The Executioner's Rebellion (The Executioner's Song Book 4)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “What is this?” Finn asked.

  “It's a school, Finn.”

  “A school?”

  “You have schools in Verendal.”

  “Nothing like this,” he said.

  “This is how we help the people find what will bring them passion. Without an opportunity to experience other aspects of life, how can one be expected to know what will bring them joy?”

  “How do the teachers keep from going insane with the sound?”

  Esmerelda looked over and laughed softly. “Why, because it brings them joy.”

  Finn looked over to one of the instructors. He was an older man wearing a baggy brown jacket, loose-fitting breeches, and thin spectacles that hung off his nose. He leaned over one table where three children sat stacking clay, forming it into shapes, and grinning the entire time.

  Another woman, one who was barely older than Esmerelda, had children seated all around her. She was reading from a book as the children shouted.

  “What’s she doing?”

  “She’s telling them stories and encouraging them to tell her stories.”

  “Doesn’t that get in the way?”

  “In the way of what, Finn?”

  “In the way of her trying to teach.”

  “The only thing that would get in the way is if she did not let the children share.”

  At another station, Finn saw older children, all seated with strands of yarn stretching around them, and they were weaving. The patterns were complicated, though brightly colored, like everything the hegen did. There was another station where the children had small nubs of chalk and were coloring on a small board.

  “I check in here from time to time,” Esmerelda said.

  “Why?”

  “Because it is my obligation to teach.”

  An understanding dawned on Finn. “Are there others who can learn what you can do?”

  Was that her point?

  Maybe Lyle Martin had some hegen magic. Could that be why she showed him this now? If not, then he didn’t know what it was that she wanted to show him.

  “There are always others who can learn, but the question is whether they want to learn.” Esmerelda smiled slightly. “Not all choose to learn the same things, Finn, and we encourage our young to find what motivates them. Those who chase their passion will pursue it with much more vigor than those who are forced along their path.”

  Finn grunted. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

  “Because you were forced along your path?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet you have embraced it. Is that because you enjoy it, or because you are forced to do it?”

  “I don’t know how you can enjoy anything when it comes to the kind of work I do.”

  “You enjoy aspects of it,” she said.

  “I do.”

  “Which aspects bring you the most joy?”

  Finn shrugged. “Finding the truth.”

  Esmerelda smiled at him, looking over. “See? That wasn’t so difficult.”

  “I didn’t say it was difficult.”

  “But you didn’t want to answer, either.” She turned, motioning for Finn to follow. “You will find unpleasant elements in everything you do. Even these instructors, men and women who find such joy in teaching the next generation, find that some parts of their days are not as pleasurable as others. Perhaps it’s a child who soils himself. Perhaps it’s crying that bothers them one day when it didn’t on another. Perhaps they are unwell, and the joyous sounds from the children grate on them.” She closed the door, and the sounds within became muted again. “Or perhaps it is someone who takes a different path. One who attempts to use her talents to help her people, but is forced to bargain with outsiders, knowing that what they ask for is not always something that can be attained.”

  “You don’t have to take the jobs,” Finn said.

  “We must all find our own path.” Esmerelda gathered the reins of the horse and led him to the edge of the hegen section. In the distance, Finn could see the Raven Stone and its gleaming white structure, the gallows having been rebuilt over the last few months, though no rope hung from it—a sign that there would be no hanging in the immediate future. Instead, it was a marker of a sentencing to come. Beyond that was the Teller Gate, the massive doors open, allowing people in and out of the city. And then beyond that, Finn could make out the edge of the city and some of the people who were there.

  “You must find your path, Finn. In all things.”

  Finn looked over to Esmerelda. “I didn’t realize I had lost my path. I just want to find the truth.”

  “Sometimes the truth is within ourselves, and we must learn to trust it.” She smiled. “Now, there is something you must see.” She studied him, her dark eyes practically swallowing him. “And I cannot say what it means, but I fear that it will force all of us down a dangerous path before all is done.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  They followed the road around the city, Finn still leading the horse, and there was a silence that stretched between them for a time. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. For her part, she didn’t seem to mind that he was an executioner. He found that comforting in a way. Too many people in Verendal despised his line of work, even as they saw it as necessary.

  From here, the spires of the different churches rose high above the rest of the city. The church of Heleth rose most prominently, though it wasn’t alone. Even the Church of Fell was visible from here, the almost-black stone tower rising against the backdrop of the city, giving off shadows that swept toward Heleth, as if Fell wanted to demonstrate his power to the Mother.

  They had been quiet on their journey and away from the hegen section. Finn ached, the injury in his side still burning with a nagging pain, leaving him to wonder just how badly he’d been hurt. He needed to get back to the city, but he feared that if he were to do so, he would lose this opportunity. Right now, Finn felt as if he needed to know what had happened to the Alainsith structure in Weverth.

  “You seem troubled,” Esmerelda said.

