Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3)

by P. S. Power

  Unless the opportunity came up, that was.

  Pran started up the long, and very wide, stone steps to the place. There were three rows leading up to the building and she understood by the time she was there why that was. It might stick up three stories high above the earth next to it, but an entire level, or more, was below her. The front doors, and there were two of them, were opened by a man in a black uniform. It was clean, and wrinkle free, but plain looking.

  What wasn't exactly normal was how hard he looked at her. It wasn't in a making eyes, flirting kind of way either. She felt stripped bare, suddenly, as she started to move inside. The man looked to be physically hard, and about forty, having wrinkles from too much chronic squinting and frown lines. He was also, she could tell by how his eyes focused, in a trance state.

  A Guardian, observing her, to see if she was a threat.

  "Hello! I'm Apprentice Bard Pran? You probably haven't heard that I was coming, but that's just an oversight, I'm sure. I don't have any weapons with me, this time. I probably will in the future though, since I keep needing them for different things. You understand, don't you?" She said it all so sweetly it sounded fake, but the man broke his trance for half a second, frowned more and cleared his throat.

  "With a buildup like that, I'm almost going to have to search you, aren't I? No weapons in the building, unless you're a Guardian. Are you?" He looked at her outfit, which was pretty close to what she'd have been wearing if that really were the case.

  Laughing a bit, making herself bat her eyes a little at the man, she shook her head.

  "Not anymore. I was once, for about a week. Just as an Apprentice, as you might imagine. It was... Well, there's a story to go along with that. Why don't you pat me down now, so that you know I don't have a kinetic pistol in my pack, or a rifle down my pant leg? I know that I won't mind, if you'll trade some information with me?" The man didn't seem to be the kind to play, and stiffened at the words, but didn't hit her. Not that she would have been able to do much about it if he decided to. Yes, she'd had a whole three weeks of fighting lessons, but that didn't mean she was ready to take on someone that had trained their whole life. Not even one that had done it for even a week longer than she had, most likely.

  "What kind of information?" He looked ready to take her out, and his hand went to the leather pouch on his side, which was all in black and probably held one of those kinetic pistols she'd mentioned. That was overkill for her, given that she wasn't armed, like Pran had said, but did tell her a lot about the situation she was going in to.

  No one, not even a surly and disgruntled Guardian would be that suspicious of a young girl with instrument cases. Not if they weren't aware that some people might have been having their minds replaced. At least his orders would have come from someone that knew.

  "Directions to High Bard Clarice? I really do need to report to her. It's my first day."

  "Likely tale, isn't it? Why don't you set those bags down, really slow, and let me take a look, before you go and have a chance to do any damage?"

  Pran considered pulling out the Bard card, and whining at the man about being delayed, but instead just carefully set her things down, shrugged off her pack and stepped back, so that the door could be closed while the man check her out. There was no need for her to really hurry, she bet. Not if it meant angering the man in front of her. It was chilly out, but she was still warm enough to survive it from her walk. As long as it didn't take too long, she'd be fine that way.

  "Please be careful with the instruments, if it pleases you, sir? I really do have an audition here today."

  "I thought you said you were the new Apprentice. Prawn, was it?"

  "Pran. I..." She shrugged. The truth was she had the place already. She also needed to back that up, or it would look wrong, wouldn't it? "Honestly, I don't know if I have this or not. I'm all right with the lute and guitar, and have a fair hand at painting, and a very good one with sculpture, but Bard Clarice is known for her singing. I might not be good enough for her, that way. I won't know until I meet her. You might be seeing me in an hour coming back in tears."

  That was possible, she knew.

  Even if the Bard thought she was good enough, which wasn't assured, or was willing to fake it for a while due to the job that was at hand, Pran might honestly not be what she wanted in an Apprentice. It was a thing to keep in mind, wasn't it? All she could do was the best that might be managed. While trying to seem at least a bit like a download, as silly as that felt now.

  The man looked up from the pack, which he had sitting on the ground, the gray homespun canvas straps clutched in a callused palm.

  "Arms out. I need to do that personal search. You're too suspicious not to check. Probably a monster just hiding as an Apprentice."

  Pran did as she was told, and giggled when the man patted her chest and stopped suddenly. He didn't comment on the fact that she had breasts however. They weren't that well pronounced, and mainly hidden by the black heavy shirt she wore, but they were real enough. He also managed to check between her legs well enough that he had to know she wasn't a boy. It was a bit obvious, but didn't seem to be about sex.

  No, he was just making sure to do his job well. All Guardians did. He barely even left his working trance state to do it.

  "No weapons. That I can find." He glanced at her, and then the instrument cases. "Except the strings, the handles of the case, and the guitar and lute. Of course." He was watching her again, his eyes locked on her own. For the longest time he didn't look away, but finally smiled. "Bard or not, you should watch claiming to be a Guardian. People can get in trouble that way. Least wise when you aren't on stage. Anything goes if you-"

  For about the third time ever, Pran managed to move without rhythm, and do it pretty well. Real Guardians could nearly vanish in the right conditions, using that and a host of other tricks. It was really more like stage magic than the real kind however. People normally expected to see you do very predictable things. Their eyes moved before the objects they were watching did, allowing them to get a sense of what was about to happen, without realizing it. By changing what she was doing, randomly, she managed to get out of the way, over to the right of the man, like one of them would do.

