Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3)

by P. S. Power

  "That's a risk, having someone like you in then, isn't it? Science side, at that level. How certain are they that this is going to work? I haven't heard much so far. A phone message last night, and some sniffing around by the Guardians about me personally, but that was all. No one shot me when I came in to work, so I thought that meant they didn't know." He tapped his pen on the paper in front of him, then blotted it on the edge of the ink cup. "This is what I get for assuming I guess. Will everyone be checking in through here?"

  Pran shrugged, "No? Get with Salle on the door and set that up? We're all collecting in Bard Clarice's office. I'll get with Walden about setting up some food, I guess." She was already taking Tims out of play for the second floor, for part of the day.

  He shook his head at that, but didn't comment. Not until she was starting to walk away.

  "That Walden... He's not right, is he? I mean, I've seen players before, but that boy takes it a bit too far, most days. I saw him hit on a woman four times his age without batting an eye, more than once. There have to be rules for things like that. Otherwise... Well, I imagine he'll learn eventually. They all do."

  She didn't know about that, but hadn't had a problem with the kid either. If he'd done more than be helpful to anyone, she hadn't seen it for herself, had she? Unless she was blocking it all out? That was possible, given who she was and her past.

  Walking up the last stairs, the man, Darnel, following along close behind, she stopped at the floor boy's desk and mentioned the need for a constant stream of food and drink that day.

  Rather than suggest it wasn't his job, the boy smiled, happily.

  "Great! I'll get with the kitchen and set that up. Should I come by... Call it twice an hour? Or... Maybe every fifteen minutes? That would work better, I think. I already have wood out for the day, so that won't be a problem. I need to get everyone else their morning meals, of course. Would you two like something right now? I'm heading that way." It was a bit casual, but Pran didn't mind, since she was no better than the boy, but she did have to wonder if she should caution him about the people coming in.

  When she mentioned that to Darnel, wondering if it was too casual for his people, the man coughed, and pretended to be choking a little.

  "You think that any of us will be that worried about things like protocol? The people of now are much more polite that way." He gave her a sidelong glance, and then rolled his eyes. "By that I mean you're all far more concerned about seeming correct. Proper, and like you're setting people at ease. As long as they aren't too different, at least. We used to have a lot more variety, as far as people went. Green hair, strange clothing and a thousand other things. It was a sign of our world really. We had so much, so many resources, that we could all afford to do things the way we wanted, far more often than not."

  The man seemed a little bemused by the idea, not sad for what had been lost. It sounded wasteful to her, but she didn't mention it. That was, most likely, just a basic difference that they had. To people like this man it seemed fine to waste time and energy on everyone having strange hair, or bright colored clothing. The idea even sounded dazzling to the Bard in her soul.

  For a moment she had a vision of a world like that, where every cart man on the street wore festival clothing each day, and painted his face like a performer. Every woman would dress like a High Councilor and each meal would be a feast of the finest foods, all the time.

  Rainbows would dance and birds would never soil the places they landed either. If she was dreaming anyway, there was no harm in doing it well.

  The idea faded as she got into the main office. In the here and now that she knew, they needed a fire, because otherwise the day would be a tiny bit chilly. Opening the door to the other room, she started in on that. That was so she could let the heat travel and warm the clay up a bit. Cold clay was hard to work with, and while she was going to be doing detail work, if she got a chance that day, not trying to form large pieces, it would still be easier if things were a little bit pliable.

  Looking through the door, the man waved at her sculpture and then took a few steps in that direction.

  "That's not bad. I like the flow of the robes. Is that your Bard Clarice's work?"

  It made sense to ask that, she thought, given that a High Bard had to be pretty good at things.

  "That's one of mine. I need to do the detail work on it still. Bard Clarice normally sings. She's one of your people?"

  "She is? I... Hadn't heard about that. We tend to compartmentalize things, so that if one of us is captured we can't be forced to tell about too many others. Are... you one of us? If so, I missed your name?"

