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

by D. K. Holmberg

  “This seems like it’s vengeance.”

  “I think it is meant as a deterrent.”

  Finn could see the troubled look on Master Meyer’s face.

  “This is the end of this, Finn. The investigation is over. It’s time to get back to your studies.”

  “I could—”

  “No. You can’t.”

  That was all there was to it. Despite how Finn might feel otherwise.

  He couldn’t keep looking.

  It was like a punch to the gut. Meyer made it clear he couldn’t keep at it. If he did, Finn suspected he knew what would happen. Meyer would not be pleased.

  He and Meyer went separate ways, and Finn debated where he needed to go, though carrying out a sentence like this was not one he knew all of the steps involved. If he were to help build the pyre, he would have to stay with Master Meyer, making sure they had all the supplies necessary in order to carry out all steps of it.

  He once again found himself drawn to the Jorend section. He caught sight of another figure dressed in a crimson cloak, the color of the king, and with a balding head and glasses.

  The magister.

  When he saw Finn, there was a flash of recognition.

  He didn’t necessarily want to chat with the magister, but at the same time, if he didn’t know that Finn had seen him, it would come across as awkward.

  He caught up to the magister.

  “The apprentice,” he said, glancing past Finn. “I understand Sweth has been sentenced. We have a man guilty, we have enough evidence to convict, and we will be carrying out his sentence. Perhaps a little harsher than I would have chosen but no more undeserved.” He seemed disappointed more than anything else. “The king’s law makes it clear that sentences can be determined by those affected. It’s rare that we carry out such extreme sentences, but when we do so, it is typically for cases like this. You think of how many lives it disrupted, and because of that, you can only imagine how the families of the affected would feel.”

  “I can only imagine,” Finn agreed.

  “Indeed,” he said. “The fire was bad enough, but seeing as how many were killed…” The magister shook his head, looking down at the ground. The section was empty today, but the air still stunk of the charred fire that had burned through here. “Such a sad way to go.”

  “That’s the way Sweth is going to go.”

  “And one would say it is deserved.”

  “One would say.”

  He smiled at Finn, somehow making it look almost friendly. “Tell me, Mr. Jagger. Have you settled into your apprenticeship well?”

  “I have settled in as well as I can.”

  “It must be quite the transition from where you started.”

  “A bit,” Finn said.

  “I myself can understand what it’s like to have a transition like that. When I was younger, I transitioned away from my home.”

  “Oh? Where was that?”

  “I wasn’t always from Verendal,” he said. He glanced over to the church of Heleth visible in the distance, then his gaze drifted to the palace. “But I found myself drawn to the university, where I studied. I was a historian, by training, but I also began to become something of a scholar at law, and given the king’s predilection for scholars, I found a calling.”

  Why was he telling Finn this?

  “Where were you before the university?”

  “Many places.” He smiled sadly. “If you don’t mind, I only came to see the destruction for myself. I should have done so sooner, but…”

  The magister didn’t have to explain. Finn suspected he was superstitious like so many.

  “I have more of my investigation to complete, anyway.”

  “Another investigation?”

  Finn held his gaze. “I’m still not complete with this one.”

  “I thought we had our man and we had a conviction. The people want closure, Mr. Jagger. If you continue pushing…” Finn had to drop it or he’d anger the magister. The magister smiled sadly. “Though if you uncover anything that will be of any use to us, please pass it on.”

  A bit of relief swept through him. “I will do as I’m expected.”

  “But do not dig too deeply.”

  The relief faded as the magister left him.

  Finn watched the street after him, no answers coming. He had to be ready. He had to finish with the task ahead of him, help Meyer with the sentencing, and he still had to deal with Wolf.

  All while trying to make sure Bellut faced his own justice.

  It would be easier if Master Meyer were a part of it, but he had shown no interest in participating. Which meant it truly was up to Finn.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Finn was running out of time to get any more answers.

  With Sweth’s planned sentencing, he felt as if there remained too much unresolved.

  He had a list of names. That was it. None of those living along the street were involved; Finn was certain of it. Even the feuding families had reconciled when they’d seen how much each person had lost. There was no residual anger there.

  The only thing he had left was the developer.

  Which was where Finn headed now.

  It was unusually cool, with the wind gusting through the streets, carrying with it a hint of an early fall. Despite that, an uneasy pall hung over everything. The developer’s building was in the heart of the Ghislan section, situated on the opposite edge of the river, and on Porman’s Path, heading toward the palace.

  All he needed was to ask a few questions.

  Finn found the street the foreman had indicated, and he picked his way slowly and carefully, sweeping his gaze on either side of the street. Most of the buildings there were multiple stories tall, all of them with fresh paint, and many with walled yards. In some parts of the city, that was an impossible luxury, but there, it was common. Finn had to look for a horse surrounded by a circle, standing on a strange platform. At least, that was what the foreman had said.

  When he found it, Finn knew it was the right shop.

