The Executioner's Apprentice (The Executioner's Song Book 2)

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The Executioner's Apprentice (The Executioner's Song Book 2) Page 20

by D. K. Holmberg


  “Family,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I haven’t found anything more for your patient. I thought if I could, then maybe it would work for Mother, but…”

  Finn had shared the same thought, so he wasn’t surprised Lena would as well.

  “I used to think that I would find some man to marry and he would bring me out of our section. As I got older, and Mother grew sicker, I started to wonder if maybe I could just find some man.” She shook her head. “Is that sad? I stopped wanting to even leave our section.”

  “I don’t know if it’s sad or not,” he said.

  “Practical,” she said. “And that’s what’s become of me. Practicality. I suppose that has served me well. It lets me keep Mother alive, so there is that.”

  “Master Meyer is helping with that, isn’t he?”

  Lena looked up briefly before looking back down. “He’s helping.”

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I don’t mean to be unthankful.”

  “I don’t think anybody claims you are.”

  “They don’t need to claim it. I feel it. I understand what he’s done for our family, Finn. If it weren’t for him, I…” She shook her head. “I know what would’ve happened. I know what would have become of you. So, I have him to thank. And for Mother as well.”

  “She’s going to get better,” Finn said.

  “Is she?” She got up, turning to the stove, and began to gather things. “I used to think she would get better, and when we first came here, she did, at least for a little while. I didn’t know if that was the hegen magic, or if that was Master Meyer, but either way, I was thankful for it. Then I started to wonder. She got a little bit better but not all the way.”

  “It just needs time,” Finn said.

  “Time.” Lena shook her head. “What is time but a way of saying that she’s going to dwindle?”

  “Lena…”

  She looked over her shoulder. “When she’s gone, I don’t know if I can stay here any longer. At least with her here, sick as she is, it gives me a reason to stay.”

  “I don’t think Master Meyer intends for you to leave.”

  “He might not have said it, but I’m sure he doesn’t want us here. He had to move so much out of the room for me to stay there. Every so often, I still find a few things from his daughter.”

  Finn had only caught a glimpse when Lena had taken over the room, but enough to know that Meyer’s daughter had once occupied it. He’d given it up to Lena and their mother without complaint. If only he could get Master Meyer to talk about it.

  “I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” Finn said softly.

  “Did he ever tell you what happened?”

  “No.”

  “I wondered.” She paused where she had been rolling out dough, resting her hands on the counter. Flour coated her fingertips. “It looked like she was young. I wonder what happened.”

  “It’s not the kind of thing that Meyer would talk about.”

  “I suppose not.”

  Finn got to his feet, looking down at the map again, memorizing the names. Eight more. If he could find what happened with those eight, Finn thought he might be able to get a little closer to having answers. At this point, that was what he wanted more than anything else. He wanted to know that there were answers available for this particular crime. He had no idea what extent to be concerned about Sweth’s crimes. It might only be what he said. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the more Finn uncovered, the more he began to fear that he actually was guilty of the crime.

  “And what happens if you finish this?” Lena asked, looking over her shoulder to where Finn studied the map in the pages.

  “When this one is done, I suspect there will be another one.”

  “Isn’t there always?”

  Finn smiled. “In a city the size of Verendal, there’s always something taking place.”

  “He’s been gone a lot.”

  “Master Meyer?” That might be why Meyer had let Finn work on finding an answer for Moira.

  Lena nodded. “I don’t know where he’s gone, and figured he was with you, but it looks like you’ve been doing your own thing.”

  “I’m leading this investigation.”

  “That should make you proud.”

  Finn smiled slightly. “I’m not so sure if it makes me proud or if it makes me nervous.” He chuckled. “I have been digging, trying to make sure I get this right. I worry that if I don’t, Master Meyer will be disappointed.”

  “I doubt it. If you don’t get it right, he’s going to give you another opportunity to figure it out.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Finn said.

  Everything was a progression. Meyer had made that clear. It had been that way from the very beginning. First he had to prove himself to Master Meyer. Then he had to prove himself to the king. Then he had to prove himself to the executioner court.

  Now that he was a full apprentice, he was having to prove himself to Master Meyer again.

  “What would happen if you failed?”

  He shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t really know. Maybe nothing. It might just be that he has me take more time before he gives me more responsibility.”

  “But you don’t think that’s the case.”

  “I don’t know if that’s the case,” Finn said. He folded up the map, sticking into his pocket, and took the list of names and held onto it. There was something to it. He wasn’t at all sure what it was, but the answer seemed close at hand. All Finn had to do was figure out how many of those names still lived. Then…

  Then he had to think he could keep digging.

  Only they didn’t have that much time remaining.

  The magister and the jurors limited how much time they had, which meant that Finn had to work quickly. That was part of the test; he was certain of it. Meyer wanted to see if Finn could work on a deadline. If he failed, it wouldn’t be him swinging this time but possibly Sweth. Increasingly, Finn thought that he had the truth of the matter, and thought that Sweth was guilty of something, but he didn’t know whether or not he was guilty of the crime he’d been accused of.

  “I can see you’re preoccupied.”

