Off Center (The Lament)

by Power, P. S.

  It was understandable, after a fashion.

  Pran could get that it was bad to hurt children, or abuse them. In fact it was a thing she personally wasn't a fan of. The part she didn't really get was these people being willing to lose everything to punish the man for having done it, after the fact. Why not just let them take him away to a camp? If he was guilty and it wasn't Kevin that had done it. If that was the case, well, then they could take him instead.

  She didn't like that part of herself very much, but she really didn't care who was held responsible for the crime that had happened, as long as they got it right. That wasn't her job though. Really, guarding prisoners wasn't either, but Clark had wanted an extra body along, just in case, and Mara, the other Guardian on The Lament was still having a bit of trouble seeing. Not a lot, but the attack that had left the Judges temporarily blind had gotten her too, since she was in a trance at the time, and observing the prisoner that had released the flare very closely. Pran had managed to look away enough not to be hit very much by the brilliant light, which was all that had saved her from the same thing.

  Luckily they were all recovering, even if it was taking a few days. There was some worry that the older Judge, Brown, might have permanent damage. That would be really bad, since the Judges needed to use their eyes in order to work. Her friend, Judge Claire, was going to be all right though, and could even walk around without feeling everything now. It had been scary for a bit, and there had been talk of taking all the judges away, back to their center, to be taken care of long term.

  Instead they still had Claire with them, which was nice. Pran liked her, and the younger Judge was very nearly her friend, even if they'd really only known each other for about a week. A little more than that now. It just seemed like a lot longer, because hanging around with these people on a council vessel was a lot more interesting than anyone had ever told her. At least as long as "interesting" was given as being dangerous, with her being put in situations like this.

  She went back to her walking guard, trying to do it right and failing still, as Clark watched the prisoners from the rear. No one called her names this time at least, which was nice of them. The last time something like this had happened the Creedy brothers and their relatives had all started in on her almost instantly. It was all, cunt this, and bitch that. Not that she'd never heard that kind of language before, but it had been a while since it had been directed at her, at least without a bit of grudging respect involved. At school it had happened a few times that way. When she beat everyone for special awards or favors.

  She smiled, which was noticed by Roy, who was driving behind her, since she turned suddenly to jog in front of him. The man didn't question her on it, but did shake his head a bit. What that was about she didn't know. Hopefully he'd only been checking out her behind and was afraid of being caught, rather than thinking she actually liked this kind of thing. She didn't.

  Not... really.

  No, it wasn't that she thrived on violence or excitement even, it was just that she liked to feel useful. Because that would mean that no one was thinking about getting rid of her yet. That fear trickled through the back of her mind constantly, even as she traveled to meet her new Master. It would take a few weeks for that to happen, and she kept expecting a call to come in over the radio, which was a secret old-tech device that they used to communicate with the airships in the field, telling them not to bring her.

  It wasn't like she'd auditioned yet or anything, and without that...

  Well, she needed to prove herself, which meant finding some time to practice soon. If proving her skills wasn't the very first thing that Bard Clarice asked of her when they met, then Pran had been taught only lies in school. That was actually possible, because some of the things she'd been told had been untrue, she'd found, as soon as she was free of the place. Being ready wouldn't hurt though. She'd need to have some instrumentals, naturally, as well as a few new stories to tell, and some songs.

  Bard Clarice was the High Bard Councilor, but had gotten that position by first becoming the most popular singer in their section of the world. She was still famous for it and only sang for audiences a few times a year. What that meant for Pran's performance training, she didn't know, but it would be a good experience no matter what, even if she was just going to help Clark and Mara find spies. At least Clarice knew about that, so it wouldn't be some horrible shock or betrayal later.

  Pran shook herself, realizing that her thoughts had lulled her into just jogging, like a regular person, and her mind had been drifting away, into a creative fugue. That was fine, of course, for a Bard, but horrible for even a pretend Guardian. She dropped back into the watching mental state and tried to hold it. Mainly failing still. On the good side, no one jumped them again, and the little line of prisoners got back to the airfield about twenty minutes later. That was slow going, since they'd only traveled about half a kilometer over all, but letting the wagon jar and bounce would be cruel to the injured and beaten man in the back.

  The Lament looked like it always did when tied to the mooring posts. Huge and cream colored, the lines coming off of it looking too slim to hold anything, until you got closer and realized that they were each as thick as her wrists and made of thousands of threads. The only person out front, rather than in the gondola section, was the First Mate. Paul. He'd been injured in a fight, a week before, but had a chair out, as well as a small metal fire pit, and an air rifle from the armory. He didn't stand, holding his post instead, like a real guard would.

  Clark didn't move to the front, since he was responsible for the prisoners, which meant Pran was the one to jog over and explain things. She thought that was how it was done. The truth was that she improvised a lot of things in her life lately, and just hoped it was enough for people to understand what she meant. It more or less had been working.

  "Um, the one in the back with Doctor Millis is the man we were sent for. These others..." She could have claimed they were prisoners, who needed to see the Judge, but if she did that, they might well end up in trouble. That was always a danger when you faced one of that sort.

