The man he’d come to meet with had killed a neighbor over a stupid dispute: leaves had fallen on one man’s roof and were tossed onto the other’s. They had some history, so one had killed the other. There was no remorse.
A simple sentence and the king’s justice was carried out easily.
It was almost as if it had been planned by Master Meyer to help him move past what had happened during his last journey out of the city. Still, while he was gone, his thoughts lingered on the city, on what he was missing, and on whether the protests would pick back up. Finn still wasn’t convinced that Walter Briggs’ sentence would take care of the unrest in the city—not based on what he had seen, and not if everything was coordinated the way he believed.
But the Teller Gate was open as he returned that evening.
He returned the horse to the stable, still feeling an unease within the city, but he wasn’t stopped. He saw no one in the streets, which was typical these days, but the stable was empty as well. Finn returned the horse and paused in the street. He saw a trail of smoke in the distance, but it might have been there when he’d left, the remains of one of the fires in an outer section. There had been so many set during the protests that it felt as if the city had continually burned.
As he made his way to Meyer’s home, he realized the smoke drifting around the city was more substantial than he remembered. Much more. And only in the outer sections. It was a wonder he’d made it into the city without seeing it better.
Shouts caught his attention, and he slowed long enough to realize it was another protest. Finn knew better than to get caught up in that, so he hurried to Meyer’s home.
The inside was quiet. He lingered for a moment in the entrance to the home, sweeping his gaze around it. Not nearly as much had changed for him this time, compared to the last time he’d left the city. He hadn’t nearly died, for one.
He set the sword inside the closet, closing it, then paused in his room. The curtains were drawn, the bed was made, and the books he had stacked on his desk were untouched. The lantern looked as if it hadn’t been lit in weeks, which was probably true. Ever since the protests had started, Finn had not paid much attention to his space, nor to his studies, though perhaps that was a mistake. He might have benefited from continuing to work on his training, learning more about medicine and healing, and trying to keep up with his sister. He didn’t need to continue studying techniques of torment, as he felt he had mastered those. It was the other aspects of his job he needed to hone.
Finn set his pack down and headed through the home to see where Meyer and his sister were, but there was no sign of them. The kitchen was empty. The air had no smell of bread, meat, eggs, or any of the sweet treats his sister liked to bake.
There was no one here.
He thought they would have returned from the hospital ward by now.
Meyer might still be there, especially if it meant he’d find more answers about the Black Rose—and if the protests had returned. Finn was tired, and he wanted to rest, but after having been gone for a little over a day, he didn’t know if he would have missed anything. He grabbed his cloak, threw it over his shoulders, and headed back outside.
It was eerily quiet in the streets.
The air smelled of the smoke and something he couldn’t quite place.
Finn hurried to the old prison. The only people he saw were Archers in the distance.
Something was wrong.
The old prison had a faint odor to it. Its usual mossy appearance suggested that nature still threatened to overwhelm it despite the city landscape, but for whatever reason, it now felt as if the city were pressing upon it, causing the stone to change.
To decay.
Finn frowned.
He approached it slowly.
The old prison was an Alainsith building. There were dozens upon dozens of those within the city. The only thing Finn could think of was what he’d experienced outside of the city, the way that the other Alainsith structures had collapsed. Esmerelda had warned him about others, though he’d been so focused on the protests, he hadn’t had the chance to look into it. There had been the one he had seen with Esmerelda, then the one he had seen outside of Weverth. It was all somehow connected.
He swept his gaze over the stone, looking at the moss, then pressed his hand up against it.
It was cool to the touch.
Had it always been that way?
He hadn’t taken any time to test the temperature of the stone, though he seemed to remember that Alainsith structures were always warm, certainly warmer than this.
Finn stepped back and looked along the street.
The fact that there was still no movement should reassure him, but there was a strange emptiness here, which was more than a little unsettling. Finn made his way around the back entrance to the prison and opened the door.
A stench struck him—foul and unpleasant, and different from what he remembered before.
Finn held the door open and looked around him. There was nothing here. It was empty. He hurried inside.
When his boots stepped on the stone, he felt a crunching.
He stopped.
Finn looked down. He crouched in front of the stone, running his hand along its surface. The stone had crumbled.
He shifted forward, and when he did, the stone crumbled again.
Finn got to his feet and hurriedly looked around the inside of the prison. If his sister and Meyer were still here, then they were in danger.
He rushed forward, stepping carefully as he went, but he needed to get down into the hospital unit.
He took the steps in long strides, careful not to put any more pressure on the stone than necessary. Each time he touched a step, the stone began to crumble around him.
What’s going on here?
Finn reached the bottom of the stairs and hurried along the hallway, the crackling of the stone loud in his ears. He didn’t see any other damaged stone around him, which left him worried that something had happened to his sister and Meyer. If they were still inside the hospital ward…
He reached the doors and pulled them open.
