Johan was hiding something from Finn.
“Can you tell me a little about the type of clients you work for?” Finn asked.
Johan turned to him, tensing slightly. “Most of my clients ask for simple documentation. You saw the inventory list.”
“Is that all you do?”
“There are others who ask that we scribe letters or sometimes longer works.”
“Who do you generally work for?”
There was something there. Finn could feel it, even if he couldn’t tell what that might be. It was a matter of digging and asking just the right questions. He knew that Meyer would probably not have any trouble getting someone like Johan to talk, but Finn wasn’t the master executioner. He would have to find his own way forward.
“I am known as one of the most skilled scribes in the city. I have clients throughout the city that can attest to it.”
One of the most skilled. That meant there were others who were more skilled. That might be where Finn would need to go. Figure out more about the scribes, then maybe he could better understand what else there was for him to be considering.
“But you have a backlog of clients you haven’t managed to get to.”
“There is always more work than there are skilled scribes, Mr. Jagger. It is why I was so hopeful that Mr. Sweth would have been useful. Unfortunately…”
The possibility that Johan didn’t want the competition with an up-and-coming Sweth had been something that Finn had started to consider. If there really was enough work, then it wouldn’t matter. There were some industries like that. The skills took time to master, and there was never a shortage of work, so those who possessed them could not only charge often exorbitant amounts for their work, but they didn’t fear the competition among others in the same field.
It reminded him of the physicians. There were only a few fully trained physicians in Verendal. The training took years, and the perceived skill so impressive, that there was never a shortage for their healing, though there were others in the city who offered comparable—and in the case of Master Meyer, often quite similar—level of skill.
“What will you do if he’s released?” Finn asked.
“I didn’t think that was even a possibility. From what I have heard, he burned half of his section to the ground. Lives were lost. Homes were destroyed. A crime like that must be punished, Mr. Jagger.”
“A crime like that must be punished,” Finn agreed, “but what if Mr. Sweth is innocent? Would you take him back?”
Johan leaned on one of the shelves. “I suppose I could use the help. My clients will now be forced to wait for many weeks. Some of them will undoubtedly go elsewhere, though I can’t say I mind. More work will come. It always does.”
Finn got to his feet, sweeping his gaze briefly around the inside of the scribe’s shop, before looking to Mr. Johan. “Thank you for your time. It has been most helpful.”
Johan bobbed his head in a nod. “Of course. I am, of course, eager to help your investigation in whatever way I can.”
Finn stepped through the shop then back out into the street, straightening his jacket once outside. He lingered a moment. There was still something Johan was keeping from him, but the problem was that Finn didn’t know if it was anything to be concerned about. Meyer had made a point of telling him that even honest men kept things to themselves. The real challenge was trying to determine who was honest and merely striving for a level of privacy, and who intentionally misled and concealed. Finn just couldn’t get a read on Johan, so didn’t know where the scribe fit.
He headed through the streets, taking in more of Jorend section. He found himself drawn toward the Heshian Palace in the distance, where it sat upon a small rise within the city. When he reached it, he circled around the street outside, nodding to the Archers patrolling. Palace Archers were different from the city Archers. They watched everything with a darkness in their eyes, and even Finn didn’t avoid their attention. This time. He smiled to himself, knowing that he had managed to sneak into the palace despite their patrols.
The king hadn’t visited the city in quite some time. That wasn’t uncommon. His visits were infrequent. When he did come, he rarely spent much time there.
Finn moved beyond the palace and headed toward the viscount’s manor. It was not far from the palace, and while an impressive structure, it paled in comparison to the palace. The low stone wall that surrounded the viscount’s manor did not carry the same menace as the palace walls.
The main gate leading into the manor home opened as Finn approached. He stepped back, moving toward the shadows on the far side of the street, looking toward the viscount’s home. The last time he’d seen the viscount had been during the most recent execution a week before, and that only from a distance. He didn’t get too close to the Blood Court and certainly didn’t seem to enjoy the proceedings. As far as Finn could tell, he only attended so he could make the claim to the king that he attended during his sentences to assure his justice was carried out.
The man who exited caught Finn’s attention. Bellut served the viscount. That was partly what offered him a layer of protection once Finn had discovered Bellut’s involvement in the plot against the king. More than that, Finn had been unable to actually prove anything. Seeing him at the viscount’s manor irritated Finn.
Finn hadn’t the opportunity to chase Bellut in the time since he’d learned that Bellut was responsible for what had happened. Not that he hadn’t tried, only that it was difficult to get close to him and know whether there was anything more that he might learn about Bellut.
He’d tried going to Bellut’s house, but Finn hadn’t been willing to break in. A crime like that would be added to his others. Finn had little doubt as to what would happen to him then. He would face his full sentencing, and there would be no pardon this time. There would be no offer of a right, which meant that he would hang.
Bellut would probably love it. That was even more reason for him to be careful. He didn’t want to do anything that Bellut would approve of.
