“I’ve seen,” Finn said.
Meyer smiled tightly. “Yes. You have. Unfortunately, in the time we’ve been working together, you have seen much more than I would’ve expected. My own apprenticeship, and time as a journeyman, did not have quite as much excitement as yours.”
Finn grunted. “I don’t know if I’d call it excitement.”
“Perhaps not. I would never have expected Verendal to be the forefront of such activity, but perhaps it is a sign of something more to come.”
Meyer knew all about the magical attack on the city and he knew about the Alainsith, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge that there had been something going on there. Meyer had never wanted to be involved in magic, as far as Finn knew. He recognized the benefits of the hegen, acknowledged that there was a role for them within the city, and had even encouraged them to take their place and to have a level of influence, but he had done nothing more than that.
“You were out of the city,” Meyer said as they passed over the river, heading into one of the more central sections of the city.
“I was,” Finn said.
Meyer looked over. “You’ve been going out of the city quite a bit these days.”
Finn caught Master Meyer’s gaze and nodded. There was no point in denying it. Finn suspected that Meyer still kept tabs on him, watching to ensure that he either stayed in the city or fulfilled his obligations, though he was a bit surprised that Meyer would admit it so openly.
“I have.”
“Is this about you chasing the hegen?”
Finn flushed. He didn’t want Meyer thinking that. “I wouldn’t need a horse to do that, would I?”
Meyer frowned at him. “You’ve been borrowing a horse?”
So much for the extent of Meyer’s knowledge.
They passed by a row of houses. The houses began to get increasingly larger the farther they went into the city. The closer they got to the palace itself, the houses started to tower over them, and the street widened. Smoke in the distance drifted over the outskirts of the city, a fog rising up, the smell of it filling the air. That smell might be pleasing in the outer sections of the city, but most of the houses had gardens here in the more central sections, and it was unfortunate to have the smoke overwhelm the floral fragrance.
“Borrowing. Renting. Trying to ride.” Finn shook his head. “They like to give me the fat ones.”
“You’re getting taller,” Meyer said.
Finn chuckled. “I’m not getting any taller.”
“Fine. You’re getting bigger. Time spent working as you do tends to build a man.”
“I wouldn’t say the work I do is all that physical,” Finn said.
“Not the day-to-day work, but there are aspects of your work that require certain physicality, and your practice has put muscle on your frame.”
Finn shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“What have you been doing?” Meyer asked it softly, carefully; nothing in his voice suggested irritation, but rather curiosity.
More and more these days, Meyer had been granting him leeway with his work. Trust had evolved in the time he’d been working with him.
“Ever since the attack the last time, I’ve been interested in trying to better understand the Alainsith.”
“You won’t find any Alainsith outside of the city,” Meyer said.
“Esmerelda says the same thing.”
“You have been spending time with her.” Meyer chuckled. “She’s an interesting woman. No one could fault you.”
“I have a feeling she’s partial to those who are of her people,” Finn said.
“Partial to them, but it is not a requirement, I suspect.”
“You only suspect? You don’t know?”
Meyer grunted. “I’m not an expert in all things hegen, contrary to what you might believe.”
“I just figured you might know things.”
He chuckled. “I do know things, but I also know there are things I should not be involved in.”
“Such as me with the hegen?”
Meyer tipped his head, nodding, but then something caught his attention. He turned, looking off into the distance, back toward the edge of the city. “All I would suggest is that you’re careful with that one. She is unique in her situation.”
“As hegen?”
“As one of the hegen elders,” Meyer said softly.
Finn frowned. “You’re going to have to explain that to me. How is Esmerelda one of the hegen elders?”
“They don’t rely upon age,” Meyer said. “They rely upon knowledge, and knowledge can be gained by anyone, regardless of age.”
“I see.” He debated whether he should tell Meyer about what he had uncovered of the Alainsith building, as Meyer didn’t share Finn’s curiosity about them, but a sudden shout caught Finn’s attention, and he never had the opportunity.
Meyer nodded and waited for Finn to step off to the side of the road.
“What’s going on?”
“The response,” Meyer said softly.
Finn looked over to see a line of Archers marching along the street. He’d seen them from a distance, but they felt different up close. All were dressed in leather, with their metal helms gleaming in the sunlight, and all were armed with short swords. A few even carried crossbows. That was a new development. Mixed among the city Archers were a dozen palace Archers. Far more deadly than the city Archers, they were dressed in bright silver armor and their boots thundered on the stones.
“That’s it?” Finn asked.
“Did you think the king would need to send more?”
“I saw the crowd, Master Meyer. I saw the violence in their eyes. They’re going to need more than just fifty city Archers and a dozen or so palace Archers.”
“You’d be surprised,” Meyer said. “You have an unarmed population, and though they might think they want to engage the Archers, they will change their mind as soon as they confront them.”
Finn hoped that was the case.
There was the possibility the instigators would engage, trying to battle with them, and if that happened…
“I think the attack was coordinated,” Finn said. “They whistled to communicate. Like the Archers.”
