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

by D. K. Holmberg

  “So, you just want me to do what? Come down to the Wenderwolf?” Finn asked.

  “Would that be so bad?”

  “I…” Finn had not been willing to return to the tavern since he’d betrayed the crew, but maybe that was his issue and not one that he had to deal with when it came to the crew itself. If it was as Oscar said and Annie had moved on, there was no reason for Finn to avoid it—and that was exactly what he’d been doing. Whether or not they welcomed him was a different matter. “I’ll try to do better.”

  “Don’t try. You can’t move forward and forget your past.” He smiled at Finn. “At least, not all of your past.”

  “Fine. I’ll do better. Is that what you want?”

  Oscar shook his head, backing down the alley. “What I want don’t matter. Just be safe. The crew isn’t all gone.”

  “Wolf is around, but I haven’t seen Rock.”

  “That bastard is probably still roaming the streets, but Rock isn’t going to be your issue, Finn. You know that. He was a bruiser, that’s it. It’s Wolf I worry about.”

  “The King trusted him as more than a bruiser,” Finn said.

  “Maybe, but should he have?”

  Finn didn’t know. When he’d been working in the crew, Rock had never really fit in quite the way that a bruiser should. The King had treated him differently, though maybe there was a reason for that. Finn would have to look into it. “If you hear anything…”

  “If I hear anything, I’ll think about sending word to you.”

  “Just think about it?”

  “You got your commitments these days, and I’ve got mine.”

  Finn frowned at him. “I don’t want you getting involved in anything too dangerous.”

  Oscar chuckled. “That’s the life on a crew, Finn. You know that.”

  “I imagine you could do something else, though.”

  Oscar back another step away from him. “Could I? Not much I know how to do. That’s the one problem with living in the streets the way I have my entire life. You get to learn one kind of work and can’t do much else.” He shrugged. “I know you think I’m disappointed in what happened with you, but that’s not it at all. You got out. That matters. You don’t have to worry about getting chased down by Archers, getting pinched, or even losing members of your crew while you’re taking jobs. All you have to worry about is—”

  “Hanging someone,” Finn said.

  “Not all bad. Probably not the way you envisioned your life going, but could be worse. Could be you on the end of that rope.”

  Oscar started backing away and slipped into the shadows of the alley. It wasn’t long before he reached the end of the alley and then darted away, disappearing from sight.

  Finn stood watching were Oscar had disappeared. Maybe Oscar was right. He’d avoided anything that had bound him to that world before. Not only because he had taken up his apprenticeship, but there was a measure of fear as well. With the King gone, why should Finn fear, anyway?

  Wolf could harm him, but only so much. Finn had measures of protection he didn’t have before, and he should take advantage of those protections, which meant using the Archers, using his ties to the executioner, and using whatever connections he had within the city.

  It was time for Finn to stop being worried.

  He took a deep breath and turned. Fatigue still threatened to knock him over. He was exhausted and could barely even stand, but he plunged ahead, hurrying across the street, toward Meyer’s home.

  When he reached the small wall surrounding the home, Finn paused. As before, he could have sworn there was motion behind a line of wagons on the street, but Finn wasn’t at all certain what it was that he’d seen. Maybe it really was just his imagination. With as tired as he was, everything seemed to come together strangely.

  Meyer might not even have returned yet. Finn would have to figure out what had happened with Jasmine and where Meyer had brought her. She had wanted to see him again. There weren’t too many people in the city who felt that way, so he should take advantage of the few who did. The few who weren’t concerned about his line of work.

  Finn stepped into the yard, up to the door, and then inside. A strange smell hit him immediately. There was something about the smell that reminded him of Wella’s shop, but it wasn’t quite as pure. Everything within Wella’s shop was more clean apothecary medicine, as if the medicinals Wella had were harvested and purified, but what he detected now was a strange odor that drifted over everything, hanging in his nostrils and making him uncomfortable. It irritated him.

  Finn paused in his room, dropping his bag on the floor next to his bed, and realized the books stacked on his table had been moved. It meant Lena, or possibly his mother, had been there.

  Finn stepped back out of his room, heading along the hall, and paused in the kitchen. There was no activity, and he was glancing up the stairs to where Lena and his mother had their rooms when he heard a voice in Meyer’s office.

  He paused before knocking.

  The door was cracked just a little bit, and Finn poked his head inside to see his sister bent over a cot resting along the wall. She looked up and over to him, relief sweeping across her brow. “Finn. Thank the gods you’re here.”

  “What are you doing, Lena?”

  “It’s Mother, Finn. I found something that worked for Moira, so I tried it on Mother.”

  “You found something that helped her?” Meyer had believed there was no help for her.

  Lena waved her hand. “I don’t know what happened, and I’ve been doing all I can to try to help her, but when you and Master Meyer were gone, I…”

  Finn hurried across the room and realized the strange medicinal odor came from what Lena had mixed. It wasn’t anything Finn was familiar with.

  “What did you give her?”

  Lena shook her head. “I’ve been trying to help her. When the two of you left, she was fine at first, but then she started getting sicker throughout the day. I tried finding help, but no one was willing to come here.”

