Esmerelda stopped turning.
“This is Alainsith,” Finn said. He traced his hand along the stone, moving it slightly.
Esmerelda nodded. “There are places like this scattered throughout the forest. Most are intact. Alainsith stonework is generally quite stout,” she said. “The Alainsith poured much of themselves into their stone, into everything that they built. It should not fail so easily.”
Finn crouched down next to another pile of stone rubble and debris. He pressed his hand upon it and felt something warm, but also slick and unpleasant.
“This was once all their land,” Esmerelda said. “Even within Verendal, you will find evidence of that.”
“I’ve seen it,” he said. “The City Hall itself is an old Alainsith building.”
“There are others like it, as well. And there are some who think the Alainsith magic remains within their buildings.”
Finn got to his feet and looked around the small clearing. “If the Alainsith magic remains in the buildings, then how would this have crumbled?”
“I don’t know.”
She hunkered down, her hands pressed out, and surprisingly, he noticed a hint of light coming off of her, as if she were glowing with power. It was as if she were trying to call upon power in a way that would penetrate the Alainsith stonework.
It reminded him of what happened in Weverth, and the way that Lyle Martin had situated corpses around the Alainsith stone. The only places that remained intact were where the corpses had been set, otherwise the rest of the structure had crumbled into nothingness.
He watched Esmerelda, though didn’t have any great insight about what she did.
Finn joined her, crouching down alongside her, and thought maybe there was something in the stonework that he might feel, though perhaps that was only his imagination. Having been around magic, he wondered if he would even be able to detect it used near him. He had certainly used the sword Justice before, demonstrating power as he had carved through dark magic, though that had been witchcraft. His own sword, the blade that Master Meyer had gifted him for his journeyman work, had taken on a bit of power too: the power of death, of taking a life. It was that power that had permitted him the ability to overwhelm witchcraft.
As he looked at the stone, he couldn’t tell anything else from it. Maybe it was a mistake for him to stay here, a mistake for him to have come here in the first place.
“This structure was intact when I was through the forest the last time,” Esmerelda said. She made her way around it, moving quietly. “And if there is something here…”
She didn’t continue, other than to move carefully, her hands pressed out from her, though Finn didn’t know if she was drawing upon her hegen magic or if she were simply searching for answers.
“This is now three Alainsith structures,” she said, her voice soft. “How many others?” It was a question mostly to herself, Finn could tell, but he wanted to try to help her.
She started off and Finn hurried after her. They hadn’t gone very far in the forest before they came upon another clearing. It was another crumbled building. Esmerelda paced around it for a few moments, before hurrying off, deeper into the forest. When they came across another clearing, there was an increased tension within her.
Finally, she straightened. “I think we need to return,” she said.
“What could cause this?” Finn had seen what he believed to be witchcraft in Weverth. If that were the cause of this, then there might not be anything he could do.
But his attackers had wanted his sword.
Was it to prevent him from intervening?
Reginald’s death. The attack outside of the city. Witchcraft. Protests. And now the Alainsith structures.
Finn didn’t know where to focus, leaving him questioning even where to begin.
Esmerelda touched him on the arm. “I can see that you are troubled.”
“It just feels like there are too many strings for me to pull at, and I don’t know where to even start.”
“Then let me pull on this one, Finn. The people will look into what is happening with the Alainsith, but you must focus on what is happening in the city.”
It should offer him some relief. She was taking something off of his plate, offering him an opportunity to focus on something that he might actually be able to do something about. But having been attacked outside of Weverth, it felt like this was something he needed to be involved in as well.
There was too much, though.
Esmerelda guided him through the forest, back to his horse, and when the city came into view, Finn knew that her suggestion was probably for the best. He needed to focus on his responsibilities, on what Master Meyer would want from him. On what the king would want from him. That was his path.
Still, as they headed back toward the hegen section, Finn found his focus drawn back toward the forest, toward the crumbled Alainsith structures, and couldn’t help but feel as if that were important somehow.
Chapter Fourteen
The return to Esmerelda’s home had them both somber. It was fitting. The pain in his side persisted, and he feared that it would linger and impede his duties, but she had healed him with hegen magic, so he doubted the pain would persist too long.
When they stopped at Esmerelda’s home, she stepped into the doorway. From here, Finn could see that her kitchen was a bit of a mess, different powders and medicines all resting on the counter, the aromas drifting to his nose. It was unusual for her to have such a chaotic home. The other times he’d been here, he’d found it clean and tidy. “You should return to Henry Meyer and share with him what you experienced. You can share with him what we’ve seen of the Alainsith if you choose, though I do not know what to make of it.”
Finn nodded. “I don’t know how concerned he’ll be about the Alainsith, but he will be disappointed I was attacked during my time outside of the city.”
“I think he’ll feel more than disappointed.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the stack of cards she had put in there before. Esmerelda flipped through them, moving from card to card before seeming to settle on one that she held outward, flipping it from finger to finger, then turning it over.
