by Power, P. S.
Those things just weren't good enough for the High Bard, that was all.
"What I'd want to see, if I were Bard Clarice, would be new material. Anyone can learn a few things by rote and parrot them back..." He sighed and shook his head. "Well, anyone that's good enough to have been schooled in the subject. It takes something special to come up with novel work. Especially ones that don't make your ears bleed, or that scream of so much pretension you want to run pell-mell from the room."
Pran nodded, since the punch-line for that was always the same at the art school. She spoke the words with an innocent tone to them, tilting her head and making it a question, as if little her couldn't possibly have heard it before. Even if they had gone to the same facility.
"It's all right if they scream, as long as they stay put for the whole show?"
Ben looked at the far wall and after a few seconds sighed.
"Yeah. I know, it sounded like a joke to me too, back when all we needed was to impress our instructors and make the other kids jealous of our wondrous skills, but when you're playing a place like this, it's really true. Sometimes. If drinks are served, don't count on anyone caring that you can do the seven step fingering for the Madrid Cycle. I've gotten boos, yells and even ale thrown at me from the audience, even when I was in key and playing requests. There's no way to tell what will happen, and really, as long as they stay and don't injure you too much, you have to figure it's a good show." He paused, clearly for effect, his eyes and sage face looking over his lute. "Unless you're horrible and the door is locked. In that case expect to be lynched shortly. People get serious about their entertainment."
That had actually all been in the classes, but Ben was the first working Bard Pran had ever talked to about how it all applied in the real world. It was different than she thought, but not so much that she couldn't handle it.
"That would be a good one to learn. For a rote piece I mean. The Madrid Cycle? I could work some variations, not that some new things wouldn't be good too. I have the Guardians Reel, but I don't think most would appreciate that." She grinned, and then started to play. It was the same each time, since she wasn't just playing random noises, but it was done in a way that made it seem like it didn't have a regular pattern. To her surprise, Ben sat through the whole thing, without holding his head even once. He didn't tap along though, which was pretty close to impossible. You couldn't predict what it was going to do until you learned the pattern. That was the point. It played four times though, and then, at the last instant, what should have been a few notes from the real and natural ending, she stopped, silencing the strings.
Ben actually let his mouth fall open and faked a shudder. Or maybe it wasn't all that fake? It left you yearning for completion and didn't deliver at all.
"Argh. I get it, I've seen them, but... I want to shake you now! I'll never get that out of my head. It didn't finish..." There was enough playfulness in it that she just started playing a tune that had been running through her head for a while. Well, she'd practiced it a few times, but she hadn't set it down on paper, not having any at the moment. The Lament would have some in the storeroom, but she didn't know if writing down music counted as a legitimate use for it. She'd have to ask the Captain, and while the woman was nice enough, they didn't actually spend a lot of time in the same places. When they did, the other woman was always busy.
Still, her playing mollified the man and he waited for several seconds after she finished playing to nod his head.
"Does it have words?"
That part was awkward, since it did, but the story they told was hers. The one from the night she went out into a storm to guard The Lament and her crew, and ended up facing a band of technological warriors. Or at least people that wanted to fight and kill them all. She'd won, and in the song she did too, but it was...
Different. She'd changed a lot of the details. Mainly so it would scan better, and not take half a night to finish. No one really wanted to listen to a twenty-three minute song. That got boring for everyone involved.
"Yes, but... you have to promise not to laugh."
Ben wrinkled his nose, and then shook his head warmly.
"Oh, no. I'm not promising that until I hear it. It's all right, I think I know what it is..." He was being falsely dramatic, and placed his hand on his chest while looking up at the ceiling, to the left. "It's a love song to me, isn't it? Well... It's about time. I mean, I went to an art school for years and none of the girls ever bothered. You'd think they hardly noticed me or something. I certainly wrote things for them."
It took a few seconds for Pran to master herself not to mention that he'd never written one for her, but she managed to fiddle with the tuning knobs long enough for that almost overwhelming, and clearly stupid, desire to pass.
"In The Rain." She started playing first, since there was an introduction and sang the words with good projection, even though they were alone in Ben's room. It was also his workspace, and four times bigger, or more, than what she shared with Roy.
It all worked pretty well, since she couldn't help but polish things as she worked on them, and instead of chuckling at the end, given her hubris, making a song about herself, Bard Benjamin just nodded.
"That's good. I see what you meant, about not laughing. Even making it so you faced four men in the dark, instead of fifteen, it seems almost like an exaggeration. Especially the part about the Guardians giving the young Bard Apprentice a Kinetic Pistol like that. Everyone knows they'd never do that, don't they?" He smiled, since Clark had, and she'd even managed to use it. Not well, as it turned out, but it had stopped the metal carriages when nothing else would have, which had sort of been the point at the time. "Also, the girl in the song was afraid. I'll bet you never were."
