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

by D. K. Holmberg

  Finn headed into the home, sweeping through it, searching on the main level and then upstairs for any signs of Bellut, but he wasn’t there.

  When he reached the bedroom, he found it empty. The wardrobe was empty. The desk empty. Bellut had cleaned out everything.

  Bellut was gone.

  Finn headed back down the stairs, pausing in the main room. The strange items that he’d seen when he’d been here with Meyer were still there. The entire home was almost decorated in them.

  Bellut had a table with a stack of papers on it. He flipped through the papers. There was nothing obviously incriminating there, certainly nothing that would implicate him in this plot. Without knowing who Bellut’s partner was, Finn wouldn’t have answers that he wanted.

  Rock could testify against Bellut, but Meyer had made it clear they needed something more than testimony.

  He reached a formal-looking paper near the bottom of the stack. It was a large parchment, folded in half, and sealed with a bit of wax marked with the king’s sigil.

  That was odd.

  Finn flipped it open. As he skimmed the page, it was a note from the king, much like Finn had suspected. It discussed his pending arrival to the city.

  He looked up. The timing fit.

  Why not cause destruction when the king came to the city?

  Meyer never knew when the king came, and these days, the king would come in and out of the city without any warning, typically to help secure the peace treaty with the Alainsith. That was the reason that he had been in the city the last time.

  Bellut and his accomplice had known.

  Bellut worked for the viscount.

  The viscount wouldn’t have betrayed the king. He was an appointee, but he also served the king.

  Why would he have wanted to kill him?

  Perhaps there was money in it.

  This was tied to Yelind, though.

  Something about it didn’t quite fit.

  Finn kept sorting through the papers. As he did, he came across another official-looking paper, and he swept his gaze along it.

  This one was a sentence.

  Not just any sentence, but Sweth’s sentence. It discussed the accusations against him, using Finn’s testimony, and then the sentencing that was to be carried out.

  Why would Bellut have this there?

  Something caught Finn’s eye.

  He stared at it for a long moment, his mind working through things more slowly than it should have, given his fatigue.

  It was a simple statement. Only three words: Sentenced to die.

  A signature at the bottom of the page, one made in a tight, flowing scrawl, carrying with it a flourish that obviously came from university training.

  Magister Teller Fol.

  Fol.

  Everything clicked together.

  Sweth. Bellut. Even knowing that King Porman visited Verendal.

  The magister was Bellut’s silent partner.

  Another paper written in the same hand detailed the location of the fire starters.

  There was no doubt.

  Bellut and Fol.

  Sweth had helped, but he had only designed the fire starters, nothing more.

  Then they’d trained Wolf. Used the crews to place them throughout the city.

  It would look nothing like an attack.

  But it was.

  Light suddenly exploded near him, and Finn looked up to see flames shooting from the hearth.

  The air took on a sudden stench. It was something that reminded him of fire ash.

  That was why he hadn’t taken any of these papers out of there. The fire crept up the wall, getting hotter and hotter, forcing Finn back.

  He grabbed the papers and then darted out of the home.

  Once outside, he shouted, “Fire!”

  It got the desired reaction.

  Archers appeared, but that wasn’t what Finn needed. He needed the fire brigade. By the time they arrived, the flames had engulfed the lower level of the home, but thankfully it hadn’t spread beyond that. He waited there until he was confident that the flames had been completely put out, and then grabbed a pair of Archers and said, “I need your help. It’s time for us to detain Teller Fol.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Finn approached the home slowly, with three Archers trailing along behind him, giving him support, but he needed more than just a little help for what he was going to do. His heart hammered. It had less to do with taking a man into custody—an action he wasn’t entirely sure Master Meyer would support—than with needing to do this before the magister managed to escape the same way that Bellut had.

  This part of the city was much nicer than his section. It was even nicer than Bellut’s section. It was home to families of wealth. The buildings were all multiple stories tall, all with large lawns on either side, and many had walls surrounding them. Quite a bit of wasted space.

  He slowed. “Are you sure this is the place?” Finn asked, glancing back to one of the city Archers who had come along with him.

  “I sent word ahead to City Hall. Figured that you wanted to know,” the Archer said. He had a pinched frown on his wide face and wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t shaven in the last few days, leaving a bit of a haggard appearance. Most of the iron masters within the prisons kept themselves clean-shaven, a distinct difference from the prisoners that were within their care. The Archers didn’t seem to feel the same way. “Why? Do you think it’s the wrong place?”

  Finn shook his head. “I don’t really know.”

  He reached the iron gate and pushed it open, pausing for a moment before heading along the path leading to the entryway. He would do this. He was the king’s executioner, and he was tasked with ensuring justice was served.

  Even when it had to do with the magister.

  When he reached the door, it came open before Finn even had a chance to knock.

  The magister had a look of confusion on his soft face.

  Finn tried to look past him. Could Bellut be within?

  “Teller Fol. I am here to question you in the matter of David Sweth and the fires that have raged throughout Verendal.”

