“Was it him? Bellut?”
Oscar shook his head. “When the King started pulling those jobs, I wondered. Didn’t find anything.”
“Bellut served Yelind.”
Oscar grunted. “So?”
“So my father was convicted of treason. That’s the reason he was moved.”
“Is that your concern?” Oscar asked, and Finn shrugged. “What’s treason to men like us? We didn’t care where the coin came from, so long as it spent. With what your father wanted…”
Maybe that was all it was.
Or maybe there was more.
“You could get the hangman to find out more,” Oscar said.
“He tried. There’s nothing more he can learn.”
“I see. You hoped I might know something.”
Finn nodded slowly. “I just want answers. With my mother gone, that’s all I want.”
“Does it matter?”
Finn started to tell him that it did, but maybe Oscar’s practicality was right.
Did it matter?
He wanted to know what happened to his father, but learning wouldn’t change anything for him. Not at this point. He’d been gone long enough. Chances were good that Finn would never learn unless Porman decided to share.
They fell into a comfortable silence for a little bit. “Can you do something for me?”
“Not so sure you want to be asking favors of me.”
“This isn’t any sort of favor. At least, not one that is going to cause trouble for you. I need to get word to the Mistress. I need you to—”
“I can’t do it, Finn.”
“I’m not trying to get you in trouble with her. I just want you to send my thanks.”
Oscar frowned. “Your thanks?”
Finn nodded again. “Were it not for her, all of this would have exploded. She forced crews to help gather the devices so Meyer could disarm them.” Having seen the fires raging firsthand, and having seen how quickly the device led to a building burning, Finn knew that it wouldn’t have taken long before the city burned. With as many of those devices as they had discovered in the city, it would have been all too easy for there to have been even more destruction.
“I’ll pass word. She’s a dangerous one, you know.”
“I’m sure there are stories.”
“When it comes to that one, those stories have a way of being true.” Oscar held Finn’s gaze. “You don’t have to worry about Wolf, either. She made sure of it.”
“Oscar…”
“Told you she’s taken charge in the city. The crews took care of this one, Finn. I’m not going to feel bad about what happened to him, either. He used them.”
“Rock is going to be banished from the city,” Finn said.
“Still only exile?”
“He provided information. Had he not, I wouldn’t have uncovered the depths of the plot against the kingdom. I think this time, he’ll stay gone.” He had his family to look out for. Now that they were out of Verendal, Finn had to hope Rock could start fresh. It might be misguided hope, but it was still hope.
Oscar frowned. “You’ve changed, Finn.”
“Have I?”
“Not a bad thing. Not at all.” He glanced over to the Wenderwolf. “Are you going to come in?”
It was late, and they had been through so much, but perhaps he could have one drink.
“I can’t stay late. I have a busy day tomorrow.”
“An executioner never rests, eh?”
“Not until I find who’s guilty.”
“I hope I never have you chasing after me.”
“Don’t give me reason to.”
Oscar regarded Finn for a long moment, slapped him on the shoulder, and guided him into the Wenderwolf.
Chapter Thirty-One
Finn stood outside of the palace, looking up at the massive walls. The wind carried out of the north, bringing the scent of rain mixed with a gust of cool air, a combination Finn found comforting. Better than the smell of the city burning.
He glanced over to Master Meyer dressed in his gray leathers and swallowed tightly. “I felt nervous before executions before, but this one is different.”
“This one is different,” Master Meyer said. They stood before the gate, awaiting the prisoner, neither of them heading through the gate or into the palace itself. There was no purpose in doing so. Much like with any other execution, they would await the prisoner, and only when the prisoner came would they begin the procession. Unlike with other prisoners, there had been no visitation the morning of the execution. There had been nothing other than him and Master Meyer waiting.
The palace Archers stood just on either side of the gate, though they paid little mind to Finn and Master Meyer. It was the first time he had come to the palace without the trepidation he had had each time before.
“Do you think the king will pardon him?” Finn asked.
“There are very few crimes that require immediate sentencing. Treason is but one,” Master Meyer said. “Even if that’s not his sentence.”
There was that word again. Treason.
It weighed heavy on Finn.
Finn had always felt like he was a part of Verendal but never truly a part of it. He had lived in the city his entire life and had known nothing other than city life, going so far as to even tell Master Meyer that he was a city person at heart. Still…
It was different, being asked to serve the kingdom.
As he looked over to Master Meyer, he couldn’t help feel as if maybe he were more of an integral part than he had ever given himself credit for.
The wind shifted, gusting slightly out of the northwest now, and the smells shifted with it, carrying a hint of the forest, a fragrance from flowers, along with a bit of a familiar aroma Finn couldn’t quite place. It smelled similar to one of the medicinals Wella stocked in her apothecary, though he wasn’t entirely sure what it was or why it should be so familiar to him.
