Errant Volume Two
ERRANT, VOLUME TWO
L. K. FLEET
Cover art illustrated and designed by Laya Rose (https://layaroseart.com/)
CONTENTS
Content Notes
The Queen of Seljac
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chance, Truth, and Love
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Errant, Volume Three
About the Author
CONTENT NOTES
These two novellas contain mentions of intimate partner violence. There are also depictions of violence and mentions of blood and murder.
THE QUEEN OF SELJAC
1
Whenever Charm and Aspen met in a tavern, catastrophe followed. Aspen should have known that. Instead, when Charm had asked her to come to The Blooming Rose in Orcester, Aspen had allowed herself silly fantasies of quiet conversation at a corner table.
The corner table was easy enough to find, but Aspen was there by herself.
They’d been apart for two weeks, which was as long as they’d known each other. Aspen didn’t know what they were to each other, only that she’d ridden hard and arrived early, eager to see Charm again.
Not like this, though.
Charm was perched on the bar, resplendent in buttercup yellow. A meadow’s worth of floral embroidery decorated her skirts and bodice, almost enough to make Aspen forget that it was the fourth day of Frost Moon outside the heat of the tavern. Her glossy dark hair spilled over her shoulder, half-braided with a long tail of loose curls, and two ruby droplets dangled from her ears and sparkled in the firelight whenever she turned her head.
Aspen had wondered if they were cut glass at first, but that was nonsense. Charm would have real rubies. It was a shocking display of wealth, but she was all extravagance: her dress, her hair, her plush lips, the exposed tops of her breasts. She probably smelled like flowers despite having been on the road all day, but Aspen would not be going anywhere near her while she was strumming that guitar. She’d either brought it with her or stolen it from someone in the crowded room, and Aspen wasn’t sure which was more horrifying.
Worst of all was the song.
Well. The song itself wasn’t so bad. Charm’s voice curled through the room like sweet, fragrant smoke and her fingers were deft on the strings.
It was the lyrics that Aspen didn’t like.
“So sharp her sword, so long her stride,” Charm sang. “So sad her smile, so strong her arm.”
The interminable rest of the song rendered Aspen’s fight to the death with her ex-comrade Cooperation in unrecognizable detail. Charm hadn’t seen most of that fight, so she’d had to invent all the parts before her own arrival. The focus on Aspen’s butt and thighs seemed unnecessary.
“Her blood on fire, she dodged his blade, and as night fell, she slayed her foe.”
A cheer went up. The only good thing about this embarrassment was that Charm had captured the room’s attention, so Aspen could brood into her beer unnoticed. It would’ve been a great time to have the legendary ability of the People of the Mist to dissipate into the air, but the People of the Mist were gone and no one knew if the stories were true, anyway.
Charm collected adoration and coins from the crowd and then came to join Aspen. She signaled the innkeeper for food and drink and then nudged Aspen’s foot under the table. “Oh, come on. You didn’t like that even a little bit? I was very flattering.”
Aspen had once dispatched an aggressive pair of ohla birds from a farm where they’d taken up residence. Ohlas were giant, scary and smart, and once they’d discovered a food source, it was almost impossible to get them to leave. It had taken Aspen two days to evict them. Two sweaty, frustrating, bird-shit-splattered days. One of the farmers, impressed with Aspen, had begged to use the story to write a song. Aspen had negotiated with her until no identifying details remained in the lyrics. In fact, if that song ever made it to the Sun Realm, Ayzeh might be very surprised to hear his ohla-subduing exploits celebrated in verse.
Aspen was pretty sure she couldn’t afford to buy Charm’s silence or compliance.
“I’m not sure drawing attention to me is a good idea,” Aspen said. “Since there are people trying to kill me and all.”
Intrigue lifted Charm’s eyebrows. “Is that so? Well, the song lets them know they should give up and go home.”
“The song lets them know they should stare at my butt.”
“Better that than trying to stab you,” Charm said. “Staring at your butt is a worthy endeavor.”
“I guess I wouldn’t know,” Aspen said. Disappearing would be so handy. She’d only use her power for good—like escaping Charm’s relentless praise.
The innkeeper brought them bowls of vegetable soup and hunks of brown bread. Charm apparently didn’t want the beef stew. Aspen had never asked whether she ate meat, but most People of the Earth yearned for it in every meal. Charm might not be one of them. A risky conversation topic. Charm had never said where she was from. She’d grown up in the theater troupe, so she was most likely an orphan.
Aspen asked, “So what will you do with your weeks off?”
When they’d spoken earlier, Charm had claimed that The Traveling Harstead Players were putting on The Seamaiden of Kisegyu, a play she didn’t like, so she’d graciously decided to let her understudy have some time as a lead. She was usually a better liar.
“Travel with you, obviously,” Charm said. “I know you don’t have any money, so you need me. I’m not even going to steal, since for some reason you don’t like that! I came prepared with several more songs.”
“You what?”
Charm ignored her wide-eyed stammering. “Did you find Kindness?”