  They hadn't been planning to ambush them so they could save Will Butcher, most likely, had they? They were just regular people though, and hadn't had a chance to even step out of the brush before being fired on. They'd only had sticks too, which could have been about anything, right? She shrugged, making it seem lazy, telling as to the real situation, and giving a bit of a warning at the same time. Or that was her intent, if she pulled the complicated movement off. "These men came with us to help make certain the prisoner got in all right. They forgot to tell us about that, so I shot two of them by mistake. It's horribly embarrassing, but, you know, I'm a Bard, not a Guardian. Oops?" She grinned, and actually made herself blush a bit, so that she'd seem to be actually embarrassed.

  Paul nodded, his unshaved face showing just enough silver to give him character. He had lines around his eyes, but wasn't old yet. Not even forty, she didn't think.

  "Well, they should have mentioned that part to you, but I'm sure the help was appreciated. Are they going to need the wagon to get back into the village?" There was a hard look to him, as if he were contemplating violence if anyone said the wrong thing, but Apprentice Roy got down and patted the gray horse, petting its nose a bit.

  "I think so. These two could use a bit more work. Pran and I can take them back, I think. It's safe enough, now." He sounded confident, but the man she'd gut shot nodded, holding his weathered hand over the wound still, even though the Doctor had given him a very nice bandage.

  "We'd appreciate that, if'n it ain't too much trouble for you. Young lady there stung me and Rory pretty good. If'n that be allowed, I mean. Don't want to take government resources just fer us." The man was laying the "country hick" act on a bit thick, Pran thought, and wasn't doing it all that well, but it did get Paul to relax.

  Clark stared at the men that had been waiting for them, and spoke with a tone that was almost pleasant. He was clearly a be
tter actor than these others, if nothing else, which wasn't a thing that Pran would have really suspected at all.

  "Thank you for your time, gentlemen. In the future, please make sure to communicate with us before helping. It will save weeks of discomfort."

  The other men, no matter who they really were, seemed to understand enough not to run their mouths at this moment, at least, and the youngest one smiled at her and blushed, then turned to leave with the others. It wasn't that far of a walk, and, as she'd learned over the last bit of time, the air-rifles like she and Paul had just weren't that dangerous. It had been enough to get the men to stop, which was the real point. She'd have felt bad if they'd really been hurt.

  As it was she still felt kind of crummy as the older man limped away, clutching his middle. Doctor Millis called her over from the back of the wagon, then waved at Roy.

  "If you two could help me move Mr. Butcher into the Lament? It would be a great aid to me." He smiled, looking like an old, but gentle man from a play, and fussed with his string tie. Normally that was a ribbon, but he'd changed it today for some reason. This looked more manly, she realized. Still nice, but not fancy, which fit the situation a bit better.

  "Yeah." Roy used a ground tie, which was just a weight with a rope, to hold the two horses in place for the moment, and then clambered up into the back of the wooden wagon like a monkey. He had big ears and a face that fit that image too well, but was young and fit at the same time.

  Pran had seen him without a shirt on several times, and it wasn't a horrible view at all. Thinking that, and not letting it show on her face, she moved to help Will shuffle to the edge, wondering the whole time if he was really the kind of man that would touch little girls, like the towns people thought.

  Worse, what if he wasn't?

  If that was the case, then there was going to be a lot of hard feelings over this, weren't there?

  Chapter two

  Judge Claire didn't even bother trying to read the injured man, "there isn't much point to it, given that he's not going to be able to show the signs of either truth or lie for a while. The shadow in front of my eyes wouldn't help either, but I might be able to manage it, if I tried. Given everything, I can't recommend it. Perhaps in a few days?" She looked at the poor man, an expression of empathy on her rather stately light skinned features. Her blonde hair was put back with a green ribbon tying it loosely in place, and she was wearing all white. That was the uniform, Pran knew, but this wasn't a real robe of office. It seemed more like a heavy outdoor dress. "He needs to be sedated, doesn't he doctor? That would be enough to skew things anyway."

  The old man winked at her and smiled, his wrinkled face not exactly happy, but kind enough.

  "I already have him on poppy tincture. A fairly strong blend too. They weren't planning on keeping him alive much longer, I don't think." There was no comment about why that was, but he sighed and shook his head, standing back then.

  Judge Claire nodded in agreement.

  "That does seem to be the case. We need to ensure that no further harm comes to him. Will keeping him on the ship be enough?" This was directed at Clark, but it was Mara, who was by the door of the sick room, who answered, her voice nearly cheery sounding.

  "Most likely. I hate to lose the travel time, but justice demands to be served. Can you head into town tomorrow? It sounds like there are a few others that might benefit from your services there. I hate these little backwaters sometimes. They're so far from everything that they think the law is more of a suggestion than a rule. Speaking of that, any signs of cult activity?" She was clearly asking Clark, who shook his head.

  Not that they had to worry about the man in front of them on the cot waking up.

  "No. Nothing at all. They're a bit run down here, but otherwise seem a wealthy enough community. The people aren't fat, but they have enough on them to help through winter. This is going to tear at them for a while, no matter what. If we have to ship off ten percent of their men, that isn't going to help, not with the cold weather coming."

