“I have served at the honor of the king,” Meyer said. “Which is why I present myself today. I am here because—”
“You are here because you have demanded the Executioner’s Right,” the man standing next to the throne said. He had a hint of a smile, and his gaze drifted to the viscount, and then to Bellut, before looking back to Meyer. “Now you question whether the king will support your claim.”
Meyer nodded. “Tradition allows for me to make such a claim.”
“Tradition, and yet the ancient right of the executioner guild has not been made in generations. The king has questioned why this time.”
Meyer glanced over to Finn. “He can still serve the gods.”
“He was the criminal who broke into my—”
The older man raised his hand, silencing the viscount.
“You have chosen a criminal as your right.”
“As is tradition,” Master Meyer said.
“As is tradition,” the man said. He studied Finn, and there was a sense of his gaze lingering upon him, some sense that left Finn feeling unsettled, almost as if he were watching him, weighing him.
Who was this man?
So far, the king had not yet spoken.
“How has he served?” the man asked.
“Briefly,” Master Meyer said. “In that time, I have a sense of conflicted values within him. He questions his purpose. Yet he has a good heart. He can serve the king, and I believe he can be useful.”
The other man looked over at Master Meyer, studying him. “You understand the consequences of making such a claim?”
Meyer nodded. “I understand.”
“As is tradition,” the man said.
Meyer took a deep breath, nodding once more. “As is tradition.”
The other man turned away, looking to the king. Something must’ve passed between them, though Finn couldn’t tell what it was. The king made a movement with his hand, and the other man turned back, looking at Master Meyer.
“The king has decided.”
Chapter Thirteen
Finn walked alongside Master Meyer as they headed away from the palace. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder toward the palace walls and the Archers stationed along it. He didn’t even feel compelled to look around at the merchant buildings on either side of the street. The only thing he could think of doing was keeping his gaze focused straight ahead of him.
Meyer had been quiet since leaving the palace.
The king had granted Meyer’s right, but there seemed to be something more within that request which left Meyer troubled.
“Do you really think I can do this job?”
Meyer slowed and looked over at him. “I would not have staked the claim if I did not.”
“What does it mean that you have made this claim?”
“It means that I will teach. It means that you will learn. It means that…” Meyer took a deep breath, and he turned away, motioning for Finn to follow. “It’s time for you to obtain clothing more suitable for your position.”
“As your apprentice?”
“Would you prefer something else?”
Finn’s heart still pounded within his chest after what he had just gone through.
Here he had thought he would be able to make a run for it, try to escape the city, but now that he had been approved to continue working with Meyer, perhaps he didn’t have to do so quite as soon as he had intended before.
“I guess not.”
“You will visit Beshear’s Tailor in the morning. Master Beshear will see that you’re dressed appropriately. Afterward, you will find me at Marsen’s store. As you have visited both of these places with me previously, I assume that you should have no difficulty finding them.”
Finn nodded. He remembered where the tailor and the general store were, though he had been left outside in the street when he had visited before. Most of the places Meyer had brought him were only visited from the street. He hadn’t much experience inside the stores.
Was that the next step in his apprenticeship? Now that he had been approved by the king, Finn would be permitted to visit the shops?
That would be better than the alternative. It meant that he could run errands, clean the sword of justice, and do whatever else Meyer needed of him. Anything that didn’t involve him tormenting people. Anything that didn’t involve him killing people.
“You are free to go,” Meyer said.
“Go where?”
“Wherever you choose. You are in my employ now, so your actions reflect upon me.” Finn understood the warning. “You will receive ten fils each month. After the first year, you will be eligible for additional compensation, depending upon your performance. Once you reach journeyman level, you will be paid twice that amount each week.”
Finn blinked. Ten fils wasn’t all that much money, but it was consistent at least. He thought about how much he had already obtained, and how much his sister had hoarded away, and didn’t think it was nearly as much as what they would need for their mother to see a physician.
“Is that not enough?”
Finn shook his head.
“Then what is it?”
“I was thinking about my mother,” he said. There was no point in denying that he worried about her. He had a sense that Master Meyer read him even when he tried to keep things from him. “You had said—"
“I will see what can be done for her.”
“She needs to see a physician.”
“And I said I will see what can be done for her,” he said.
Finn opened his mouth to say something more before clamping it shut.
He didn’t want to anger Master Meyer, not when he had already committed to helping him. He followed Meyer to the river, and from there he stopped atop the bridge, looking out at the river. It served as a distinction between the city's wealthier central sections and those of the outer sections, poorer sections.
Meyer continued on, presumably heading toward his home, leaving Finn to his own devices.
He was free.
At least, he was as free as he could be under the current circumstances.
He would truly be the executioner’s apprentice.
Finn sighed, looking down at the water. Moonlight reflected off the surface, and the water rippled as it ran along the shoreline.
In the outer sections, more people were out even when it was late. Voices coming toward him stirred him to move, and Finn hurried across the bridge, trying to decide what he would do for the rest of the evening.
