Errant, p.15
Errant, page 15
“This is my farm,” Rex said. “My wife. I’m going to protect it.”
“Not with a sword.” Aspen forestalled his next comment by adding, “Not with a crossbow either. Mouse will bite if you get too close. If you want to be useful, I need rope for once Rectitude surrenders.”
“You’re very confident,” Audacity said.
“You’ve spent a lifetime learning the land. I’ve spent mine learning the sword.” Aspen kept her blade sheathed as the two figures approached. There was no need to escalate things until—
Shit.
Rectitude’s friend dismounted. His friend wasn’t a friend so much as a hired mercenary. Aspen recognized the scarred face now that he was close enough to the light from the house.
“Kindness,” Aspen said. She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword, prepared for a quick draw.
“Aspen.”
“You two know each other?” Audacity asked.
“Is he another?” Charm tapped her arm.
Kindness tsked. “Blabbing our secrets, Aspen?”
“What secrets? Cooperation was burning farms in the area, and you’re apparently advertising your services.”
“Times are hard. Rectitude here promised me an easy fight and a good meal. Almost disappointing, but you’ve made things more exciting.”
“I’m not easy,” Aspen said.
“No, you’ve never been that. But you’re worth a lot to Pike. If you come with me, I’ll leave the farm alone. If you put up a fight, everyone will pay for it. What do you say?”
“Sounds like I’m worth more alive than dead,” Aspen said. She still didn’t understand why Pike would want her, but she needed to get far away from him.
“You are, but Pike’s not here. I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
“Then I suppose I should show the same courtesy.” There would be no deescalating this situation. Aspen drew her sword.
“You just signed their death warrants,” Kindness said.
Aspen whistled sharply. Mouse charged at Rectitude. The man dove out of the way to avoid being trampled. The two new horses threw their heads back and then chased Mouse as she ran.
In the chaos, Kindness drew his own sword, the moonlight glinting off the blade. Aspen didn’t bother with a defensive guard. Kindness was on the back foot, and she attacked him with speed, forcing him to give even more ground.
She drove him back to the road. There was enough distance to the house that the Grangers, the girls, and Charm would be safe from the fight. Kindness was never one of the better swordsmen, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Aspen had to be worried about tricks.
Kindness fended her off as he scooped up a handful of loose dirt. Aspen ducked and spun away as he hurled it at her. Dust clogged her throat, and she felt the grains grind in her teeth. She kept it out of her eyes, which was something at least.
She felt Kindness move, and she brought her sword up to meet his. Metal clashed, and she opened her eyes. She grinned and then slid her blade down. It was an unholy screech, metal against metal. She jabbed her sword forward and as he jumped back to avoid the tip, she grabbed his wrist with her free hand.
She pulled hard as he pulled back. He shouted and lost his grip. His sword dropped to the ground and Aspen grabbed it and tossed it behind her, far out of his reach.
“A weapon you can’t use is worse than no weapon at all,” she told him.
“Stab me, would you? It’s better than listening to your sermons. You’re worse than Integrity was.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aspen asked.
“He’s dead,” Kindness said. “His little crusade died with him. We’re an order reborn. Under Pike, we’ve realized our full potential.”
“I’m going to stab you so I don’t have to listen to you,” Aspen muttered. She tossed a bit of rope at him. The two ends were looped and wide enough for him to slip his hands through. By pulling tight, the loops would close. She kept her sword pointed at him as she nodded to the rope. “Put it on.”
Kindness was making it sound like Pike had profited from Integrity’s death. He’d taken over the Scale, it was true. At the time, Aspen had been grateful the burden hadn’t fallen on her, though she’d come to regret that after Pike had forced her out. Had Pike planned it all—the murder, the takeover, her exile? She’d thought he was seizing opportunities, not creating them through violence.
Kindness put his hands through the loops. Before he pulled the rope tight, a scream pierced the air. Aspen knew that voice. Charm.