The words were a little grudging, rather than being proud of her. Or maybe it was jealousy? It was a good story, really. Pran just nodded.
"I wasn't, but that was the drugs that Clark had given me, so that I could stay awake and pay attention long enough. Though... There were parts that I was still pretty certain I was going to die. Most of it, really. Things also hurt. Those metal carriages hit hard, even moving slowly."
The full Bard just shrugged.
"Don't let it bother you. I won't be the last person to feel a bit less manly after learning that's all true. So, that's two pieces. You know, you really should do a love song as well, if only to show you have enough range for it." This bit of advice came out sounding serious though, and worse, even though there was a sudden urge to punch him in the throat for having said it, she knew he was right.
"The only real problem there is that I've never been in love at all. I've never even kissed a boy. Not that counted at least." She dimpled at him, and Ben sighed a bit, but didn't deny the fact. It hadn't been aimed at her even, the hallway had just been dark, and she'd come around it at the right time. That was all.
Instead he looked at her seriously and took a half breath. It was what they'd been trained to do when speaking, if they were afraid their voices might shake at the wrong time.
"But how many times have you been kissed when it didn't count?"
Pran stood up suddenly and walked out of the room. She still had the guitar in her hand, but didn't stop, and didn't call back to the man, even if she was being horribly rude. She managed to stop herself ten feet into the wooden hallway, near the door where the prisoner was staying. In the sick room rather than one of the cells. Those were on the other side of the ship, almost exactly.
A bit of noise came from within, and sounded like struggling, so she popped the door open, half expecting an escape attempt, or that the man was in his death throes. It wasn't that, at least. Instead he was sick, and covered with a sheen of fine sweat that glinted a little in the pale light from the window. They wouldn't bother with lamps in the sick room, unless the patient needed them for comfort.
"Doctor! Doctor Millis! Come, quickly! The prisoner..." She didn't have the needed words to describe everything, not without the man being prese
nt, in which case it wouldn't be needed. He didn't come very fast, having clearly been napping in his own room. At least he wasn't wearing his jacket or tie, and his white hair was wisping over to the left side, which almost never happened. He was a dapper and tidy man, normally.
"What is it dear? I thought I heard yelling, is everything all-" He stopped in the door, and then moved with decent speed to the bedside of his patient.
Bard Ben moved in behind him, staring a bit.
"Infection?"
That was what Pran would have guessed too, but the Doctor actually bothered to check, looking at all the wounds and rousing the man enough so that he could grunt yes or no about where it hurt. It wasn't that useful, but the old man managed to turn it into something that made sense to his trained mind.
"I don't think so. It seems more like food poisoning, really. I can hardly credit that. Our cook is superb, and most cleanly. Plus, no one else has anything like it going on. Before that, in the jail, well, I don't think he had anything to eat at all for some time. I'll need to tend him rather closely. If he dies from the ill treatment he received, that will open a whole new bag of rotten apples, won't it?" He got a cool compress, wetting it using the ceramic jug next to the bed and then blinked up at Pran, looking at her instrument. "Were you coming to play for him? That's a most gentle thing to do. I don't know if he'd appreciate it at the moment, but perhaps later, after the worst of this breaks?" The man liked to listen to music himself, she knew, and didn't have a problem sharing treats, as long as he could partake too.
She nodded, but explained. It wouldn't do to lie after all, since she didn't need to yet.
"I was just fleeing from Bard Benjamin's awkward questions when I heard him, and called for you directly. Of course I'll play for him, or you, whenever you want. We were just practicing for a show in the village tomorrow."
He looked at his patient and then mopped the brow again, which already had beads of sweat reappearing, even if the ship was cool enough for comfort.
"Thank you, dear. May I also call on your aid as a nurse? I know that it isn't the duty of a Bard to attend the ill, but-"
She interrupted him, "what do I need to do? For that matter how soon. I should do some wash for Mara if I can, there's rain though."
Ben blinked at her from the door.
"Oh, um..." Then, without explaining he walked away.
Pran got lessons in brow mopping, helping the man sit up and slowly giving him sips of cool water. Not cold however. Doc Millis was most firm about that point. You never gave a person with a fever of note anything too cold.
"The body will fight to warm itself. To be correct, the drinking water should be no more than room temperature, but most find it hard to drink things that are too warm, unless they're hot. Tepid is a bit miserable for most that way." Then he went into the six different kinds of fever.
Pran tried to pay attention, since it was probably going to come up some time or another. Almost everything did, eventually. Besides, even if it didn't, she learned six new ways to describe being too hot. That could be of use to a Bard.
Ten minutes and half of a good lesson on tending the sick later, Ben came back in with Paul, who walked slowly still, but didn't act like he was in a lot of pain.
