“How did you hear that?”
“People talk,” she said. “And quite a few people knew that my father did work for Reginald.”
Finn nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m working with the crown to ensure those owed money by Reginald will be paid, but I don’t know the timing of it.”
“I’m sure the crown has other things to be worried about,” Jamie said. She flicked her gaze around her before turning her attention back to him. “Have you been involved in what’s happening within the city?”
“It’s part of the job, unfortunately. I serve as one of the king’s inquisitors. That means I have to look into various crimes.”
“I’ve heard stories.” She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “So I can’t imagine what that must be like for you.”
“Most of what you’ve heard are probably just stories,” he said.
He thought about the circumstances of their first meeting and found himself wishing he had met Jamie under different terms, not while serving in his formal capacity.
“Well, Mr. Jagger—”
“Finn is fine,” he said.
She smiled at him, a lovely expression. “I really need to be going. I have an errand to run for my father.”
“I understand. I should go as well.”
“I would be interested in talking more later,” she said.
He smiled. “I would like that. When works for you?”
“Most evenings,” she said. “Why don’t we meet at the Giver’s bell? The night after tomorrow?”
Finn nodded. “I would like that.”
She headed into the city, and Finn moved through the heavily armed gate.
There were more Archers here now than there were before.
But the gate was open.
What message did the king want to send?
Finn should’ve asked him when he had the chance. Instead, he was left with questions. He passed through, glancing at the Archers for recognition and finding none, before making his way toward the hegen.
The hegen section of the city had a comfortable quality to it that Finn had come to appreciate the longer he’d served as executioner in Verendal. There was something about it that left him feeling welcomed in a way he didn’t always feel within the city itself, where he felt tolerated, but not always welcomed. Oscar’s comment about him coming to his club was all the reminder Finn needed.
Finn headed through the narrow streets, much more comfortable here now than he had been when he’d first started coming to the hegen section. There weren’t many who weren’t hegen who traveled through here, though Finn would occasionally encounter people seeking the hegen for their magic. Most of the time when he did, they made a point of looking away from him, as if him catching them with the hegen would somehow implicate them in some greater crime.
A younger woman ahead of him didn’t appear to belong here, but she seemed to be traveling in the same direction as Finn. Her long black hair hung past her shoulders, and her yellow dress looked as if it could be hegen made, but the way her head turned from side to side, and the way her gaze darted all around, told Finn she wasn’t comfortable.
He turned another corner, figuring he’d lose her, when he saw her stop.
She turned, facing him. Deep brown eyes looked at him. “Are you following me?”
There was a measure of steel in the question, which brought a smile to Finn’s face. “I wasn’t following you. I think we’re going the same direction.”
“You’re not hegen,” she said, tilting her head and regarding him.
“I’m not.”
For a moment, Finn had started to question if she was hegen, but the way she phrased the statement suggested otherwise. The hegen didn’t refer to themselves in that way. They were always “the people.”
“What are you doing here?” the woman asked.
“I suppose the same as you.”
She frowned. “What do you know about it?”
Finn shrugged, looking past her. A familiar face poked out of a few of the hegen in the distance and grinned at him. He hadn’t seen Kezia in a while, and suspected she’d be amused by this woman verbally attacking Finn for having come here.
“I’ve got some experience with the hegen.”
Her eyes widened. “You do?” She turned, looking behind her, as if she was suddenly concerned by what she might find. “What have you asked from them?”
“Most recently?” Finn chuckled. “I’ve asked them for help finding someone.”
“Do they do that?”
“If you ask the right way,” Finn said.
He remembered what it was like to be someone like this woman, how he had felt when he had first come to the hegen for help. He’d been nervous, much like her.
And he could easily imagine his sister and how she had been when she had come to the hegen for help.
Finn didn’t think Lena had gone to Esmerelda, but there were other hegen who had the ability to help. Others who were willing to trade cards for favors, magic for requests that would be honored later.
“I was hoping they could help me find something,” she said softly.
“All you have to do is ask,” Finn said.
The woman straightened, gripping the fabric of her dress, and looked along the street. “I never thought I would come out here to them,” she whispered.
Finn frowned. He recognized the derision in her voice.
Would the hegen she went to recognize it as well? Even if they did, what would they do or say? It had been Finn’s experience that the hegen wouldn’t take offense, or if they did, they’d never let someone know about it.
Finn suspected this wouldn’t be the first time somebody came to the hegen feeling as if they were somehow above doing so. But most people who came had felt a measure of desperation.
Finn had seen what desperation could do and understood how it motivated. In fact, it was a bit of desperation that brought him out here now.
“Sometimes they ask for more than you feel comfortable providing in exchange for their assistance,” Finn said, looking around. “But you don’t have to accept unless you want to.”
“I didn’t think they told you what they wanted until after they provided the service.”
