Errant, p.33
Errant, page 33
Charm screamed when her feet failed to find the plank.
Her hands caught it instead, slapping and scraping against the wood. The tether between them drew so tight Aspen couldn’t breathe.
She knelt and took Charm’s hands.
“Let me go,” Charm said. The wind plucked tears from her lashes. “You can’t pull me up. I’ll pull you down and then we’ll both die. That’s stupid. Let me go.”
“Absolutely not.”
Charm dangled from the bridge and the whole structure careened left to right. Aspen tried to pull her up. It was hard work. Harder than it should have been—she should have been able to brace herself against solid ground, but nothing about the bridge felt trustworthy.
“I don’t want to be the reason you die,” Charm said. “You could make it across without me.”
“I couldn’t,” Aspen said, grunting with effort. “And not just because of the tie.”
The tie. Aspen could feel it, an invisible, intangible rope around her waist, dragging her toward Charm. She’d been thinking of it as a burden, a danger, but what if it wasn’t?
“Charm,” Aspen said. “What if the tie can save us?”
“How?”
“Don’t panic, but I’m gonna let go. You keep holding on to me, though.” Aspen had been holding Charm just under her shoulders. She lifted her hand and groped at the air between them, thinking of how she’d told Charm to believe. “To whatever magic entity or god is in charge of this thing, please, please let me be right about this.”
Her hand snagged on something. The tether. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it. Maybe it was her imagination, but it was thick and rough like the jute ropes that composed the bridge. Aspen worked out its dimensions and then grabbed it with both hands and pulled.
It worked.
Once she’d been raised high enough, Charm was able to scramble onto the planks next to Aspen. Sitting on their knees, they panted in silence, holding each other close. Aspen felt a little seasick at the thought of standing.
“We made it a little over halfway,” she told Charm. “We can do this.”
“I’d be fine to just live out the rest of my life on this plank,” Charm said. “I’m very comfortable.”
“I’m not,” Aspen said. “And we’re going together.”
Charm gave her the laziest of salutes, and then Aspen set about the work of standing, her thigh muscles protesting her long, slow, cautious rise. Charm waited until Aspen was all the way upright and two steps ahead before she tried, which was good, because Charm’s balance wasn’t as assured and Aspen had to catch her around the waist to make sure they didn’t go tumbling down.
Every step was a calculation and every little wobble in the bridge sent blood roaring into Aspen’s ears. But if she gave up, Charm would die. So she didn’t.
When Aspen’s boot touched solid ground, she whooped with joy and bounded forward, forcing Charm to stumble behind her and shout. Aspen turned to catch her and then whirled her around.
“Put me down! I never want to be up in the air again!”
“Good point,” Aspen said. She set Charm down and then let herself fall flat.
Charm laughed and then lay down in the road dirt next to her. She made a gesture that encompassed the ground and the forest and said, “Now this, this is comfortable. I could live out the rest of my life here.”
“Well, it’s nicer than the bridge, I’ll give you that,” Aspen said.
6
Dusk fell with unnatural suddenness as they walked. The magical tether between them shivered, and Charm knew without looking that Aspen had tensed. She was attuned to the rhythms of the natural world; she wouldn’t like this.
Charm didn’t much care for it, either.
“Another test,” Aspen said.
“Maybe we lost track of time and it really is nightfall,” Charm said. Despite the mild temperature, it was still Rain Moon. Darkness would come earlier in the forests outside Nauvis than it had in Ozhleh Zna.
One step further disabused her of that optimism. She crossed some invisible border and a shimmer of light flowed from her feet to her head. Her old clothes, grimy with fear sweat and road dust, were replaced with an extravagant, full-skirted dress of dark blue silk, sparkling with silver-and-gold embroidery. Her tangled braid had lifted from her neck and her hair was now piled elegantly atop her head. At least, Charm assumed it was elegant. When she touched her head, her fingers met the cool metal of what must be some kind of diadem. She could feel something similar resting at the base of her neck. Long earrings, too.
The sorts of things she’d love to steal.
A few paces away, Aspen was muttering darkly as she took in her own new clothes: knee-length breeches, a waistcoat, and a frock coat that came to mid-thigh, all in the same dark blue that Charm was wearing, all with the same metallic embroidery. Even her shoes—slippers with a low, square heel—matched. She had on immaculately white silk stockings.
In Aspen’s usual trousers and boots, it wasn’t so easy to see the curve of her calf or the shape of her thighs.
“Charm,” Aspen said. “Are you listening?”
“Hmm?”
“I said, I don’t have any weapons on me,” Aspen said, gesturing at her new clothes in disgust. “So we’d better hope this isn’t a fight.”
“I don’t think it’s your kind of fight,” Charm said. “I think it’s mine.”
She took Aspen by the hand and as they turned, a palace of white stone—nothing like the yellow-brown stone they’d seen along the road—materialized in the same shimmer as their clothes. Dozens of spotless, gleaming steps swept from the columned entrance all the way down to their feet, which were now on flagstones rather than the packed earth of the road. Torches lit the way to the grand wooden door, guarded by two people in grey uniforms.
Aspen hesitated at the first stair.
