimulant.”