  “Mr. Jagger?”

  He still managed to sound confused, and yet there was a hint of something else beneath it.

  Was it fear?

  Finn had gotten better at identifying emotions in the people that he questioned, and he had certainly gotten better at identifying those who were guilty, though he still wasn’t as skilled as Master Meyer. If he had been, he would’ve known that David Sweth had a hand in the fire that had raged throughout the Jorend section. Unfortunately, Finn had not. He had allowed himself to be too cautious with Sweth.

  It was a lesson that Master Meyer had wanted him to learn, though perhaps not quite in that way.

  “I’m here to ensure you come quietly.”

  That wasn’t at all true. Finn didn’t need him to come quietly, though he did want to be there for the magister’s arrest. He wanted to know just what the magister might have been involved in and how much of it had been his responsibility.

  If he were right—and as everything that had happened came together in his mind, Finn suspected he was—the magister had been the one pulling the strings all along. Bellut had been a part of it, and accomplice, and maybe even a co-conspirator, but he had not been leading it.

  That had been the magister.

  “Come where?”

  “It’s over, Fol.”

  “I’m afraid I’m a bit confused, Mr. Jagger. What is over?” The magister looked past Finn. “And why do you have four Archers with you? What is taking place?”

  “We’ve uncovered your plot against the city. We’ve found your fire starters, removed them, and captured those involved with you.”

  Not entirely, but knowing Wolf and Rock were involved and having Rock in custody gave Finn the confidence that they would find any others who were involved.

  Even Bellut.

  He no longer had to worry t
hat Bellut would escape his punishment.

  They just had to find him first.

  “You found what?”

  “We found the fire starters. Tell me, magister, where you came from before you came to Verendal.”

  “I’m afraid that has no bearing. If you would like, we can take this up with the king. I’m sure he will be here soon.”

  Finn smiled tightly. “The king will be here soon. I saw the note in Bellut’s home. A note with your signature on it. A note that tells me that the two of you were working together.” Finn frowned at him. “I’m sure you intended for his home to burn, as did he, but unfortunately, he did not coax the fire starter fast enough. I recovered documents from his home and have removed them, and all implicated both you and him in the plot against the kingdom.”

  Not just documents, but after going through the documents, papers that detailed where each of the fire starters were to be placed. Everything fit together.

  The only question he had was why.

  The magister’s demeanor suddenly changed. “And what do you know about it?”

  Finn fished the folded document with the location of the fire starters out of his pocket, holding it up. The magister’s eyes widened.

  “What I know is that there is a scribe in the city who can certainly attest to the fact that these signatures are the same. And I know what I’ve seen. And heard. You and Bellut have worked together.”

  When he had been sentenced to hang, the magister had advised the jurors.

  “You were responsible for what happened to me,” Finn said.

  Finn stepped aside. The Archers stepped forward, grabbing him. They marched him through the street, and Finn said nothing.

  “I am the magister, serving directly under King Porman! I demand you bring me to the palace!”

  “I will bring you to Declan for questioning, as I would any prisoner like you.”

  The inside of Declan Prison was quiet and dark, and Finn had more nervousness as he approached the chapel more than he usually did.

  Shiner stood at the door, a more serious expression on his face than he’d worn the last few times Finn had come.

  “Is he ready?” Finn asked.

  “He’s ready, Jags. You sure you want to do this?”

  “No,” Finn said. He held his hand on the door, taking a deep breath, and he tapped his pocket, feeling the papers he’d confiscated from Bellut’s home. He needed confirmation.

  And then what?

  Finn pushed those thoughts away. He opened the door, stepped inside, and looked at the magister. Sitting in the prison grays, his thin, wispy hair hanging in front of his eyes, and strapped to the chair the way that he was, he didn’t look as imposing as he did outside of the prison. Then again, the magister had never looked terribly imposing. Kindly, perhaps; scholarly, definitely. Never imposing.

  And perhaps that was the problem.

  “You’re making a mistake,” the magister said. “It’s not too late for you to rectify this.”

  “I don’t know that I am,” Finn said.

  He grabbed the stool and set it down in front of the magister, sitting far enough away that the man couldn’t spit on him, but Finn wasn’t as concerned the magister would do that.

  “You claim you found something in Bellut’s home. How can you be sure that it wasn’t a way of incriminating me?”

  “I can’t,” Finn said. “Which is why you and I are going to have a conversation.” At least, they were going to have a conversation until Meyer showed up. Once he did, then Finn would be taken out of the conversation. It would be the last chance Finn had to understand what happened. “Tell me your name.”

  “My name?”

  “Yes. We’re starting with something you can answer simply.”

  “You know my name.”

  “Actually, I only knew you as the magister.”

  “That’s my title. And I serve at the behest of the king. Much like yourself. Or rather, much like you had.”

  Finn ignored the not-so-veiled threat. “Your name.”

  He tried to straighten. The restraints held him. “I am Magister Teller Fol.”