Branch, leaf, and root. Despite not being quite finished with Kindness, Aspen couldn’t stop herself from checking over her shoulder. Charm, the Grangers, and the girls were all near the house, but Charm and Rex were on the ground. There was someone on the ground with them.
Rectitude.
Aspen turned back to Kindness. He’d tossed the rope away and was stumbling backward as he whistled for his horse.
“Aspen!” Charm cried.
Shit. Did she pursue Kindness or did she run back and help Charm? If Kindness escaped, he wouldn’t come to the Grangers’ farm again, but soon enough he’d come after Aspen. If she didn’t help Charm… Aspen’s chest went tight with panic.
“Hurry!” Audacity shouted.
Well, that decided it. Kindness mounted his horse and Aspen let him. She ran to the farmhouse.
7
As Aspen chased the mercenary away from the house, Mouse knocked Rectitude to the ground. It meant Charm, Audacity, Rex, and the three girls only had to subdue one man who was already down. She liked those odds. If they approached this carefully—
“This ends here.” Rex grabbed the rope Aspen had instructed him to get.
“You stole my farm! And my wife!” Rectitude got back to his feet.
“You left!” Audacity shouted. “You left, and I was happier without you. Even before I met Rex! Why don’t you crawl back to Harstead and leave us alone?”
“You turned my farm into a charity project!” He gestured to the three girls. The eldest, Perseverance, took a step forward as if she was prepared to show off what Aspen had taught her.
“All I’ve ever wanted was a family. It was never going to be with you. But then you left. I have the girls, I have Rex. I don’t need you.” What started as an accusation became a revelation. Audacity repeated, “I don’t need you.”
“You are mine! All of this is mine!” Rectitude’s voice shook with rage. Charm had seen men balanced precariously on the edge. She didn’t think Rectitude had enough control to keep himself from tumbling over. Sure enough, he moved, and the sound of metal against leather filled the air—he’d drawn a knife from a waist sheath.
Audacity shrieked and jumped backward. The two younger girls pulled her away from Rectitude and his knife. Perseverance stayed where she was, evaluating. Rex, too, stood his ground, even though Rectitude had a knife and they were all unarmed.
It wasn’t Charm’s best moment, but she had a few uncharitable thoughts about Aspen. With some kind of weapon, Charm could do damage.
She distanced herself from Audacity and the two girls. There had to be something to use around here. She found a bucket near her feet. On the other side of their loose circle was a pitchfork. That would work. There were points on it. How strong did you have to be to run someone through with a pitchfork?
Aspen and Kindness were still grunting and trading attacks. Charm wouldn’t distract her. Besides, her pride told her she could handle this. Rectitude had a knife, but she and the Grangers had numbers.
Rectitude swung out, and they all scattered to avoid his blade.
“Now you’re afraid.” Rectitude’s eyes were wild, a man beyond reason. He stepped toward Audacity. “I should have used a knife years ago.”
“No!” Perseverance threw herself at Rectitude. She tackled him from the back, and both of them fell to the ground. Rectitude twisted and struck with his knife. Perseverance shouted as the knife pierced her arm.
“Aspen!” Charm cried, abandoning pride, because there was blood now, and she could admit when she was out of her depth. She didn’t have her troupe, didn’t have any of her tricks to use. She talked at people until they agreed with her, but it wouldn’t work with Rectitude.
“Percy!” Rex rushed in. He grabbed Rectitude’s hand, the one with the knife, and squeezed until he dropped the knife. Rex drove his knee into Rectitude’s gut. Rectitude coughed and then tossed Rex aside.
Audacity screamed as Rectitude grabbed a fistful of Rex’s hair. He slammed his face into the ground.
Heavy footfalls hit the ground behind Charm. Aspen was running toward them, but she wouldn’t be fast enough. Rectitude grabbed the knife again. He had one hand gripping Rex’s hair, tugging to expose his neck. Charm knew what would happen next. The knife across Rex’s throat, blood, more screaming.
She darted in and grabbed Rectitude’s wrist, the one holding the knife. She braced her knee against his back and then pulled on his arm with all her might. His joints cracked as she forced his body to move in a way it wasn’t meant to. A horrible sound.
