The Executioner's Right (The Executioner's Song Book 1)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “There is tradition, and I invoke it. Seeing as how the king will be visiting in several days, you can bring it up to him if you are so inclined.”

  One of the jurors regarded the executioner. “You know what the crown requires of us. All we need to do is summon the viscount—”

  “The viscount can’t override this,” the magister said, his lips pressed together in a sour frown. “This is spelled out within the law. The only one who may override it is King Porman himself.”

  The executioner stood looking down at the others. Tension filled Finn’s body.

  Finally, the magister shook his head. He climbed the stairs to the top of the Raven Stone before taking up a place next to the executioner. He leaned close and spoke to him, his voice loud enough that Finn could hear. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Henry, but this is a dangerous gambit.”

  “It’s not a gambit. I am simply invoking my right.”

  “If the king intervenes—”

  “If the king intervenes, then the sentence can be carried out at that time.”

  The magister studied the executioner for a moment before nodding. He raised his hands, and gradually, the noise in the crowd began to die out. The magister spoke, his words carrying far more than Finn would’ve expected, projecting out over the crowd.

  “The gods have intervened.” A murmuring came over the crowd. “And Master Meyer has invoked the Executioner’s Right.”

  The executioner turned away as the murmuring in the crowd intensified.

  He stepped up to Finn, resting a hand on the noose around his neck. “Pray the king doesn’t intervene,” he said.

  “What is this?”

  “You have been granted a reprieve and a chance to serve.”

  “Serve who?”

  The executioner held his gaze. “Me.”

  Chapter Ten

  The flowers in the small lawn seemed out of place. Purple petals surrounded a bright yellow center, connected by a long stem. They were beautiful. Finn leaned toward the raised flower bed, breathing in the fragrance of the flowers.

  “Come along.”

  He looked up. The executioner guided him through the yard and toward the door of the tidy house near the edge of the Reval section. Situated as it was near the river, the house sat almost on the border of the citizen sections, though it straddled some of the outer sections of the city.

  He still didn’t know what to make of what had happened. The executioner had invoked his right, which meant Finn got a reprieve, but a reprieve for what?

  The executioner hadn’t explained during the walk through the city. He’d taken side streets, trying to avoid the crowd as it dissipated, saying nothing to Finn. At one point while they’d been walking, Finn thought he saw Oscar, but he couldn’t be certain. There had been so many people out during the day that it could have been anyone, not necessarily the Hand. Still—the person’s face had appeared several times, enough that Finn began to question if that wasn’t the Hand after all.

  He looked along the yard. It would be easy enough to sneak through there undetected. Not during the day. Too much sunlight streamed down, filling the small garden with light. At night, though, it would be an easy job. Slip past the gate—Finn didn’t even think it’d been locked—and along the path through the garden toward the small home.

  Wearing darks at night would be easy enough…

  He shook away those thoughts.

  The executioner led him into the home.

  It was larger than Finn would have expected. Richly stained wood lined the floor, the walls, even the beams overhead. The scent of flowers filled the inside of the home, much like those out in the garden. A stair led up to the upper level of the house. Though it was a larger house than he was accustomed to, he didn’t see anything worth taking in there.

  The executioner motioned to a door along a narrow hall. “You can use that room.”

  Finn blinked. “For what?”

  “For your belongings. To sleep. That’s what.”

  Finn still didn’t understand all of what was happening around him. Some of that came from how tired he felt. The long days had gotten to him; the time in the prison passed quickly, though not with much sleep. Finn needed more rest than he’d gotten.

  “Why?”

  The executioner grunted. “You’re going to serve. That’s why you’re here.”

  “You said that before. You mentioned a second chance.”

  “That’s right. This is it. You’re to be my apprentice.” The executioner turned away. “When Gerdan died, it opened a position.”

  “And Gerdan was—”

  “My assistant. Assigned to me.” He looked over. “You likely knew him as the Lion.” He pushed open the door to the room. “There’s not much here. A bed, but that’s what you get when you’re working with me. It’s been a while since I had anyone stay with me, anyway.”

  Finn looked into the room. A narrow bed ran along the length of the wall. A wardrobe took up space on the opposite wall. There was a desk with a lantern atop it. That was it.

  “This is for me?”

  “For now.” The executioner turned toward him. “Let’s go through a few details before we begin. I have rounds I need to make today, which now means you’re going to make them with me. When you get useful, then you’ll divide up the work with me. First off, this may be your room, but this is my home. Treat it as such. Second, you’re here because I invoked my right. The king visits in a few days, and from the way the magister looked disappointed, I figure he’ll push the viscount, who will petition the king to enforce the magister’s sentencing. The Executioner’s Right is an old tradition, though, so while I don’t think King Porman will overrule my claim, you need to be prepared.”

  Everything came at Finn too fast. The executioner seemed almost dismissive of the viscount. “Prepared for what?”