“The cards have you worried,” Finn said.
Esmerelda looked up. Her normally intense gaze had something of an urgency to it now. “The cards often have me worried, Finn, but this is more than the cards. I do not know what it means that the Alainsith structures are failing, but there is something there, Finn.”
Finn looked down. Once again, there was a sword on the card. “These more so than usual for you. Why is that?”
Esmerelda flipped it over. “The cards are markers of what might be and what should be. We don’t always understand what the cards intend to show us, only that if we are diligent, we can come to know our purpose.” She looked up. “I am trying to find my purpose.”
“The cards aren’t helping?”
“Unfortunately, the cards can only help so much when it comes to understanding one’s purpose.”
“I thought these were tied to your magic.”
She smiled slightly. “If only it were so simple.” She sorted through the stack of cards again before offering one to Finn. “Would you care to find yours?”
Finn looked at them. When he’d been given a hegen card in the past, it had always come with the requirement that he help the hegen. At least, that had been Finn’s belief in the purpose behind Esmerelda having given the cards to him in the past. They had always come from her, though he suspected there were other hegen who had similar abilities and could dispense cards just as well as she could.
This was the first time he’d been offered a card with no strings attached. Somehow, this felt like a test—one he thought he needed to pass.
“What purpose do you need for me to find?” Finn asked.
He hesitated with his hand outstretched, reaching for one of the cards. It would only take him grabbing one of them to see what the hegen magic asked of him.
>
“It’s not what I want you to find, Finn. We both know there is something else out there.”
She was not wrong. After they had stopped Holden, and Elizabeth Jarvis, he had been warned that there was another threat, but in his time serving as executioner, Finn had not been able to go looking for it. How could he if needed to remain in Verendal?
The other threat, the one Elizabeth had alluded to before her execution, had not yet come to the city. Unless it had.
“What else is out there?”
She smiled tightly. “It’s what you need to find.”
Finn met her gaze. “What do you think I need to find?”
She tipped her head to the side, smiling slightly at him. “As we spoke about earlier, I think you need to find your purpose, as all of us must.”
Finn took a deep breath. There had been times when the hegen cards had guided him in surprising ways. Maybe this would be the same. He could imagine the cards giving him an answer now, perhaps leading him to know why he’d been attacked on his way back from Weverth. Perhaps the cards would explain what had happened when he’d been at the Alainsith structure, or why the stone had seemed to decay so quickly again.
Or perhaps taking a card would bind him to Esmerelda. He found that he didn’t mind that as much as he once would have. That was typically the purpose of the cards. They were meant to bridge a person to the hegen so they would serve as the hegen demanded. Or so he’d long thought.
When it came to Esmerelda, Finn wasn’t even sure if that mattered anymore.
He’d worked with the hegen—and Esmerelda, in particular—enough times now that he didn’t feel the same fear about going to her for help as he once did.
Perhaps that was what mattered.
He no longer thought that Esmerelda simply wanted to use him.
Finn took a card, and Esmerelda turned away from him.
Looking at the card, he found the surface blank. At first.
Then the ink began to shift.
He’d seen it happen with Esmerelda’s personal cards, but rarely had it happened for him. It was as if the ink had to register something from within him in order for the card to know what to reveal. As the ink slid and shifted along the card’s surface, Finn wondered what the hegen magic would decide for him. How would he be asked to serve next?
The ink started to shimmer… then stopped.
“What does this mean?”
Esmerelda didn’t look back at him. “I cannot explain to you what the cards ask of you.”
“The card doesn’t look like it’s asking me anything.”
She turned slowly and leaned close enough to look down at it, the frown on her face deepening. “That should not be.” She reached for the card but hesitated and looked up at Finn. “You said the man you sentenced called you something. What was it?”
Finn swallowed. “He said I was unclean.”
It wasn’t only Finn who he’d claimed was unclean. There had been others. The entire village had been unclean, but then that accusation had come from a man who had used the dead for… what? Finn wasn’t even sure he knew any longer.
But he knew Esmerelda looked at the card with a different suspicion in her eyes than he had seen from her before. She took a step back, as if to get away from Finn, and clutched the rest of the cards close to her.
“What is it?” Finn asked.
“I am not sure, Finn. Something is unusual. Perhaps it is the attack. Or the berahn. Either way, it has influenced how the card responds to you.”
“Has that ever happened for you?”
Esmerelda shook her head. “Not that I have ever seen before.” She studied him for a moment before forcing a smile. “I’m sure there’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”
Finn looked down at the card. The ink still swirled across the surface, revealing no real image. It was unusual for him to see the ink moving like that; it had a strangely golden, glittery appearance and seemed to slide across the card’s surface, the image shifting and gliding as he held on to it.
“I think it is time for you to return to Henry Meyer. I’m sure he would be most interested in learning what happened to you.”