It was empty. And it stank. The air was foul, filled with a strange odor of decay.
Finn swept his gaze along the empty beds, pausing in front of the table at the back of the room where Wella had left all of the supplies. It was empty now. In fact, the entire room was empty, the supplies gone.
With every step he took, the ground crumbled.
He needed to get out of here.
Where was his sister? Where was Meyer?
Most of the prisoners had been questioned and moved, but there were still a few here when he’d been here last. Where were they now?
Finn hurried back out, down the hall, all too aware of the trembling beneath him.
He quickly climbed the stairs as they collapsed with each step.
The ground rumbled. Finn fell, slipping down the stairs.
He scrambled for a handhold, but couldn’t get one.
Finn tried pulling at the stone, tried to get his hands farther along, but each time he clawed at it, the stone collapsed under his hand, almost as if it were unwilling to let him touch it.
He cried out.
The walls were starting to crumble around him.
He had seen something like this happen before, had even experienced it firsthand, but had never expected that it would happen inside this old building. There had been nothing like this anywhere in the city.
Just outside it.
Unclean.
That word came back to him, as if it were a message.
He dug his toes in. Finn tried not to think about what would happen if the stone collapsed around him entirely, what it would feel like to be buried underneath it.
Finn slammed his hand into the crumbling stone, pulling himself forward. Each time he did, something shifted beneath the surface of his palm, but he still climbed, pulling himself up.
He was close.
Not much farther, and
he would be able to get to the ground floor hallway, and from there he could get outside.
He slipped again, sliding down along the surface as the stone continued to crumble beneath him.
Finn tried to anchor himself, hold himself in place, but he could not.
Now the walls began to tremble.
He covered his head as the stone started to shower down around him. He wasn’t going to be able to get out the same way he’d come in. Was there another way he might be able to escape?
The hospital section had a much higher ceiling, and there were tables. Beds. He could use something there.
He raced backward, ignoring how the stone cracked and broke with each step. When he reached the hospital unit, he dove toward the table that had once had Wella’s medicines on it and crawled underneath—and not a moment too soon.
The walls trembled. The ceiling collapsed. Stone rained down.
Finn could do nothing more than just lie there.
When everything settled, daylight shone down. The walls still crumbled, but with less intensity. He would live.
Weverth. The Alainsith building. The attack—and attempt to take his sword.
He’d been so focused on the protests, but what if there was something more to everything that had happened?
Perhaps the Black Rose movement was involved in some way, but Finn didn’t know how it could all be connected, or why.
Finn moved mattresses together, stacking them. He could use them to climb out. As he pulled one off of one of the beds, he heard a strange clattering.
He looked down. There was a small, wooden object resting on the ground. It was broken, little more than a chunk of wood, but he could imagine what it was supposed to look like: a black rose—and it had an engraving on the other side.
It was the same kind of engraving he’d seen on Reginald’s coin.
Witchcraft. He didn't understand what the engraving was, or how it worked, but it had to be why the prison collapsed around him.
Finn started to climb up the stone. At first, it crumbled more, but the more he climbed, the more it held. It seemed as if the lower level of the prison had crumbled more than the upper level, and that was what had caused the collapse.
Once he got free, he stood on the street, backing into the shadows so he could look around. Someone had done this. Again, the only thing he could think of was witchcraft, but what kind of witchcraft was this?
He needed to find Meyer. His sister. The rest of the prisoners.
He needed to find answers about the connection between the Black Rose movement and the use of witchcraft, but Finn didn’t know what that would involve.
He looked along the street, uncertain where to go. He reached an intersection, then soon realized something. Debris filled the air in another place. Finn had thought it was smoke, but that wasn’t it at all.
He went toward it and found it brought him to a part of the city that Finn was all too familiar with.
The Brinder section. The temple had collapsed.
Finn reached it, then stopped.
There was a figure standing near the temple dressed in a long, gray cloak, and beneath the cloak were dark—the clothing of thieves.
Finn knew who it was. How could he not when he had seen those darks so many times over the years and pulled jobs alongside them?
“Oscar? What are you doing?”
“I suppose the same thing as you,” Oscar said.
“This isn’t the only one that collapsed.” Finn took a moment, looking around before sharing with Oscar what he’d seen.
Oscar turned his attention back to the temple. “This always felt so impressive before,” he said. “It always felt like something that couldn’t fall. I can’t believe it has.”
“Somebody is doing this. It’s tied to the protests.”
He frowned. “Why would somebody care enough to destroy these buildings? That’s not what the movement was about. You read the pamphlet I gave you. I know you saw what they wanted.”
Finn shook his head. Oscar was right. The protests made a certain sort of sense, but this… “I don’t have any idea. I need to find my sister and Meyer.” Finn looked along the street. It was strangely empty, and even out here, there were no Archers. Why had they all disappeared? “The two of them are missing. I was outside of the city on an assignment, and when I returned, they were gone.”