  It was a massive two-story building and took up the end of the block. Enormous arched windows let light in, and even the door was incredibly ornate, with brass worked into the outline of the developer’s crest. Given that it was late enough, Finn knocked rather than just trying to enter the shop.

  He stepped back, waiting.

  It wasn’t long before the door came open, and a mousy brown-haired woman in a black gown and pale white apron tied in front frowned at him. Thin lips pressed together, and she sniffed, leaving Finn to wonder if he was foul-smelling from his time in Declan. “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Master Benson, the proprietor,” Finn said.

  “And who may I ask is calling?”

  “My name is Finn Jagger, executioner for the king.”

  Her eyes widened, and she let go of the door, taking a step back. “No. He didn’t—”

  “I am not here for him. I’m here to ask a few questions regarding the case that I am investigating.”

  Relief swept across her face.

  Could the developer have been involved?

  “You may come in, Mr. Jagger,” she said.

  Finn nodded and stepped into the entryway. As soon as he did, a floral fragrance filled his nose. Two massive ceramic vases set on pedestals were on either side of the hall, filled with flowers. Other decorations lined the hall, including another pair of vases with flowers filling, and portraits that looked to be older men, seeming as if they stared across the hall at each other.

  “Where is Master Benson?” Finn asked.

  “I will let him know you’re here. He will be with you shortly,” she said.

  He just nodded. The woman slipped off down the hall, disappeared into a doorway, and was gone for only a few moments before a portly older man tottered out, leaning on a cane.

  He had a wide face, heavy jowls, and a thin line of a beard. “May I help you?”

  “Master Benson, I presume?”


  The man nodded, looking up at Finn. “Are you here to question me?”

  “I only have a few questions for you,” Finn clarified. “I’m looking into the fires in Jorend.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “I see. I understand they caught the one responsible.”

  “Possibly,” Finn said.

  “Only possibly?” He shook his head. “It was my understanding he is to be sentenced soon.”

  Had word already started to spread about Sweth’s sentencing?

  “He has been sentenced,” Finn agreed.

  “Then I fail to understand the reason for your visit, Mr. Jagger. I apologize for my ignorance, but I am simply trying to understand what you might need from me.”

  “I’m responsible for investigating all aspects of the case,” he said. There was a part of Finn that worried how Meyer would react if he knew that Finn were still digging. Maybe Meyer would understand, but Finn couldn’t help wonder if perhaps he would not. He had been the one to escort Sweth to the sentencing, after all, and the way that Meyer had made a point of telling Finn to let it go had been clear.

  “Is there an aspect that remains unresolved?”

  “Do you have someplace else that we can visit?”

  Master Benson watched Finn. “Do we need to?”

  “I only ask because I thought it might be more comfortable.”

  “If you need to question me, then question. Otherwise, I have much business that must be attended to.”

  Benson had already dismissed Finn And it wasn’t unreasonable for him to have done so, either. Finn couldn’t do much with somebody like Benson. He was protected. Even if he were guilty, there would be very little that Finn would be able to do to get to him without evidence. It was the same as with Bellut.

  It would be easier if he were to leave. Not right, but easier.

  “I understand you’re developing Jorend.”

  Benson shrugged. “I develop many parts of the city,” he said. “It is a gamble, especially in a place like that,” he said, opening his mouth as if to say something more before shaking his head, “but I see potential. That section of the city can be redeveloped, and I envision the Jorend section with magnificent homes lining the street.”

  “You envision the Jorend section filled with people of wealth,” Finn said.

  “I don’t determine who purchases the properties,” he said.

  “Do you determine who you purchase from?”

  Benson frowned. “I’m not sure I understand the implication.”

  “No implication. I’m just trying to understand. Some of the families didn’t want to sell to you.”

  “Perhaps not, but I was in no rush. I had a good section of the street already purchased, and the others would come along.”

  “I imagine they would come along faster with a fire, especially when they had no place to go and needed to sell in order for them to recoup anything.”

  He needed to be careful with Benson. Accusing him too hard could get Finn into hot water.

  “As I said,” Master Benson started, “I did not feel the need to rush into the development. I had other assignments to work on, and my crews had more than enough business in order to keep us occupied.” Benson frowned, and his jowls seemed to hang on the lower with the expression. “Are you thinking to accuse me of setting a fire so I could develop a neighborhood?”

  Finn had considered it.

  “There is little value in destroying a neighborhood only to build it back up,” Master Benson continued. “Superstitions and all.”

  “I don’t understand,” Finn said.

  “Too many people fear that neighborhood is now cursed by Volan.”

  The trickster god. That would be enough for some to avoid it.

  “And now we’ll have to wait. We can certainly start the development process, but I would have made a tidier profit had the section not burned.” Benson shook his head, his jowls jiggling. “A shame, if you ask me. Worse, there were three residents who lived in the section who had wanted me to rebuild for them but now have changed their minds. That’s lost income for me, Mr. Jagger. And them, when they were to resell.”

  “I see.”

  “Besides,” Benson went on. “It would not serve any purpose for me to run the risk of angering the viscount. Not if I want to get in on the king’s next development.”