  “For the king to decide to carry out your sentence. Right now, you’ve received a reprieve. I figure you’ve got a few days to prove you deserve it. After that, you have to prove you can stay; otherwise, the brief reprieve disappears.”

  “How long?” Finn asked. He still didn’t know what would be involved, serving as the executioner’s assistant, but that would be a question for later.

  “For the king?”

  Finn shook his head. “For the other. How long to prove I can stay?”

  “That’s only partly up to me. The court also has a say. Just do what you’re asked, work hard. And study. You might be able to earn your second chance.”

  “What will that entail?”

  “You’ll train to replace me.” The executioner pulled the door to the room closed and motioned for Finn to follow him. “Gerdan had been assigned by the court. Not my choice, but he was competent enough. A little overeager in some aspects and ignored others, but he would have been fine if he would have listened. Seeing as he ended up at the bottom of the river, the position opened up.”

  “What happened to him?” Finn asked.

  The Lion had been killed, and Finn didn’t feel much pity for the man—he had been a bastard to him, after all, and his death had saved Finn—but he was curious.

  “Killed while investigating a crime. You don’t have to worry,” the executioner said, as if Finn were worried about the same thing happening to him. “I’ve asked the Archers to step up patrols. Between that and the curfew, we should find answers soon enough.”

  Finn knew exactly how well the curfew worked when it came to crime, and the Archers weren’t much more of a challenge.

  He was curious about the Lion, though.

  There wasn’t the chance to push the issue anymore. They stepped back out of the house and into the walled garden. Finn still felt like he was having a hard time keeping up with what the executioner told him.

  “Now you’ll fill his position. If you do well, you’ll get paid well. I’ll see what I can do for your mother in the meantime.” He stopped at the gate leading outside the garden and back onto the street, lookin
g at Finn. “That is, if you weren’t lying about that.”

  Finn shook his head. “I wasn’t.”

  “No. I didn’t think so. You had a look about you of a man who truly wanted to help his family.”

  They started along the street.

  Finn still wore the gray Sinner’s Cloth given to him by the guards when he’d marched along the street. It was loose-fitting and itchy. The executioner remained dressed in his dark gray leathers, though he didn’t seem uncomfortable in them. He moved quickly, marching along the street at a brisk pace, and Finn was forced to keep up.

  The executioner intended for him to replace him.

  Finn didn’t know how he felt about that.

  That wasn’t quite right. He knew exactly how he felt about that. It wasn’t something he wanted. But it was an opportunity to live.

  He wasn’t hanging from the gallows right now, so that much was a better state than the alternative. He could wait until the king granted him the clemency, and then…

  Maybe he couldn’t wait.

  “Part of your training will involve learning the various sentences. Seeing as how you’ve seen one firsthand, you know what a hanging involves. There’s the sword, fire, water, the wheel, drawing, and probably a few more the jury might come up with if they decide to get cute. The king doesn’t care for how the sentence is carried out, mind you. It’s all about enforcing his law. The viscount and magister, along with the jurors, ensure that’s done.”

  Finn could only nod.

  If the king decided to carry out his sentence, to override the executioner, then he wouldn’t have the opportunity to run.

  Maybe his best bet would be to escape now. He could find a time to sneak away from the executioner and disappear. Finn thought he could get out of the city and find a way to disappear. They’d go looking for him, and if they caught him, the fate would be the same as it would have been were he to stay.

  Only, did he have to run?

  He could stay.

  It would be a gamble. Finn didn’t know if the king would choose to carry out his sentencing, but if he did, then Finn would hang. If he didn’t, he still had to prove himself. He would have to serve the executioner. He would have to do what the man said.

  How hard would that be, really?

  He tortured and killed. That was how hard it would be.

  Finn followed the executioner as he made his way over a bridge and into the Thaner, one of the merchants’ sections.

  “There are other aspects of the job you’ll need to learn as well. Questioning. Investigation. Stitching—pretty much surgery. Care of the various prisons.”

  As the executioner continued to go on, Finn only partially listened.

  He had time to decide what he’d do. He didn’t have to choose now. Gods, he might not even be able to choose now. It would take time for him to develop a plan, and he didn’t have to rush anything yet.

  The executioner didn’t look back at him, almost as if he weren’t concerned about what Finn might do.

  The executioner slowed near a store on the edge of the merchants’ section. Finn didn’t recognize the sign. It wasn’t one where he ever visited.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  “You don’t want me to come in with you?”

  The executioner regarded him for a moment. “Some of these shop owners can be touchy when it comes to who visits their shop, especially in my line of work. I find it’s best not to push them when they aren’t comfortable. Wait here. When we’ve worked together for a while, you’ll come to know them and they’ll come to know you. Then you will be permitted. For now…”

  The executioner headed into the shop.

  This would be the time when Finn could run.

  Only, as he looked around the street, he didn’t feel as if he could run. Where would he go? The crew would take him in, but that put friends in danger. One thing the King had preached was to protect the crew.

  Running to them now wouldn’t protect them. Not Oscar. Not Rock. Not any of them.

  What about his sister?