  “No. I’m not too preoccupied,” Finn said.

  Lena smiled at him. She returned to rolling out her dough. “You need to focus, and I should focus. I want to get this bread baking before Mother wakes again. Then dig through a few more of his books to see what I can find. I will find something, Finn.”

  “I could help with the baking, then we can work together.”

  Lena shook her head. “Not with this. Let me do that much, at least.”

  Finn wished there was something more that he could say to assist her, some way for him to offer her a little bit of reassurance, but he didn’t think there was anything.

  Besides, she was right. He was preoccupied.

  As he stepped in the hall, Meyer’s door opened, and he looked out at Finn. “Come in here.”

  Finn looked back to his sister before turning toward Master Meyer and following him into his office. He realized that Master Meyer wasn’t alone.

  There was a younger man there, maybe ten years older than Finn, with bright red hair, pale skin, and a strangely blotchy complexion. One leg rested propped up on the cot, clearly misshapen.

  “What happened?” Finn asked, hurrying over to the man.

  He shook his head. “I done fell from the rooftop,” he said.

  “What rooftop?” He glanced from the man to Master Meyer. For an obvious injury, the man managed to hold himself together fairly well. It would be incredibly painful. This kind of thing was straightforward enough that Finn knew what to do. It involved aligning the bones, stabilizing them, and making sure there wasn’t any puncture through the skin. If there were, something like that would get infected quickly.

  “Does it matter?”

  Finn glanced over Master Meyer, and he shook his head. Was there something about what happened that he didn’t
want to reveal?

  “What do you need my help with?”

  “I need you to help me stabilize this,” Meyer said.

  “I’m happy to,” Finn said. He took a position at the end of the cot, and he grabbed the man’s foot. “Have you given him anything to ease the pain?”

  Meyer held Finn’s gaze. “What would you choose?”

  “There are a few options. Oil of poppy might be the easiest, and certainly effective, though it might make him too sleepy.”

  “Nothing makes me too sleepy,” the man said. “I can drink three mugs of ale and still stay on my feet.”

  Finn liked the man. This was the kind of person that he would’ve enjoyed chatting with at the Wenderwolf back when he was still in the crew.

  “Only three?” Finn asked.

  “You think you can do more?”

  “There was a time when I could’ve had five mugs of ale and stayed standing,” Finn said.

  “Five? Maybe when I was a child, but most of the time, I tried to keep it less than eight. Gets too expensive, otherwise.”

  Finn started pulling on the leg as he was talking to him, noticing Master Meyer gathering supplies behind him.

  “When I used to run the streets, I thought the same way. You have to just find the right place. You get in good with the tavern owner, they don’t charge you quite as much.”

  “No. They get you in other ways.”

  Finn started to laugh, pulling softly on the man’s leg. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Seamus Sullivan.”

  “Seamus, I’m Finn Jagger. I work with Master Meyer here.”

  “I didn’t know the hangman liked to drink.”

  “I don’t think he does,” Finn said without looking over to Master Meyer. “But I’m still young.”

  “Hey, there,” Seamus said. “Did you hear that, hangman? He’s calling you old.”

  “I am old,” Master Meyer said.

  Finn continue to pull. Seamus hadn’t jumped or jerked, and having seen the vial of oil next to the cot, Finn knew that Meyer had given the man something to ease the pain. Whatever it was had taken off the edge enough that Seamus no longer struggled.

  “How far did you walk to get here?”

  “I made it three sections. I figured it was either the hangman or a surgeon. Damn surgeons can be tough to find. They stay in the dodgy parts of the city.”

  “Dodgy?” Seamus didn’t strike him as high-class, especially not with him bragging about how much it had to drink, but maybe he had read him wrong.

  “You know the type. You said you ran the streets?”

  “It’s been awhile,” Finn said.

  “What did you do… wait. I heard about you.” Seamus looked over to Meyer. “Heard when you took an apprentice. Said he survived hanging and drowning?”

  “Really?” Meyer said.

  “Can’t say that I believed it,” Seamus said. “Only that the stories were that you survived something no man has before. Maybe having a man like you around would give me luck.” He grinned, and Finn just shook his head.

  “Why do you need luck?”

  “Look at my damn leg,” he said.

  Finn continued pulling on the leg, drawing it down, but knowing he needed to work carefully and quickly in order to do so. Meyer held on to his makeshift splint, and it wouldn’t be much longer before he was ready for Finn to finish with traction, and when he did, then Meyer would place the splint.

  “What exactly happened to you?” Finn asked.

  “Can’t say that I remember. Told you I’d been drinking.”

  “How much had you to drink?”

  “I had… ow! What was that?”

  Finn pulled just enough that he had popped the leg into alignment.

  “That was me finishing this,” Finn said. He looked up, holding the man’s gaze for a moment. “Now we just have to put a splint on.”

  Meyer braced the leg with the pieces of wood that he had for just such a purpose, and then began to wrap cloth around it. “You’re going to need to keep this in place for the next month. If you pull it off before it heals, it’s possible you’ll end up losing the leg.”

  “That’s what the damn surgeons tried to tell me,” Seamus said.

  “They weren’t wrong,” Meyer said.

