Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3) (4 page)

BOOK: Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3)
7.46Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Of course, she also seemed
incredibly baffled at the moment, and showed it, with a bit of dramatic chest
clutching.

"I..." She looked at
the other woman, who smiled and explained for her.

"Bard Clarice! Your new Apprentice
here was just helping me. I need to move some dyes, but that dolt Jacques told
me that it
won't
be happening by air. Just to spite me, of course. It's
rather important however. Originally it was supposed to come in the fall, but
we had a disruption and most of the overland routes are closing down already.
Can you help?"

Over acting or not, the woman
used the time provided by Brenna Times talking to look around. She checked out
the woodstove first, and noticed the pot on it. Then her eyes hit the chair
that had been pulled out and the lute on the low table not too far away. It was
taken in a glance, but when she finished she gave the woman a brief nod.

"I'll have Pran check into
that for you?" Before the woman could look crestfallen, the other woman
turned and smiled at her. It was warm, but not overdone. Like they'd actually
met before, or something. "You know Captain Jacques personally, don't you
Pran?"

She smiled herself then, since it
probably wasn't just a matter of knowing the right people, but if it was, she
sort of
did
.

"We've met. His wife is the
Captain of The Lament. Mina. I don't know if I've met the Captain of The Sorrow
yet. We may have, actually. I
do
know a few people in his crew at least.
I've played for them." Which was true. Not that she knew them by name.
They might remember her however, and vice-versa.
If
she was that close
to them, which probably wouldn't happen, not if they were going to be in
Gladstone off the eastern coast, in a few days. Airships just didn't move that
fast. "I can see to that this afternoon? After I audition, I mean."
It was a strange thing to say, but the High Bard didn't naysay it. In fact, she
just smiled, seeming pleased to hear it.

"Very good. I have some
appointments later, I think?"

"At one and three.
Um..." She had to look at the paper for that, and tapped it firmly with a
single finger once she was at the right place. "High Councilor Saran, and
a Mr. Edwin Firms."

Belatedly, Pran hopped up, and
tried to look contrite.

"Sorry about using your desk
like that. Do you want tea, or something to eat?" Pran looked at both
women, hoping that food wasn't really needed yet, since she didn't know where
to find it. Luckily, both women were fine for the moment, it seemed.

At least they both waved at her.

Clarice was the one that spoke,
however, taking control of things already.

"Tea would be good, thank
you. The mint blend?"

That didn't take a lot of effort
to put together, and the Dyers Councilor managed to escape, now that the boss
was in the room. As soon as she left, Clarice shut the door, softly and turned
to her, an eyebrow going up.

"Busy already! Is this
related too...
Other
things?" She didn't mention what those were,
but that was probably a point that they didn't need to labor over in secret too
much. The people from the past would almost certainly know all about their
plans already. That was already a known fact, actually. They
did
know,
and orders had come down to have her replaced with a download.

By now it was probably also
commonly known that she hadn't been as well. It had always been unlikely that
anyone would believe that she was, but just in case Clark had wanted to try it.
Guardians committed to their jobs, totally, and really didn't have a lot of
time for people that wouldn't do the same. At least the ones she'd met so far.
Even Salle from the front door had taken his joke to the highest level, hadn't
he? If she'd pushed him wrong, he would have beaten her up too, just to make it
work.

There was no need for that level
of secrecy, she didn't think, but it probably wouldn't hurt anything either. It
was certainly more fun that way, so she shrugged.

"I have no clue. Shipping
things this time of year like that
is
strange, but if we pick the order up,
have our people do it, we can have the supplies examined. Really, it's probably
just what it seems, but I still need to meet everyone I can, and when possible,
get in on their good side. Now, I should play for you. Unless you need
something first?" Like to do her job and not have an annoying first day
Apprentice tell her what was what? That seemed pretty reasonable, now that the
thought occurred to her.

The woman settled behind the
desk, and waited to speak until Pran passed over her cup of tea. The metal bulb
was still in it, but a lot of people took it with different steeping times. She
only knew that from watching Judge Clair, and from what a few plays had said.
She didn't drink a lot of it herself, that not having been a big part of her
life so far. Niceties like tea, or coffee.