Rectitude howled, worse than any wolf or any storm. He spun to face her, and Charm stumbled backward, because he was a man with murder in his eyes. He grabbed her with his good hand, but his grip was weak with pain.
She coiled her body the way Aspen taught the girls, and then she shoved Rectitude with two hands. All she wanted was him as far away from her as possible. It would buy enough time for Aspen to arrive. Charm would never mock Aspen for her white knight tendencies ever again.
Rectitude wasn’t expecting the shove or the force behind it. He tumbled backward. There was a stake in the ground, a place to tie visiting animals. Rectitude fell on it with a wet, meaty crunch, and Charm changed her mind. That was the most horrible sound she’d ever heard.
She gagged and turned away. Audacity screamed again. This time she didn’t stop.
“Shit,” Aspen said, making it to them. “Shit, okay.”
Charm was aware of Aspen at her side, but she didn’t feel the usual warmth at being so close. She didn’t try to snake her way closer. Aspen guided Charm to the other side of the house. Out of sight of the body.
Oh Holy Esmuste, the body.
There was a body. Charm had killed someone. She retched.
“Bluebell! Constance!” Aspen called. “I need your help. Audacity, I need you to make tea. Something to settle Charm’s stomach. Girls, go with her.”
“Look at you taking charge,” Charm mumbled. She meant it to be playful, a tease, but her heart wasn’t in it. There was a body on the front lawn. She retched again. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and thought she would have to burn this shift, because she would never wear it again.
And then it occurred to her she was vomiting in front of Aspen, who was a member of a shady society, who probably had as many kills to her name as Charm had leading roles. Shame prickled at the back of Charm’s neck. Or maybe that was sweat. Cold and clammy, she felt—and no doubt smelled—disgusting. “I’m being silly.”
“Hardly,” Aspen said.
“This is—” Charm waved her hand. “I didn’t mean to. If he hadn’t—” It wasn’t often that Charm found herself without words. She tried to complete her thought. When that failed, she tried to recall a monologue, any monologue, simply so she could say something.
“I know.” Aspen’s hand was heavy on Charm’s shoulder, but it was something concrete she could feel. She didn’t push it away.
Charm tasted bile and almost threw up again.
Out of nowhere, Aspen said, “Thank you, Percy.”
A moment later, there was a cup of water in front of Charm. Aspen held it up. “Little sip, swish, and then spit.”
Charm covered Aspen’s hand with hers and tipped the cup back. Sip, rinse, spit. She repeated it twice before she felt like she could swallow any.
That unpleasant business taken care of, Charm was ready to be done. She tried to stand up, but Aspen kept her seated on a small stump. She couldn’t remember sitting down.
“You don’t need to coddle me,” Charm said. See, she could talk again. Her throat was too dry earlier, that had been the problem. A bit of water and now she was as good as new.
“I’m not coddling you,” Aspen said.
“You’re hovering, and I don’t need it.” Charm swept her hair over one shoulder to hide the way her hands still trembled. It was a physical reaction, nothing more. Once her body left fight-or-flight mode, she’d have her composure back. Until then, all she had to do was act. “What were you on about at the Red Fox? Choice. This wasn’t a choice. I didn’t choose to kill him.”
“You didn’t,” Aspen agreed.
If she’d sounded condescending, Charm would have slapped her. But Aspen sounded genuine, though sad, her voice heavy with regrets.
“Does it make a difference?” Charm asked.
“Not as much of one as you’d like.”
Charm flexed her hands. She didn’t stab him, didn’t skewer him. She wrenched his shoulder and then she pushed him. He fell on—
No. She didn’t want to see it again in her mind. She didn’t want to hear it. “When does it stop?”
“Stop?” Aspen repeated.
Charm gestured to Aspen, trying to encompass her general competence and steadiness. Aspen wasn’t a wreck every moment of every day. “When will it stop bothering me?”