“What if we just checked whether we can get off the road?” Aspen said. “Or if the tether is still there?”
“I think you know the answers to those questions,” Charm said. “But feel free.”
The tether still existed. The only possible direction was forward, up the steps.
“You didn’t let me fall,” Charm said, pulling Aspen by the hand.
“I would rather scale the walls than walk in the front door,” Aspen said.
“In those shoes? Not likely.”
“I’d throw them away first.”
“Hush,” Charm said. “You look very nice. Now come with me and let’s find out what this is about.”
Aspen stomped up the stairs like she was still wearing her usual heavy boots. The heels, as low as they were, challenged her. Charm tried not to find it adorable.
When they reached the portico, Charm inclined her head with regal dignity toward the guards. It had no effect. The one on the left said, “Invitation, please.”
Charm almost laughed. She could pass this test in her sleep.
A long, shuddering inhale, a distressed flutter of her free hand, a short exhale just as her gloved hand alighted on her cleavage. “I’m so terribly sorry, Honored Guards, but we’ve had a very trying journey to get here and in the various trials of the day, our paper invitation got lost. But I said to my companion here, no matter, everyone knows who we are, we’re expected, we simply can’t miss this. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Aspen said. Charm didn’t even have to nudge her too hard.
“Oh, please excuse her, you see, she’s always so gruff when she can’t take her sword into a place,” Charm said, smiling indulgently. “You know how it is with these heroic types—I’m sure you’re one of them. That’s quite a sword you have there.”
Charm couldn’t guess much about the guards since their faces were covered by their helmets, but Left Guard started in surprise at this personal attention.
“Both of you,” Charm added. “I’m sure you’ve had to fight off all sorts of intruders in your work.”
She bent gracefully forward, reaching toward Left Guard’s scabbard. It was possible that both of them were looking down her dress, which would be perfectly to plan. Damn those helmets for making her uncertain.
At the last minute, she withdrew her hand without making contact. “Apologies. How rude of me. I don’t even know your name.”
“Zeal, he,” Left Guard said. “Uh. Honored Friend?”
“Zeal, what a lovely name. And you?”
“Forthrightness, he, Honored Friend.”
“Oh, Nessie, that’s darling,” Charm said. “Aren’t both of you just darling, pretending not to know who I am. I appreciate your discretion. You never know who’s watching. That’s why the world needs more strong, attentive guards like yourselves. Zeal, may I?”
Zeal, poor thing, just grunted as she gave his sword scabbard a long, obscene stroke.
“That’s quite a blade. How often do you take it out?”
“Uh, not very—I mean, sometimes,” Zeal said as Charm moved on to cooing over Forthrightness, who was definitely looking at her cleavage. Aspen had carefully stepped closer to give Charm freedom of movement.
“We fought off assassins once,” Forthrightness said.
“How thrilling,” Charm said. “What was that like?”
“Assassins tried to come in the front door?” Aspen asked. Charm stepped backwards directly onto her toes.
“Well, they were more like… thugs,” Zeal said. “But they were big and they had pitchforks and they came for the boss.”
Charm couldn’t ask who the boss was without giving away her ruse. The guards had Earth names. Her clothes and the architecture of this palace suggested Earth culture, too. Aspen had said maybe there were Earth witches involved in creating the magic of this… whatever it was they were trapped in. Charm couldn’t afford to puzzle this out; she had guards to trick.
“Pitchforks! How terrifying! How many of them were there?”
“A lot,” Forthrightness said.
“And you fought them all off,” Charm said. “I’m sure that was a sight to see. It’s a shame to have such beautiful swords and keep them sheathed so often. Could you show me?”
She made the proper noises of appreciation—or the improper noises of appreciation—over their swords. She had to do it loudly to cover Aspen scoffing at their poor form.
“You must train together,” Charm said. “Have you ever dueled?”
“Of course,” Forthrightness said.
“And who usually wins?”
“I do,” Forthrightness said.
“You do not,” Zeal said.
Charm barely had to do anything after that. She’d been prepared to coax them into it, but they were swinging their blades in no time, chasing each other toward the end of the portico. She sidled toward the door, hoping it wasn’t latched, hoping it wasn’t too heavy, hoping it wouldn’t groan.
The tether went taut, jerking her back from the door. Aspen slid into the fight, tripping one man so he hit the floor and wresting a sword from the other—was that Zeal or Forthrightness? Charm couldn’t tell when they weren’t Left and Right—and then bringing the pommel down hard on his head. He fell to the stone floor with a clang.
Charm blinked. Both guards were unconscious.
“I had that under control, you know,” she said to Aspen, who shrugged and stepped back into her slippers.
The door was latched, but Zeal had a ring of keys attached to his belt. Charm retrieved it and opened the door, ushering Aspen inside.
They passed through an entrance hall and then followed a path lit by hundreds of candles in chandeliers and sconces into a long ballroom full of twirling pairs of dancers. The room was lined with windows along the exterior wall. Charm led Aspen toward one. They didn’t exactly hide behind the long velvet drape, but the option was there.
“Now that we’re not under imminent threat of death, let’s talk,” Charm said.