Then there was his curiosity about what else Bellut was involved in. Bellut couldn’t be the only one responsible for what had happened, which meant there was a great plot taking place in the city, though it was one that even Meyer didn’t want to get involved in, despite knowing that Finn had gotten caught up in it.
Bellut didn’t see him as he headed along the street.
Finn lingered, considering whether he should follow. When Bellut headed the opposite direction, to his home, Finn decided to trail him.
Chapter Seven
Skulking through the streets was a skill Finn had gained when still working with his former crew. All the time that Oscar had worked with him, trying to get him better at moving in silence and darkness, had been wasted when Finn had been captured.
Thankfully, Bellut didn’t move with all that much discretion either. That was probably because he had nothing to fear. Finn tried to be as careful as he could, slipping along the streets and moving in the darkness of alleys.
He headed toward the outer sections—toward the Meldran section, Finn noticed. There wasn’t much in that part of the city. Mostly slums, it was home to those who had to work in the slaughterhouses or often outside of the city on the farms. A few loggers lived in the section, but even they were generally much better off than that.
Finn slowed as Bellut neared the section.
Everything about this was suspicious. There wasn’t any reason for him to venture into this part of the city unless he were after something. Bellut stopped in one alley and handed something to a shadowed figure before moving on. He did that several times before Finn drifted back, not wanting to follow too closely. He couldn’t tell what Bellut had handed him, only that they seemed to be fairly large bundles.
There was an almost distinct demarcation for this part of the city. The rows of buildings transitioned from taller into more sloped roofs, some that looked as if they’d been hastily strapped to the house, making Finn think they’d
blow off at the first sign of a severe storm. He hadn’t spent much time in this section even when he’d been a thief. There wasn’t much for him there. Since working with Meyer, there hadn’t been reason to come to this section, either.
Finn slipped forward, nose wrinkled. The streets had a foul odor to them, though it wasn’t necessarily that of refuse. Just a stench he couldn’t quite place. Something awful, but also something that suggested rot.
Bellut rounded a corner, and Finn tried to keep up with him.
A shadow slipped by in the distance as well, moving quickly. They had a practiced step, as if not concerned that they might be caught, and Finn noticed how this other person turned from side to side, looking all around as if keeping watch for anyone who might follow.
Or for Archers.
There wouldn’t be many Archers in this section.
Finn trailed after the figure, having lost sight of Bellut. There was something about them that reminded him of Wolf.
Rounding a corner, he saw the street was now empty. There was no point in staying in this section of the city any longer than he needed. If he couldn’t figure out what Bellut was after, then he didn’t need to remain any longer.
He saw Bellut again.
He passed a beggar child, and shoved him hard enough that he fell.
Tension filled Finn.
Bellut turned, heading out of the Meldran section.
Finn reached the edge of the section and turned, sweeping his gaze over the streets. There was no sign of any movement. The city was surprisingly quiet, and Finn wondered why that might be.
It was late enough that he should return to Master Meyer’s home, continue his studies, and at least report in on what he had seen.
He took a roundabout way back to the Reval section and Master Meyer’s home. He found himself heading through the Olin section and even passed close to the Wenderwolf. There were times when he felt compelled to enter the tavern, to sit with the crew once again, and to visit with them the way that he once had, but Finn didn’t know if he even could.
It wasn’t so much Oscar that he worried about. He feared Annie and her reaction. She had been close to the King, and having been the one to have sentenced him, Finn suspected she might hold more than a grudge with him. He turned away and hurried back toward Meyer’s home, not stopping until he reached it.
Once inside, he heard his sister’s voice, along with that of Helda, her oldest friend.
Finn hung his cloak in the closet before making his way to the kitchen where his sister and Helda sat at the table.
Helda was a lovely woman, with long brown hair, deep brown eyes, and a pretty face. She always had a sour expression when she looked at him. There had been a time when he’d had a crush on her, though that had faded. Finn tipped his head politely to her before nodding to his sister.
“Finn,” Lena said, getting to her feet. “You can have a seat.”
“I don’t want to disrupt your conversation. Besides, I need to have a word with Master Meyer.”
Lena glanced in the direction of Meyer’s office before shaking her head slightly. “He has someone in there with him tonight,” she said.
Finn arched a brow, and Helda scowled at him.
“Not like that,” Lena said hurriedly, and Finn was surprised to see her glare at Helda. “Just somebody he’s been working with for the last few weeks. He never lets me see, so I can’t say who it is, but I have a feeling they are someone of importance within the city.”
“Why would somebody of importance come to the executioner?” Helda asked. “If they have wealth, they could afford any physician in the city.”
“Sometimes it’s not about wealth but about knowledge,” Finn said. He pulled out a chair, taking a seat at the table. “Master Meyer has studied for decades. He’s not only a master executioner, but he’s a master of various healing techniques.”
“That’s what Lena keeps telling me.”