Aspen’s face softened, and Charm turned away, because she knew she wouldn’t like the answer. She cleared her throat and stood up. This time, she knocked Aspen’s hand away. Charm didn’t need her support. “We should clean up. Or is this like camp chores? Whoever cooks doesn’t have to do the dishes?”
This time, it was Aspen who stepped back. Her expression was torn between pity and shock. Charm hated them both. She stomped back toward the house, because, for the first time, she didn’t want to see Aspen’s face.
Charm was torn between yelling at her, demanding to know why she hadn’t been faster, why she hadn’t handled this from the beginning and clinging to her, desperate for any and every reassurance Aspen could give her. Both impulses disgusted her. This wasn’t Aspen’s fault. It wasn’t Charm’s either.
It was Rectitude’s.
Yes, he was a good person to blame. He couldn’t defend himself.
Because he was dead.
Percy, Bluebell, and Connie were inside with Audacity. Aspen and Rex weren’t in the kitchen, presumably because they were outside digging a grave. Charm didn’t know where she belonged. On the other side of the world, maybe. She wished it were an hour ago. Yesterday. Two weeks ago—that way she’d never have met any of these people.
“I have tea,” Audacity said when Charm entered the kitchen.
“I don’t think I want any.”
“Perhaps you’d like to take a tray outside?”
Charm didn’t make any jokes about not knowing the etiquette of gravedigging. It was a task, so she did it. Audacity gave her a large wooden tray.
Outside, there was a rough cloth draped over Rectitude’s body, held down with a few large rocks. The wind tugged it, but it didn’t move. Neither did he. Because he was dead.
Charm didn’t drop any of her dishes. Audacity and her daughters followed her out the door.
Their whole party met in the dark, wide expanse of field, a few paces from the edge of the grave. Aspen and Rex had made quick work of digging, and it was almost done. Charm set the tea tray on the ground, her useless errand complete.
“He’s going to be in our yard?” Connie asked. She clung to Audacity’s apron and peeked around her to glance at the pile of dirt.
“He wanted to be back with his farm,” Rex said.
Percy snorted and ignored the dark look from her sisters.
“That’s wicked,” Audacity said.
Rex shrugged and went back to work. “We killed a man today, Daci. I’m not overly concerned with jokes.”
We, Charm thought distantly, as if this had been a group effort. She supposed it had been, in a way. Aspen who took her fight too far away to help with Rectitude. Percy, who threw herself at Rectitude. Rex who joined the fray. Charm who finished it. But if this was a group effort, why did she feel so guilty? Shouldn’t they carry some of that burden for her?
Normally, this was when Charm would put on a smile and tell a story to set everyone at ease. She could think of nothing to say.
“Thank you for the tea,” Aspen said. She poured a cup, added a generous amount of honey and handed it to Charm. It was uncharacteristically rude of her, to take so much, but the final cup that Aspen poured had no honey, making up for her earlier excess.
This cup, of course, was Aspen’s. She sipped it, and her eyes pinched at the corners at the disagreeable taste. “This is exactly what we needed,” Aspen said, filling the silence that Charm should be handling.
The tea was needed, but there was a noticeable lack of praise for the tea itself. A tentative sip of her own told Charm the honey was as necessary for flavor as it was for sweetness. Then again, it could have been the finest tea in all the world and it still would have done nothing to improve her mood.
“Do we tell someone?” Percy asked.
Charm hadn’t considered that. If the plan was to report this death to the magistrate, she hoped Aspen would give her time to get ahead of the constabulary. They wouldn’t be able to keep her in prison, but escaping was so much trouble. She’d rather run.
Maybe Charm would kiss Aspen one last time.
“As far as Ilgate is concerned, Rectitude returned to Harstead,” Aspen said tentatively.
“If they knew he came here, they would want to know why,” Rex said. “They would dig deeper into the case.”
“You could face charges,” Aspen said. “Audacity could lose the girls. The magistrate would be subject to scrutiny, and I don’t think further testimony from anyone here would be taken seriously by the law. Our word that this was an accident, for example.”
Without that, Charm could be sentenced to death.
“Will the bad man tell?” Connie asked.
