Errant, p.28
Errant, page 28
It wasn’t the sweet and gentle kiss that Charm had imagined Aspen might offer her. There was nothing tentative or exploratory. Her mouth was hot against Charm’s. The velvet sweep of her tongue belied the force and certainty in every line of her beautiful, powerful body. One broad hand supported Charm’s back. Fingers tangled in her hair.
It would have been the best kiss of Charm’s life if she hadn’t fainted.
Charm woke up some time later in the same muddy, cold woods, propped up against a tree. Aspen wasn’t kissing her. A shame. The little fire she was building was a welcome addition, though. It lit the darkness, sometimes doubly so, since her vision wavered, and tending to the blaze prevented Aspen from noticing the tremor in Charm’s limbs. No doubt she’d be tiresome about that. They had more important things to discuss, like kissing.
“We could have done that in a tavern, or in the bed at Two Crooked Pines, or really anywhere,” Charm said. Her words were a little slurred. Her bones ached. She wanted to fall back asleep. It was like this after the change, especially if she held it too long.
“You’re Mist,” Aspen said.
Charm returned a lopsided smile. “What gave it away?”
“The part where you turned into Mist,” Aspen said, so flat that Charm couldn’t tell if she was joking or angry. “That’s how you got out of the jail in Ilgate. Why you were sickly afterward.”
“Mmm,” Charm said.
“I wasn’t even sure the People of the Mist were real.”
“Oh, we’re real. Just mostly dead.”
“Shit,” Aspen said. “I’m so sorry.”
Charm waved a hand. Her arm was heavy and didn’t quite go where she expected. “Let’s not talk about it. What about the bodies?”
“There’s a swamp a little way from here that’s not quite frozen over,” Aspen said. “Mouse can smell it. I think Mouse and I can drag them there. You can sleep, if you want. You’re… not dying, right?”
Charm didn’t try the drunken handwave again, though it would have fit. “It’s always like this, the change. For me, anyway. I just need rest.”
“Rest, then,” Aspen said. “But we’re talking about this later.”
“Can we also talk about the fact that you kissed me?” Charm asked, but Aspen had already walked away.
When Charm woke, she was flat on her back under a blanket. Her head was pillowed on Aspen’s thighs.
“Not how I planned to arrive here,” she mumbled.
“You’re awake.”
“Barely.”
“You scared the sap out of me,” Aspen said. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“I can’t, not really,” Charm said. “The Ancients could roam the world as Mist. I can do it for about four minutes, and it makes me feel like shit.”
“Still useful.”
“I didn’t vomit on you, did I?”
“No,” Aspen said and caressed her hair. Charm should really tell her that touching curls made them frizz and separate. Tomorrow, maybe. “I can’t believe you’re Mist. Liazna. That’s a Mist name.”
“I don’t tell many people. Or any people.”
“Not even the troupe? Amity? Flick?”
“Just you,” Charm said. “And those guys you killed. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“My fault they were after you,” Aspen said.
Charm blew a raspberry. “When are you going to stop pretending that it’s some sort of accident that I’m with you?”
“Harvest Moon. Red Leaf Moon, maybe.”
“That is ten months from—wait, you’re joking, you made a joke!”
“Did I?” Aspen said. “You are from the Seljac Mountains, aren’t you? I was right about that.”
“I was,” Charm said. “We wandered some of the time, but we had a place we returned to. A little village called Viaxasc. Not too far from Sky’s enclave.”
“We could have gone,” Aspen.
“No,” Charm said. “We couldn’t have.”
“Ah. We must be close to the story of why you grew up in the theater troupe. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“Here’s how you would tell this story, Aspen: there was a village and then there wasn’t.”
“There was a girl called Tasiz Ilmichexte Liazna, and then there was a girl called Charm Linville,” Aspen said. “I see.”
Charm swiped ineffectually at the tears in her lashes. She didn’t mind crying—except when it came to this. There was always the fear that she’d start and never stop. With her throat constricted, she said, “Your pronunciation is surprisingly good.”
