The Master Executioner (The Executioner's Song Book 5), page 30
“Where was Todd killed?” Finn asked Max.
“Back here,” he said.
Finn followed Max to a back bedroom. Once there, he paused, looking at the bloodstained belongings inside of the room. Everything was coated in blood, and yet it had been scrubbed. Some of the blood spatter had reached the walls, but mostly it was on the floor.
Any furniture that had been in the room had been removed, leaving it empty other than the pool of blood. It wasn’t a very large room, making it hard to imagine Roland committing such a heinous act here.
“We found him here,” Max said.
Finn nodded. “I can tell. It looks pretty brutal.”
“Now you’re going to think he did it.”
“Like I said. I spoke with Roland.”
“Speaking to him don’t mean nothing unless you intend to help him.”
Finn crouched down on the ground, studying the blood. There was just so much.
“You think he’s too simple to have done this crime.”
“Boy is simple,” Max said. “Can’t help it. He loved his brother though. Looked up to him. He was the only one who took care of him. Gods, man! Todd even let him have the only room in the house. He slept out on the floor out there.”
Finn looked up from the floorboards. There wasn’t anything here that gave him any insight about the nature of the crime. Nothing other than the fact that there was considerable blood staining everything. “This was Roland’s room?”
“What did I just tell you?”
Finn got to his feet, looking over to the walls. “And I told you I’m trying to better understand what happened here. All of this is a little bit unusual.”
“You’re telling me.”
“What about the priest you claim did this?”
Max frowned. “What about him?”
“Do you know him? Which church did he claim?”
“Does it matter?”
Finn supposed that it didn’t. There were enough religions in the city, and enough of the people celebrated their own particular god, that it probably didn’t make a difference. Most of the priests were priests of Heleth, celebrating the Mother, and he wouldn’t at all have been surprised to hear that a priest of Heleth had spent time out in the section, ministering to the poor.
Some of the other priests were less likely to have spent any time out here. Maybe priests of Volan, though they were a smaller church, and they celebrated the surprises in life, good and bad, to honor the trickster god. Elia celebrated the god of the sky, and the priests spent more time in the church itself, especially in the upper levels where they prayed to their god, then they did on the ground, so Finn doubted they would have been out here.
The least likely would be Fell. Among the various gods celebrated within the city, Fell was the most mysterious. It was one of the few churches he had never set foot in. Only certain people within the city were permitted within the church, as Fell celebrated wealth and good fortune. It was something of an honor to be included, and parishioners needed an invitation.
“I guess I was surprised you had a priest out in Unlear.”
“We did. Don’t go thinking this has something to do with our section.”
“Not about your section. I just haven’t seen too many priests in the outer sections of the city.” Nor had he when he’d grown up in one.
“Then you haven’t spent much time in them.”
Finn shook his head. None of this made sense, and as he stared at the ground, he wanted to try to tie this to everything else that had happened in the city, but perhaps there was a more mundane explanation. As much as he thought everything these days was tied to witchcraft—and given everything that he had encountered over the years, the various bits of witchcraft that had been placed around the city, the ongoing spread of power that Finn still didn’t fully understand—he had tried to piece it together but had not found anything to do so. There hadn't been any significant attacks on Verendal since the Alainsith structures were targeted. Finn knew that the attacks weren’t over. They couldn’t be. He had not rooted out witchcraft within Verendal. But it had gone quiet. Almost as if they were trying to bide their time until some greater attack would come.
It left Finn on edge. He felt like he was the only one concerned about another attack, and until he had seen the fire at Bolgar’s shop, he had started to think he was growing paranoid. There hadn’t been an attack in years—long enough that he’d thought that he’d stopped it, but now he started to think he’d not been aggressive enough looking into it.
“How long has this priest been coming to your section?”
“I told you that he’s not a priest. No priest acts like him. You live out here long enough, you come to know when someone wants something from you. Priests know we don’t have nothing in Unlear—and this man wanted something.”
There was a certain logic to what he said. “Fine. How long has this man been coming, pretending that he was a priest?”
“Don’t know. To be honest, I don’t even know how Roland knew him. Just that the priest was the first one to find him on the street.”
“So the priest was passing through.”
“Don’t you listen? I didn’t say he was passing through. I said he’s been serving in this section. Spent a little time here, says he’s trying to help those of us raise our station.” Max gave Finn a look of defiance. “Not that you’d ever understand that.”
“I understand it well enough,” Finn said, sweeping his gaze around the room. Something felt increasingly off, though he was no longer sure that it was nearly as simple as what he had believed before. “Was the priest with Roland long?”
“No. Came across him while he was heading through the section.”
“Is that what he told you, or is that what others said?”
“He didn’t have to tell anyone. Others were with him.”