He could return to Master Meyer’s home. It was late enough that Finn could rest. Tomorrow would be different. He would go to the tailor, obtain clothing that didn’t remind him of his pending execution, and then meet with Meyer at the apothecary.
Only, after having visited the palace, Finn didn’t know if he would be able to rest.
At this point, the only thing he really wanted to do was to keep moving.
He could return home. His sister would need to know about his new position before she found out about it another way. Finn wasn’t entirely sure that he wanted to return home just yet.
Despite Meyer telling him that his actions reflected upon him, visiting the Wenderwolf wouldn’t reflect poorly upon Meyer. He wanted to see the crew. Mostly, he wanted to see Oscar and Rock, to tell them what had happened, and to let them know he was going to be all right. They both deserved that much.
Before he knew what he was doing, Finn had already started heading in that direction. Familiar buildings passed by on either side of him. By the time he reached the Wenderwolf in the familiar section of Olin, he started to slow and look all around.
Finn wasn’t doing anything other than going to a tavern—though it was a tavern thieves and the King’s crew were known to frequent.
Maybe this was a mistake.
A man moved past him along the street. Finn remained on the far side of the street, looking toward the tavern. When the man headed inside, the familiar scent drifted out toward him, that of
food and drink and the excitement of the tavern.
He squeezed his eyes shut. That wasn’t for him. Not anymore. He couldn’t be here the way he’d once been. Now he had a different place in the city.
“Shuffles?”
Finn opened his eyes. “Wolf.”
His face looked more grizzled in the growing darkness, and there was a faint gleam of irritation in his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here? Heard what happened. I think the whole city heard.”
Wolf crossed the street, casting a glance toward the tavern. Finn noted he was dressed in his darks, which left him wondering what Wolf had been doing. Not that Wolf didn’t wear his darks when scouting—Finn knew he did—only that it was unusual for them to wear the darks any time they weren’t on a job.
It was surreal coming back there. After everything that he’d been through over the last few days working with Meyer, he felt as if this was comforting.
“Listen. I probably shouldn’t have come back here, but…”
It risked the crew.
That alone was a reason he shouldn’t return. Were there any Archers following him, he suspected they’d use him coming here to track who else might have been working with him, and they’d probably use that against him. Meyer had warned him the Archers would keep a look out for him, so he had to wonder if this was another test.
“What is it, Shuffles?”
“I—”
“Finn?”
Oscar’s voice cut through his hesitation.
Finn looked over to him. He stood across the street, ready to enter the Wenderwolf, paused with his hand on the door, studying Wolf first and then looking to Finn.
Wolf glanced over to Oscar before chuckling. “It seems as if I need to let the two of you catch up before you come in. You are going to come in, aren’t you, Shuffles?”
Finn nodded. Now that he was there, Finn had an urge to go in, even have a mug of ale. Anything that might leave him with a sense of familiarity.
Wolf clapped him on the shoulder and shook his head. “Thought you were going to hang, boy. Damn good to see you.”
He nodded to Oscar as he crossed the street, entering the tavern and disappearing.
Finn could only imagine the comment that the King would have upon learning that Finn was out there. Possibly irritation, worried that Finn had betrayed them. Coming here put them in danger.
“What are you doing here?” Oscar whispered, crossing the street and standing in the growing darkness of the buildings leaning over them. “I saw what happened. I heard what happened.”
“Then you know I’m free to be here.”
“You aren’t free.”
“I don’t have to be anywhere.”
“Other than with your new master.”
Finn shook his head. “It’s not like that.”
Oscar studied him. “I’m not blaming you. Gods, I’m happy you were given the opportunity to serve. Anything to keep you from hanging. I tried to do everything I could to get to you before then, but when I saw them marching you through the street, the Blood Court…”
Oscar squeezed his eyes closed. It was the most emotion that Finn had seen from him.
“I know,” Finn said.
“It took me a while to understand what the hangman did with you. I thought he’d claimed you in some way, maybe that he wanted to save you for the hegen, but that wasn’t it at all, was it?”
Finn shook his head. “That wasn’t it.”
“You have to serve.”
“It seems that way.”
“You considered running?”
Finn smiled. Leave it to Oscar to know that he had. “I thought about it. I spent the first few days considering whether or not I should run. I even had a plan in place. I wouldn’t have been able to come back to the crew, and I couldn’t leave Lena and my mother.”
“I told you I would take care of them.”
“I know you did. And that you would. Mother is getting worse, Oscar. Lena… Lena went to the hegen for help. If I leave now, I worry that she’s going to owe them too much to ever be able to escape.”
“If she’s already gone to them, then she might owe them more than what she can repay now.”
“This way, I’ll get a regular pay.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It’s honorable, at least in a way.” He looked over to Oscar, seeing the Hand studying him, saying nothing. “I didn’t have much choice. I was the one captured, remember?”