“Sometimes I listen,” Aspen said.
“I know.”
“How old was Tasiz Ilmichexte Liazna when she became Charm Linville?”
“Eleven,” Charm said.
“She was only a little older than Sky.”
“Yes, he reminded me of her,” Charm said. Aspen had—whether brilliantly or inadvertently—handed her the key to talking about this. She, not I. A story about someone else. “She was ten when some People of the Earth came to her village with spears and torches and hammers and killed everyone she knew and crushed all the buildings to rubble. They didn’t like that her people could disappear when they wanted, or at least that’s what they said.”
“Branch, leaf, and root,” Aspen whispered.
“Those Earth men knew nobody in the village could disappear for more than a few minutes. They knew the People of the Mist only had a remnant of their ancient power. They knew and they waited. But Liazna was small. They didn’t see her even when her feet were on the ground. They didn’t see her when she vanished. She could only mist for four minutes. Not long enough to stop them. Not long enough to save anybody.”
“Long enough to survive.”
“You know,” Charm said with false nonchalance. “That’s one reason I was so upset when I killed Audacity Granger’s first husband. If I was going to kill someone, why couldn’t it have been them?”
“You were ten years old,” Aspen said. “But I would have wanted to kill them, too.”
“I wish you had,” Charm said. “I wish I had.”
There was a brief silence. Charm wondered if Aspen was also thinking of Purpose and Faith and the others she’d killed today. It had been efficient, and there was mercy in that. Charm knew what it looked like when people killed slowly.
What Charm had seen of the fight had been brutal. She sat upright, ignoring her body’s protests. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s not that bad,” Aspen said.
“I saw a sword go into your body.”
Aspen exhaled roughly. She was sitting stiffly against the tree trunk. “Tescui restocked all the salves and poultices and bandages I usually carry. I treated my wounds already. It’ll be fine. I just need rest, like you.”
“You’re lucky I’m too tired and dizzy to check on you,” Charm said, settling back down into Aspen’s lap.
When Aspen shrugged, her clothes scraped against tree bark and then she grunted in pain.
“Holy Esmuste, you’re stubborn,” Charm said. “Will you at least lie down?”
“I think it’s better for me to stay upright,” Aspen said, and Charm didn’t like the sound of that at all. “I will try to sleep, though.”
Charm couldn’t say whether Aspen slept, but cradled in Aspen’s lap, Charm did.
The morning carried weak winter sunlight through the trees, but at least there was no more freezing rain. Aspen was cut and bruised, her bandages stiff with dried blood. Sleep had been scarce. If it had only been the wounds, she’d have closed her eyes with no trouble.
It was everything else. The Scale. Charm’s secret. The kiss.
When Charm woke, she lifted a hand to Aspen’s cheek. “So much for sleeping.”
“I’ll sleep when you’re safe with the troupe,” Aspen said. “Your leave of absence must be finished by now. It’s been three weeks.”
“I don’t care about that. You want to go closer to Harstead where you’re more likely to encounter the Scale?” Charm asked. “Aspen, they sent five people after you yesterday. Next time it’ll be ten.”
“That’s my problem, not yours.”
“I’m making it mine,” Charm said. “I don’t want to be safe—there’s no such thing anyway—I want to help you. Can we go back to Tescui’s so she can help you heal? They probably don’t know about Tescui’s, right? I can get us through the mountains unseen. Blue and Stone might even let us stay at the Wind enclave on the way. It’s not the ideal season for traveling through the mountains, but—”
“I won’t bring danger to Tescui’s door,” Aspen said. “We already risked her life once by bringing Sky there. She’s a solitary old woman.”
“Pretty sure she can fend for herself,” Charm muttered, and then in a lighter tone, “Fine then. I know you have a hideout of some kind. Where can we go to lie low for a while?”
“Let me think about it,” Aspen said, even though Charm was right and she did have a plan. She gently lifted Charm’s head from her lap so she could stand, stretch, and begin packing up the camp.