  "Pran. Bard Pran, though I was an Apprentice last week. I'm just me."

  "Well, that seems to be more than enough for today, doesn't it? Just getting this meeting together is impressive. I don't think anything like it has been attempted for... Nearly seventy years now. The last time, if I recall that correctly, rather ended badly. The meeting was attacked by Firmament forces. This one probably will be as well. You know about them?'

  Shaking her head, Pran moved back toward the other room, her face blank. That hadn't even occurred to her before. She'd simply assumed that the Guardians had killed the tech people, over and again, and that was what kept stopping them from making inroads. That their own people had been doing it too, was...

  Predictable, if she thought about it.

  "Not much. Bard Clarice mentioned that they were the people that didn't think the world could change? Something like that?"

  The words got a slow nod, as Darnel sank into one of the soft chairs. Then he steepled his fingers in front of his chest. He still had his hat on, but after a bit he took it off, holding it, rather than setting it down anywhere.

  "That's one way to look at it. It would be closer to the truth to say that they're the ones that nearly killed us all. We had loads of scientific information, studies that showed the world was getting warmer, but the big oil and coal companies managed to convince the devoutly religious Christians that it was all a lie. It didn't matter that everything else showed they were wrong, once they caught that idea. The truth would come out, and they'd spin it to their own devices without waiting for common sense to kick in. They managed to slow down any action that might have helped until it was far too late. Really, we should have left them all to die and not taken any of them into the System with us." Making a face, he looked at the door, even though no one was there.

  He was clearly thinking about things. Old ones. When he spoke again his words were a little sad sounding. Slow and just a bit thick, like it was something that would have made him cry at some point.

  "We did though, because we thought that no one could hold to a bad idea like that, after the real problems started. Vast storms, droughts, and things just being too warm, in a lot of places. We were wrong. Never underestimate the power of a closed mind, when it comes to holding to what they believe to be true. Since then, they've fought the rest of us, off and on, trying to bring back the world that they killed. To finish the job, I guess. They won't put it that way, but... Well. I guess you could say I'm not a fan of that sort of person."

  "The religious?" She wasn't one of them, but didn't have a problem with them either really. The Keepers had been horrible people, but it wasn't their professed beliefs that made them that way. Even if they were Christians too. They were evil because their will had broken, nothing else.

  "Oh, no. I'm a Christian myself. A lot of us in the System believe in God. No, I mean fools. I've never suffered them lightly. Using your beliefs as a reason to ignore reality is just an excuse to do the wrong thing. Science and God do not have to be separate or mutually exclusive. The Firmament however, as a group, reject even common sense, if it doesn't serve their beliefs in the moment. It isn't their fault of course. We coddled them, back in the day. We let them pretend that their opinion was as valid as anyone else's. They'd spout off with nonsense and the rest of us would smile and nod as they patted each other on the back instead of
calling them on their silliness. That was a thing back then, claiming that all people were equal in all things. It isn't true, and doesn't work. The idea behind it was meant to be noble however, not just silly. We wanted everyone to be treated with respect. They ran with it however. All the way off the field. That didn't work too well in the end."

  She thought about it, not certain that she had much to add to what was said. Of course not all opinions were equal. Some people were morons, after all. Others were well studied in their fields and were more likely to be correct about some things than others were, as well. For instance, she was better able to tell a person about playing an instrument or sculpting than, say, a miller might be.

  A mill Master was going to know more about his own craft than she ever would however, or even his own Apprentice. The idea of everyone thinking that they were a Master of every field and craft seemed insane. It was probably that she didn't understand the idea well enough, rather than a whole people having thought that. Talk about a thing that would lead to ruin...

  Which, she had to allow, did seem to be what had happened.

  They didn't have lessons about that time, did they? Even in school, they didn't talk about the history of the world back then. That there were people, and a collapse, that was part of things, certainly. That they'd made mistakes and that balancing energy use was important was too, but never any specifics. Not from before the founding.

