The Executioner's Rebellion (The Executioner's Song Book 4)

by D. K. Holmberg

  He knocked again. Once again, there was no answer.

  “Dammit, Oscar,” Finn muttered.

  He needed his old friend. Needed him for several reasons, not the least of which was to let Finn into the club.

  He knocked again, this time more forcefully than the last.

  Finally, the door opened, and Oscar poked his scarred face out toward Finn.

  “You don’t have to knock so hard,” Oscar said. He glanced in either direction along the street before opening the door widely enough for Finn to come inside.

  “I’ve been trying not to, but first you tell me to come here, then you have it locked, and—”

  “Just get in here,” Oscar said.

  Finn stepped inside.

  The chairs had all been pushed off to the side of the room. Annie sat in one of them, leaning forward, a frown creasing her brow. There were two others whom Finn didn’t recognize, younger men he suspected were a part of Oscar’s crew. One of them was tall and muscular, with a brooding expression that gave him the look of a bruiser. The other was short, and he pressed his mouth together in a disapproving frown as Finn came into the club.

  There was one other person inside the room: a man with his wrists bound behind him and his legs bound in front of him, wearing the clothing of an Archer.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “What did you do?” Finn asked. He looked around the club for a moment, noting the dim lights, shaded windows, and stale air. Even though Oscar had claimed he would be opening his club soon, he still had not done so. Had the attacks of the Black Rose changed Oscar as well?

  “Just get in here,” Oscar repeated.

  Finn stood for a moment, looking over to the Archer, then back to Oscar and the others. This was his fear. Now he would have to decide how to deal with Oscar, after everything he’d gone through with him.

  But Finn didn’t know if he could even do anything when it came to Oscar. He certainly couldn’t take him to the prison, and he couldn’t do that to Annie either, given what she had gone through, but the other two…

  The other two would know if Finn didn’t take Oscar in.

  He turned to Oscar. “You can’t do this to me,” he said softly. “I know you side with them, but not this way.”

  Oscar took his arm and forced him forward. “You’re damn right, not this way. I think the movement is right. They want people like you used to be to have a chance to live. Those fighting for it might not be doing it how you agree, but you need to take a look, Finn. Be the man you claim you are.”

  Finn looked down at the Archer, crouching on the ground in front of him. There was something wrong. The marking on his jacket was wrong.

  Archers all had a single stripe, unless they were serving as palace Archers. This one had a stripe on his left shoulder, but the angle was all wrong. It looked to be made by somebody who had only seen Archers from a distance.

  “He’s not a real Archer,” Finn said, looking the man over. He had dark brown hair, a lean face, and deep-brown eyes that glowered at Finn.

  “That’s right,” Oscar said. “I was followed on my way back here. Bastard was a little cleverer than I would’ve expected for one of the Archers. Most of them don’t care to take the side streets.”

  Finn looked over to Oscar and chuckled softly. Side streets to Oscar meant alleys.

  And he wasn’t wrong. The Archers generally avoided alleys. It was one way the criminals managed to stay ahead of them. They mostly avoided them because they didn’t care for the smell, but it was more than that: it was the dirtiness of most of the alleys, and the darkness, along with the fact that they had to go down them single file, which meant any criminal hiding there had an advantage.

  “How did you know?”

  “He doesn’t look quite right, does he?” Oscar said, looking over to Finn.

  Finn regarded Oscar for a moment.

  He didn’t know quite what to say. He had a sneaking suspicion Oscar would have jumped him regardless. And if that was the case, then Finn was lucky this was a false Archer and not a real one. If it were a real Archer, what choice would Finn have had but to do the one thing he feared doing in Verendal and bring him in?

  “Damn you, Oscar,” Finn whispered.

  “You’re going to go on about that?” Oscar said.

  “You’re going to force me to make a decision one of these days.”

  “I’m not going to force you to do anything,” Oscar said. “You do what you need to do. And I’m going to do what I need to do. You wanted to know who’s organizing all of this. I told you I’d try to help you out. Why don’t you start with him?”

  Finn looked at the man. He still hadn’t said anything.

  “Who are you?” Finn asked.

  “You’re going to face the king,” the false Archer said.

  “I have. That’s why I’m here.” He leaned toward the man. “My name is Finn Jagger. Executioner to King Porman. And I’m here to question you.”

  The two men sitting off to the side groaned softly.

  “If you serve the king, then you need to take him in,” the false Archer said, nodding to Oscar. “He attacked a servant of the crown.”

  Finn shook his head. “I don’t think so. In fact, I am quite certain you aren’t what you claim yourself to be. I will give you only a few moments to tell me who you are and why you’re dressed like that.”

  “Or what?” the man asked.

  “Or you’re going to see how I question prisoners.” For him to get the information he needed, he was going to have to be forceful—and quick. If he couldn’t find it from this man, he would have to ask others. The longer this took, the more likely the city would be under attack.

  Unfortunately, he would need to question him around Oscar, unless he asked Oscar to leave.

  “I’ve told you that you made a mistake. I serve the king.”