Before Aspen had made it two steps from the tree, Charm pointed imperiously at the ground. “Sit back down. Only one of us was stabbed yesterday, and it wasn’t me.”
To her own surprise, Aspen obeyed. Charm rifled confidently through the saddlebags and brought her a flask of water and a wrapped paper packet of nuts and dried fruit. Then she fed the horses, covered the remains of the fire, and folded the blankets they’d used.
Charm had ridden Ruby all the way to Orcester to meet Aspen, so it made sense that she knew how to slide the bit into Ruby’s mouth. Aspen had just never seen her do it. She handled the rest of the tack adequately enough, though heaving the saddles onto Ruby and Mouse was clearly a challenge.
“I can’t wait to get out of here and into a hot bath,” Charm said, trying to brush dried mud from her trousers. “Where are we going?”
“Uh, the bath thing,” Aspen started.
“I’ll live. Answer the question.”
“So I have an idea for where we could pass a little time, hopefully without anyone trying to kill us,” Aspen said. “But it will take a week to get there.”
“Did you not hear me say I want to help? Let’s go,” Charm said, handing Mouse’s reins to Aspen.
Stunned, Aspen dropped the reins and had to grope for them and something to say. Charm had just committed to a week of traveling through the wilderness, without any guarantee of beds or baths or roofs over their heads, all because Aspen was in danger and she wanted to help. Aspen had done nothing but cause her trouble and turn down her advances and here Charm was, offering her unconditional devotion.
Rain dripped from the branches above and Aspen’s toes were frozen in her boots, but in her chest, unexpected warmth bloomed.
Charm hadn’t even asked where.
IV
CHANCE, TRUTH, AND LOVE
1
Charm should have asked where they were going.
Arriving sweat-soaked and grit-plastered in the narrow, bustling streets of Ozhleh Zna, dragging her feet through passages of blessed shadow and cobblestones scorched with afternoon sun, Charm came up with all sorts of other things she should have asked, like didn’t Aspen have any friends who lived closer, and not, say, across a mountain pass and a days-long trek through the desert. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but maybe she could have dredged up a few more words of Asemnu from her memory. Flick had taught her some phrases over the years.
The liquor that the People of the Sun used to breathe fire was called zhashvis, Charm remembered that. For all the good it would do her.
Aspen was at ease with the Sun language, if not the crowded streets. They’d had to stable Ruby and Mouse at the outskirts of the city because having a horse in the city required permits that would, apparently, take days to acquire. Charm had sat patiently through that entire conversation, and finally patted a distressed Aspen on the arm and said, “The horses will be fine. Let’s go find your friend.”
Charm wasn’t too tired or bedraggled or sweaty to be curious about that friend. Aspen had been remarkably tight-lipped, even for Aspen.
She kept stopping at market stalls to ask directions, and then she had to buy things in thanks. In succession, Charm was gifted a tiny ceramic cup of crushed pomegranate juice, two flowers she didn’t recognize, a copper bracelet, a date pastry dusted with sugar, a pair of jute sandals, and one of the loose, transparent, brightly dyed linen dresses that People of the Sun of all genders seemed to prefer. Aspen had chosen yellow. Charm couldn’t wait to put it on, but she wasn’t quite ready to strip off her dirty clothes in the street.
Not that anyone would have minded. She’d seen a few people go by wearing almost nothing other than their scales. According to legend, the Sun had dragon ancestors. In all her travels, Charm had never seen a dragon—most people hadn’t—but if they had scales like the People of the Sun, they must be beautiful. No wonder the Sun dressed to show off. Flick had bragged to her that not all People of the Sun could shift their colors at will, but even accounting for that, Charm had seen every shade of the rainbow.
She’d seen every kind of People, too, if she counted herself as a representative of the People of the Mist. The Sun Realm wasn’t particularly friendly with the nations of Falland and Rispland, but individual citizens didn’t seem to live by that rule; there were plenty of People of the Earth settled into stalls or wandering the streets. In the maze of the market, there were People of the Sea selling imported goods from the islands, Rain healers selling salves, and Moon witches offering their powers of transformation. Charm and Aspen had ducked under the spread wings of a Wind stranger negotiating a trade of feathers with an Earth chanter and nodded greetings at antlered and tailed People of the Wood.