“I did.” Aspen had fought Kindness, a Scale member, last week. He’d escaped their initial confrontation, but she’d tracked him down eventually. “He’s in Magistrate Napier’s hands now.”
“You went back to the magistrate,” Charm said. She became fascinated with the remains of her soup.
“I didn’t mention anything that happened at Audacity’s farm,” Aspen assured her. They’d had a series of misadventures there that had culminated in Charm accidentally killing a very bad man. The law might not be so understanding. “Kindness was mostly working as hired muscle and sometimes a contract killer. It only took me a week or so of hunting to catch him committing a crime.”
“And did you learn anything from him?”
“He went back to Harstead right after he saw me,” Aspen said. “He reported my whereabouts to the new leader of The Hanging Scale, a man named Honor Huntsman Pike. Kindness was thrilled to let me know that they’ll all be looking for me now. You’ll be in danger if you come with me.”
Charm waved a hand. “I told you, I don’t believe in safety. You can get killed sleeping in your own bed.”
Guilt sat heavy and uneasy in Aspen’s stomach. It was her fault that Charm had been violently dragged from her bed a month ago when they’d first met. Still, Aspen wondered if that single incident was enough to shape a person’s whole outlook. It was a bleaker view of the world than she expected from sunny, quick-to-laugh Charm.
“You traveled here alone,” Aspen said. The song had been so horrible, and then they’d talked about the Scale, so she’d almost forgotten to mention this. “I thought you’d bring Flickering or another friend.”
&
nbsp; “Am I not enough for you?” Charm demanded.
“I’ve practically made a career out of protecting rich widows traveling to their summer estates. The roads aren’t safe for women alone. There are bandits. And ohlas.”
“You travel alone.”
“I have a sword!”
“And I have the meanest horse in all of Falland,” Charm said. “I spent my two weeks without you becoming a better rider, you know. Ruby and I took the main roads and nobody even breathed in our direction. And now I’m with you.”
Aspen wanted to protest that one mean horse was no match for a gang of bandits, but a child in rags wandered close to their table and stuck out a thin, grimy hand. Charm caught their wrist before they could snatch the roll off her plate.
“Your technique needs work,” she informed the child. To Aspen’s surprise, Charm pressed the bread into the kid’s hand. “What’s your name? And your gender?”
It was polite to ask in any circumstance. In the child’s case, there was such a crust of dirt on their face, hair, and clothes that Aspen couldn’t even guess their age. The gigantic mass of robes dragged on the floor and obscured the kid’s body.
They bit a huge hunk off the roll and paused in their chewing to speak. “I’m a boy. He.” The kid’s gaze darted from side to side. “People here can’t say my name right.”
Not Earth, then, and probably not Wood. Aspen’s people had their own languages both signed and spoken, but almost everyone also knew the language of the People of the Earth. It was easy to translate their given names, which honored plants, so pronunciation wasn’t a problem. She squinted at the kid’s hair. It might have been rose red—as red as ohla feathers—under the dried mud. The lumpy shape of his back began to make more sense.
“Does your name have a meaning?” Aspen asked.
He nodded. “The One Whose Scream Echoes Through the Sky.”
A Wind name. In their language, it would be a long whistle. Charm might be able to imitate it, though the People of the Wind had slightly different anatomy in their throats that allowed them to produce more than one pitch at a time.
They also had wings. Aspen eyed his dirty robe. Why hadn’t he flown home?
“Can I call you ‘Sky’?” Aspen asked.
“Uh huh.” His mouth was full of bread again.
“Are your people nearby, Sky?”
He shook his head.
“You’re hurt, aren’t you,” Charm said. She’d been good with Audacity Granger’s daughters, so Aspen wasn’t surprised that she was good with this younger child. “And lost. We’ll buy you dinner.”
She raised a hand and got the attention of the innkeeper again. In short order, she provided a steaming mug of tea and a bowl of stew for Sky. He ate the chunks of beef with such noisy relish that Aspen had to turn away.
“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Charm asked Sky.
“Mmf,” he said through a mouthful of stew. Gestures differed among the world’s cultures, but almost everyone shook their head to mean no.
“You can share our room,” Charm said.
Aspen blinked. She didn’t object to helping the child—she’d fully intended to offer him shelter—but she hadn’t been expecting Charm to dive in. The phrase our room raised questions as well. They hadn’t discussed that. Aspen hadn’t yet decided which of Charm’s desires she would agree to.
With a strange child in the room, there wouldn’t be any desires or even any discussing. Surely that ran contrary to whatever plans Charm had formed.
“You’re strangers,” Sky said. “And you’re walkers.”
“I don’t see you flying anywhere, kid,” Charm said. “So that makes you a walker, too, at least for now. You’re right to be suspicious, though. I’d offer you a room of your own, but I don’t think The Blooming Rose has another one available. Here, take this.”
She took the dull knife from the table—Sky had attacked his stew using only the spoon—and offered him the wooden handle.
“Now you’re armed. If either of us does anything you don’t like, you can defend yourself.”