He turned, looking toward the rest of the city. The Gallows Festival would be different today as well. Finn didn’t remember the last time anyone of any note had been sentenced, which meant that the city itself wouldn’t have remembered either. Everything changed when the sentencing had more meaning to it.
Porman’s Path leading away from the palace twisted and turned, giving no direct look from there toward the Teller Gate, but the march would be the same. The walk along the road would be no different from what it was in any other sentencing. The only thing different would be the duration of the march. Unlike in Declan Prison, where most of the prisoners were sentenced and left the city, coming through the city from there would be a long walk.
Finn was prepared.
“How do you feel?” Master Meyer asked.
Finn turned his attention back to Meyer, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to feel?”
Meyer nodded to the palace. “That is what I’m trying to determine. Do you feel vindicated?”
“I knew he was guilty,” Finn said.
“Knowing his guilt and proving guilt are different matters altogether.”
“You want to know if I am looking for vengeance or justice.”
Meyer just shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Can it be both?”
“We’ve talked about that.”
“No. We talked about your belief, but I wonder if I have a different one. I’m not angry. I don’t want to carry out his sentencing to exact revenge by any means. So, I suppose that means I’m not after vengeance?”
“Perhaps,” Master Meyer said.
Finn looked over to the palace. “I would have liked to have been able to sentence Bellut and Wolf as well.”
“Does it matter that you were not able to?”
“It matters. They didn’t face the king’s justice.”
Meyer watched him before nodding.
“In this case, I can’t help but feel as if the vengeance is for more than just me. It’s for the city. It’s for the king. It’s for all of us and anyone who might have s
uffered because of the magister.”
“Perhaps in this case, vengeance and justice are served simultaneously,” he said.
Finn smiled. “Would that be so wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Master Meyer said. “But I’m willing to question.”
The doors to the palace opened, and four palace Archers strode forward, with the magister, dressed in the crimson of the king—a benefit no other prisoner would be permitted—marching between them. He had his head held high, and he stared straight ahead. Four more palace Archers marched behind him.
Finn smiled slightly.
“Are you thinking of the sentencing?” Master Meyer whispered.
Finn chuckled as the Archers approached along the path to the palace entrance. “Actually, I was thinking we have more Archers than are needed for him.”
The palace Archers stopped in front of him and Meyer.
Meyer waited, and Finn hesitated, mostly because they hadn’t discussed who was going to lead, though Finn had assumed that it would be Master Meyer. When he didn’t step forward, Finn did.
“Magister Teller Fol,” Finn said, standing straight and meeting his gaze. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
The magister turned to him, and the once-gentle expression Finn had often seen on his face was gone. In its place was an angry sneer, an expression that didn’t really suit him, though maybe it did.
“Do you really think this farce will be permitted?”
Finn glanced to the palace before turning to the magister. “The king has permitted you to come this far. If he were to intervene…”
He glanced over to Meyer, who just nodded slightly.
They stepped off to the side of the road, and the Archers started forward. One of the priests of Heleth marched along with him, the head priest who had presided over Finn’s mother’s funeral services. It was the only time Finn had seen him involved in a sentencing, though for someone who served directly under the king, perhaps such a privilege was warranted.
He spoke softly, and the words of Heleth rose against the backdrop of the city. Finn and Master Meyer took up a position behind the last of the Archers, letting the others lead the procession.
“It surprises me,” Finn said, glancing over to Master Meyer. “That he is still permitted some of the trappings of his office.”
“He was permitted an honorable death,” Master Meyer said.
“That despite treason?”
“He was not sentenced for his treason,” Meyer reminded.
Finn glanced over to Master Meyer before turning his attention to the Archers and to the magister as they marched along the streets. It seemed wrong, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that the king’s justice was being served. There was nothing wrong with that, so perhaps he should find it within him to accept what was to follow.
They crossed over the river and passed into some of the poorer sections of the city. The crowds were denser than they often were, though given the nature of the crimes the magister was convicted of, along with the fact that he was a high-ranking official within the city, there was much more public interest than there usually was for such things.
Finn used Master Meyer to model how to behave and react. As they reached the Teller Gate, the crowd opened up, and thousands upon thousands of people packed the space outside of the wall, all trying to get a look at the Raven Stone.
Finn watched for a reaction out of the magister, but there was none.
He grunted. “The bastard actually thinks the king will pardon him,” he muttered.
Master Meyer glanced over. “Perhaps he does.”
“Do you think he will?”
“He would not have let him come this far.”
They approached the jurors, now down a member along with the magister who oversaw the jurors, leading the jurors through the legal proceedings. Things would change with the new magister, and perhaps it would even give Finn an opportunity for a fresh start. Maybe with a new juror and a new magister Finn might finally have a measure of freedom.
They paused for a moment in front of the jurors, and when none of the jurors paid any attention to the magister, Finn and Master Meyer took up position on either side of him.