“More than a few people come to him for healing,” Lena said, sitting again. She glanced over to Finn, though he couldn’t tell whether she was annoyed with him or whether she wanted to talk with him. “He has me cleaning up after him. Since I keep getting turned away elsewhere—”
“Jobs are hard to come by,” Helda offered.
“This feels more than that.” She glanced in Finn’s direction. Was it because of him that she couldn’t find another job? “At least cleaning up after Meyer is something.”
“You said that,” Helda said, “but he has to want something from you.”
“I don’t think so,” Lena said. “He has his apprentice, and…”
“And what?” Finn said.
“And he has encouraged me to read,” she said.
Finn smiled, not at all surprised by his sister’s interest in Meyer’s books. Lena had always enjoyed studying, though she had never had the opportunity to do so. Living in the Brinder section made it difficult for anyone to get much of an education, let alone the children of thieves.
“What else does he want from you?” Helda asked.
Finn glanced from Lena to Helda, before laughing. “Do you really think that Meyer is trying to seduce my sister?”
Helda frowned. “He wouldn’t be the first man of some age to try something like that.”
“Then you don’t know Master Meyer,” Finn said.
“He’s an executioner. What’s there to know?”
“Quite a bit.” Finn got to his feet and nodded to his sister. “I’m going to check on Mother. If Master Meyer comes out, let him know that I’m back.”
Lena nodded.
He stepped out of the kitchen, pausing long enough to hear Helda making another comment about executioners, but Lena defended him.
Finn smiled to himself as he headed up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, there were several rooms. Master Meyer took one of them for his own personal sleeping quarters, and another was shared by Lena and Finn’s mother. He didn’t know much about the previous occupant, though the stuffed animals, along with the decorations, had been removed as Lena and Finn’s mother had settled in. Meyer never spoke about his life before Finn had arrived.
He tapped on the door before pushing it open.
His mother sat up in bed, a lantern glowing on the table next to her and a book propped in her lap. Her long, brown hair had gone mostly gray, and her blue eyes were flat, though she looked at him with a little bit of vibrancy in her gaze.
“Finn. What time is it?”
“It’s getting late,” he said.
“Has Master Meyer sent you to check on me?”
Finn smiled. “No. I thought that I would see if you needed anything.”
“I don’t. Lena was in earlier, and she made sure that I had food, and anything else that I might need, but then again, Henry ensures the same.”
He kept waiting for Master Meyer to tell him what more he wanted for providing for Finn’s mother and sister, but Meyer had not asked for anything. Finn was accustomed to people asking for something in return.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling about as well as I could expect,” she said. She shifted on the bed, letting the book fall closed, and glanced down at it, staring at her hands. “I’m not used to being the one cared for.”
“You have cared for us enough over the years. It is time Lena and I did the same for you.”
“Lena needs to find herself a husband and get married,” she said.
Finn sniffed. “I don’t have a feeling that Lena is altogether motivated by that.”
“What sort of life does she expect to live if she doesn’t get married? She doesn’t have any skills.”
“I’m sure Lena appreciates your concern,” Finn said.
“It’s a wonder that you ended up here.” She looked around. This was the most alert that Finn had seen his mother in weeks. Even though Meyer and the hegen had healed her, there was still enough residual effect from what she had gone through that left her off a bit. “You never really told
me how you ended up apprenticed to Master Meyer.” She smiled slightly. “I still can’t believe my son is the executioner.”
Finn didn’t know how she felt about it. “I’m not the executioner, and it’s a long story. All that matters is that he was willing to take me in. It’s better than the alternative.”
“Your father would be pleased. You know how he wanted so much for you and your sister.”
“I know,” Finn said.
She clasped her thin hands in her lap. “You’re still angry with him.”
“I’m not,” Finn said.
“There is no reason for you to be angry with your father. He was only doing what he thought necessary to provide for you and your sister.”
Finn took a seat on the end of the bed, looking at his mother. “I know.” He never admitted that he had done the same thing. He worried about how his mother would take it if she learned that he had taken up stealing to provide for her. “I’ve been trying to find what happened to him.”
Her brow furrowed and her eyes darkened. “I don’t think it matters.”
“You’re not worried about what happened to Father?”
“I know what happened to him,” she said. “I warned him. I tried to get him to stop, and that if he were to keep with it, eventually he would end up jailed or worse.”
“Master Meyer didn’t hang him,” Finn said.
His mother looked up. “I know. I asked.”
Finn hadn’t been aware of that, though he could easily imagine his mother and Master Meyer having a conversation about what had happened to Finn’s father. Knowing Master Meyer, he would have been blunt but probably managed to be delicate at the same time. Finn had found the contrast within Master Meyer intriguing and struggled to know if he could act the same way.
“That’s more than I’ve done,” Finn said.
“He earned his fate, Finn. Everything he did was to help us, but at the same time, he had other opportunities but didn’t take them.”
The Executioner's Apprentice (The Executioner's Song Book 2) Page 8