Aspen couldn’t arrange her face into an appropriate expression for how horrifying and bizarrely endearing she found this exchange. The battered point of that table knife wouldn’t pierce her snakeskin leather vest, and if she couldn’t dodge the attack of an injured child, it was time to hang up her sword and lie down in her final planting place. Charm, on the other hand, was dressed to reveal rather than conceal, with acres of lovely light brown skin left vulnerable to the whims of a strange child she’d just armed with tavern cutlery.
A child who was more likely to hurt himself than either of them. Aspen was taking that knife back at the earliest opportunity. She wasn’t the pickpocket Charm was, but when it came to disarming an opponent, she could be quick.
The kid gripped the knife so it pointed toward the ceiling. He sized up Aspen. Seated across from her as he was, he couldn’t see the sword sheathed at her waist, but her cloak had been open enough to display it while he was walking around. He turned to Charm and said, “Hers is bigger.”
Charm laughed. “Some people are always gonna have bigger swords than you, kid. That’s how life works.”
A rare point of agreement for Aspen and Charm.
“I know a healer who could help you,” Aspen said. An Earth healer might not know how to treat a broken wing, but Tescui could heal anything. “It’s a bit far—four days on foot—but she’s worth it. We could take you there and then try to help you find your people.”
The kid nodded, knife still clenched in his dirty fist.
Steam curled from the tub of hot water in the room Charm had rented. She’d had plans for this room involving the bath, the ample bed, and finally getting Aspen out of all of her clothes.
The bath, at least, would get used, though not in the way Charm had dreamed of. Sky perched on the desk in wary silence. The knife was resting next to his hip. He’d relaxed enough to let go of it, even though his good wing was raised as if preparing for flight. His injured wing hung low. No matter what his instincts wanted him to do, he wouldn’t be able to fly away.
Sky stared at the water like she’d asked him to submerge himself in poison.
“It won’t hurt you,” Charm promised. Birds could get wet, couldn’t they? People of the Wind weren’t birds, of course, but they shared some characteristics. Feathers must be able to get wet. Ducks lived in water. But she’d never seen a duck with Sky’s plumage.
The brilliant, flame red matched an ohla more than a duck. Did ohlas bathe or were they one of those animals that rolled around in dust? This was the problem with children. Sky’s aversion to bathing could as easily be a Wind trait as a child’s obstinance.
Naturally, Charm had been precocious in her own love of cleanliness, but she’d known plenty of children who’d hated baths. Little Tiac was the most baffling. He would play in frigid streams and paddle through algae-covered lakes, but he’d hated the bath.
He might have outgrown that if he’d ever had the chance.
Charm couldn’t think of that.
Keeping vigil by the door, Aspen had averted her gaze from Charm and Sky, giving them privacy and protection. On the road, Aspen was unbothered by dirt streaked across her face, dust caked into her boots, bits of twigs and leaves caught in her hair or clinging to her cloak. But she always washed her hands fastidiously before eating. Tonight, she must have cleaned up before arriving in the tavern. Her face and hair were clean. Charm had no proof that Aspen had taken care with her appearance specifically for their meeting, but she wanted to believe it.
Sadly, Aspen was no longer her evening’s project. Someone else needed her help. Sky had dipped his fingers in the water as if to test the temperature. After a moment, he stepped into the tub. He was careful to keep his wings from getting wet.
“This looks painful,” Charm said. She didn’t touch his injured wing, though it needed a thorough wash and probably a splint. There were bare patches where he’d lost
feathers.
Sky tried to pull it in and then cried out in pain. Aspen straightened as if there were a threat in the room, but Charm shook her head minutely. There was nothing to fight here. Just an injured kid.
“I’m not supposed to leave the mountains.” Sky sniffled. He wiped his hand across his face, spreading snot and dirt. Charm produced a clean rag and dipped it in the water so she could wash the boy’s face. “But I did. I got mad and I flew as far as I could.”
Charm gently cleaned the boy’s cheeks, the gentle slope of his nose, his wide forehead. “What happened?”
“I got hungry. Someone left some rabbit out. The good stuff too, the heart and liver. But it was a trick.” Sky looked away, ashamed. “I got the rabbit and then heard a noise. I moved, but I wasn’t fast enough.” His crooked, torn wing trembled.
“I was scared,” Sky said. Tears spilled and rolled down his cheeks. Charm dabbed them with gentle presses of her cloth. “I called for my parent and my aunt, but they didn’t answer. I knew I was too far away, but I tried anyway. And then I heard walkers coming. I didn’t want to be caught.”
Charm could easily picture what happened next. Afraid of being trapped, afraid of what would happen when he was found, Sky chose to rip out of the trap. He did enough damage to his wing that he wouldn’t be able to fly home. She hoped Aspen’s healer friend was as good as Aspen claimed or Sky might never fly again.
She finished washing his face and then wet the cloth again so she could clean his chest. His skin stretched taut across his spare frame. Charm had met two other People of the Wind, a pair of twins who’d once spent a winter performing in Harstead, and they’d both had deep brown skin and brilliant blue wings. Sky was as pale as milk except for his rose red hair and his matching wings.