“That’s true enough,” Finn said.
“Then how do you refuse?”
“You choose not to come to them for help,” Finn said. He took a step toward the woman, and she stiffened slightly.
“I thought you said you weren’t one of them?”
“I'm not.”
“You sound like you know an awful lot about them. Nobody knows much about the hegen.”
“It depends on your experience with them,” Finn said. He looked along the street.
Kezia had stopped and watched him. Her lips quirked in a playful smile, and she ignored the boy she was talking to. She and her brother Danior had welcomed Finn when he had first met them, and he never felt as if they were bothered by the fact that he was an executioner. He felt much different with them than he had in so many other parts of the city.
“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t have a need,” she said.
“That’s how I felt the first time I came to them,” Finn said.
“How many times have you come here?”
“More than I can count,” Finn said.
The woman's eyes widened. “So many times? How deeply are you indebted to them?”
“As deeply as I need to be,” Finn said.
Her eyes widened again, and she looked past him, her gaze darting along the street in either direction. She began to fidget even more than she had been.
“You know you don’t have to come here if you don’t want to. You can turn back,” Finn said.
“It’s just… I just wish there was another way.”
“Sometimes the only way is through the hegen magic,” Finn said.
“You’ve seen it,” the woman whispered.
“I wouldn't keep coming back if I hadn’t,” Finn said.
“Is it as terrifying as they say?”
“More,” Finn said, smiling slightly.
The woman licked her lips, swallowed, then nodded to herself. She hurried off along the street, and Finn didn’t follow. At this point, he figured he had scared her enough, and whatever she was after was her own personal issue, nothing that he needed to get involved in. She didn’t need for him to chase her and make her feel as if she had to fear coming here.
“You might have cost us a bargain,” a voice said from behind him.
Finn turned to see Esmerelda. She looked lovely in her bright red dress in the early morning sunlight, her raven-black hair pulled back, sweeping along one shoulder. She had a band of silver around her neck, a different trinket than he had seen before.
“I doubt it. She’s continued onward. Whatever she’s after is something she thinks only the hegen can provide.”
“Yes, I see that. Someone like that has an agenda,” Esmerelda said.
“Everybody who comes here has their own personal agenda,” Finn said. “I had one too when I first came out here.”
“You came on behalf of someone else.”
“Does that matter?”
Esmerelda smiled, but ignored the question as she looked along the street. “Why did you come this time, Finn? Not the Alainsith structures.”
“Have there been more?”
She frowned slightly. “I haven’t uncovered anything. I wish I had a better explanation, but unfortunately there is nothing.”
“I just want to know if they might be connected to the Black Rose movement,” Finn said.
She frowned, pulling a card from her pocket and flipping it from one side to the next before shaking her head. “I cannot say. But you’re not here for that. And you’re not here because you’re injured, so that is an improvement.”
He had to smile, though his mind worked through what other Alainsith structures might have been attacked. “I’m trying to piece together what’s taking place in the city.” He glanced over toward the city itself. Only parts of Verendal could be seen from outside of the walls. The church spires rose over the massive walls, and in the distance, the palace could be seen, but little else. “The king asked us—or, I guess, me—to look into what happened.”
“Would you have not done so otherwise?”
“I would have,” Finn said.
“Of course you would have,” Esmerelda said, smiling at him. “You’ve become a faithful servant.”
“You say that as if it’s something I should regret.”
“On the contrary, I say it as if it’s something you should be proud of. You have committed to something more than just yourself.”
Finn shook his head. “I’m just trying to find answers. I need to find the Black Rose. We think that’s who’s organizing the attacks.”
Esmerelda smiled. “So you come here and scare people away.” She laughed softly. “That young lady had come because she wanted wealth.”
“You already knew?”
“I don’t need to talk with her to know certain things,” Esmerelda said, pulling another card out of her pocket and flipping it briefly. A series of markers on the card started to shift and shimmer, the ink a deep gold, looking like a stack of coins. “But unfortunately, she is looking for something that cannot be found quite as easily as she would like.”
“Do people really come to the hegen thinking they can bargain for wealth?”
“You’d be surprised what people bargain for,” Esmerelda chuckled, a soft, warm sound, and motioned for Finn to follow her as they headed along the street. She turned away from her home, away from the direction Finn would have taken. “Though none want to learn how.”
“I’m not sure anyone not hegen would be able to learn your magic.”
She paused. “Do you think you couldn’t learn it? All who want knowledge can learn to find it. It’s not so different from the way you have pursued the knowledge of your current line of work.”
“Are you really equating magic to hanging someone?”
“Are you really trying to tell me all you do is hang people?”
Finn held her gaze, then looked away. “The other parts aren’t quite what I’m known for.”