  Finn nodded. “Very good. I’m glad that we have that out of the way.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Tell me about your time at the university.”

  “What is there to tell?”

  “This can go however I choose it to go,” Finn said, scooting the chair closer. He looked at the magister, watching him, trying to read his expression and decide how the magister might answer, but couldn’t tell anything more. “Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the type of questioning we use here. If you are, then let me reassure you that Master Meyer has trained me well.”

  “I am quite familiar with the kind of barbaric things you do here.”

  Finn shook his head. “There is nothing barbaric about what we do to find answers.”

  “The work you do is barbaric,” he said. “Once King Porman arrives in the city—“

  “Once the king arrives in the city, I will be getting my report to him,” Finn said.

  “The king will not welcome you.”

  “That would be unfortunate,” Finn said. “Almost as unfortunate as the documentation that I found at Bellut’s home.”

  The magister looked at Finn, and for the first time, a hint of doubt crept into his gaze.

  “I don’t know what you think you uncovered, but it is likely insignificant.”

  “Can you tell me why Bellut would have this paper?” Finn flashed a page at him briefly before folding it back up and tucking it into his pocket.

  “What paper is that?”

  “A paper detailing your connection to Mr. Sweth.”

  He watched the magister. He had no idea what the magister would do—or say. Maybe nothing, but all he needed was to coax a confession out of him, and then he could present him to the king for treason.

  “Sweth was the one responsible for burning the Jorend section,” the magister said.

  “And Bellut’s letter to you states there is even more of a connection.” He wasn’t about to reveal to him what the letter really said.

  “I have tried to be patient with you, Mr. Jagger. Truly I have, but if you continue this farce for much longer, my patience will wear thin. I can grant you clemency for this mistake, seeing as how you are acting on behalf of the city, but if you feel it necessary to continue this line of questioning, then you are going to have to face the consequences. This time, I don’t think that even Master Meyer will be able to save you.”

  Finn wasn’t going to get many opportunities to question the magister. In this case, Meyer would almost certainly give him a very short leash, but Finn wasn’t sure that he even needed to use the more aggressive approach.

  The magister had an arrogance to him.

  Finn hadn’t seen it before, but he recognized that arrogance. He might even be able to use it.

  “Tell me about your and Bellut’s plan,” Finn said.

  “There was no plan. There was no Bellut and me.”

  “And why does this letter to you say anything about it?”

  “Because I’m sure that Mr. Bellut has decided to implicate me. I can understand why you would be so upset with Mr. Bellut. He was responsible for your fate.”

  “He wasn’t alone,” Finn said.

  “Perhaps not,” the magister said. He tried to take on a warm smile, but Finn saw through it. “And I don’t know why he would claim my involvement.”

  “He claimed more than your involvement. He claimed you planned it.”

  “Did he?”

  “The papers in his home prove it.”

  “And what papers did you find?”

  “Enough for you to be sentenced,” Finn said.

  “I’m afraid there isn’t anything that will implicate me,” the magister said, his voice getting firmer. “I’m afraid all you have is a letter with my signature on it. Probably an official letter of office, seeing as how the two of us corresponded in that w
ay often because of my position as magister and his position as juror.” The magister leaned forward, his brow furrowing. “Now. If you have nothing more, I think it’s about time you release these restraints, return me to my home, and we can get on with dealing with the consequences of your actions.”

  Finn stood. He headed over to the cabinet and began to move the tools around. “That’s not going to happen,” he said. “You and I are going to have a much different conversation than you might have expected.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” he said.

  Finn picked up a large hook and carried it over, sitting in front of the magister. The magister glanced at it, and his brow furrowed, his eyes tightened.

  Finn had to be careful now. Either he used it and he risked being wrong even though he didn’t think that he was, or he didn’t use it and the magister would realize he had nothing but empty threats.

  “This is a toenail hook. It’s used to… Well, I suppose you understand what it’s used for,” Finn said. He grabbed for the magister’s boot and pulled off, peeling down his sock as well. “At first, it begins to bite, but then the pain sets in.” Finn brought it closer.

  “You are making a mistake, Mr. Jagger. The moment you do that, you will find I lose all tolerance for this.”

  “The pain is quite exquisite,” Finn went on. “And most unpleasant. It burns.” He looked up. “Now, all you need to do is explain away the documentation that Bellut had.”

  The magister glared at Finn.

  Finn started to press the hook up against the magister’s toenail. He was going to have to go through with this. His heart hammered.

  The magister tried to kick, but Finn pressed forward.

  “I can’t tell you why he would have that documentation. I can’t tell you why he would have saved those letters. And I can’t tell you why he had something to imply I knew the location of the fire starters throughout the city. He must have decided to accuse me, and—”

  Finn scooted back and sat up.

  Finn blinked. “I didn’t tell you anything about the paper documenting the location of the fire starters.”

  “You must have. When you first came to my home.”

  “No. I did not.” He got to his feet and carried the hook back over to the counter.