He wanted to argue, but she wasn’t wrong: It was time for him to return to Master Meyer, to return to his work, and even to return the horse to the stable.
Finn pocketed the card and felt something else in there. It took a moment for him to realize that it was the coin he’d taken from Reginald’s home. He’d forgotten about it. “I’ll let you know if the image resolves into something useful.”
Esmerelda nodded.
He waited for her to turn back to him, but she did not. Instead, she sorted through the powders resting on the table alongside her, as if she needed to move them more than she needed to visit with him.
He headed through her home, picking his way past the table, the faded wooden chairs, and along the brightly colored carpet covering the floor. Finn breathed in deeply, inhaling the aromas of her home. When he reached the door, he glanced back to Esmerelda, but found that she still hadn’t turned back to him.
The card had her bothered, but why?
Unclean.
Maybe he was unclean.
He had thought Lyle Martin had been touched in the head, but maybe Finn had been wrong. Maybe he had gotten the execution wrong.
He’d allowed the villagers to guide how he had handled the execution—something he didn’t always do, but Finn had thought it was appropriate this time. Perhaps it was not.
As he looked around again, he couldn’t help but wonder what more he might need to know about what Esmerelda had in mind for him—and what she feared—but he had a feeling she wasn’t going to tell him anything.
“If you come up with anything I need to know, please find me in the city,” Finn said.
Esmerelda nodded.
As he stepped out of the home, he knew she would not.
All the time he had been working with Master Meyer, and all the time he had come to know the hegen, Finn had never seen Esmerelda in the city other than when she had come with him. She had never willingly gone into the city for any other reason.
Once outside, a northern breeze gusted, cold and biting, tearing through his jacket. He clutched his sword, and realized he didn’t have his pack that he’d carried with him, but he didn’t need to be concerned. The gray mare was tied to a post outside of Esmerelda’s home, and his pack was strapped to her back. In any other part of the city, Finn would’ve been worried about somebody taking his belongings, but there was no reason for him to be afraid of that in the hegen section—especially outside of Esmerelda’s home.
He looked at the bright red painted door leading to Esmerelda’s home, and found himself reaching into his pocket, pulling the card out, and looking at its surface.
Unclean.
Somehow, that was tied to why the card wouldn’t resolve an image for him.
Finn started through the street, then turned a corner and came face to face with a reddish-haired hegen he had come to know.
“Danior,” Finn said.
Danior glanced past Finn, looking toward Esmerelda’s home. “Finn Jagger,” Danior said. “I didn’t realize you were in our section.”
“Esmerelda was…” Finn glanced at the card again for a moment before sticking it into his pocket, but not before Danior had a chance to realize he had done so. The other young man flashed a quick smile at Finn. “She helped me. I’d gotten injured on the road leading back to the city.”
“It seems you get injured quite a bit for a man who serves the king.”
“Apparently, my line of work is dangerous,” Finn said.
“Apparently?” Danior asked, chuckling. “You’re the one who does the questioning, are you not?”
Finn had always found it interesting that most of the hegen were not at all bothered by the nature of his work. Far from it. “Most of the time,” Finn said. “But there are times when I run into trouble.”
“Since you serve the
king, I imagine any trouble you get into is supported by him.” He nodded toward the main part of the city.
“Usually,” Finn said. Did Danior know the king had come to the city?
It had been Finn’s experience that the hegen knew things they weren’t always supposed to know.
“How’s Kezia?”
His face darkened. “More trouble than usual lately. You have a sister too, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“And you are the older one?”
“Technically.”
“What does that mean? What is this ‘technically’?”
Finn chuckled, patting the horse on the side for a moment and glancing over her shoulder to Esmerelda’s home. He could just see it in the distance, and for a moment, he thought the red door had pulled open and her face had appeared there, as if she was looking down the street toward him.
“It means I might be chronologically older than my sister, but there are times when it feels like she’s the older sibling.”
“Kezia often acts the same way. She tries to intervene, and has even come to my woodsmith shop, as if to get in the middle of my responsibilities.” He smiled at Finn. “Perhaps the two of us can meet at the next festival, share a mug of tea, and dance while we commiserate about our difficulty with our sisters.”
Finn nodded. “Perhaps.” He patted the horse on the side again and looked over to Danior. “I need to return to the city.”
“Of course,” Danior said. “It’s always my pleasure to see you, Finn Jagger.”
“Say,” Finn started, “since you’re a carpenter, have you ever seen anything like this?” He pulled out the wooden marker he’d found in Reginald’s home. It was time to focus on his investigation again. Esmerelda would deal with the Alainsith. He tried to tell himself that was for the best.
Danior looked at it but didn’t touch it. “Skillful work,” he said. “It looks like three different inlays, and they’re placed artfully. It could almost be done by one of the people.” He laughed softly. “But it’s not. We don’t use junith tree, which is what that is.”
The Executioner's Rebellion (The Executioner's Song Book 4) Page 17