  Except that they, the Guardians, lived like that from childhood, and could see and think that way, not using patterns at all. The one in front of her was gone too, by the time she stopped, and a kinetic pistol was pointed at her, from behind. About ten feet away.

  She shrugged.

  "Like I said, it was only about a week. Now, either come take a bow, or shoot me, since we have an audience." She waved at the street, where a few passersby were staring at them. It probably meant that she'd been acting so weird that everyone really was waiting for her to be shot for their entertainment.

  The middling tall Guardian put the kinetic pistol away, and actually managed a small smile.

  "Not bad then. Prawn. I haven't seen the High Bard so far today. Take those stairs, through the door to the right. I'll be by to check your story out later, by the way. Something isn't right here."

  Which was just a fact. If the Guardian wasn't certain that she should be allowed in, then why let her? That wasn't normal, was it? Unless, she realized, the man had been just making fun of her the whole time.

  "Wait, you have heard of me, haven't you? This whole thing..." She waved at the door as the man looked a bit sheepish.

  "Well, I might have heard a story or two about a Bard Pran that was off of The Lament, in the last few weeks. That doesn't mean that you're her. They are on the board to be in for landing this morning, so that might be possible. That really wasn't a bad movement there, either. I'd heard that you could do it, but didn't think it was possible. It takes most years to do that well. Of course, we're all little kids when we first do it, so that might be a big part of things there. Third floor, seventh door on the right. She has the back corner spaces." Then, as if they'd never spoken at all, the man went back to work.

  Pran ra
ised her eyebrows and spoke to him again, as the door was opened. She probably shouldn't, but part of her job really was about finding things out about people, and a man standing at the door would know who came and went, and probably when they did it.

  "I didn't get your name, Guardian..."

  "Salle. Before you go on about it for revenge, I know, it's a girl's name. Spelled differently though. No 'Y' on the end."

  "That didn't even cross my mind, Salle. Well, wish me luck? I'll need it." That was true, if nothing else.

  The hard looking lean man shook his head, however.

  "Luck? You just need to use your skills, and adapt to the changes as they come. If half of what I heard about you is true, you have this."

  "Right. Now we just need to convince High Bard Councilor Clarice of that. Well, here I go..." She actually went, the door opening a few seconds after she picked up all her gear. Her right knee hurt a bit, from the strange twisting movement that she'd just made trying to move without rhythm, but she didn't allow a limp to show. Pain was just a thing to defeat.

  Showing weakness however, was never allowed.

  Not in her world.

  Doing that just made you a target. That was the first step to victimhood.

  Trying to seem confident, she kept her head up pretending to be proud, and moved to the nice and very heavy wooden door off to the right, like she'd been told. Her stomach didn't try to fall out due to nerves until a few minutes later, when she got to the door that was marked with the right name.

  Holding her breath, she went in.

  Chapter two

  The room was a bit dark. Light came in through several high windows, all on the far wall, letting her see what was inside. It was different than she expected, to be perfectly honest. Much.

  There were several comfortable looking chairs settled in front of a large wooden desk that had another, larger chair, right behind it. It was more like the Headmaster's office at the Compton Art School, than anything she'd been envisioning. Not that Pran had really been thinking about it. There were four low tables around the space, near the chairs, meant for people to put things on while they did business, no doubt.

  In the corner, when she turned around, half masked in the early morning shadows, was a single hard wooden chair, with a music stand in front of it, also of wood, right next to it. That was the only sign that Bards did anything in particular there however. Even the rug on the floor was just a plain tan thing on the hardwood strips that made it up. The first floor had been like that too, even though the walls were all made of thick stone. It kept things cool inside, in the summer, no doubt.

  Also in the winter, it seemed. Since she was more than a little cool, in the space. Outside had been bearable, thanks to the walking, but now she was getting cold even if the space had to be warmer by far. Inside was, as a rule.

  There was a small woodstove, made of clay and brick, on the far wall, along with a healthy looking pile of kindling to get it started, and a few logs in a nice pile. While she couldn't see her breath on the air, she had to figure that it was her job to make sure the space was ready for visitors, or would be, so she set her things down first and saw to that, first thing. Hopefully Clarice wouldn't be one of those people that loved things chilly all the time. That was hard on the throat, so probably not.

  It gave her something to do, at least. There was a pot for water too, and while the street cleaner had mentioned having coffee ready, the set up looked to be for tea. That meant finding some water, if she wanted to get that started. The heavy stove didn't need constant tending, once the metal front was closed down, she didn't think, so she helped herself to some poking around, using the search for that as her excuse.