  The day that Michael Morse laid down the laws that governed the whole world. They were meant, she guessed, to protect them all, but from what had never really been clear. Apparently the answer was about keeping them from being self-centered idiots that thought they could do no wrong?

  It was a funny thought, since no one would really act that way, would they? The man with her was probably just making fun of her, claiming what he had.

  Just as she was about to mention that, and call him on his game, their food came. It was a full plate each of wonderful maple sausage and eggs, with tiny pancakes that had honey on them as well as butter. She savored hers, eating too fast, but slower than normal.

  Nix, the scientist, just ate, pointing at his plate about halfway through the meal.

  "This is good. I haven't eaten this well since I returned to the world this time. Do you know that when I was a boy, the first time I mean, before everything fell apart, that this kind of thing could be had by almost anyone, with only a few moments notice? It wasn't a perfect world, but we did food decently well. In fact, so well that being overweight was an actual health problem for many people. Can you imagine that? Even in the poorest places people had gotten fat. You don't see a lot of that anymore do you? Everyone is trim now, more or less." The words didn't kill his appetite, it seemed, but did make her wonder about what his people really wanted for the world.

  Finally, she just asked him.

  He sat for a long time, eating slowly, but finally started to nod his head.

  "Honestly? I think we want to make up for what we did to you all. You don't see this world for what it is really, because you don't know that it could be different. You live a life that's hemmed in and controlled in almost all ways. For instance, what would happen if you wanted to become a baker, instead of a Bard?" He looked at her and waited, as if expecting a real answer to his clearly rhetorical question.

  "I'd fail at it. I don't know how to bake, and no one would teach me how, since I'm not a baker. Not past how to do a little for myself anyway. I don't know how to do that, because I didn't have a mother to teach me, but it just wouldn't happen. I'm a Bard. I tried to become a Guardian for a bit, and I was too old to really learn the skills. I imagine it would be like that." Kind of at least. There were special baking skills that she didn't know about, no doubt.

  "That. Right there. Not that you don't know how to bake, but that you've been told and taught not to even try new things. People can be more than that, Pran. More than their lessons and upbringing. When I was a child I dreamed of going to the moon one day and walking on the surface. What do you dream of? What calls to your secret heart?"

  She almost told him that nothing did, but it wasn't really true, was it? There in the center of her being was a thing that she carried along with her all the time.

  "Surviving. I want to live. That probably isn't what most girls my age would want really, is it? I don't dream of a family, or even fame. I want, more than anything, to keep going on. I get what you mean, I think. None of us dream of the moon. I... can't even imagine why you ever would have. Few ever even think of traveling much, or heading to different parts of the world. Bards can travel, but the goal for most of us is to stay in one place, and have a position of relative comfort. A warm fire and a good roof, an audience to entertain regularly... Simple things, really. A nice outfit or two, for the stage."

  Darnel Nix, the man from another time, closed his eyes.

  "Yes. Like that. Exactly that, in fact... We did that to you Pran. Michael Morse, me, all of us. We crippled and hobbled your dreams in order to fix a mess that you didn't make. We made hope into a drab thing that lacks color and spark. The goals of this current world are tiny, compared to what they might be." There was a long breath, loud and through the nose, before he continued on. "All in order to fix the wrongs of a past we stole from the future. We made you all into creatures that want little more than to live for another day. So that a world that was broken beyond what we had the will to fix could be repaired. It's worked, however, and the time has come for us to repay you for the sacrifices that you've made. What we want for you all, is to make it possible for you all to have hope again. The idea that, if you try hard enough, long enough, perhaps you can be more than what society has pre-planned for you."

  It was a strange thing to consider. After a bit, she simply failed at it.

  Luckily she wasn't the one he had to convince. It was, she feared, that he was right however. She didn't dream of anything other than what she'd been told to, did she? The very best that anyone could have was a good job and a nice, quiet, life.