  “What do you mean, you tried finding help?”

  Lena straightened, wiping her hands down the front of her deep green dress. The heavy cotton was stiff but clean. “When the mixture I made didn’t work, I tried finding an apothecary, and then a surgeon, and when neither of them were willing to come, I went to the physician—”

  “Oh, Lena.”

  “None of them were willing to come, Finn.”

  “Because it was Meyer,” he said.

  “But he purchases from them.”

  Finn stopped next to his mother and found her lying motionless, the way that she had when she’d been sick before. Her eyes were closed, her face thin, her hair disheveled. Lena had covered her with a thin sheet, but sweat had soaked through it, making it nearly transparent.

  “Why would that matter if he purchases from them?”

  “Not all of the apothecaries view what Master Meyer does the same way. The surgeons, either,” Finn said.

  “They don’t like the competition?”

  “I don’t think so,” Finn said.

  “What about the physician?”

  “I doubt you had enough money.”

  “I told him I could pay.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  Lena turned to Meyer’s desk, and she looked down at a book she had folded open on the table. “I’ve been reading through everything as quickly as I could, trying to find answers, but I haven’t found anything. I thought about going back to the hegen—”

  “You didn’t, did you?”

  She shook her head. “I remembered what they told me the last time. They didn’t think they’d be able to help me again. If she survived, their magic wouldn’t work another time.”

  That surprised Finn. What reason would there be for the hegen magic to have limitations? It seemed to him that there should be none. It seemed to Finn that the hegen magic should work regardless of whether they’d healed someone before.

  “What have you bee
n trying?”

  Lena just shook her head. “I thought I found an answer in the books Master Meyer has, and looked through the ones that he had lent you.” She looked up at Finn. “They’re complicated, but I’ve been reading quite a few of his other books, and I thought I found an answer by merging the two.”

  Finn lifted a jar of oil resting next to his mother, tipping it to the side and sniffing it. That was the strange and pungent aroma that he had detected before. “What is it? I’m not familiar with this one.”

  “That’s the one I made up on my own,” Lena said.

  Finn’s eyes widened.

  “I’ve used what I found in this book,” she said, holding up the Gisles book, “and I borrowed from this one,” she said, holding up another, a massive book on apothecary medicine that Finn had not even bothered to start. He was still struggling to work through the other one. “They’re similar but different enough I hoped I might find answers mixing the information from the two of them.”

  “Why would you even think to do that?”

  “I want to save her,” Lena said.

  Finn pulled a stool out, taking a seat next to his mother. “I don’t know that she wanted us to save her,” he said.

  “You can’t say that,” Lena told him.

  Finn looked up. “I don’t know what else to tell you. She was tired, Lena. When I spoke to her last”—could it really be the last time that he’d spoken to his mother?—“she made it clear she didn’t want anything more. She was ready to go.”

  “I’m not ready for her to go,” Lena said softly.

  “That is not our choice to make.”

  Finn turned to see Master Meyer standing in the doorway. His eyes were weary, and he had set down his pack and the sword Justice.

  “I’m sorry,” Meyer said. “Sometimes, the gods take loved ones from us before we are ready, but it’s not always before they are ready.” He grabbed the jar from Finn, tipping it to his nose and sniffing. He touched the thick oil with his finger, dabbing it on his tongue. “Veler root?” Lena nodded. “Nipsom powder. Ginger. A hint of rustil.” He looked up at Lena. “An interesting combination.”

  “There’s horfan in it as well. I wanted something that would help her wake up but wouldn’t be too potent of a stimulant.”

  “I think that would work under normal circumstances, but in this case, unfortunately, I think it might have been too far along for your compound to be effective.” Meyer made his way over to the cot, and he looked down at their mother. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you,” he said softly.

  “Is she really gone?” Lena asked.

  Meyer glanced over to Lena. “Not yet, but I don’t think there’s much that can be done for her at this point. We can certainly keep trying, but—”

  “It worked for Moira when I gave it to her while you were out of the city.”

  Finn had almost forgotten that he’d asked for Lena’s help finding a treatment for Moira.

  Meyer held Lena’s gaze a moment. “I’m sorry. There comes a time when providing care to someone when you have to begin to wonder if you’re doing it for yourself or for them. If you know their wishes, then you owe it to them to ensure those wishes are honored.”

  “She didn’t want to be treated again,” Finn said.

  Lena shot him a look. “You can’t just give up on her.”

  Finn looked down at his mother, seeing her for what felt like the first time. Resting the way that she was, she looked almost peaceful. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slightly erratic, but she was thin. Gaunt. She had wasted away.

  “I’m not the one giving up,” Finn said. “Mother didn’t want to go on like this. She said it was no way to live.”

  “She’s all I have,” Lena said.

  Finn swallowed, glancing over to Master Meyer for a moment before turning his attention back to Lena. “We could try—”

  “No,” Master Meyer said firmly but as gently as Finn knew he could. “There is nothing more that can be done for her. You have done more than I think anyone would’ve expected,” Master Meyer said, tipping the concoction off to the side, swirling it in the jar. “More than I might have been able to do.”