  There was a second door, off to the side, and being careful since she really had no idea what, or who, might be behind it, she turned the cool brass knob, and poked her head in, expecting the place to either be pitch black and contain a sleeping High Bard, or to be a supply closet. It was neither, being a much bigger space, one about six times the size of the one she was in, filled with supplies.

  Art supplies.

  The place had everything, too. Nearly enough for getting started, at least. It wasn't a full workshop for stone carving, yet, but there were hundreds of pots that were filled with glue, paint and even raw colors, that could be used for multiple purposes, if you knew how. Which Pran did, thanks to the lessons she'd had. There were ready made canvases set up, as well as brushes, charcoal, and chalks in different shades. There was even a very large bin, that, when she glanced inside, was filled with a nice white clay.

  The wooden thing was huge, and held hundreds of pounds of the stuff, all wrapped in oil cloth, to help it stay moist. There were tools for it too, and while she loved working in stone, clay was fun too, if she was allowed to do things like that there. The central table was a mess however, filled with half used containers, plates that had bits of food on them, and rags that were draped all over the place. Used ones, that needed to be washed. There was a combination of dried paint, clay, and in at least one case, snot, all over the things.

  She grimaced, since whoever was in charge of this place hadn't been taking very good care of it, for a while. Sure, that was Bard Clarice, but she should have had someone to help her, given her lofty title, even if she was between Apprentices. An Assistant Bard, or at least a servant. Thinking about that didn't get the tea water going however, and she noticed, there was a sink along the far wall, near a little door. Inside that was a restroom, which was convenient, since she kind of needed one.

  Pran took care of herself first, but then got the tea water going, and started cleaning. It was either her new job, a thing that someone else had failed at... or she was ruining her chance at the position, because Clarice loved being a slob. If it was the last one... Well, that wasn't the case, was it? The front room was tidy, even if it needed to be wiped down too, for dust.

  The eight bells that Donal had mentioned earlier chimed, nearly making her squeak, since they were so loud, the tower for that clearly being right next door. If that happened each hour she'd need to time her performances out, so she wouldn't be interrupted by it. There was no way she could play or sing over it, and other than working it into her acting, she couldn't see a way around that either. It was handy for telling the time, at least.

  That meant, two hours later when she was finished putting the waste in the rubbish bin, which was a large wooden thing on wheels, she was ready for the rest of the day to start. Which it didn't.

  She refreshed the fire, twice, and let the room grow comfortable, but not too hot, since that could be bad for a lot of instruments. Especially hers, which were so new they needed to be handled with care for a while. Then, feeling a bit bored, she swept the whole place, and started scrubbing it down. The tea water had to be refilled, and she made a cup of it for herself, using the leaves and little tea ball that were on the table near the desk. No one came to visit, or actually do any work, so shrugging, Pran finally decided to practice her audition pieces.

  That meant using the wooden chair which had been in the corner, since the soft ones in front of the desk were too low and would put her at a funny angle for playing or singing. It was bad form to sit while doing either, in some circles, but most real performers did it, once out of school. It was a thing that marked them as being outside of the school's control, she'd heard. As an adult, no one could tell you how to do your job. Except that she wasn't really one of those yet. Just a would be Apprentice.

  First she worked on the lute, playing the Seven Circles, several times. The first version of it was just the one that she'd used for her school testing, before she left, but the next three were variations that she'd worked out on her own. The middle one was her favorite, but Bard Ben had told her that the last one, the slower version, played at half speed, was more compelling. It wasn't a wrong thought either. It gave the normally mercurial piece a very strange and haunting quality, to her ears at least.

  Without looking up, she moved to the
first song she wanted to do, which was an original one. Someone like the High Bard Councilor would have a lot of people coming to her that could play old tried and trues, but not a lot of sixteen year old art students would dare present an audition made up of things that they'd done themselves. She had five songs ready to sing, as well as three instrumental pieces. Her biggest regret was that she'd lacked any materials to do real art with, on The Lament. It meant having to improvise something to impress the lady with, if she got the chance and didn't blow the whole deal by botching her performance.

  That was what she was thinking when the older woman at the door caught her eye. It was open, and, she realized, had been for a long time. She was just now aware of the lady, who was smiling at her, which was a good sign. Better than a frown. For a moment she wondered if this was Bard Clarice, but that didn't seem too likely, once she thought about it.

  Clarice was said, by many, to always dress very well, and Pran had met her mother, Bard Gina. The woman was short, verging on tiny, which this lady simply wasn't. In fact, she was probably a good half head taller than Pran was. Also, she was wearing a brightly colored, but very plain and undecorated shift, with trousers on underneath. It was pretty close to what she was wearing herself, except that it was a wonderful robin's egg blue on top and a very loud, almost dangerously so, pink color on the bottom. Her shoes were slippers however, also done in pink, even if it didn't match the other shade well. It was very sharp however. Expensive looking, in its gaiety. Brilliant and powerful, after a fashion.

  "Hello!" Pran stood, quickly, and smiled herself. "May I help you?"