Shiner stood on the other side, frowning at him. “That’s it?”
“I’m done with him for now. I’ll return to question him later.”
Shiner grinned. “Maybe I’ll want to be here for that one.”
“Maybe you can get him cleaned up before that time,” Finn said.
Shiner chuckled. “You don’t like the way he smells?”
“Not really.”
“The dumb bastard ran through the slaughterhouse and one of the hog pens. Says he was running from a crew chasing him, but he was on the crew and ended up there anyway. Smells like shit, he does.”
“I want to visit with the Archers who brought him in.”
“Yeah?”
“Either that or I want to see their report.”
Anytime one of the Archers brought a prisoner to Declan, they had to fill out a report. In this case, without knowing whether or not the Archers were even available for him to visit with, perhaps it would be better for him to see the report.
“You’ll have to go to the warden. He keeps all that.”
“Of course,” Finn said.
“You going to go and see him?”
“You don’t think I should?”
“Maybe I’d like to be there when you do.”
“Why?”
“Just curiosity.”
Finn nodded to Vol. “You can return him to his cell. And then if you could get Sweth, I would appreciate it.”
“No problem, Jags.”
Finn headed out in the hallway and paused for a moment before making his way to the warden’s office. He tapped on the door, waiting for the warden to welcome him in.
When he did, Finn stepped inside the office. The warden sat behind a desk covered with papers. He was a youngish man, younger than Master Meyer, though still perhaps a decade or so older than Finn. Finn didn’t know him well, though they had met a few times.
“Warden James,” Finn said, nodding politely. There was no reason to push his role there, especially as Finn was only an apprentice. “I hope you don’t mind the interruption, but I was hoping to take a look at the Archer report on the prisoner Vol Thern.”
Warden James frowned. “Meyer has you coming on your own now, does he?”
“It’s part of my training,” Finn said.
“I hear you’ve been doing good work.”
“I try to.”
“Probably hard for you, considering where you came from.”
Finn stood silently, refusing to be drawn into the comment. “Doing the king’s work is never difficult,” Finn said.
James started to smile. “I’m not trying to antagonize you, Jagger. I just figured I’d ask you if it was hard for you.”
“No harder than it is for you, I suppose.”
“The kind of men we get in here can be challenging.”
“They can be,” Finn agreed. He swept his gaze around the inside of the office. It was filled by the desk, but there was a bookshelf next to it that seemed to have been crammed in as an afterthought. He didn’t have any books on it, nothing other than figurines and small sculptures. A painting on the wall behind the warden depicted the gods, though it was an unusual scene. He suspected the eye looming in the sky represented Heleth, though he couldn’t really tell. Other figures surrounded the eye, as if they were celebrating, or dancing, looking down over a city. Finn wondered if the artist had intended it to be Verendal or some other city. “The report?”
James nodded. He shuffled through some papers before handing it to Finn. “Not much to this one. Came in last night. Filthy and stinking. We tried to get him cleaned up, but when you lie in hog slop as long as he did, it ends up being difficult.”
“He still stinks,” Finn said.
James frowned. “If you’ve already talked to him, then why do you need the report?”
“I need to see all sides of the case. I need to know if he’s guilty or not.”
“That one? He wouldn’t have been there had he not been guilty.”
Finn looked down at the page. Most of the Archers in the city were only barely above literate, so their report was riddled with spelling errors, but Finn made out the necessary details. He had read enough of these reports in his time serving Master Meyer, and had come to recognize there was a certain flow to each of these reports, something he could follow.
“This says he was picked up in the Joyner section.”
“That’s right.”
“Why would he have been there?” It was almost on the opposite side of the city from Meldran. It didn’t make much sense. Vol hadn’t struck him as the kind of man who would go wandering the city.
“Which is why the Archers grabbed him. No reason for them to have been over there amongst his betters.”
Finn let the comment slide. “They don’t report what they picked him up for.”
“No?” James looked over to him. “That’s surprising. I figured that they would have put that in their report.” James shrugged. “They are Archers, though. Not always the brightest. Maybe they forgot it.”
“Why did they grab him?”
“Came out of a merchant’s home. Claims he followed someone inside. Not much more to it than that. Probably would have ended up in Volthan were he not so filthy.”
Finn nodded. “Can I hold on to this?”
“You want the report?”
“I’ll get it back to you. I just want to visit with the Archers who took the report.”
James shrugged. “Be my guest.”
Finn folded up the paper, stuffed it into his pocket, and nodded politely to James before turning and heading out of the office.
He reached the chapel and pulled open the door to see Shiner crouching down in front of Sweth, squeezing his wrists.
“I can take it from here,” Finn said.
Shiner got to his feet and nodded to Finn. “Perfect.” He spun, glaring at Sweth. “Now you’ve got Jags to deal with.” He passed Finn on his way to the door, leaning close. “Don’t take it easy on him, Jags. This bastard killed twenty people.”
“Twenty?”
