Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3)

by P. S. Power

  The Lament: Book Three

  Missing Elements

  P.S. Power

  Orange Cat Publishing

  Copyright 2014

  Chapter one

  No one from the airship came to see her off when they got into port. Honestly Pran hadn't expected them to. Most of the crew were busy tying the giant white bag of hydrogen in place. That was the sort of thing that took attention to detail. A single missing line could lead to horrible things, or so she'd been told several times. The field here, at Alpha Seven, was a lot different than most of the ones Pran had seen so far. In the last weeks she'd set down in nearly a dozen different locations with the ship, but all of them had been basic and plain grass fields, except the two that were made of packed dirt, and one that had been so covered with deep snow that there was no way to tell what was under it.

  This place was different. Lovely for one thing. The whole landing zone was huge, compared to what she'd seen before. Most of the fields were big, even grand in their own way, being about a quarter mile or more across, but this place was many times that. So much so that it was hard to tell where the airfield ended and the town began.

  The whole thing was made of stone, she thought, as she looked at the ground while the others ran around tying the wrist thick lines into metal pieces that stuck up from the ground. They were strange things, that reminded her of giant sewing needles, except made of heavy black iron. There was a familiar noise around her, as she glanced at the tan rock beneath her boot. The cacophony of airmen and women calling out their tasks.

  "Right front line, ready!"

  "Left front line, ready!"

  It went on like that, since the four corner lines had to be put in place all at once. The Lament was being deflated a bit, like it always was on landing, since even a light breeze could send the giant thing scuttling away.

  That, she knew, wasn't what they called it. Not the professionals. To scuttle a ship meant damage it to destruction. To make it so that no one could steal it from the crew, if it came to that bad of an ending. A craft like this that started traveling along the ground in the wind was said to be wandering. That was bad, but the worst thing was for the lines to only be attached at one point. That really would scuttle the thing, if luck wasn't with them. So they lined the corners up first and tied them all at once, ready to let go, if the order came down from the First Mate. Paul.

  Pran smiled at him, but didn't try to catch his eye. He was too busy at the moment for a distraction to be welcome. Her head itched a bit, the stubble that was growing there a soft brown, she knew. There was no point in thinking about the irritation, since both her hands were full at the moment. She carried her instruments, lute in her left hand, and guitar in the right, with a small pack of clothing and toiletries on her back. She didn't really own those however. Back on the ship she'd left the old lute and guitar that Bard Gina had lent her, so that they could be returned to her. She'd finally managed to get her own finished, while they'd traveled to the continental capital.

  The place was called Lincoln, of course, but the landing area she was in was Alpha Seven. She didn't know why it had a name like that, since it felt odd, and out of keeping with the other names she'd heard. Humboldt and Pumpkin Hallow, for instance. Lincoln sounded like a name to her, but not one that fit the place. This was perhaps the grandest spot she'd ever heard of, outside of legend. It was huge, for one thing. The city had nearly ten thousand people, if Apprentice Roy had been right on that score. One of the twenty largest places on the continent.

  Still, Pran had kind of hoped that the Guardians would have come with her. She was pretending not to be herself though, even if she was doing that poorly so far, and while her normal pattern would be to ask for help in a situation like this, fake her, the one she was pretending to be, had to manage things differently. Not that anyone seemed to notice her efforts that way. For weeks, as they'd traveled she'd tried to be different than the Apprentice Bard Pran everyone knew, but if anyone had gotten the idea they'd kept it to themselves pretty well. Too well, really.

  Guardian Clark was attempting the same thing, but again, not even Mara, his partner, had batted an eyelash at the changes. She even knew that people were being replaced with the minds of ancient computer downloads. There was no excuse, really, unless the woman really had noticed, and was just pretending not to understand, in order to lull them into a state of complacency. Pran hoped that was the case, because she'd been being a prima donna for nearly three weeks now. Acting like being a Bard was important and that people needed to make concessions to her needs.

  At least, she had been compared to the way Pran had really lived on the ship, up to that point. Instead of doing laundry for everyone, for instance, she just did her own and Bard Ben's. The rest of the time she'd told everyone that she needed to practice for her big audition. She really had been, because anyone that had stolen her mind had better be doing that, hadn't they? She'd had seven years of art school, and wasn't bad at that kind of thing. Anyone that was put in her head to fake being Bard Pran needed to be at least as good. That had been the hard part for her, really. It was too easy to pretend to be worse than she was, and someone might have figured it out if she'd tried something that simple. Working out that she was just pretending to be from the past. So she'd tried her best to fake being much better.

  It was insane sounding, but by focusing her mind all the time, like Judge Claire and Mara had taught her, she was able to sort of make it seem right. Her poise was better, as was her confidence. Not things Pran lacked in, day to day, but now she carried a mantle of haughty surety with her as she walked across the hard stone, not looking back to see if anyone was following her.

  There was no reason why they would, after all.

  As an Apprentice Bard she was supposed to report to her new master, of course. That would have been the rule no matter what skills she had. If she'd been a Guardian or a Milner, or even a Farmer, the same thing would have happened. The big difference for her that day was twofold.