  For some reason it seemed wrong to even try for anything more.

  Which was the point that Mr. Nix was trying to make, no doubt.

  Chapter fourteen

  Darnel Nix was the first person to show up for the meeting, but not even close to the last. By noon the little Bard's office space had filled with both chairs and people. Men, women and even children had all come to make certain their side of the debate was heard and understood.

  Pran hadn't known that they'd have differences of opinion like that still, to be honest. Of the eleven people there, not one of them truly claimed to side with the others in more than a loose fashion. Luckily Bard Clarice came about then, looking refreshed and pleasant, wearing a dress that looked new, but not strange. It was the kind of thing that only a High Councilor would ever be able to do, having that many fine gowns to wear like that. So many that even after nearly a week, her new assistant hadn't seen them all.

  "Ah! I see that everyone is coming then? That's a good thing. I need to fill you all in on what's happening then, before we actually meet with the leaders of the local population." She looked at Pran directly, but didn't ask her to leave, which would have been fair, she guessed. Why would these people want someone like her, an outsider, to be aware of what they were doing and thinking? Not that they'd been shy about telling her how wrong everyone else in their group was.

  The High Bard actually smiled and waved at her, which was inclusive, rather than a thing designed to reduce her role.

  "You've all met Bard Pran? Good then. Perhaps more than anyone else, she is responsible for us having this chance. It's been arranged on her orders and suggestion, and the fact that this hasn't descended into violence and death already is based mainly on the fact that Pran has stopped all of it, standing between the most likely sources of danger and ourselves. On both sides of the issue. If we do nothing else in this, we should all dedicate ourselves to making certain she gets out unmolested and unharmed." There was a look that cast over the ent
ire audience, and it was clearly commanding of attention, even if the words were silly.

  Why would anyone care about her? These people had differing ideas, but also one thing in common. They'd waited hundreds of years to get their various projects going.

  She was just some girl to most of them. Not anyone important. Oh, to herself, of course, but these people didn't even know who Pran was.

  They all nodded in agreement anyway. Even the woman from the Firmament, who kept glaring at the others, and negating most of what anyone else said, over and over again. She didn't use real arguments, just claiming that the end times were upon them and that god had called for the faithful to return to the land of the living, rise up and strike down the unbelievers. It wasn't very sane seeming to her, even if the lady managed to be more polite about it than would have normally been expected.

  The High Bard looked from one to the next, fixing each with a solid gaze that was without fear or even angst.

  "We will, of course, most likely die trying this again. That has been the outcome before, and there is very little different this time. The Guardians still hold to their mandate, and we have been unable to infiltrate them, like always. I believe our best hope is to trust in Pran here, to help us this time. She's a most sensible person..."

  A little boy, who couldn't have been older than ten looked over at her.

  "She's very young, isn't she? Not one of us, I mean, but an actual child. Is it wise to put our faith in someone with so little experience?"

  It didn't sound like he meant it to be mean, so rather than lash out at him for being insulting, Pran shook her head, trying to sound reasonable.

  "Of course it isn't. Ask yourselves however, what has being wise gotten you so far?" She grinned, and the boy smiled back, a bit shyly. It was charming, even if he was only average in looks. Too thin through the face really, with teeth that lacked straightness by far too much to be pretty. She went on, since everyone was listening to her anyway. "I have one piece of advice however... You have to go into this as a single unit. With one message. If you show up scattered like you are, all acting for your own little group, you'll get nothing. If, on the other hand, you speak with one voice, and give in to the demands of the Guardians at every turn, you can have a start. Trying for more than that right now is probably a bad idea. It's going to take a long time for anyone to really trust you here. You have time though, right? People keep speaking of hundreds of years and many lives. You all seem so hurried though. Like you have to rush to total completion in one day, or things can't possibly work out." That was an observation, and one that was probably wrong, but Clarice smiled at her.