  “I’m just thinking about everything I have to do once I return.” The city loomed in the distance, and Finn could feel the weight of it near him. “There is almost too much for me to do once I get back. And I don’t know how I’m going to find the time to understand what happened in Weverth.” It wasn’t just understanding Weverth, though. It was understanding the Alainsith, something that he had put aside for far too long.

  Esmerelda looked at him with a knowing expression in her eyes.

  “I suspect that you will find the time you need,” Esmerelda said.

  She wasn’t wrong. Even if he had several different people he needed to question, Finn likely would have found a way to sequester time to come out here and look. He hadn’t ventured into the trees. It was easy to get lost if he wandered too far from the path, and as he was no woodsman, Finn didn’t dare do so without someone to guide him. Esmerelda, on the other hand, had no such fear. She had wandered through the forest often, and he suspected she had some magical means of returning.

  “I know so little about them. Everything in the city is rumors and conjecture. The only one who really knows anything is the king, and he doesn’t talk about what he knows.” At least, not to people like Finn.

  Worse, the rumors that existed in the city were wrong. His experience told him the Alainsith had power, but they weren’t violent. At least, they hadn’t been to him. That didn’t mean they couldn’t be violent toward others. And they were powerful with magic.

  In spite of Meyer’s wealth of knowledge, there were no books on the Alainsith. The closest Finn got to seeing them again was two months ago while retrieving an herb from the forest as a favour to Wella when she claimed her bones hurt. Finn had stumbled across what he thought to be an old Alainsith shrine. He’d circled around to the back of the city, the western edge that abutted the forest and the Alainsith lands, looking for more hints of their presence. Verendal was a large city situated at the edge of the kingdo
m, in a place that had maintained peace with the mysterious Alainsith through the efforts of the king and had managed to avoid attack by Yelind along the southern border.

  Esmerelda swept her hand along the horse’s side before dropping it off and clasping both hands together. “People have long tried to understand the Alainsith.”

  “The king has a treaty with them.”

  “And you think you could work with him?”

  “I’m not trying to work with the king. It’s more a matter of trying to understand what has been done.”

  “It has been my experience that the Alainsith are cautious people. Proud. They once knew these lands in ways that your people and mine do not. They have no interest in fighting, though.”

  “Even though they wouldn’t have any difficulty fighting?”

  “Having the ability to fight and having the desire to fight are vastly different things, Finn.”

  She was probably right. Finn’s experience with the Alainsith suggested that they essentially chose who saw them. “Why do you think the berahn helped?”

  She was quiet for a few moments as they made their way along the road. “That is surprising.” She looked over to Finn. “Not that I don’t believe you. You have a unique experience with them, only that it is unusual for them to be seen so often.”

  Finn started to smile, before the memory of what had been done to his attackers came back to him. “I didn’t see it. I just felt it.”

  “Sometimes that is all it takes,” she said.

  Finn regarded her for a moment. It seemed as if she were trying to tell him something more but didn’t say it.

  Esmerelda’s comment about understanding his place struck him out here more than in the city. He should be content with his place. He knew better than to try to involve himself in aspects of the world that were beyond him, and trying to understand the Alainsith, and these berahn, was definitely beyond him. He had seen magic in the world, and he had come to know power, but he had also come to recognize that the kind of magic and power he had seen was far greater than he could be a part of.

  He was an executioner.

  He needed to avoid thinking he was more important than he was. He found Esmerelda watching him, an unreadable expression in her eyes.

  “You wanted me to see something with the Alainsith, but what brought you out in the forest in the first place?”

  Esmerelda glanced to the trees. “Harvesting.”

  He frowned for a moment before realizing what she meant. “I didn’t realize that you harvested your own supplies.”

  “How am I to know that they are effective if I don’t gather them myself?”

  Finn shrugged. “I suppose you wouldn’t.” Wella, the apothecary who worked with him and Meyer, felt much the same as Esmerelda, and likely for the same reasons, though he knew Wella was willing to purchase her supplies from others who brought them to the city. She always tested them for purity and to ensure that they were what she intended to buy. “What did you find?”

  “This time of year is useful in gathering many different items.” She patted her side, but Finn only saw her cloak. He suspected she had a pouch for a satchel underneath where she placed the items she’d gathered. “Though the storage of them is difficult.”

  “You sound like an apothecary.”

  “The nature of the work I do and the nature of what an apothecary does is not so different.”

  “I suspect the apothecaries would feel differently about that.”

  “Where they see medicinals and liniments and concoctions that are drawn from the power of the natural world, I see potential.” She shrugged, looking off toward the trees. “You and I have spoken about the power that exists within the world.”

  “You told me about the power of death.”

  “Of death. Of life. Of everything that exists in nature. It is a matter of finding that potential, mastering it, and using it in a way that will serve your intention. In that way, it is not so different from apothecary medicine. The goals might be different, but beyond that…” She shrugged again.

  “Except there aren’t too many people who can learn to be a hegen, whereas there are quite a few people who can learn to be an apothecary.”