Meyer frowned. “That would pose a problem.”
The Archers moved past them, casting a look in their direction, and Finn just nodded. He recognized a couple of them, though he didn’t know them well. Ever since he had come to realize that his role as executioner isolated him, he had avoided spending time socially with the Archers and the iron masters.
“Anything else about them?” Meyer looked around. “The kind of thing we’ve seen a little too much of over the last few years?”
Finn cocked a brow. “By that, you mean magical?” He shook his head. “Not that I saw.”
“Unfortunately, given our recent events, I wasn’t sure.”
Finn chuckled. “I hope we don’t face another magical attack so soon. Or ever again.”
“I should hope not,” Meyer said.
“I could talk to Esmerelda about it, if you’re concerned.”
Meyer smiled slightly. “You may talk to her all you want.”
“Not like that,” Finn said.
“You mean you have no interest in a beautiful woman?”
“Not one that dangerous.”
“The best women are dangerous,” Meyer said softly.
When the Archers moved past, Meyer motioned for Finn to follow. They began to trail after the Archers, taking up a position behind them, which surprised Finn.
“Are you sure you want to follow them?”
“We need to observe. We haven’t had anything quite like this in a while,” Meyer said. “Civil unrest like this is not common, though it does happen. Typically, it’s not quite so coordinated.”
“So you agree it’s coordinated?”
“For the protests to happen at this time, yes. That’s what it suggests.”
“What do you mean, ‘at this time’
?”
Meyer frowned, glancing over to Finn. “I thought you knew. The king is in the city.”
The number of palace Archers suddenly took on a different meaning for Finn.
The king coming to the city would mean that there would be far more of their presence here than usual. Typically, the palace Archers were only tasked with protecting the crown jewels within the palace, but for this many soldiers to be marching along the street…
The king came to the city often enough, though Finn wasn’t typically privy to the timing. The only time he’d been alerted to when King Porman had come to the city was when Finn had sentenced the magister, and only then because there had been a need to keep a measure of peace.
“Are the protests because he’s here?” Finn asked.
“There shouldn’t have been any way for anyone to know the king was coming to the city. He came under the cover of night, and his soldiers came later.”
Finn looked over. “What do you mean, ‘his soldiers’?” When Porman had come before, there had been a regiment that traveled with him, but they typically remained stationed outside of the city. Only the officers traveled into the city, presumably because the king wanted to keep Verendal from getting too militarized.
“The Realmsguard are in the city,” Meyer stated.
Finn looked along the street. The Realmsguard were the best trained soldiers in the kingdom. “Then he should send them to keep the peace.”
“I suspect he might,” Meyer said.
They trailed after the soldiers, heading along the street and toward the chaos. The sound of shouting persisted, though Finn couldn’t figure out why the people were so angry from listening to them. Maybe they didn’t even know.
They rounded a curve in the street and found the bridge across the river blocked. On one side were the Archers, most of them armed with crossbows, and many of them holding their crossbows out, and on the other side were protestors. Those in the front line of the protestors shouted the loudest, and some of them even threw items toward the Archers. That surprised Finn. Targeting the Archers was a sure way of getting on the wrong side of a crossbow bolt.
“The damn fools,” Meyer muttered.
That was a considerable amount of emotion from him. Meyer was usually far more reserved, and for him to make a comment like that…
“This isn’t going to end well,” Finn said.
“Never does.”
“You’ve been around things like this before?”
Meyer nodded slowly. “Not quite like this, but I’ve seen men challenge authority. Happens from time to time, and they’re never prepared as they need to be.”
“You think the people should challenge the authority of the king?”
Meyer looked over to Finn as if he were mad. “I didn’t say anything like that. All I’m saying is they’re never prepared. If they wanted to accomplish whatever goal they have for themselves, they would need to be ready for the fight. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’ve ever seen—or heard—of men who are truly prepared for that fight.”
“We almost had one man that was prepared.”
Meyer nodded slowly. “That was similar, but different. When you have outside forces pushing on the city, you’re going to get a different level of preparation. I don’t think this is Yelind, though.”
“They wouldn’t have abandoned their push on the city.” Verendal was close enough to be the natural target for Yelind if they were interested in attacking the city. There were other places within the kingdom they could target, but none that would be as impressive if they succeeded in bringing it down.
“I doubt they’ve abandoned anything, but they drew the king’s attention. He’s positioned soldiers to the south, keeping them at bay.”
Meyer had been better connected than him when it came to knowing the workings of the kingdom, but it sounded almost as if he’d been kept informed of the king’s actions. Maybe he had.
“What of the Alainsith?”
“They have maintained peace with the Alainsith,” Meyer said.
The shouting intensified. Someone threw a flaming bottle at the Archers that exploded where it landed. It was quickly stomped out as the Archers stormed forward.
Crossbow bolts flew.
Men in the front of the protest fell screaming.
Finn wanted to turn away, but he needed to watch.
The Archers pressed forward, moving with a march. The palace Archers guided the city Archers, and together they pushed the protestors back. As they fell deeper into the city, Finn found his attention drawn to the men lying bleeding, dying, on the street.