  Finn found a stout wooden chair pushed up against the wall and grabbed it, carrying it over to the center of the room. There, he hoisted the false Archer into the chair, his arms behind the backrest. He looked over to Oscar. “I need everyone out.”

  Oscar regarded him for a long moment. “This is my establishment.”

  Finn strode over to Oscar, lowering his voice as he flicked his gaze over to Annie, then the other two men. “Don’t make me push the issue, Oscar. I just need a few moments to question him. We need to know what’s going on. Something strange is happening in the city with the Black Rose and his men, along with the riots.”

  Oscar held his gaze before glancing over to Annie and nodding. He turned to the other two men. “Out.”

  The larger of the two frowned. “Are you sure you’re safe with this one?”

  “I’m safer with him than I am with anyone else,” Oscar said.

  The other man studied Finn, then the two of them headed out the back door, with Annie behind them.

  Oscar looked over to Finn. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

  “Oscar—”

  “Dammit, Finn. You asked for my help. I gave it to you. Now would you just do what you have to do?”

  “You aren’t going to like it.”

  “You asking a few questions?”

  “How I ask the questions.” Finn grabbed another chair, dragging it over and taking a seat in front of the false Archer. “I need to know about the Black Rose.”

  The man leaned his head back. It was slight, but enough that Finn knew what was coming. He tipped off to the side, grabbing for his belt knife, and waited until the man spit at him before sitting upright again.

  “This isn’t going to go the way you think it is,” Finn said. “You’re going to tell me what I need to know about the Black Rose.”

  “Fuck you,” the man said again.

  “I don’t think so,” Finn said. He scooted forward and jabbed the knife into the man’s thigh.

  Behind him, Oscar grunted.

  Finn ignored it.

  The false Archer glowered at Finn.

  “Tell m
e what you know about the Black Rose,” Finn said.

  Finn had been less aggressive than he should have been when he had Jonrath captured in Declan. He wasn’t going to take that approach now. He had an obligation to find answers, but he also had an obligation to understand what was going on and ensure it stopped.

  This was what he had to do.

  He served the king, but he also would do this for himself.

  “Finn?” Oscar said.

  “Don’t interfere,” Finn said. He glared at the man. “Tell me about the Black Rose.”

  Again, the man leaned his head back slightly.

  Finn twisted the knife. The man cried out.

  He tried to keep emotion out of this, but his irritation with himself made it difficult. Had he only followed his instinct, he might have found these answers sooner. Instead, he’d pushed himself to be what he thought others wanted of him.

  “You will tell me what you know about them.”

  “I don’t know anything. I was hired. That’s it. They got money. Lots of it. We do what they want, and they pay.”

  “Hired.” Finn shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe that anymore.” He slid the chair forward, pulling the knife out of the man’s thigh and jamming it into his other one. These wounds would take time to heal. He was being more aggressive than he would typically be when questioning. Most of the time, Finn went the route of trying to be friendly, trying to gain an alliance first, but he’d seen how unsuccessful that would be in this case.

  “What do you want to know? They promised me ten gold coins. All I have to do is give them what’s in my pocket after the job is done, and I get paid.”

  Finn pulled the knife out, twisting as he did, then he held it up to the man’s neck while reaching into the man’s pocket.

  There, he found a circular wooden object.

  It reminded him of what he had found in Reginald’s home, but it was different. It was the same as what he’d found in the old prison, but this one was intact. If he could find who made these, maybe he could figure out the rest.

  There couldn't be that many capable of carving a Black Rose medallion. The one he'd found in the following prison had been incomplete, but seeing this one now gave him all of the answers he needed—but he hated those answers.

  He started to stuff it into his own pocket, when he felt something else.

  Esmerelda’s card.

  He pulled it out and the ink swirled, golden shapes taking hold.

  He recognized the storefront symbolized on it. A hammer and chisel.

  It was Jaime’s father’s store.

  Everything went cold for Finn.

  “Where did you get this marker?” he asked, holding out the medallion.

  “I told you. They gave it to me. It’s a marker for the Black Rose. I get paid when the job is done. That’s it.”

  “What is it, Finn?” Oscar asked, pressing up behind him and looking over Finn’s shoulder. He tried to reach for it, but Finn closed his hand around it and stuffed the wooden medallion into his pocket.

  Payments.

  That was what this was about. The Black Rose medallions were tied to payments.

  Reginald’s journal was tied to payments.

  He leaned down, looking at the man. “I need to know everything.”

  Finn had been right. All along, he had been right about this. Had he only continued digging into Reginald when he first ended up dead in the prison…

  “I don’t know what to say. I was supposed to get close to the old buildings. You know the ones—dark stone, impossibly old.”

  “Alainsith,” Finn said.

  “I was supposed to get close, wait until the crowd gathers, and…”

  Finn clenched his jaw.

  He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of all of this, but it all fit together: Alainsith, the crumbled buildings, the crowds, and his belief that witchcraft was involved. And now he understood how Reginald fit in.

  “Get rid of him,” Finn said.

  “What?” Oscar said.

  Finn glowered at the false Archer. “When all of this calms down, bring him to Declan prison. Tell the iron master there that I sent him.”