  “Thank you,” Finn said.

  “Is that all?”

  “I believe it is,” he said.

  He turned, pulling the door open, hesitating for a moment. He had thought that Benson was involved, at least in some way, but even that was a dead end. Now what? He didn’t have any answers. Benson closed the door behind him, pulling it shut with a loud bang, and Finn stood in the street, staring for a moment, and had no answer.

  Sweth was going to burn.

  He hadn’t gone far from Benson’s home before glancing back, where he saw somebody looking out the window, as if watching him.

  Finn debated what he needed to do.

  Answers.

  That was what he needed, and he only had a little time before Sweth burned.

  He found himself heading toward Declan, and when he stopped in front of the prison, Finn looked up at it, hurrying inside and to the cells, nodding to the iron masters standing guard.

  When he reached Sweth’s cell, he grabbed the bars, looking inside. “We’re going to talk,” Finn said.

  Sweth looked up. “It don’t matter,” Sweth said.

  Finn looked down the hall, nodding to the two iron masters. One of them, Norel, was a muscular, short man, with a balding head. “Bring him to the chapel.”

  “He’s already been sentenced,” he said.

  “I don’t care if he’s already been sentenced. I still need information from him, so bring him to the chapel.”

  The iron master’s eyes flickered with a moment of concern, glancing to Jory, another iron master, who shrugged.

  Maybe this was a mistake.

  It was possible he should reconsider, but at the same time, he felt as if he needed answers, and this was going to be the only way he could get them.

  Question Sweth.

  Finn made his way to the chapel and stood at the counter with all the tools of his trade in front of him, waiting until the iron masters brought Sweth up. It didn’t take long.

  When they did, they brought him over to the chair.

  “Strap him in,” Finn said.

  “Jags?”

  He looked over to Shiner. “Just strap him in,” he said.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Finn’s gaze hardened, and he nodded. He had to get the answers, and how could he do it without pushing the issue? How could he do it without questioning him?

  Shiner strapped Sweth down. He looked up at Finn, and there was a measure of concern in his gaze.

  “Leave me,” Finn said.

  The iron masters regarded Finn for a moment, but then they turned away.

  Finn made his way around the chair, and he leaned toward Sweth. “We’re going to talk.”

  “There isn’t anything to talk about. You already got what you needed out of me.”

  “Maybe,” Finn said. “I still don’t think you’ve been completely honest with me.”

  “It don’t matter.” He glared at Finn. “They’ve already told me what’s going to happen.”

  And they had. Finn was well aware that there would be very little that he could do that would change his fate. More than that, he didn’t even want to change Sweth’s fate. If he was responsible in some way, changing his fate wasn’t Finn’s problem. What he wanted was answers, and he didn’t feel as if he fully understood them.

  “Tell me about the fire starter found in your home.”

  “I don’t know anything about it,” he said.

  “I think you’re lying. You had it there. Why are you in Verendal?”

  “Because I had to be,” he whispered.

  There was something about the way he said it that suggested he t
old the truth.

  “What would your family have wanted?”

  Sweth looked up. His eyes were pained. Haunted.

  “To have lived.”

  “What happened to them?”

  Sweth looked as if he wanted to say something more, before looking down at his lap. “I’ve already been sentenced. The rest of this doesn’t matter.”

  Finn glanced over his shoulder, looking at the tools on the counter. They were all neatly arranged, all gleaming metal, and all cleaned by him.

  Sweth had already been sentenced, so at this point, he might be taking a greater liberty with things than he should. But he was running out of time to learn more. And there was more. He could feel it.

  He headed over to the tray of rods, studying it for a moment before changing his mind. If he left marks, he ran the risk of delaying the execution, something that would not only be upsetting to the magister and the jurors, but it would upset Meyer.

  No. Finn needed something else.

  There were a few different techniques he knew that wouldn’t leave any marks.

  That was what he had to do.

  “I’m going to get answers,” Finn said, turning back to Sweth. “Whatever it takes.”

  Finn walked away from Declan Prison. It was late, and he didn’t have any further answers, nothing other than what he’d already uncovered. Sweth had refused to share anything more. Either he hadn’t known anything—something that Finn had increasingly grown to think was possible—or he simply didn’t care anymore. Considering that he already had been sentenced, the latter was probably true.

  He had pushed Sweth harder than he had ever pushed before.

  Sweth had screamed.

  The more Sweth had screamed, the more Finn had pushed, and the more he had tried to find answers.

  It wasn’t until nearly the end when Finn began to question whether he was pushing because he wanted to know so that he could find justice for those who had been wronged in the Jorend section, or because of his frustration in Bellut and how he had escaped his justice. Either way, Finn had left the prison feeling as if some part of him had been twisted.

  Word would get back to Meyer.

  Finn was certain of it. He might have wanted to push, and to get answers, but he had little doubt that Meyer would learn that he had gone back to Sweth, and little doubt that Meyer would discover that Finn had found no more answers.