  “It’s not right. It’s not fair!” Lena’s voice raised a moment, and she clasped a hand over her mouth.

  “Lena…”

  She stared at their mother for a moment before spinning and running from the room.

  Finn heard the front door close, and he was getting to his feet when Meyer shook his head.

  “Let her be.”

  “She might go to the hegen.”

  “The hegen won’t be able to help,” Master Meyer said.

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  “I think she’s fading quickly,” Finn said.

  Master Meyer nodded. “She is.”

  Finn took his mother’s hand, sitting with her. “Lena worries she won’t have anything to do once our mother is gone,” Finn said without looking over.

  “She need not worry. I will not ask that she leave.”

  “I don’t think that’s her concern,” Finn said.

  He looked up to Master Meyer for a moment and found him swirling the liquid for a little bit before he finally set it down on the table next to him.

  “What did you do with Jasmine?”

  “Do?”

  “You stayed outside the city. What happened with her?”

  “I brought her someplace safe.”

  Finn looked over, frowning deeply for a moment, and waited for him to elaborate, but he did not.

  “What place is that?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Master Meyer said.

  “What now?”

  Meyer glanced from Finn to where his mother lay on the cot. “Now you wait with her.”

  Lena returned late in the evening, crying. Her hair had been pulled free of the ribbon she’d tied it back in and now hung loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were red and damp, and her cheeks a bit rosy, and when she came into Meyer’s office, taking a seat alongside Finn and sitting next to their mother, she said nothing for a long time.

  Finn had remained in place for the better part of the day. He was exhausted, but he hadn’t wanted to go anywhere. If these were going to be his mother’s remaining moments, he wanted to be there with her.

  “Has she come around?” Lena asked.

  Finn shook his head. “No. Meyer has given her some of the concoction you mixed, but it hasn’t changed her much.”

  Finn squeezed his mother’s hand for a moment. There was almost a sense that she squeezed back, though Finn didn’t know if he had imagined it.

  Lena leaned forward, taking their mother’s hand, holding on to it with Finn. “I went to see if the hegen might be able to help.”

  “Even though you knew they likely weren’t going to be able to?”

  “I knew it wasn’t likely, but I had to ask.”

  “What did you find?”

  “They aren’t able to help.” She looked over to Finn. “You could go. You could ask. They’d help you. I know they would.”

  “I could ask,” Finn agreed.

  “But you won’t.” Lena looked down. “Is it because you’re scared of them?”

  Finn breathed out slowly, thinking about the hegen card in his pocket. He still felt as if he had an obligation to them, though he had no idea what obligation that was or what they would ask of him. Only that the card signified something to him, a connection that he now had to them, and it signified some request they would make of him. While he believed it was tied to removing the threat of Bellut and whoever he worked with, Finn no longer knew if that were the case. The card had not changed, and he was unable to get any closer to either of them.

  “It’s not that.”

  “If it’s not that, then what?” She leaned back, releasing their mother’s hand, and she looked over to Finn for a moment. “If you’re scared, then why won’t you go to the hegen? They can help her, you know.”

&nbs
p; “Don’t,” a soft voice said.

  His mother had started to open her eyes. Could it be that Lena’s concoction would work? He couldn’t imagine it actually being effective, but maybe there was something in the combination that had worked for her.

  “Mother?” Lena said. She took her hand again, holding onto it softly, and she glanced over to Finn, a mixture of panic and sadness ringing her eyes. “We just want to help you.”

  “Don’t. Help. Please.” She said the last with a long, pleading note.

  “I can’t lose you,” Lena said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Always. With. You.”

  Her eyes fell shut, and her breathing slowed.

  Finn slipped his arm around Lena, holding on to his sister, taking his mother’s hand, and saying nothing. They rocked in place, holding onto her, until long after she had passed.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Finn found it hard to sleep.

  He kept waking up, realizing that his mother was gone, knowing that his father was beyond his ability to reach, and thinking of Lena up in her room, sobbing. She had been crying when Finn had left her for the evening, descending back down to his small room, knowing that there was only so much he could do or say to comfort her. Unfortunately, he hadn’t known anything that would make a difference. He wanted to offer her a measure of comfort, but what could he say when he mourned as well?

  Early morning daylight streamed in through his window, a faint trickle of color. Lying in bed wasn’t going to benefit him any longer, and Finn sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He felt exhausted.

  Ever since returning from outside of the city, he had felt exhausted.

  There was much to prepare before the funeral. Lena had offered to make the arrangements, and Finn had protested, but Meyer had suggested that he let her. His work would not rest now that he was back in the city.

  The only problem for Finn was that he wasn’t entirely sure what responsibilities he had. Meyer hadn’t been clear about anything else. His assignment with Sweth had concluded, and other than Vol Thern still imprisoned in Declan, Finn didn’t have any new prisoners that Meyer had assigned to him. He still had his usual errands, so that was what Finn intended to do.