“And magic isn’t quite the only skill our people have, as I have shown you.” She stopped in front of a home. She had taken him down a side street he had rarely traveled along, and now that they stopped here, he looked at the building, realizing that he hadn’t seen it before, but it was incredible. Its sides were painted vibrant colors, and there was a mural painted along the walls. It looked to be a depiction of the forest, almost captured perfectly on the sides of the home. He could practically feel himself standing beneath the trees, the earthy scent of the forest carried to him, the air cool…
He stepped forward, studying the mural. “All of these murals are amazing.”
“Those who work at this study and train no differently from those who work at other things,” she said. “The time I took to study my art of what you call magic is no less than the time it took to study this art. We have artisans, Finn. We have craftsman. I’m sure you’ve seen some of the carvings they make, some of the ceramics and textiles, weavings of such skill that they take hundreds upon hundreds of hours to complete.” She shrugged, turning to Finn. “But what we are known for is what you call magic.”
“I think it’s called that because people don’t understand it, or know what to call it otherwise.”
“They don’t understand it because they don’t take the time to understand it. Even you, someone who has seen it more than most, still view it in a way that creates a depiction of power that is not founded in reality.”
“I’ve seen what I’ve seen,” Finn said.
“You’ve seen the barest edge of what could be seen. If you were to look, if you were to keep your eyes open and try to understand the powers in the world, then perhaps you would see—perhaps you would understand.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t come here to debate the merits of your powers,” he said.
“No.” She looked past him, back toward the direction of the city. “You came to talk to me about the unrest in the city walls.”
“Only indirectly.”
“Indirectly?”
“I’m looking for answers, but there are people within the city who were injured during an attack. I suspect one of them knows who is coordinating, if not instigating, the attack. The person behind the Black Rose movement.”
Esmerelda smiled at him. “Is it one person?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s just that someone is coordinating things. There has to be someone in charge. If we can find that person, I feel like we can put a stop to the unrest. Which is why we need to question them.”
“I remember stories of an old facility in Verendal. It’s been long since abandoned, but it was a structure that once had been quite powerful. Many within the city had once been powerful, but this one even more so than others.”
Finn shook his head, laughing softly. “I don't know why I would ever think you wouldn’t know.”
Esmerelda pulled yet another card out of her pocket, flipping it from side to side, and each time she turned it, the image on the card shifted a bit. The card flickered and he saw a building. It was simple, all stone, with traces of markings along it—markings Finn knew to be Alainsith.
“I didn't realize that it was Alainsith,” Finn said.
Had Meyer known?
“There is much within the city that shares that heritage.” She quickly glanced toward the city. “Perhaps in this our objectives align. I had not thought they would, but time… and other things… has made it more likely that they do.” She pulled a card out of her pocket, turning it briefly as if looking for answers in the movement of the ink. “You would like to understand who is responsible for upsetting the balance within the city, and I would like to understand who is responsible for upsetting the balance outside the city. I have started to think this is al
l connected.”
She held out a card and Finn looked at it.
It had an image of a small marker with a symbol engraved on it.
It took Finn a moment to realize what it showed him.
Then he knew. He carried it with him, and had ever since investigating Reginald.
He pulled the marker he’d found in Reginald’s home out of his pocket. “This?”
“I’ve pondered what you told me when you were here last.” Esmerelda didn’t take the marker when he offered it to her, shaking her head instead. “There is some witchcraft in that. It’s subtle, but the effect is there.”
“What does it do?”
“I cannot say.”
“If it’s tied to what’s happened outside the city…”
“Again, I cannot say,” she told him.
Finn hadn’t spent enough time looking into Reginald and now he started to wonder if that was a mistake. Maybe he needed to investigate his death more.
His experience outside of the city came back to him.
Unclean.
“I was unclean,” he said.
Esmerelda frowned. “If someone was sensitive to magic, they may have recognized it.”
Finn squeezed his eyes closed. He hadn’t understood at the time. He still didn’t—not really—but Lyle Martin hadn’t been babbling. He’d known.
Finn had been unclean.
“What else did he know?” Finn asked. He looked up at Esmerelda. “I sentenced him, but what if he knew something? What if it was all some way of protecting the village from witchcraft?” The bodies had been used similarly to hegen magic.
“I am sorry,” Esmerelda said, her voice soft.
Finn squeezed the marker.
Witchcraft. Reginald. The protests.
He couldn’t shake that it was all tied together, but he had no idea how.
It was time that changed.
Be the Hunter.
That would be how he’d find the answers. That was what the king wanted from him. The question Esmerelda had asked him not long ago came back, though, sticking with him the way it had too often of late. What did he want? What would be his path?
“We may need hegen help to heal these men,” he said. “I know you don’t like going into the city itself, but could you do this?”
The Executioner's Rebellion (The Executioner's Song Book 4) Page 24