They squeezed their way past a group of three People of the Sun hugging and kissing.
Charm grinned. She loved cities.
“It’s not much farther,” Aspen said.
“I wish you’d reassured me of that every fifteen minutes while we were freezing and burning in the desert,” Charm replied. “This is great, I could explore this for hours. I wish I was clean and wearing something prettier, but other than that, I’m happy.”
Aspen grunted. It was barely audible under the drumming and singing of street musicians and the chatter of the market, but Charm heard it.
The scent of roasting meat wafted through the air. Goat, maybe. Aspen probably didn’t like that, but Charm would try anything once. She liked adventure. There were smoked locusts for sale, too. Flick had rhapsodized about those.
She missed Flick. It would have been wonderful to be here with someone who’d grown up in the city and could answer all her questions. Charm touched the shard pendant at her neck.
They threaded their way through a narrow alley partially blocked by a wooden handcart full of some hot pink fruit Charm wanted to try, and then they were mostly out of the market and into a quieter neighborhood. Aspen stopped to pet a stray cat, then led them around a corner into yet another tiny alley.
“You didn’t ask that cat for directions, right?” Charm asked, joking but also genuinely unsure of Aspen’s abilities. Some of the People of the Wood in the troupe had been uncanny with animals.
“I’m not good with strangers,” Aspen said. “I mostly just talk to Mouse.”
“For most of us, ‘can you talk to animals’ is a yes-or-no question,” Charm said.
“Not for me,” Aspen said. “You know how you said your ancestors could roam the world? And you can only do a little of what they could?”
“Yes,” Charm said.
“It’s like that. Supposedly, those of us who have antlers—uh, just an example—used to be able to transform. I’ve never known anyone who could, and neither did my parents or grandparents. But sometimes the elders in our communities can still communicate with our fellow mammals. I can’t. For me, it’s just a kind of knowing. I know horses better than, say, cats or dogs, and Mouse best of all.”
“I’m sorry you had to put her in the stables,” Charm said soothingly. “But she’ll be happy to rest and eat oats and be warm, right?”
“She was complaining about the cold,” Aspen said.
“Something Mouse and I have in common,” Charm said. “The weather here is a relief now, though I imagine it must be blazing in the summer.”
“It cools off at night,” Aspen said. “I was here once in Flower Moon. Everyone sleeps during the middle of the day and stays up late. They love to study the stars here, though most people spend their nights drinking and dancing and… well. It’s a festive atmosphere.”
“Aspen,” Charm said. “Did you have a Sun lover?”
“I, um—I think we’re almost here. Look, yes, he said to look for a red door, this is the one.” Aspen vaulted the three short steps and knocked her fist against the wood like wolves were at her heels. When it swung open, Aspen rushed to say, “Charm, this is Ayzeh Ishvi, an old friend. I met him in Harstead. Ayzeh, this is Charm Linville, a new friend of mine. We’ve been traveling together.”
Charm had no interest in sleeping with men, but she could still tell this one was good-looking. He had medium brown skin, short black hair including a tidy mustache and goatee, and brilliant orange-red scales up and down his finely muscled arms. He was a little shorter than Aspen, but broad through the shoulders and chest, which was bare and hairless. A length of thin cotton, the same orange-red as his scales, was draped over his hips. It fell to his knees.
He’d gone wide-eyed at the sight of Aspen. Charm was sure I met him in Harstead was code for he used to be in the Scale.
He inclined his head to Charm and said, “You bless me with your radiant presence.”
Even knowing it was the usual greeting in the Sun Realm, Charm still felt flattered. She inclined her head to him and responded the way Flick had taught her. “I reflect your light back to you, my friend.”
“You, on the other hand,” Ayzeh said to Aspen, “had better have a good explanation for why I haven’t heard from you in years.”