Luckily Clarice seemed to take it
without honey or milk. Otherwise a certain new Apprentice would probably have
to run and get it. Fair enough, but she really had no clue where to go yet. For
that matter she didn't know where to sleep, either.

The older woman, and beneath her
pretty face makeup she was at least fifty, took the cup and then placed the tea
bulb to the side of her desk, just setting the thing down on the wood, or
trying too. Running, Pran grabbed the moist and hot thing with her hand, and
dashed to the other room, to get it dumped and clean. It was rude, but when she
came back she sat down in the wooden chair, and started to play instantly,
doing the instrumentals first.

Clarice didn't do more than watch
her. Blankly. It was unnervingly cold, suddenly. A trickle of fear started into
her gut, as the woman looked at her with something close to...
anger
. When
she finished her second original piece. Then, because it was her plan, she
sang, and saw the woman cringe several times. It wasn't that she'd gone flat or
anything, Pran didn't think. She might not be the
perfect
Diva, but she
managed all right, in most people's eyes. It was pretty clear that her new
master had a problem with her however.

Well,
that
was less than
good. She smiled, and finished all of her songs, the new ones that she'd come
up with herself, only to find the woman shaking her head, sadly. It was a dark
thing, and there was a small hint of glistening in her eyes.

"I'm
so
sorry Pran.
You simply don't belong here. This is the wrong place, completely."

The words weren't menacing, or
even cold, but they still caused the blood to run from her face, or so the
numbing sensation in her lips said. It was just about the worst reaction
possible, and would make the rest of her duties there harder. Even if she were
awful, the woman was sort of stuck with her. At least until Clark was done with
whatever he needed Pran for.

Then the woman continued, a
gentle smile touching her lips.

"No, you
belong
on the
main stage in Portsmith, playing for thousands.
Not
stuck away in a
cubby like this. I think that we're using you wrongly, incredibly so, placing
you here, with a mere functionary like myself. Unfortunately, we must all serve
as best we can. Those were your own work? I'm not familiar with them, and I
would be otherwise. They're all good."

Pran blinked, fighting the tears
away. The woman, clearly enough, was a
beast
. If a flattering one.
Portsmith... That was the line they were all fed at the art school, wasn't it? Still,
dreaming of it was a thing she'd never bothered with herself. It was the kind
of thing that didn't really happen. Not for real people. Of course the woman in
front of her had sung there, rather famously, but that just showed that her idea
had been correct, didn't it?

Clarice clearly wasn't
real
.
After all, who wore makeup that early in the day? No,
she
was a being
that was larger than life.

"I'm better in other areas.
Sculpting for instance. I could make something for you, if you like? I prefer
stone, but wood, or even clay will work. There's a lot in the other
room..."

Looking over her shoulder at the
door, the other woman nodded.

"Use whatever you like.
Please let me know if something is about to run out, however? I can requisition
it, if we know in advance. I should do an inventory some day, but I never
manage to actually get around to it. Now, however, we should have lunch, before
my meeting at one. Here, I'll handle that."

Getting food there wasn't hard,
it seemed. All her new Master did was go into the hall and ring a little hand
sized bell on a tiny black ribbon, next to it. Pran had seen it and thought it
strange to see inside a place, but had noticed that all the doors she'd passed
had them. A half minute later a young man, who looked about fourteen and
reminded her a little of her friend Sollen from school, ran around the corner
at a brisk, but controlled, trot.

"Something for you Bard
Clarice?"

The woman put her hands together
and smiled at the boy.

"Yes. Two lunches, please,
Walden. This is Bard Pran. If she asks anything of you, please try to help
her?"

"Yes'm. I'll run get that
now. Do you have any dishes to go back?"

The Master Bard shook her head,
but Pran rolled her eyes a bit.

"We
do
. A nice big
stack of them. Here, I'll get those." She'd already dumped the food off of
them, since it was all dried anyway, mainly being stale bread. It wouldn't make
the refuse bin reek too much if it took a few days to find where to empty it.
Her bet was that she could ask Walden about that to good effect. Maybe even a
lot more than that.