  “You can do that,” Oscar said.

  Finn looked up at him, and Oscar took a step back. He had worried what would happen if it came down to trying to capture and imprison somebody he cared about. All along, he’d feared it would be Oscar, or perhaps Annie, or any of the others within the Wenderwolf whom he had come to know.

  Not Master James, the father of someone he thought he might be able to connect to.

  Sadly, it fit. Uprisings spread in other places within the kingdom. Places where Master James could have visited. Places where the Black Rose could have been.

  And now Finn would have to be responsible for stopping him.

  Jamie would never forgive him.

  Finn could choose. He could do nothing—let the fighting persist, and eventually, he had little doubt that the king would end it. And Finn didn’t have answers yet either.

  He still didn’t know why witchcraft was involved, or why the Alainsith sites had been targeted and whether they were tied to the Black Rose, though he was increasingly certain they were, though he didn’t know how.

  “Finn? What is it?”

  It was the one thing Finn had feared. Could he do his job, carry out his responsibility, even if it meant harming someone he cared about?

  Esmerelda had talked to him about finding his path.

  Finn had gone along with what was asked of him from the very beginning. When it had involved the King, then Bellut and the magister, it had been easy. When it had involved people getting hurt within the city, that had been easy, even if the task assigned to him was not. Now…

  Now it was difficult.

  All he had wanted was a chance at some normalcy.

  All he had wanted was to have somebody he could spend some time with, somebody who could know him—somebody not afraid of his job and what it meant for him. For only a moment, he had thought that might be Jamie.

  Now he would be taking her father into custody. He would be responsible for carrying out her father’s execution.

  Finn pushed down all of the emotion he felt, forcing it deep inside. “This has to end.” He looked up. “I’m going to go stop the Black Rose.”

  “It’s a movement, Finn. You can’t stop a movement.”

  “It’s more than a movement,” he said sadly.

  “You know who did it?”

  “I do now.” He looked over to the man. “I hope it was worth it for what you were paid,” Finn said.

  “They were going to pay. Everyone said so. Nobody in the city has got anything. Not unless you’re on the right side of the river. Everybody else…”

  “How many died because of what you did? How many more are you willing to sacrifice?”

  “For change?”

  Finn snorted. “You don’t even know what you’re trying to change.”

  Finn headed toward the door. He was going to have to sneak through the streets, but at least he knew where he was going. It would be a difficult trip, but at this point…

  Oscar caught him as he reached the door. “Is that the kind of thing you’re doing now?” Oscar asked, glancing over to where the false Archer sat in the chair.

  “Don’t start on me,” Finn said.

  “Not starting on you at all. Just trying to understand who you are and what you’ve become.”

  “I’m trying to find my place,” Finn said. His gaze swept around the inside of the club. “Sort of like you’re trying to find yours.”

  Oscar blinked. “I don’t like this side of you, Finn.”

  “Which side?”

  “The side willing to do that. That’s not you.”

  “That is me,” Finn said. “At least, it is now.”

  He pulled open the door, stepping outside. The wind had picked up and thunder rumbled as gray clouds thickened, becoming darker before rain began sheeting do
wn.

  It was fitting; given everything he had gone through, Finn thought the downpour suited his mood. He darted along the street, slipping through the alleys and avoiding the Archers. He found several pockets of them, though many were likely fake.

  Finn reached the river, and he had to wait for one patrol to clear before he darted across. Once he did, he encountered a group of five Realmsguard dressed in heavy armor, rain dripping down the surface of it. One of the men had a long scar along his cheek and part of his nose had scarred in, making it look as if he’d lost it in some battle. There was no way these were false Archers. They certainly didn’t serve the Black Rose.

  They stopped him, swords pointing at him.

  Finn frowned. “I’m the king’s executioner.”

  One of the Realmsguard stepped forward. “The king’s executioner is in the palace. You aren’t him.”

  At least that explained what happened to Meyer. “His apprentice,” Finn said. “And if you want to stop the Black Rose, you need to come with me.”

  The others looked around before turning to the lead Realmsguard.

  “If you’re misleading us…” he started.

  “If I’m misleading you, then you take me to the palace and put me before the king.”

  Finn pushed past him, ignoring the soldier, and marched to the Yanish section.

  A pair of the Realmsguard followed Finn, including the one who had stepped forward.

  “What happened today?” Finn asked.

  “People revolted. We tried closing the gates, but they pushed past them. The damn Black Rose got the people to uprise. Killed a couple dozen Archers.”

  “Is the king still here?”

  The soldier frowned at Finn. “How did you know?”

  “I told you,” Finn said.

  “You told me you were the executioner.”

  “I met with him not long ago.”

  It felt like ages ago, though it couldn’t have been.

  “Well, the king don’t have much tolerance for that kind of uprising. We plan on squashing it.”

  Finn flicked his gaze to the palace. In the rain and the darkness, he couldn’t make much out. If the king decided to squash a rebellion, he knew what would happen. People would be killed. The rebellion would be crushed. And all of the poorer sections in the city would be destroyed.