Shiner nodded seriously. “That’s what I hear. Twenty lives were lost in that damn fire.”
“I will do my best,” Finn said.
“Knew you would, Jags.”
He closed the door behind them, and Finn turned to Sweth. He looked up at Finn, glaring at him.
“Is it true?” Sweth asked. “Did you bring me here to torture me?” He glanced to the door. “That guard told me you were going to jab me with needles or pour fire on me.”
“You are here to answer questions,” Finn said. He pulled the chair away from the wall and took a seat across from Sweth. He still hadn’t decided how aggressive he needed to be with questioning. He knew what the iron masters believed, along with the warden, and given the rumors going through the city he should be justified in digging, but it just didn’t feel right to him. Something there was off. “The way in which I get those answers depends upon you.”
“So, I get to decide if I’m tortured?” Sweth laughed bitterly. “I think I know the answer to that. No. I don’t want to be tormented.”
“I’m sure the iron masters have shared with you the rumors going around the city,” Finn said. He leaned back in the chair, intending to make himself look a little bit more casual. “About the number of people who died.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Sweth said softly. “It was a terrible fire, and I barely got out with my belongings.”
“Yours, or Master Johan’s?”
“Did you talk to him?”
Finn nodded. “I told you I would.”
“He probably told you I have worked with him for a long time. I’ve been a good scribe. I do good work.”
Finn just nodded. Johan hadn’t told him how long he’d worked for him. Did that even matter? “He told me about the nature of your employment. And that he let you go.”
“That bastard,” he said, shaking his head and looking around the inside of the
chapel. His craned his neck so he could look all around him, and his gaze drifted to the table in the back of the room, his eyes widening slightly. “What is that?”
Finn looked behind him at the tools arranged on the table. “Nothing to be that concerned about. Why don’t you focus on me?”
It wouldn’t work that way, and Finn knew it. That was part of the plan, though. The more he could get Sweth thinking about the pain that might lie before him, the more likely he would share what Finn needed.
“You are going to torment me. That’s why you have me here.” He looked toward Finn, his eyes going wide. “I’ve told you what I know. There’s nothing more I can share with you about what happened. I went into my home, grabbed my belongings, and tried to get out. I didn’t start the fire.” A panicked note had entered his voice. “Please. You have to believe me!”
Finn leaned back. The problem he had was that he did believe Sweth.
There was something more going on between him and Johan, but that was something he could sort out at another time. The bigger issue was solving what started the fire before the magister and the jurors decided they needed to get vengeance for something Sweth may not have done.
“I need to know everything you can tell me about the people on your street.” Sweth stared at him, his eyes still wide. “If I feel like you’re not completely honest with me, well…”
“You don’t need to know anything about the street,” Sweth said, irritation starting to seep into his voice.
He was hiding something. “It helps for us to establish a rapport.”
Sweth looked at Finn, then behind him for a moment, before shaking his head. “I don’t have anything that will help you. It’s not me, anyway. All you’ve got to do is—”
“Ask you a few simple questions. That’s all I have to do.”
“I don’t have any answers!”
This time, Finn was certain Sweth was keeping something from him.
And he didn’t like it. Not when it came to trying to understand what was taking place in the city. All he needed was to understand the fire and Sweth’s role in it. Then he could focus on Bellut.
Finn got to his feet and stopped at the counter, looking down at the various implements laid out on the table. There were some horrific devices he had been trained to use. Most had a specific purpose. Finn didn’t take any pleasure in using them, but there were times, when the criminal wouldn’t reveal enough information, that Finn didn’t have much choice in the matter. As Meyer had explained to him, in order to meet the king’s need for justice, there were times when extreme measures were needed.
This didn’t feel like it was one of them.
Finn started moving the devices around on the table, making a point of holding some of them up, if only to draw the man’s attention to them. Finn didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know Sweth paid attention to what he did. He could practically feel Sweth’s gaze lingering on him. That and he whimpered softly.
After holding up a few different devices and setting them back down again, he turned to Sweth. The theater was part of the torment, but at least it was the part where someone wouldn’t suffer quite as much.
“Now. Let’s begin.”
“What are you going to do to me? I told you I don’t know anything more than what I’ve told you!” His voice had gone from panicky to full-blown terror. It rose in pitch and intensity. Either he was a skilled actor, or he truly didn’t know anything more.
“We’re going to talk about everyone who lives on your street. Then I will decide if I think you’re telling me everything I need to know. If I don’t think you’re sharing what I need…”
He forced a hard smile.
Sweth licked his lips. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Please. Just don’t use those things on me!”
Finn nodded. “Go ahead, then.”
Chapter Twelve
Sweth sat in the chair babbling, tears streaming down his face. It was almost enough for Finn to feel a bit of remorse. Almost. After what Sweth had admitted to, he didn’t feel quite as bad. Every man had secrets. In the chapel, all men revealed those secrets, whether or not they had anything to do with the crime they stood accused of committing.