If he worked that floor all the
time, and took care of everyone, that would mean he had a lot of data, she
didn't doubt.
If
he wasn't a download. Maybe even if he was.

His eyes didn't look upset to see
the double handful of plates that was brought out. Really, he just took them
with a matter of fact air about him, as Clarice smiled.

"I knew they were in there
somewhere, but I never have the time to clean up like that. Very good. Thank
you Pran." It was a bit too polite to be to an Apprentice, really.

Then, the woman had called her
Bard
Pran to the boy, so it might be part of her plan? Passing her off as something
other than what she was? Then, it might have just been her being polite, too.
The real explanation didn't come until the door was shut again, and then came
as a whisper.

"
Darling
boy, but he
will
try to get you into bed if he thinks that's an option. He's even tried with me
a time or two. It didn't work, mind, but it is flattering to the ego. Or
would
be if he wasn't dead set on getting
every
woman he met under the
covers." There was a bit of over-exaggeration there, but it was nice to
see someone that wasn't a bit dead behind the eyes again. It had been hard,
that way, since she'd left school. Only Bard Ben and Doctor Millis spoke that
way, other than her.
Most
people just acted like they were reading their
lines for the first time. It was a bit boring.

Pran just accepted that the idea
was to fool the boy into thinking she was a bit higher up than she was, so he
might not take a swing too quickly. They weren't
that
different in age
however, and he was cute. Young though, at a guess. Too much so, she thought.

That left her at a bit of a loose
end, for a moment, she realized. She started to pack up her instruments, so
that nothing would get on them, as Clarice settled back behind her large blond
wood desk. Gesturing at the guitar, and waving a bit with a smile got it handed
over. She played it a bit, but just to do some scales, judging the workmanship
and tone. It wasn't perfect, Pran knew.

"The wood is a bit too
thick, but it was unkilned when I got it, so I had to force dry it under the
heating vents on an airship. If I made it much thinner, it would split in a few
months. This way it will probably work for a year or two, before the warping
does too much damage for it to remain useful. I can make better ones, but that
takes time." The proper materials too, but the ones she had weren't bad.
They just weren't
high
quality.

"There's a place I go in
town that does good work, if you don't mind paying a bit more. These will work
for now, but if you're going to use them a lot you'll want something better.
Fast too, since I'm thinking that you shouldn't be hidden away for too long.
Not with your skills. A few months, however. Are you willing to play some small
gatherings, do you think? There's always a demand for that, and if we use the
excuse that you're building contacts here, well... we can use that to let you
build
contacts
. It kind of seems like a good plan, to me." There was a funny
look on her face that said she was being playful, but Pran nodded, playing
along.

"That sounds good. Art work
too, if anyone needs something done? Whatever will put me in the right places.
Sex, I suppose. I'm not very good at it, and look like a boy, but if that works
for anyone, I can try it." She didn't sound thrilled with the idea, she
knew. Being used that way would almost certainly bring up bad memories from
when she was at the Grange. The orphanage had been a bit like some descriptions
of hell that she'd heard, over the years. Only with fewer fiery pits, and more
torture. As
much
, at any rate. There had only been a little bit of
burning though. For her. Others had burned, more than once.

Thinking of that, she went and
tended the fire, while Clarice plunked away at her lute, not looking at her.

"We'll avoid that, if we
can. Just having you make friends is a big part of your job now. I mean that,
too. You're trained to perform already, and create things. What you need now is
a way to build a good position, and meeting people, turning them into contacts
and friends, is the goal here. It has to be in a job like this one. You fully
deserve a big stage, and we don't have one for you, so that means doing things
in smaller bites. Speaking of which, you should go and see about setting up
that dye shipment? Even if it's not possible, knowing that you tried will have
the Dyers Guild thinking favorably of you. That might not help much, but you
never know when a wedding or birthday will come up, and a good musician
needed."

Other books

Sword of Mercy by Sydney Addae
A Light to My Path by Lynn Austin
My Dear Jenny by Madeleine E. Robins
Lucian by Bethany-Kris
The Birds of the Air by Alice Thomas Ellis
Barbary Shore by Norman Mailer