“Climb,” Master Meyer said.
He started up the steps of the Raven Stone, moving slowly at first. Finn and Master Meyer each held on to an arm. They reached the top of the Raven Stone. Finn looked out over the sea of people, thousands gathered to watch the execution. In the distance, he noticed activity in the hegen section but could barely make out the sounds of music; the joyous, jaunty tunes that they played while the festival went on.
They took a space in the middle of the Raven Stone, and the priest stood behind the magister. He spoke the words of Heleth, his voice rising in intensity, carrying out, up, and there was actually something in the way that he spoke those words that called to Finn. He could almost believe that the god was out there, looking down upon him, offering him guidance.
On Finn, not the magister.
They looked out over the gathered assembly. Master Meyer remained near the magister, saying nothing. Finn knew what he needed to do.
He took a step forward, bowing to the assembled jurors. Meyer was going to allow him to carry out the execution.
A dozen different thoughts went through his head. Was it vengeance or justice? That was the first one that struck him, and even with that thought, Finn didn’t know the answer. Perhaps it truly was both.
And it would be the first time he would wield the sword Justice in any official capacity.
He took a deep breath, holding the jurors’ gaze. “I, Finn Jagger, present to you the prisoner Teller Fol, accused of fires in the Jorend section leading to the death of five souls of Verendal.” Within Finn’s mind, he named off the magister’s other crimes. Treason was among them, but there were others. “By the order of the jurors of Verendal, following the guidance of King Porman, he is sentenced to die by the sword.”
There was no response.
Shouts rang out from the crowd, as they often did during executions. People cried out, some seeking more vengeance, others wailing, wanting compassion, but Finn had learned to ignore them. There was the occasional fruit or vegetable tossed onto the Raven Stone, but even that Finn had learned to ignore.
When none of the others spoke, he turned back to face the magister.
“Do have any final words?”
“The king will pardon me.”
“No. He won’t.” Finn glanced at Master Meyer, who turned, and Finn pulled the sword Justice free of the sheath strapped to Master Meyer’s back.
He had held the sword many times during his training with Master Meyer, not only cleaning it, but wielding it while practicing, carving through pumpkins designed to mimic the very same activity he was about to perform. None of them had prepared him for this moment.
Hanging a man had become easier. Not easy. Thankfully, Finn still struggled enough to tell him he had a soul and a measure of compassion, but still easier. He could tie a knot ahead of time, and slipping the noose around the condemned person’s neck was a simple matter to do while thousands of people watched. And then removing the stool took little more than a push. There was no strength. No real skill other than tying the knot.
Using the sword, though, was something else altogether.
In the time that he had served Master Meyer, there had been several people who had died by the sword, but Master Meyer had carried out those executions. It was those where they were sentenced to die by hanging where he had permitted Finn to get involved. As he held on to the sword Justice, he couldn’t help but wonder why Meyer had permitted Finn to use this as his opportunity to wield the sword Justice the first time.
It was a test, the same way many things with Master Meyer were a test.
It was also a greater punishment for the magister to have the apprentice executioner carry out his sentencing.
The magister didn’t kneel, staring defiantly out at the juror
s, ignoring the gathered crowd. “He will pardon me! You have made a mistake. All of you will face—”
Master Meyer shoved his knee into the back of the magister’s knee. The man dropped to his knees.
Finn took up a position, stabilizing himself, taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and he raised the sword as Master Meyer had taught him. He let out the breath slowly, then held it.
The magister turned toward him, as if only now realizing that Finn were the one to carry out the sentence.
Finn swept the blade in a rapid arc. His aim was true.
The magister’s eyes widened slightly in the moment right before the blade cleaved through his neck.
Then he dropped.
Finn took a step back, looking over to Master Meyer and then finally out at the jurors. Several of them had already started turning away, including Isabel and Noren, but a few lingered, looking up at the Raven Stone, as if unable to believe that they had actually carried out the sentence.
It was then that Finn understood.
The sentence was not truly for the rest of the people gathered. The sentencing was for the jurors and anyone who thought that they might attempt something similar.
Finn looked over to Master Meyer. “You did well,” Meyer said.
“I don’t know how to feel about it.”
“Then you feel the right way.”
Finn reached into his pouch, pulling out the rag to clean off the blade, along with a small vial of oil. After he cleaned Justice, he held it out, waiting for Master Meyer to turn so that Finn could slip the blade back into the sheath.
“What now?”
“Now I believe you can finally get on with your training. You’ve been delayed. It’s understandable, given everything that you had gone through, but now I think it’s time for you to focus on emerging from the shadow of what took place and to find your focus back upon your training.”
Finn looked over to see that the palace Archers had remained and taken up positions around the Raven Stone. “Why are they here?”
“They have remained so that they might ensure the hegen do not claim a prize.”
The Executioner's Apprentice (The Executioner's Song Book 2) Page 40