  “It is like many things, Finn. Think of your knowledge of apothecary medicine before you went to work with Henry Meyer.”

  “I didn’t have any knowledge of apothecary medicine before I went to work with Master Meyer.”

  “Exactly. You came in ignorant, and now I suspect you would rival most of the apothecaries in Verendal.”

  “I doubt that,” Finn said. They had looped around the outskirts of the city, and from here he could make out the palace. Strangely, the palace rested near the back of the city, as if it used the entirety of the city as a layer of protection, only it didn’t have the same protection from the forest. “I have some knowledge, but I certainly don’t have as much as most within the city.”

  “Only because you haven’t the opportunity to demonstrate it. If there’s one thing Henry Meyer has done well, it is encouraging you to learn.”

  They took a few more steps before Finn looked over to her. “He’s only done one thing well?”

  “I said if there was one thing. I didn’t say it was the only thing.”

  Finn laughed. “I’m sure he would appreciate your views of his education.”

  “Henry Meyer and I have an understanding,” Esmerelda said. “He recognizes that we can have a mutually beneficial relationship.”

  “And you would keep that relationship with me?”

  “If you think that is the only reason I choose to speak with you, Finn, then—”

  A cry came from within the forest, a mournful sort of sound.

  Esmerelda stiffened. “That is my fear,” she said softly, starting forward.

  Finn followed her. He still guided the horse, and when he reached the tree line, the horse pulled on the reins, jerking his head for a moment. Finn tied off the horse, and then followed Esmerelda.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  Esmerelda continued to move quickly, winding through the trees, though cast a glance back over her shoulder to him. “You may want to move quietly.”

  Finn laughed softly. “I can move quietly enough.”

  “It’s a wonder you were ever a thief, Finn.”

  He snorted, then realized how loud he was. He had to be quiet.

  There weren’t too many times in his current profession where he had to draw upon the lessons he learned in his previous life. Most of the time, he traveled the streets openly, not trying to conceal his presence or his passing, and he didn’t fear going from one section of the city to another.

  Occasionally, Finn had to draw upon those old lessons, mostly to keep himself safe. There were times when he worried somebody might trail after him, though that had become increasingly rare these days.

  He stepped over a root that tried to trip him, then got caught by a small shrub that did trip him. Esmerelda caught his arm, keeping him from stumbling and sprawling forward. She raised a finger to her lips, ducking low and darting forward.

  She moved quietly, quickly, and with a grace he could not even mimic.

  The cry had not returned, though Esmerelda didn’t seem troubled by that. She navigated through the forest as if she knew exactly where it had come from. He didn’t like coming unarmed. He had a belt knife, but nothing else. Normally when he traveled outside of the city, he carried the sword Master Meyer had given him for sentencing, and that at least gave him a measure of comfort and protection—though he hadn’t ever tried to use the sword as a weapon.

  “What do you think it was?” he whispered.

  “This is what I wanted you to see. Perhaps not this, but…” She frowned as she stared into the darkened forest. “I came across something while harvesting, and was troubled by it, but your story about Weverth makes me think that perhaps it was not an isolated incident. Come. I will show you.”

  She pressed her lips together in a tight
frown as she moved forward.

  They continued creeping forward. He heard an occasional insect hum, and somewhere up above was a squirrel chattering, though as they approached, the squirrel fell silent. The air was heavy and damp, the rain having saturated the ground, and his boots quickly became covered in mud.

  Esmerelda waved her hand, motioning for him to slow.

  She slipped forward and Finn followed, deciding to grab for his belt knife. It felt better having something in hand. If there was some creature out here, he wanted to be prepared for it.

  Not that he expected to see the berahn. Esmerelda had described them as silent killers—creatures that would sneak up on someone before they had a chance to even react.

  In the distance, a stream burbled softly.

  Esmerelda veered away from it, though.

  He leaned closer to her. “Which way should we go?”

  She smelled of roses and a hint of spice. Maybe helthir, though Finn would need to take more time to know for certain.

  Esmerelda looked over her shoulder at him. “There will be an Alainsith home up ahead. I fear the cry leads us to it.”

  “What caused it?”

  “The stone, Finn.”

  They moved a little bit farther along the forest floor when a small clearing opened in front of them. Strangely, the clearing looked old, and collapsed stone formed a ring around it, vines growing up within it. There was something ancient and powerful about it, something that struck him as vaguely familiar, though Finn wasn’t sure why. There was nothing else here, though. Certainly no reason for them to have heard a cry out in the forest.

  Esmerelda moved into the clearing and stopped in the middle, holding her hands off to either side of her. Her lips moved soundlessly and she began to turn slowly.

  Finn had been around her when she had used her hegen magic before, though rarely when it was so openly used. He wondered if he might get in the way of whatever she was trying to do. Would his presence impede her magic?

  If it would, Esmerelda would’ve told him to move.

  He wandered to the nearest stone and crouched down in front of it to get a better look. There were strange markings on it in a language he couldn’t read, but he didn’t need to be able to read it to know what it was.