Finn pulled open the door to the chapel. Shiner looked past him, a hint of a smile crawling across his face when he saw Sweth.
“You really gave it to him, didn’t you, Jags?”
Finn nodded. “He told me everything I needed to know.”
“That right? We going to get a sentencing soon?”
That would be a challenge. The warden and others who’d been around Sweth would push for a sentencing, but Finn didn’t think him guilty. Still, until he had someone else he could place the crime upon, there wasn’t going to be any way for him to keep Sweth from his fate. He didn’t have long. Meyer had made that clear to him.
“Soon enough,” he said.
“Good. Don’t want a bastard like that here in Declan any longer than we have to.”
“This is the place for men like him,” Finn said.
“This might be, but can’t guarantee nothin’ will happen to him, you know?”
“For him to face his sentencing, he has to be—”
“Gods, I know. Can’t have him damaged going to the gods. Not that Heleth cares all that much if we give him a few bruises.”
“Bruises are one thing”—and Finn wouldn’t be able to keep the iron masters from beating him a little, though he might want to—“anything more will only delay his sentencing. You know how the king feels.”
“Just the king?”
Finn shrugged. “I’m less concerned about the gods than I am about the king. I serve him.”
Shiner grinned. “Knew I liked you, Jags. What are you doing later? Want to meet at Treble Coat?”
“What’s that?”
“Ah, just this place a few of us like to go for drinks. Figured it can’t hurt to have the hangman there. Well, his apprentice, at least.”
Finn figured that it couldn’t hurt for him to have a little time with the iron masters outside of the prison. For him to be more effective at his job, he might need to have a relationship with them so that he could sway them more effectively. Wasn’t that what Meyer wanted from him anyway?
“Sure. What time?”
“Well, a couple of us get done at eight bells, so if you’d like to meet us shortly after that, you’d be welcome to. You might have to buy a round or more, but hey, you’re the hangman.”
Finn chuckled. “I’ll see you then.”
He stepped out of the chapel and paused. When he looked back at Sweth, Finn needed to dig deeper into what Sweth had told him. He had a list of names of people who lived in the Jorend section along the same street, but he didn’t have much more than that.
He still had some time, but the feeling lingered within Finn that the longer all of this took, the more likely it was he would run out of time before finding answers. If that were to happen, Sweth would be sentenced—likely to hang, or possibly even worse—and Finn wouldn’t be convinced that they had the right person.
He still had things he needed to do, and headed toward the apothecary. When he saw Master Meyer near Wella’s apothecary, he hurried forward, catching up to him.
Meyer turned to look at Finn. He was dressed as he often was, in his formal jacket and pants, a traveling cloak slung over his shoulders. “Finn. Were you coming for supplies?”
Finn looked around the street outside of Wella’s apothecary before glancing over to it. He realized that he still hadn’t completed one other assignment. For Moira, he had promised to have a concoction available for her by evening. He hadn’t considered what would be needed for that. Maybe Wella might help.
It could be Meyer had come out here simply to test whether she’d been involved in helping Finn create something.
“I needed to come up with something for Moira.”
Meyer nodded slowly. “I see.”
“I was just at Declan. Talking to Swe
th.” And another prisoner—he realized he needed to tell Meyer. He needed to take more initiative, so he figured Meyer would not mind. “Have you ever had a case where you felt the prisoner was innocent but you couldn’t find the right answer?”
“That happens from time to time,” Meyer said.
“What did you do?”
“When the time comes for sentencing, all we can do is give the information we have to the jurors.”
Finn’s face soured. “I’m not completely convinced we can trust the jurors.”
Meyer’s face flickered with irritation. It was a measure of that irritation that he revealed as much as he did. It had been Finn’s experience that Meyer only showed his frustration like this when he was truly upset. “The jurors serve the kingdom the same way you do, Finn. They might serve in a different capacity, but they still serve the king’s justice. Do not forget that.”
Finn looked around him, lowering his voice. “You know what happened. You know the jurors aren’t completely innocent.” It was more than Bellut. Finn had seen the King bribing another juror, though didn’t know how much of an issue that was.
“Perhaps not all,” Meyer said slowly. “That doesn’t change that we must work with them.”
He had rarely been permitted to go before the jurors ever since sentencing the King. It was Meyer’s way of protecting Finn, though Finn felt Meyer continued to avoid the issue. “Even if they’re complicit?”
“Finn—”
Finn shook his head. “I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I feel like we need to do something. We need to have some conversation about this.”
“What we need is to keep doing our jobs.”
“You know who I’m talking about, Master Meyer. What if Bell—”
Meyer raised his hand, silencing Finn. “You would do well to be careful with what you say, Finn.” His voice was low and dangerous, and Finn suddenly realized something.
Meyer was worried.
That was unusual enough with him, but it made a different sort of sense. This was the jurors and the magister they were talking about.
“You know what they were doing,” Finn whispered.
“I’m aware,” Meyer said. “This is not the time for that conversation.”
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