  She might not even know anything about what he’d been through. Short of someone learning his name—and during the Gallows Festival, there weren’t that many who actually knew the condemned's name—they wouldn’t have any reason to question anything about him.

  Oscar had promised to go to Lena and convince her that Finn left the city.

  That might be best, to leave the lie as it was. Anything else…

  He thought about his father and what his father had wanted for him. He had wanted Finn to have a better life than he had. He’d wanted Lena to have a better life as well. So far, neither of them had. Finn had fallen into the same things that his father had done, and Lena was forced to work, taking on jobs that she would rather not have done. All because he’d been pinched doing a job to help their mother.

  Then the same had happened to Finn.

  Would the cycle repeat itself with Lena?

  Finn had been so caught up in what he’d gone through that he hadn’t even considered what Lena might do when the money Finn could bring in stopped coming.

  She didn’t need to get into the same work Finn had done. She’d been exposed to it enough because of their father, and then because of Finn, but she didn’t need—or deserve—to get caught up with it as well.

  He looked over to the shop.

  As the apprentice, he’d be offered pay. The executioner hadn’t spoken about how much the position offered, but there would be some pay to it. Then there was what he’d said about how he might help his mother. Finn didn’t know what sort of connections the executioner had or whether he could even do anything, but didn’t he need to wait and see if there might actually be something he could do for her?

  Finn closed his eyes.

  Now might be the time for him to make a run, but it also wasn’t the time for him to make a run. The crew couldn’t protect him. Not from this. Finn had to protect the crew from him.

  The door opened, and the executioner strode out. He carried a sack in one hand and eyed Finn strangely. “You’re still here.”

  “You told me to wait for you here.”

  “I did. Didn’t know if you would use the opportunity to run.”

  “I doubt I’d get very far if I did run.”

  The executioner shook his head. “Probably not. The Archers at the gate have your description. They’d make sure you were brought back to Declan, were you to run.”

  The executioner started off, and Finn hesitated a moment before racing after him. “How would they know I’m not on a mission on your behalf?”

  “Because I hadn’t told them that you were.”

  “Did you expect me to run?”

  The executioner paused and turned to him. “I expected you to consider it. Have you?”

  Finn stared at him, uncertain of how to answer. “Yes.”

  “Good. Shows fight. You won’t be able to do this job without a little fight.”

  “Your job is tormenting and killing people. What’s that got to do with fighting?”

  The executioner grunted. “That’s a part of it. No use denying it. Not the main part. Were it all the job involved, I might have retired years ago. Only so much torture and killing a man can do, even when it’s in service of the king. That’s not why you’ll need to have a little fight. You’ll see soon enough. Executioner and apprentice isn’t an easy job. If it were, I’d have a line of applicants looking for work. Seeing as how I don’t…”

  The executioner headed along the street, shifting his sack into his other arm as he carried it with him.

  “Come along. If you don’t run today, you’re already further along than I would have expected you to be.”

  The day consisted of errands. Nothing more than that. Finn didn’t know why, but he’d expected there to be something more glamorous to the executioner's job. Part of him had figured that the executioner would spend most of his time planning the executions, perhaps coming up with a new way to torment the pris
oners or any number of other horrible things. Instead, it seemed he spent most of his time collecting supplies.

  His feet hurt. His legs still hurt from the screws, making him limp. When they’d given him the Sinner’s Cloth that morning—Could it have been only this morning?—it had included slippers. He felt every cobble through them, irritating his feet, rubbing up against them in an awful way. It was probably still better than the alternative.

  Not probably.

  By evening, when they’d stopped in the sixth shop—all in different parts of the city—Finn finally spoke up. “Is this all you do?”

  “Not usually. When Gerdan lived, he did most of the supply runs. You stick this out long enough, and it will be a part of your responsibility. Considering your background, I suspect you’ve been paying attention and could find your way back to most of these shops?”

  Finn hesitated before nodding.

  “Thought as much. That’ll be good. If I don’t have to walk you around the city a dozen times to get your bearings, you’re going to be much more useful to me.”

  “That’s all I’m going to do?”

  “That’s what you’ll be doing to begin with. Learn the basics. Supplies needed. Where to obtain them. The contacts needed for those supplies. The people to reach out to when you can’t find what you need. You get that down, then you’re on your way.”

  “To being an executioner?”

  He nodded. “It’s a start. Didn’t say it was the only part. Just a start. The rest will come in time. You’ll have to work at it.”

  “At gathering supplies.” Finn shook his head. “I think I can manage.”

  “We’ll have to see. You do this, then you get brought into the other aspects of the job.”

  “Like torture.”

  “Like knowing the city.”

  “I know the city.”

  “You know your part of the city. You know your crews and how to avoid conflict between them. That will be useful. It’s politics, no different than you’ll encounter in the rest of the city. Only, the kind of politics that you’ll deal with in the rest of the city has to do with the king and those who serve him directly. Make a mistake, and you’ll lose your job—or worse.”