“I know. And I think about it every day. I remember what you did for me, that you saved me. Hell, you probably saved all of us by being the one they captured. You allowed the King and Wolf to escape. They won’t say it, but they know that they owe you for getting them free.”
“I don’t need them to owe me anything. I just want…” Did he want recognition? It wasn’t as if he could return to the crew. Now that he served Master Meyer, he wasn’t going to be able to return to the crew. He wasn’t going to be able to return to stealing. “I don’t even know what I want. I guess I just wanted to see how the crew was doing.”
Oscar glanced over his shoulder, looking at the tavern. “The crew is the same as usual.”
“Pulling jobs for the Client.”
“Trying. Had one go wrong not too many days ago.”
“The one where Rock nearly got pinched?”
“That’s the one. Another crew must have been after the same thing. The Client pays well, making the King more inclined to pursue them than our usual jobs. There’s more going on here, Finn. I just—”
At least Oscar saw it, too. “You were looking to try to uncover who the Client is.”
Oscar flicked his gaze toward the Wenderwolf before back to Finn. “You can’t say that here.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t come around here saying that, Finn. For that matter, it might be better if you just didn’t come around here.”
That stung. The crew were his friends.
If he had to serve as an executioner, at least he could have his friends. “I just wanted to see everyone.”
“Why, look at what the gods brought us,” a loud voice said from inside the tavern.
Finn hadn’t noticed the door open and hadn’t heard the chaos from inside, the music and the voices and the sound of excitement. He looked over and saw the King striding across the street.
“Damn, Shuffles. You look pretty good for a dead man.” He glanced over to Oscar. “Was the Hand trying to talk you out of coming into visit with us?”
“I was only trying to make sure that he didn’t have any Archers following him,” Oscar said.
“Archers? Why would the Archers follow him? What we have here is the executioner’s apprentice.” The King clapped Finn on the shoulder. “And here I worried about what you might have told them during your questioning. Guess that was a mistake.” He pushed Finn ahead of him. “Let’s have a mug of ale. You’ve got time for that, don’t you, Shuffles?”
Finn looked over to Oscar. A pained expression twisted the corners of his eyes.
“I think I’ve got time for that.”
The King chuckled. “Of course you do. Damn, but it’s good to see you.”
They reached the tavern, and the King pulled the door open, positioning himself in such a way that Finn didn’t have any choice but to head inside. Once inside, the faint smoke of the tavern along with the scent of ale swirled around him. All of it was familiar. Pleasant.
The King motioned for him to sit. “Annie will be thrilled to see you again, Shuffles. Just wait here.”
Finn took a seat at the booth.
Oscar sat across from him, watching him. “You shouldn’t stay here. You got out.”
“I didn’t want to get out,” he said.
Could Oscar really not want to see him?
Annie came by, a wide grin on her face, carrying a pair of mugs. She set one down in front of Oscar and slid one over to Finn while leaning forward. Her cleavage bounced with the movement, though Finn did
n’t have eyes for it the way he once had. He stared at the ale.
“I brought the condemned something to help him celebrate.” She ran a finger along his cheek. “I don’t know that I’ve ever met someone sentenced by the magister who returned to the world of the living. Leon tells me you got a unique sentence from them?”
“Not quite from them,” Finn said.
Oscar watched him intently.
“Well? Get on with it. We all want to know what happened! Stories are one thing, but we want the truth,” the King said.
Finn glanced at Oscar before shrugging. What did it matter if he shared with them what he’d been through? They were his crew. They’d likely heard rumors, anyway. He told them about the Blood Court, the march up the Raven Stone, even the rope. When he brought up the Executioner’s Right, Wolf started shaking his head.
“Can’t believe the old bastard would pull something like that,” Wolf said.
“The hangman?” the King asked.
Wolf nodded. “Word is he didn’t like the last man assigned to work with him. A bit of a prick, from those who knew him.”
“The Lion,” Finn whispered.
Wolf glanced at him, nodding. “That’s the one. An overeager shit, from everything that I’ve heard. Always dug a little too deep. Not good for a crew.” Wolf glanced at the King, who nodded.
“He’s the one who questioned me.” Finn watched them. For a moment, he wondered if they were the reason the Lion had been killed but shook the thought away. The crew weren’t killers. “Anyway, when the Lion died, most thought the viscount would assign someone else. I doubt even the viscount would’ve expected the old bastard to circumvent him the way that he did.”
“Well, it’s to our benefit,” the King said. He grabbed a mug from the table, and he lifted it. “To Shuffles.”
Wolf grabbed his mug, and Finn took his. Oscar was the last to lift his, bringing it up slowly, watching Finn the entire time.
“To Shuffles,” they all said.
They drank, and Finn sipped at the mug of ale. For some reason, he felt out of place in a way he hadn’t before.
It hadn’t even been all that long since he had been to the tavern and a part of the crew. In the few weeks that he’d been gone—could it really have been such a short time?—he felt as if so much had changed for him.
The Executioner's Right (The Executioner's Song Book 1) Page 18