  At first Pran thought he might actually be engaging in idle speculation, talking about things that weren't their business, but Mara started nodding over by her place at the entrance.

  "Pran and I will go and check their food and energy stores in the morning. I can manage that, I think. We should let them know we're coming so they can hide the extra. Unless they ticked you off too much for that?" This got directed at her, but Pran didn't understand why that would be the case at all. Why would she be angry at them? For making her shoot a couple of men? It wasn't like that was a new thing for her.

  Clark waved at her.

  "A good point. You and Roy are headed back into town anyway. Do a full walking guard the whole way, since it isn't far. If it comes down to it, try to get Roy back safely, even if it means leaving the wagon. Find whoever passes as a headman or woman here and set that inventory up for us? Call it... What do you think Mara? Just after daybreak?" Clark looked at the woman with her short dark hair and pretty smile, waiting for a real answer.

  When it came, the woman actually seemed to be thinking about something.

  "I... Yes, that will work. I need to do some laundry first, if I'm actually getting back to work. I've been putting it off." Which made sense, given that the lady hated to do it and they'd been moving in fairly short hops the last few days.

  Plus, Pran, her favorite clothes washer, being that she was the only one that would do it for free on the ship, had been mainly asleep or actually on duty, covering the things that Mara herself was missing. Doing wash on the ground meant going outside for it, or they'd end up sitting in a puddle of water, which had to be bad for the airship. Doing it in the cold was going to be less than fun. Especially if it started raining.

  Sighing, Pran wrinkled her nose, trying to make it cute seeming, rather than annoyed by the inconvenience.

  "I'll do two outfits for you. But don't blame me if they won't dry right. Get them out and I'll try to get it done after Roy and I get back." She smiled though and shook her left fist playfully. The left hand, because that signified deviousness, in plays and shows.

  It was a thing that Mara got, faking an overdone wince. After all, she'd seen plays most of her life, just like most people.

  "I'm in for it now, aren't I? My lazy ways are finally catching up to me. Well, let's just hope I learn my lesson then. Otherwise who knows what will happen?"

  It was strange, but the others, except the unconscious Will, all nodded. Then, one by one they tried to get her to wash things for them too, but she put her foot down. Sort of. She really wanted them to rely on her after all.

  "Not until we're in the air. This is a special onetime thing, for Mara. The rest of you can just wait a bit." She nearly relented, and said she'd do an outfit for each of them too, if they needed it, but Clark cleared his throat.

  Loudly.

  "That seems more than reasonable, Bard Pran. We're taking a lot of your time as it is. We should check your schedule with Bard Benjamin."

  That was kind of a temporary thing. Pran was technically being sent off to Bard Clarice for training, but as a fellow Bard, and being a whole three years older than she was, the man was sort of being put in charge of her. It had been real, for about two days, until things changed.

  Life was change though. Sometimes good. Mainly bad. You dealt with it and took advantage of every opportunity you got. At least you did if you wanted to survive, which she still did.

  "He's on Bard time, so I have a few hours. I do need to set up some songs however. That and get access to a wood working shop, so I can make some new instruments. Bard Gina will want hers back." That was a bit embarrassing, since Pran had damaged the case on her lute, throwing it in the mud to stop some would be killers.

  Everyone knew about that, so she just shrugged. No need pointing out how criminally stupid that would seem to any Bard in the world.

  Roy called from the hallway, since he'd actually gotten himself out of the way, like a good low ranked p
erson should have, after they managed to get the prisoner tucked into the cot. In a lot of ways he was a good role model, Pran decided. She needed to study him a bit more, to see if he had traits she needed to copy like that.

  "Hey, if you can get some materials in town, you can use the wood section on ship, I bet. The Captain will have to sign off on it, but she actually likes you, for some reason." He smiled though, and no one said it was a bad idea. Now all she had to do was magic up some wood, cat-gut and glue.

  Well, really she'd have loved to have wire strings, but she didn't think the tiny village of Pumpkin Hollow would have anything like that. It would be amazing if they had a blacksmith, but asking for them to also have a wiredrawing expert was probably pushing things a bit. The problem was that she had a distinct lack of coin at the moment. She didn't even have anything to trade, except some singing and playing. That and a few new tales...

  It was her job, after all, and getting paid for it wasn't that much to ask. Or might not be, if she explained herself clearly.

  "Good plan. I'll ask around first and see if it's possible to find anything before I bother the Captain. I don't want her to get mad and 'forget' me at some port or another." That wasn't a thing that she'd ever seen happen, but her whole ten days on an airship didn't exactly make her an expert, and it had to be tempting, from time to time, didn't it? People could be annoying.

  For some reason everyone laughed like she'd been telling a joke, so she smiled a bit, claiming it.

  Roy waved at the people in the room, but didn't act all that deferential really. He just called out softly, so that he wouldn't bother the still sleeping Bard one room over.

  "We need to be about that then. I have to tend the engines as soon as I get back. Otherwise Captain Mina might actually be dumping someone off at the next field. You people don't want to make my mother cry in shame do you?" The image of the poor and by then no doubt bedraggled Ship's Apprentice coming home, destitute and with hat in hand poured into her mind then.