Finn shook his head, pushing away the questions that had been with him. That removed the priest from suspicion. He couldn’t have done it if he wasn’t here.
“Anybody see anything else around the home?”
“Nothing. Roland was pretty distraught when he came out, blood covering his hands.”
“What about the weapon?” Finn looked over to the floor, and his mind started to work through what it would take to carry out a bloodletting like that. He had enough knowledge of anatomy to know where to cut a person to bleed them out, but would the average person?
From everything that he’d learned, Roland wasn’t even the average person. Unless it hadn’t been just a single poke.
“Never saw the weapon. Saw the body though. Roland was so upset, screaming, and we came running. Knew he couldn’t have done it.”
“You saw the body?” Finn asked, taking his gaze off of the blood-spattered walls and looking at Max.
Max nodded. “Never seen anything quite like it. Big hole right here,” he said, tapping on his left chest. “Blood everywhere. I’ve worked in the slaughterhouse before, and I’ve seen blood, but this was… something else.”
Finn frowned. There was another possibility. Somebody who had worked in the slaughterhouse might know how to carry out something like that as well. In order to slaughter hogs, cattle, even sheep and goats, the animal had to be killed precisely. It took a specific blow, and then the blood had to be drained.
“Did Todd work at the slaughterhouse?”
“Why are you asking that?”
“I’m trying to figure out if there’s anybody else who might have any interest in harming him.”
“He’s not worked at the slaughterhouse. He was a good kid. Always took care of his brother. Didn’t do nothing wrong.”
“Nothing?”
Max frowned, arching a brow. “You can’t tell me you’ve never done nothing wrong. I’m sure that you sitting up in your fancy section, dressed in your fancy clothes, never done nothing that the gods would frown on.”
“That’s not what I was saying.”
“Then what are you saying? I’ve been trying to help you, but it seems to me you’re looking to speak poorly of the dead.”
“Todd was murdered,” Finn said looking down at the ground. “It’s been my experience that when men are murdered, the people who do so have a motive most of the time. If we’re looking for somebody other than his brother who might have committed the crime, then I need to know whether there were any others who might have been interested in seeing him dead.”
“Dead? That’s a pretty hard thing, now isn’t it? I’m sure there might’ve been others who wanted to get back at him for pranks he played, but Todd never did anything like that these days. He’s been too busy trying to make ends meet, wanting to earn enough money to take care of Roland. Can’t do that if you’re dead, can you?”
“Did he work for any crews?”
Max watched him. “What would you know about that?”
“More than you could imagine,” Finn said.
Max just shook his head. “I doubt that. Men like you lived too cushy a life. You couldn’t know what it takes to make ends meet, to do whatever it takes to feed those you care about.”
“Did he?”
Max shook his head. “Not that I know of,” he said slowly.
Finn thought he had enough to at least delay sentencing to keep digging, assuming Geldan didn’t push for a rapid conviction.
“What else do you need to see?”
Finn looked around the room one more time, noting the blood staining everything, and realize there wasn’t anything else here that would help with his investigation. He stepped through the doorway, looking in toward the door and frowned.
“Was there any blood out here?”
“Not so much.”
That surprised Finn. Given how much bloodshed there had been in the other room, along with the splatter, he would’ve expected that there would have been something.
He looked around the home before making his way to the door and pausing, looking back at Max. “If you come up with anything else that you think might be helpful, you can send word through any of the city Archers to me.”
“I’m not going to any of the Archers,” Max said.
“That’s your prerogative,” Finn said. “All I’m looking for is whether there is anybody else who might have wanted Todd dead. If you come up with anything, send word. That’s the only way we’ll get Roland released.”
Max watched him for a moment and finally shook his head. “I’ll do what I can.”
“I can’t promise how much time you’ll have.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Have I threatened you at all?”
The man just stared at him. “I suppose not.”
Finn started away but paused a moment. He’d been refraining from sharing much with Max, but maybe that was a mistake. “You got me wrong.”
Max stood in the doorway, while Finn waited in the street. There was no movement around him. “How do I have you wrong?”
“You think I don’t know what it’s like to live in a section like this. That’s what you’ve got wrong. I grew up in Brinder. Worked on the King’s crew. Got sentenced to hang and was saved by the executioner. So despite what you think, I have a little bit of experience.”
Max watched him for a few moments. “That was you?”
“It was.”
“I heard about you.”
“Yeah? What have you heard?”
“I heard they call you the Hunter.”
Finn grunted. “Sometimes.”
“Why do they call you that?”
“Because I look for the truth. If you hear anything that might be useful to help Roland, send word through the Archers. And I want to talk to this priest.”
“Not a priest.”
“I need to speak to him.”
“I’ll think about it.”
