Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3) (3 page)

Pran raised 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.

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?"

If the woman was High Bard
Councilor Clarice, Pran was about to look like a fool, but the woman let her
off the hook, almost instantly.

"Possibly. I was hoping to
arrange a meeting with Bard Clarice tomorrow? Are you her secretary?"

It took an act of will to not
shrug then, since she had
no
clue what her actual duties were, or if she
even had them. That nearly got her to freeze, but she covered by setting her
lute down and walking over toward the desk. There were books on top, the ledger
kind, and papers, but she hadn't touched any of them, even as she dusted.

"The new Apprentice. Let's
see..." She looked through things, opening books at random, but on the
third one she found what seemed to be a list of the day's activities. The hand
that had written them was very fine, and there only seemed to be two
appointments that day, both well after noon. Below that was a list with the
next day's date, which had a meeting from one to three, but was empty
otherwise. "This looks right. Would you be available at four? In the
afternoon." Just in case the woman was an early riser, of course.

She grimaced a bit and shook her
head.

"Drat. I'm going to be in a
meeting myself then. Oh, I'm Brenna Times, the Dyers Guild Councilor. Would she
be available in the morning, do you think?"

She didn't know, never having met
the woman, herself, but shook her head.

"Not likely. I..." Pran
smiled up at the taller woman, "
I
might be able to help you though?
Or at least pass your message to her in a timely fashion? Would that
work?" It sounded like a polite, if not very real, thing to say. After
all, the new Apprentice was going to handle it for her? Government matters?

The woman seemed displeased for a
bit then sighed.

"I don't know... Can
you
help me arrange air shipment between Gladstone and port O'Brien for three tons
of goods within the next two weeks?" There was a bit of snootiness in the
words, really, as if she
couldn't
do that. Which was probably true, but
ticked her off. It was all sorts of presumption on the woman's part, after all.
Assuming that she was useless like that.

Rather than let that show, she
nodded.

"I can look into it for you.
The goods are already in Gladstone?" She found a piece of paper and
pretended to get ready to take notes on it, which backfired on her a little,
since the woman actually smiled and nodded, eager to have it all done, it
looked like. Even if some
Apprentice
was going to be in charge of
overseeing the idea.

"That's right. I know it
normally couldn't be done, but I heard from my daughter that The Sorrow was
going to be putting in there in four days. This time of year we generally don't
ship chemicals, because of the cost, but if it's possible to get a good rate,
say... no more than a fifteen percent agenting fee? It would really aid the
O'Brien dyers." There was a sly look on her face, which Pran could read,
but not understand.

This then, was a woman trying to
pull a fast one. Probably on the price, but there might well be something else
going on there too. Given that Pran was looking for spies and traitors, or at
least was supposed to be getting Guardian Clark into place to do that kind of
thing, it could mean something big was taking place on her very first morning
there.

Looking back at the woman, she
shrugged.

"Where, exactly, is O'Brien
then? Up in the mountains, where no one will want to go? Buried under six feet
of snow already and out of reach?" It was a guess, but the woman scowled
and looked away from her.

Caught in the act, or close
enough for guilt to show.

"Nothing that bad. It's a
small town, near the southern coast. Only about six hundred miles from
Gladstone, mind. Not too far of a trip, but there's nearly no reason for anyone
to go that far out of their way this time of year, most of the time. This is a
long shot, but they do such wonderful things with alpaca fiber. Most can't get
it to take good color, but they have a secret trick for it. Brilliant blues and
greens can be brought forth, but only if they have the right base chemicals to
start with." There was a bit of a defeated look on her face then. "I
tried to ply the High Councilor of the Airship section earlier, but he was
rather gruff with me. We rather have a history of not getting along now.
Once... Well, that doesn't get the dyes shipped, does it? Since then I've been
going around trying to find someone that can help push him into action, but
nothing has worked yet. I almost thought Willet, over in medical, was going to
work it out, but that went
nowhere
. There's need of a Doctor in that
area for the winter, certainly, but nothing at all pressing enough for a
special trip."

Pran started writing, and was
doing that when the next woman came in. This one was almost certainly Clarice,
she realized, having on good makeup, and a gown that was made mainly of purple
and lavender lace. It left a lot of her chest showing, but that had been
powdered and blended too, so it matched the skin above it. She was
very
attractive looking, which fit the descriptions Pran had heard.