“I can look for them.”
Finn smiled tightly. “Thank you.”
Oscar just shook his head. “You know I would do anything for your sister.”
Finn breathed out. He wished there were an answer here, or something he could say or do to get one, but there was nothing. He needed to know what had happened here, and he wasn’t going to be able to do that until he had help.
This was magic. Which meant he needed to get Esmerelda.
Oscar started toward him, but then froze. He flicked his gaze past Finn.
Finn looked behind him. A pair of Archers were heading along the street, sweeping quickly toward them.
“It’s fine,” Finn said. “The Archers aren’t going to do anything to you.”
“They aren't going to do anything to you,” Oscar said. “But they very much will do something to me.” Oscar started to move away. “Let’s get away from here. Find me at my club. Do you remember how to find it?”
Finn nodded as Oscar slipped away.
Out of the three in the patrol, one of the Archers peeled off, though Finn didn’t see where he’d gone. One of them approached Finn, already drawing his sword.
Finn placed his hands in the air. “I’m Finn Jagger, executioner for the king.”
The Archer watched him, hand on his sword, making Finn even more uneasy. He didn’t recognize the man, but these days, Finn wasn’t even sure if he would recognize the Archers.
“What are you doing out?” the man asked. “There’s a curfew in the city.”
“I’ve been away from the city for a bit,” Finn said. “What do you mean, ‘there’s a curfew’?”
The Archer took another step toward him. “You are not to be out.”
Finn frowned. Now he understood Oscar’s concern.
“I’m in service of King Porman. If you question that, then we can go to Tolsten.”
One of the other men motioned to the Archer, and they looked along the street.
More Archers.
The patrols were heavier than Finn had ever seen. The city had erupted in violence in the day he’d been gone. Would it have been different if he had stayed?
“Leave him,” one man said.
The first Archer slammed his sword into his sheath and they marched away.
Shouts rang out behind Finn.
More and more people gathered in the street as a crowd started making its way toward Finn.
He ran, hurrying across the road after making sure no one was there. When he got to the opposite side, he slipped along in the shadows, reaching the next alley. He moved carefully and quickly, trying to ignore the stench of the alley and pausing when he reached its end. There was someone moving along the street. He didn’t dare head out until he could tell for sure who was there.
A man called out to others. Finn recognized the black crest on his lapel—the mark of the Black Rose. The man led the crowd past, and thankfully, no one looked toward Finn. He stayed in the darkness, hiding in the shadows.
Now wasn’t the time to go to Esmerelda.
Get to Oscar.
He didn’t know if he was going to be able to take the alleys all the way to Oscar’s lounge. Finn pressed his back up against the wall nearest him and closed his eyes. He had to think through his path.
He could get through Brinder. That was easy enough. Once he got outside of the Brinder section, though, passing from here to another section would be more complicated.
Finn darted forward. As soon as he crossed the street, there was a shout behind him.
The protesters moved toward him.
He was no longer accustomed to th
is.
He wasn’t a thief anymore. He was an executioner. There was no reason he should have to sneak through the streets like this. No reason for him to have to hide who he was and where he was going. No reason for him to have to conceal himself.
Finn raced along the alley until he got to the next street.
Every time he thought there was a clear section of street, he heard chaos—fighting, violence, occasionally shouts. Every so often, an explosion echoed, thundering through the streets and carrying to Finn’s ears.
He navigated slowly, carefully, pausing at each alley, looking along the street, and searching for any sign of the protest making its way toward him. At one point, Finn had to duck around the corner and hurry toward an alley, barely managing to stay ahead of them. He didn’t know if they would recognize him, or if they would come for him, but he didn’t want to take his chances.
He came across several other throngs of people, all led by someone with the mark of the Black Rose.
The city was in chaos.
Fires glowed everywhere. Smoke filled the sky.
And there was dust. Alainsith structures destroyed.
All he wanted was to find his sister and Meyer and get them to safety.
The only way he could do that would be by getting to Oscar. It was strange for him to feel that way. He had been the one to promise safety to Oscar, but he wasn’t able to offer him that.
Not anymore.
But Oscar was there for him.
Oscar had always been there.
By the time Finn made it to Oscar’s club, he was tired. Nothing he’d found helped him understand what was going on in the city around him. There had been no additional movement from the protesters or those with the marking of the Black Rose since he arrived, though every so often, Finn caught sight of shadows in the distance, and the sound of screams or shouts echoing. It wouldn’t be long before everything exploded in violence.
But the king wasn’t about to let the violence in the city build. Finn was certain of that.
He tested the lock on the door to Oscar’s club. It was closed.
He tried to look inside, but the windows were all blocked, barricaded to keep him from seeing anything.
He knocked softly.
Finn stayed pressed up against the door, cautious here, and worried that he might get caught by one of the members of the Black Rose.
The Executioner's Rebellion (The Executioner's Song Book 4) Page 36