With that, Finn headed along the street, determined to get out of the Unlear section. He might’ve grown up in a section like this, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stay there any longer than needed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Morning sunlight drifted in through the window of the kitchen, and Finn joined Lena at the stove, working with her to prepare breakfast. Every so often, she would look over at him, and he could see the expression in her eyes, one that suggested she didn’t know whether or not she really wanted him there, but she never said it.
Breakfast smelled delicious. It was eggs, sausage rather than bacon this morning, and a surprisingly sweet smelling cornbread. Lena had been up by the time Finn had dragged himself out of bed, and he had thought he was getting up relatively early.
“Have you heard anything yet?” she finally asked him.
Finn glanced over to her. “Not yet.”
“When do you think you will hear?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know that it works quite like that,” he said. “I don’t get to choose, and I certainly don’t get to be told in advance when I will be assigned.”
“Do you think it will happen soon?”
He turned his attention back to the griddle, scraping the eggs around as they cooked. “I don’t know. It could be soon, or it could be weeks or months from now.”
Lena nodded, turned the sausages, and checked on the bread. “I hope it’s later,” she said. “I know you’re probably ready to go off on your own, but I hope it’s later.”
“I understand,” he said.
“He’s not going to get any better.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I’ve been trying, Finn. I’ve studied every book on healing that I can access and cross-referenced every symptom that he has, trying to come up with one unifying cause for what is going on with him, but I can’t find anything.”
She was doing something very similar to the way Finn had been chasing leads through the city. He had been chasing symptoms, rather than finding the cause.
And with Finn leaving, the city needed Meyer to recover.
What if he really had been infected with witchcraft of some sort? The idea seemed impossible, but with everything else that had been going on, it actually might fit. All traditional healing had failed. The sudden, drastic, change in his ability to carry out his tasks. The rapid decline.
But why Meyer?
“I’ve told you what I’ve done to try to get him extra help.” Finn glanced toward the door. Meyer was still asleep, at least as far as either of them knew. It was unusual for him to sleep in, though perhaps that was an effect of the medication that he’d been given. “The hegen are going to help him.”
“I haven’t seen any of the hegen here.”
“She’s going to help,” Finn said.
“Are you sure? Whenever I’ve needed help, I’ve had to go to the hegen.”
“I have a different relationship with them.”
Her eyes widened at the mention of the word relationship. “Finn…”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s not quite like that.”
“Then what is it like?”
“Not like that.”
He shuffled the eggs around in the pan, and continued watching Lena, but saying nothing. After a while, he took a seat.
“What’s on your schedule for the day?” she asked. “It’s different for you now, isn’t it?”
“Ever since I finished the testing, it just feels… off, I suppose. I don’t really know how to explain it any other way. I just feel like my role and responsibility is different than it had been before.”
“Does it have to be different?”
Finn chuckled. “It doesn’t have to be, but I think it is.”
She turned to him, carrying toast toward him, when he heard a soft knock at the door.
Finn frowned, looking over to Lena. “Were you expecting anyone?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Not here, and not at this time of the morning,” he said.
Finn headed to the door and pulled it open, smiling as he saw the person on the other side of the door. “I wasn't expecting to see you here, Esmerelda.”
“Are you disappointed?”
Finn shook his head quickly. “Of course not.” He glanced down the hall before turning his attention back to Esmerelda. Her pale skin and dark hair seemed to glow in the early morning sunlight, an effect that was only accentuated by her golden-colored dress. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and a hint of mirth played at the corners of her eyes. “We were just talking about you.”
“I can't say that I would be disappointed to hear of you talking about me, but I wonder who you would talk to me about.”
“My sister.”
Her smile widened slightly. “I would ask about Lena, but unfortunately I did come with purpose.”
Finn should have expected nothing less.
“Are you here for me or for Meyer?”
“Both, actually. May I come in?”
He flushed. How foolish of him. “Of course. I’m sorry for leaving you standing out there.”
He stepped aside, and Esmeralda slipped past him, sliding along the hallway to stand in the entrance to the kitchen. “You look well, Lena,” she said.
Finn stopped behind Esmeralda and waited there for a moment.
“Did you come to help Henry?”
Esmeralda glanced back, looking at Finn for a moment. “Finn believes I could be of some assistance to him.”
Lena glanced past Esmeralda, looking to Finn. “What’s it going to cost him?” she asked, her voice more timid than he was accustomed to with Lena. These days she always seemed to be made of sterner stuff, especially as she spent so much of her time healing others, a responsibility that involved a different measure of confidence.
“It will cost Finn nothing,” she said.
“What will the cost Henry?”
“That will be between Master Meyer and myself.”
Lena looked past Esmeralda again, and for a moment there was a hint of panic in her eyes. “He won’t do it,” she said. “If you’re going to charge him for your services, I know he’s not going to agree to it.”