  First, she was an Apprentice Bard, which meant she had to audition for her place. If she wasn't good enough, the High Bard Councilor would be within her rights to dismiss her without notice. Any master had that right, of course, which kept people trying harder than they might otherwise. It wasn't a threat, as much as a constant goad, for those that were more than a little lazy. If you didn't try your best, you could be tossed out. On your ear, or other less comfortable landing zones, if your master thought you needed to be given a lesson.

  Second, and this was the strange part that applied only to her, as far as she knew, the spot was already hers. As far as she could tell Bard Clarice wasn't even planning on having her play, or do anything of note, since she was actually coming in as a spy. More accurately, she was supposed to be there to backup Guardian Clark, so that he could uncover the spies on the High Council. To let him go places and meet people, or at least have some reason to be there, in spots where he might not otherwise be expected. That was part of why she'd assumed that the man would have gone with her to the government building she needed. He was her friend too, and had to know that this would be hard for her, didn't he? Except... Well, if she were actually a download from the past, she'd be a woman that was several hundred years old or more, living in her too thin sixteen year old body.

  Would someone like that need her hand held by the big strong Guardian? It would have comforted her, true, but someone that well aged might not need it. She really didn't either, she decided, since the city was pretty well organized. The streets were laid out on a grid, and she could look down most of them from where she was. The long ones, anyway. Rather than seem desperate, she walked toward the far side, which took abo
ut fifteen minutes, even at a good clip, never turning to examine the world behind her. When she did Pran noticed the six airships that were there, and tiny people around them, like ants taking down a bigger insect for dinner. That was mainly only around her ship though. The Lament. The others were already safely in port for the day.

  When it had become hers, well, she didn't know, really. Sometime in the last few months, since she'd only been on it a few days longer than that.

  Making herself relax and smile, she kept her eyes open and mind on her current task, which was finding out where she was supposed to be. That would be Bard Clarice's rooms... or office, no doubt, but where she was supposed to find that...

  Blinking she looked up at the large sign in front of her. It was done in stone, and neatly, if not artfully carved. A thing that had seen some weather over the years, meaning that what it claimed was probably not only correct, but had been for a long time.

  "High Council Building, street one. One half kilometer." There was an arrow pointing to her left, since she'd cleverly walked toward the middle of the large tan expanse. Not that Pran had really been wrong, as it turned out. After all, it had let her find the way without even asking anyone yet.

  That had to make her seem confident and like she knew what to do.

  Her hands started to sweat on the handles of her new instrument cases. They were made of wood, but the bodies of the things were made of old canvas that Captain Mina had traded to her in exchange for some minor woodworking that the ship needed. The woman was actually decently nice that way, as long as she had what people needed, and they were willing to do their part in turn. Everything that Pran had with her, including the clothing on her back, had indirectly come from the woman, she realized. It wasn't something she'd considered before, but it was all true. Even the tools that she'd borrowed to make her instruments had been allowed by the Captain of the Lament as a favor.

  Resetting the handles in her hand without setting anything down, she kept walking. That happened with her chin up and step lively, so that no one would think she was trying to slink in. That would just seem suspicious.

  The sun was bright enough, and her black clothing absorbed it, keeping her decently warm. After a fashion, in that ice wasn't forming on her lips. Yet. It was November, and even if Lincoln was farther south than she'd ever lived, it was still kind of chilly out. Not bad enough that she needed a coat, thankfully. The fact was, she couldn't let herself get any further in debt to the Lament. As it was she needed to see about trading some things that she'd gotten already, to pay them back. The storerooms on the ship had a nifty collection of things that she'd gotten from a man that had been accused of molesting a little girl. It had been part of her payment for helping him get some coin together, which he used to run away, being a downloaded spy.

  Pran was keeping it all too, including his house and all the meat he'd had. That needed to be eaten though, so a message should be passed along to the people of Pumpkin Hollow, so that they could all set up trade for it. The man, Will, had been the town butcher. For ten years. Before that his body had been someone else, and his mind had lived inside a...

  The word for it was computer. She thought. It was a thing that she'd never heard of, even in school, before meeting some of the body stealers from the past. There had been other things they'd mentioned. Television was one. Also webs. No, that wasn't right. The web. There had never been talk of spiders however, so it was definitely something different than what she was used to.

  The streets were decently busy, but not too crowded to pass. Around her there were about fifty people, up and down the long, very well paved, road. The walks on both sides were made of more stone, and there was no mud to be found anywhere that she could see. A lot of smaller places practically turned into pools of the stuff for part of the year. That, and horse dung.

  There was some of that in rare places, but an old man that was hand pulling a small painted cart with a lid shoveled some of it up as she passed. Smiling at him, she nodded.

  "Hello! This city is lovely, isn't it?"

  The man, who was thin and a bit stooped, but dressed in bright colors, if old clothing, winked at her. It was nearly flirtatious, she decided.

  "That it is, lad. That it is. Are you playing around here?" He glanced at the case in her right hand, and was used enough to seeing her sort, she supposed, that he understood the meaning of a person carrying instruments. He also made the same mistake that a lot of people had been lately.