“Should we help them?”
“Not much that can be done for them,” Meyer said softly.
That comment surprised Finn. “We should do something.” He started forward when Meyer grabbed his wrist, holding him in place.
“Not with this, Finn. We serve the king, and they attacked the king. That’s how he would see it.”
“But we might be able to question survivors.”
Meyer took a deep breath, letting it out in a frustrated sigh. “You’re going to get me killed.” Still, he nodded.
Finn and Meyer reached the bridge. On the far side of the bridge, four Archers remained, all armed with crossbows. As they approached, one of the Archers spun toward them, holding his crossbow out, but Meyer just raised his hand, trying to calm him.
“Turn back,” the Archer said.
Smoke swirled in the distance behind the Archer, rising up and over the city in a pale cloud. The air hung with the smell of it, mixing with the smoke and the heat, but also carrying something else. A different sort of stench that Finn couldn’t quite place.
“We need to question those men,” Meyer said.
“Question? They’re dead,” one of the other Archers said.
Meyer continued forward, moving with a confident step. Finn followed him.
“In order for us to know who organized this plot against Verendal, we’re going to need to question these men,” Meyer said.
“There’s no organization,” the Archer said. “Bastards just decided to attack.”
“I was there. I saw what happened when they decided to attack,” Finn said, stepping forward. He could feel Meyer’s heated gaze but ignored it. He thought he could do this. He could be helpful. Even if Master Meyer didn’t want to help these men, Finn wanted to. And it wasn’t just because they could question them, though that was a part of it. “This was not some simple protest. They had organizers. We need to question them.”
Finn looked past the Archers to the men lying on the street. Several of them weren’t moving at all, and Finn doubted there would be much that could be done for them, but there were three who still moaned and they would likely be useful.
“Let them pass,” the other Archer said. “That’s the hangman and the Hunter.”
“I don’t care who it is,” the other Archer said. Finn noted the stripes of rank on his shoulder. A palace Archer. “We’re under orders.”
“Orders from the king, I presume,” Meyer said. “I am under the same orders.”
The Archer eyed up Master Meyer before stepping off to the side, turning his attention to the other side of the bridge.
Meyer motioned for Finn to go. “You wanted this. Let’s get moving.”
Finn slipped past the Archers, tensing slightly as he felt them shifting their attention toward him. Crossbows aimed in his direction left him uncomfortable.
As soon as they crossed the bridge, he got to work.
Meyer had trained him in many things: interrogation, questioning, sentencing, and healing and wound care.
They had no supplies, but they could stabilize any wounds that could be stabilized. Anything that wasn’t fatal could be treated.
Meyer stopped in front of one of the men, and Finn moved on, kneeling down next to a man with a puncture wound to his side. He been stabbed. The man moaned, writhing in place.
Finn grabbed his belt knife and carved through the ma
n’s dirty brown shirt, cutting a strip off and placing it in the man’s hands. He had shaggy brown hair and pale-blue eyes that were already starting to fade as he looked up at Finn.
“Hold this here,” Finn said to the man.
“Bastards stabbed me,” he managed to get out.
“You attacked them,” Finn said.
“Bastards…”
The man moaned and his head rolled off to the side.
Finn pulled the strip of fabric up, looking down at the wound.
It was deep, all the way into his belly, but looked as if it angled upward. There was more blood than Finn would’ve expected for a belly wound like that.
He wasn’t going to be able to save this man.
He got to his feet, moving on to the next wounded man. This one had a crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest, but it was off to the right side.
The man took a deep, gasping breath.
Finn pressed his hands onto the man’s shoulders. He had a weathered, suntanned face with wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. He could be any man from Verendal. Dirt stained his fingers, streaking up his arms, and he had on a simple brown jacket and pants.
“Easy,” Finn said.
The man opened his eyes, looking over to Finn, and cried out.
“Easy,” Finn said again.
He cut the fabric away from the man’s wound, separating it from the crossbow bolt, and evaluated the skin around the puncture site.
It would’ve been from close proximity, and the crossbow had penetrated fairly deeply, but the fact that the man was still alive gave Finn at least a measure of hope.
Had Esmerelda been here, the hegen might’ve been able to do something to save some of these men, but would she have?
“I need to remove this bolt,” Finn said.
“What are you doing?” the man asked, his voice breathy. “Are you going to kill me?”
“I’m trying to help you, so stop resisting,” Finn said.
The man looked up at him. “I know you,” he said.
“Do you?”
“You’re him. The Hunter.”
Finn held the man’s brown-eyed gaze. “That’s me.”
“You’re here to sentence me.”
“I’m here to question you, but only if I can save you.”
He used his belt knife. It wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t even clean. But he needed to get the crossbow bolt out, then he could investigate whether there was anything more he could do. The wound wasn’t stable, and without supplies, Finn didn’t know if he could do anything to help the man.
The Executioner's Rebellion (The Executioner's Song Book 4) Page 5