  “Not wrong, but they wanted to cut right away. You know surgeons. They figure they can’t do anything but cut.”

  “I suspect they warned you that if you were to walk on this too much, you would find that you will end up losing it anyway.”

  “How am I supposed to get around without walking?”

  “Carefully,” Meyer said.

  “Carefully,” he scoffed, glancing over to Finn. “Says the man who don’t drink. You have a few ales in you, and you can’t help but stumble.”

  “Then stay in one place,” Meyer said. He headed over to his cabinet, pulling out two wooden crutches made of a faded and twisted wood. “You may use these. I expect them back when you are finished.”

  “What’s all of this going to cost me?”

  “For the healing, supplies, medicines, I’ll take two silvers.”

  “Gah!” Seamus waved his hand. “Two silvers. Still cheaper than the damn surgeon would’ve been if he had taken the leg. You know he wanted to take the thing off up to here?” He pointed to his knee. “The break was way down there.”

  “Just be careful with that,” Meyer said. He went over to the cabinet, grabbing a few supplies before handing it over to Seamus. “You might need this. For pain.”

  “Why would I need anything more for pain? Didn’t you take care of me?”

  “We set the bone. We straightened it. Now it’s up to the injury to heal. It’s usually pretty painful for the first few days. I can’t promise that you’ll be able to sleep well for the first few days, but in time, you’ll do fine.”

  Seamus shuffled off to the side of the bed, and he took the crutches, wobbling for a moment. “Seems like it’s going to work just fine, hangman.”

  Meyer guided him out of the house, out the back door, and then when he returned, he glanced over to Finn. “That was very good work.”

  “I didn’t do much other than set the bone.”

  “You distracted him. That’s a skill that not all learn. Too many people feel they need to be aggressive, such as it is. You do need appropriate tension, but too much and you find you can actually hurt the person you’re trying to help.” Meyer shrugged. “In this case, I think he probably didn’t feel much anyway. He’d been drinking long before he came to me.”

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever had enough to drink that I fell off a roof.”

  “You would have, were you sneaking around the way he had been.”

  “He’s a thief?”

  Meyer took a seat at his desk, opened a book, and began to make a note. “A thief, but not one who advertises that status very well. You noticed how he deflected anytime you asked too many questions.”

  “He didn’t really deflect. He just chose not to answer.”

  “That is deflecting.”

  “Where was he breaking in?”

  “There was a building in the Nethel section he fell from.”

  “Did he tell you?”

  “Not so much. I got a report from one of the Archers that someone was spotted, and then about a half an hour later, he showed up.” Meyer shrugged. “I figure it’s too unlikely to be coincidence.”

  “What do you think he was up to?”

  “I can’t say I have the answer to that,” Meyer said. “And I’m not so sure it matters. Hopefully, he’ll have learned his lesson.”

  Finn chuckled. “If he’s working for a crew, there’s no lesson to be learned. He got away with whatever he was up to.”

  “He may have gotten away with it, but he didn’t come away unscathed. There’s a difference.”

  Finn just shrugged. He took a seat on the cot, looking over to Master Meyer. “I am starting to think Sweth is guilty.”

  �
�You’re starting to think that?”

  “I’m not so sure; it’s just…” Finn shook his head. “It’s just that I don’t have any other explanation.”

  “Does that trouble you?”

  Finn breathed out heavily, looking around the inside of the office. He hadn’t spent that much time there. Master Meyer might work with him, but he didn’t often include Finn with his healing. It was a wonder that he had this time, though it wasn’t the first. He had included Finn with Moira, even though Finn had not been able to help her. Yet. He was determined to find some answer for her. He had delayed her, but eventually…

  “I think it troubles me I didn’t see it at first.”

  “Why is that?” Meyer looked up at him, his hands resting on either side of the table, and he hadn’t said much.

  “I guess I wanted to believe him.”

  “What does that show you?”

  “I guess it shows me I need to question more.”

  “One of the lessons I learned early on was that men are willing to tell you whatever they think you want to hear. The challenge we face is deciding what we need to hear. More than that, the challenge is deciding what we should pay attention to.”

  “I still don’t even know if he’s guilty or not, just that I’m starting to suspect it.”

  “We don’t have much time remaining for you to come to terms with whether or not he is guilty, Finn.”

  “I know.” He pulled out the slip of paper. “I have a list of names of people who’ve been missing.” He held it out, and Master Meyer’s gaze slipped along it before looking up at him. “Not that it matters. I suspect arson by itself is a punishable-enough crime for what took place, but with this…”

  “You’re trying to justify what needs to happen.”

  “I’m not even trying to justify it. I’m just trying to figure out what I think needs to happen.”

  Meyer smiled at him. “You do well to investigate it, but sometimes you need to know when to stop looking and to start paying attention to what you’ve already uncovered.”

  “What is that, then?”

  “That will be for you to determine.”

  Meyer turned his attention back to the book, and Finn left him.

  He headed to his room, taking a seat, and stared at the map. Between the map, the number of dead, and what Sweth had been accused of, Finn needed answers, though he felt as if the answer was just beyond his understanding.

 

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