  Thinking that her almost non-existent hair meant she was a boy. She didn't correct him, or let her voice show any sign of upset. Mainly because she just wasn't. Her mind was too filled with her task for that.

  "After a fashion. It's a private thing, though. For High Bard Councilor Clarice? I'm here to apply for a position as her new Apprentice."

  The man stopped working then and eyed her closely for about ten seconds.

  "Really now? That's impressive, then, isn't it? And here I woke up this morning thinking that I'd see no more than piles to be cleaned up! Well, I wish you luck, boy. Do you know how to get to the right place?" He seemed smart enough to get that she might not really have a clue, so she smiled as her head shook.

  "Other than that this is the right city, I can't lay claim to that information, sir. I don't suppose that you'd know the way?" Her tone was light, and a bit hopeful.

  The balding old fellow didn't disappoint her either.

  "I do. I do. I work First Street and have for nearly twenty years. This is my route, you know. The High Council Chambers is what you want, being that it's past low morning already. Eight bells in a few minutes. Clarice is a Bard though, so you might be in for a wait on her, coming this time of day. Still, better to show an eager face first thing and have her coffee ready when she gets in, isn't it?" The man pointed with a weathered finger, at a building that wasn't all that far down. "Right there in the three story place. The big one. I hear tell that Bard Clarice is on the top floor, near the back on the right hand side. It's well marked. I've been inside more than a time or two, myself. Met the woman too, I have. A real peach. Always in a fine dress, that one. If I was interested in that sort, I'd have given her a tumble by now, or at least put a word in. She's known to be a good sort, that way. Not that you heard it from Old Donal, mind. I don't need another scathing song written about me. The six I have are more than enough." He grinned cutely, and a bit of his youth played across his aged face. He might not have ever been a handsome man, she guessed, but there was charm there, and friendly green eyes.

  "Why, thanks! Here I was, worried that it would be the rest of the day getting there. Oh, um, I'm Pran. In case it comes up. Donal, you say it was? Do you want me to enquire with my new Master for you?" That was more than a bit saucy, but the fellow had been pretty kind to her, so if it was his secret dream, she could give it a shot. For all that he seemed to scoop shit for a living, he was clean and friendly. Then again Pran had no clue what sort of man Bard Clarice liked.

  For that matter, she may just like women. It had literally never even occurred to her to question it. Pran had always just assumed that, as an Apprentice, she'd be used for sex by her Master anyway. It didn't always happen, but if it did, she couldn't really complain. It was probably even more true when that person was the High Bard. If she wanted Pran to service her, then that would be what happened, wouldn't it? Not only did she have a job to do, but if she wanted to keep her great position here, she'd need to really prove out.

  Women weren't her favorite, that way, but you did what it took. That was the second rule, and linked pretty closely to the first one.

  Survive.

  It worked for almost everything she'd found. The first thing you always looked to, was surviving. Even if it meant risking death. On an airship, you survived. In a small town with the black plague, you survived. The same was true here now, as well. If she considered anything more important than that, Pran wouldn't just fail, but probably never leave the place alive. The enemy from the past had people
in place there, after all. They knew it to be the case, Guardian Clark and her, having heard it from the enemy themselves. What they didn't know was who exactly that would be.

  It might have even been the old and chatty cart man in front of her, as far as she knew.

  He laughed, which was a hearty and loud thing.

  "Ah, good one there! No, no, I'll be leaving the poor girl alone. I prefer men, myself. Always have. Have a partner though, on these last fifteen years. Good man, Riley's his name, if you meet him. Works up in the building you're going to, so could as might happen. Now, I won't be bothering you no more. The leavings won't scoop themselves, like I always say!" Then, with a polite nod, he finished his job and walked on, back the way that she'd come from.

  For a man that shoveled horseshit for a living, he certainly seemed pleasant, she decided, moving toward the building that he'd pointed out to her. It was clearly marked by a large wooden sign in the front, and certainly looked pretty special. It wasn't the tallest place in the city, being that there were a few that were close to twice as high, but it was clearly one of the best decorated. The main colors were all in light tans, with a white trim, but just calling it that lacked something.

  It had been built and decorated by craftsmen, obviously, who had worked in stone, but made it seem almost like it had to be wood. There was fine work too, which had to have taken years to finish. Even if there had been a hundred Bards doing it at the time. Incredible relief sculptures ran around the top of the place, in the white stone there. She couldn't tell if it had paint on it or not, but kind of figured that it wouldn't. That would be a waste of time and energy after all. So would bringing in stone like that. There it was though, right in front of her. It might be wasteful, but it was also grand, she decided.

  It was so smooth and white she wasn't certain she'd ever seen anything like it. Alabaster, she thought. It would be hard to know without actually climbing up to see it firsthand. That would be a poor way to start her first day, however, or at least falling to her death would. That made not doing it seem far more sensible suddenly. It was a thing she was planning to work on, if she got a chance. Doing what actually made sense, like a real adult, if it came up. So no, she wouldn't be scaling the side of the building just to examine the art.