“I don’t understand this test,” Aspen said. “The bridge was so simple. Cross and get to the other side. But we got in the door to the palace. Now what?”
“We have to get back on the road,” Charm said. Outside the window, there was nothing but darkness. “Oh, I bet it’s like in Chance, Truth, and Love where all the characters sneak into a big party for different purposes—you know, clandestine assignations and theft and revenge, the usual hijinks. They keep crossing paths until they finally leave the party. I know that whole play by heart. Maybe we have to pass through the palace? Exit the other side?”
“So we’re looking for an exit,” Aspen said. “Good.”
Charm huffed. “You hate this even more than the death bridge. Unbelievable.”
“I knew how to do that,” Aspen said.
“You act like you’ve never been to a ball before,” Charm said. “They’re not scary, I promise. It’s just a bunch of people dancing and trying to prove how fancy their manners are.”
Aspen grimaced.
“You might not know your way around here, but I do. Trust me.”
“I do,” Aspen said. She swallowed. “What you did at the door, it was impressive.”
“Not so impressive you didn’t interfere,” Charm said. “As attractive as that was, it was an unnecessary risk.”
“It wasn’t a ris—what?”
“I told you, you look good.”
“Oh. Um. So do you.”
Unlike Zeal and Forthrightness, Aspen didn’t have a metal plate covering her face. It was easy to tell where she was looking—and now, pointedly not looking.
“Come on,” Charm said. “Let’s sneak out of here and find some place to make out.”
Aspen choked. “What?”
“As a ruse,” Charm said emphatically and without a single trace of disappointment, because she was a superb actor. She pressed herself against Aspen and whispered in her ear, “It’s like you’ve never robbed a place before. If it looks like you’re slinking away for a quick fuck in the study, nobody follows you. I don’t want to waste time distracting any more guards. Let’s go.”
Deploying her best giggle and her most enticing gaze, Charm led Aspen out of the ballroom. She rejected the stairs to the upper floors of the palace. Those wouldn’t be good for exits. An exploration of the ground floor led to a long gallery at the back of the palace with doors to what looked like a terrace—locked doors. None of Zeal’s keys worked.
A trip down into the kitchens proved equally fruitless. There was another locked door there, impervious to the keys she’d already stolen.
“If we went back upstairs to that gallery, I could break a window,” Aspen said.
“You could try,” Charm said. “That doesn’t feel like what we’re meant to do here. The last challenge was all about strength and courage—qualities you have in abundance. I think maybe this one’s about being an underhanded sneaky thieving liar.”
“A clever, perceptive person talented in performance and subterfuge.”
“Aspen, I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
There was only one dim lamp burning in the kitchen, but the lack of light couldn’t conceal how Aspen ducked her chin, accidentally stared at Charm’s breasts again, and blushed.
“So we need the right key to unlock one of these doors,” Charm said, taking mercy on Aspen and changing the subject. “We could maybe find a servant who has the key to the door in the kitchen, but based on how we’re dressed, I think we’re probably supposed to go back to the ballroom and figure out who might have the key to the doors in the gallery. Once we know that, I can talk them into giving it to me or pick their pocket, whichever’s easier.”
“How are we going to talk to any of those people? We lied our way in here and know nothing about this place.”
“Talking to them will be the easy part. And we know more than nothing—it’s all an illusion, right? A game. And whoever designed this game made it so we’re at a party with People of the Earth, which is good for us because we both have some familiarity with that culture, but also maybe it tells us something about them.”
“You’ve been trying to figure out who’s behind this.”
“Haven’t you?”
“Only so I can punch them when I find them.”
Charm laughed. “Well, don’t throw any punches just yet. We’ll start with sweetness.”
It was nothing like crossing the bridge. Aspen knew the steps to most of the popular Earth dances, but she could barely comprehend the far more complex routine Charm practiced as she worked the ballroom. Slowly, methodically, Charm learned the identities of everyone present. Aspen was pulled along in her wake—that part was a little like crossing the bridge, but in reverse.
And she never felt like she was going to die.
A couple of times she felt like she might kill someone. People saw a beautiful, flirtatious woman like Charm and thought they could take any liberty they wanted. Aspen couldn’t grasp her sword hilt so she had to settle for looming and glaring.
It worked, but not as well as it would have if she’d been dressed in a uniform of some kind, if she looked like Charm’s bodyguard instead of her companion. That was the word Charm had used at the door. Aspen didn’t know what it meant. She was dressed like Charm’s equal, but it was apparent that in this room, she wasn’t anything of the sort.
In other circumstances, Aspen would have enjoyed witnessing Charm own the crowd. She would have enjoyed their few turns around the dance floor, too. But she was on edge. Charm was right that this was a game, but whose? For what purpose?
The tests were eerily tailored to their skills. That felt invasive. Someone was watching them. Someone knew them without ever being introduced. It made her want to guard her thoughts.
There was food and drink in the ballroom, but Aspen knew too many tales to indulge. Charm had a glass in hand, but Aspen would bet anything she was disappearing the wine through trickery.
Charm was in conversation with an older man whose name Aspen had already forgotten. Aspen held herself back, a mismatched shadow, quiet and still where Charm was effervescent.