"We're going aloft to try and outrun the breeze coming up. Captain Mina said that you won't be in tomorrow if you stay on the ship. Not early. You can do laundry, if you wish?" The way he said it was strange, because it was almost like he was asking a question of her, rather than telling her raw fact.
Then he walked off slowly.
Ben however seemed pleased enough and let it show with a friendly smile.
"Captain Mina seems to think that this won't be too bad, but it could get cold tonight. The wind is from the North and it has clouds behind it. If it was a month or two later, this would be a set up for a snow storm, but most likely not, this time of year. Right now it will probably just be rain. Or we can hope so at least."
After that, he managed to wander away, since it was clear that Pran was going to go into medicine, and needed to study some anatomy charts. She was familiar with them too, after a fashion, since she'd had to study the human form from the inside out, for her stone work. People and animals. That was all anyone ever really wanted in stone. Well, maybe a few relief pieces from time to time, but since most large stone works were contracted by the High Council, they tended to stick to monuments, she'd heard.
She pointed at the picture, and read the words off softly.
"Ah, so this is the bulge at the hip?"
Doctor Millis saw where she was pointing and then nodded.
"Yes, that's right, the Gluteus medius." Then he launched into ten more names that all sounded suspiciously foreign in origin. That made it more interesting, but also harder for her to hold in her head, meaning she had to repeat it a lot and a few times even ask him to say the words again, so she could get it correct. It was embarrassing, but when you didn't know, you just had to learn. It was easiest when you were little, she decided. No one cared about your mistakes then. Not that the Doctor did now either.
No, if anything he seemed impressed that she cared enough to be trying at all. She understood that after about forty minutes, when he looked at her funny and asked her to go over all the main muscles on the body. She got several of them wrong, but the man just corrected her gently and then, after she finished, sighed at her.
"If I'd gotten to you first, we could have made a real doctor of you, perhaps a surgeon. You have fine hands. That, a good heart and a willingness to learn... All of those are rare gifts, young Pran." He let his face go a bit strange for a second and then shook his head. "Forgive me, I meant to say Bard Pran. When you reach my age, everyone seems suddenly young. I half expect to find Paul and Mina running through the halls playing chase any day now."
Pran didn't mind being called young. She didn't even mind him thinking she had a good heart, it just wasn't true.
"Well, two of the three? My hands and willingness aren't that bad. The other thing..." She felt bad saying it, because she wanted him to like her, but soon enough she'd be gone, wouldn't she? A few weeks at most.
For one of the first times she'd ever seen, the man suddenly looked displeased and directed a hard gaze right at her.
"Perhaps I misspoke? A kind demeanor then, rather than a naturally good heart? It doesn't matter, you know. Not over the course of a life. A person that does good things and helps others out of responsibility is identical to one that feels those kind impulses in their innermost self. Life is about what you do, nothing else. Not what happens to you, or who you've been in the past." Then he waved at her a bit prissily and made a funny face. "Not that you should listen to an old man ramble on, but what else are we going to do, just sitting here?"
The answer to that came from the door, as Mara poked her head in, speaking without bothering to knock or announce herself.
"Just got word that we're headed up, Pran. We have an early date in town, you and I, so need to get shelter set up. It's going to be a cold night, so pull warm clothing from the stores first. Sorry to interrupt, Doctor, but we have to move now. We get forty minutes before we're outside." Then she moved, doing it suddenly, heading down the hallway to the right, the back of the ship.
Pran stood and looked at the old man, who seemed at least a little disappointed.
"Don't worry, I'll get Bard Ben to come and help you with the patient. He's up half the night anyway, most days. Duty calls and all that."
The man gave her a tired look and nodded.
"Does it? I can't see why you'd be needed in particular for an inventory. Not that Mara couldn't still use another pair of eyes, but that's just a good reason for neither of you to go, in my opinion. Which is, as I just mentioned, that of an old man. We do like our comforts, and tend to assume everyone else does too." He reached out to pat her hand as she passed. "Be careful. Pumpkin Hollow is a troubled place right now. I can't exactly put my finger on it, but something isn't right here.
Beyond this man's misfortunes, I mean."
Not that those weren't bad enough. Pran waved to the Doctor, and stuck her head in Bard Ben's room, to find him busily putting things away. It was what you were supposed to do when a craft was going up, even though the ride was normally very smooth. There was a slight sway to the thing already however. That could mean something, as far as take off went. The three she'd been there for hadn't been that hard, but what did she know? Each one was probably a little different from the rest.
"Ben? You're up to be nurse for the night. Mara and I are getting off, so we can be there first thing in the morning to check on the situation in the village." It wasn't going to be fun, she knew. It was already chilly out and being wet and cold were two of her least favorite things to be.
With a groan, the other Bard kept working.
"I can't believe it. You aren't a Guardian and they keep sending you into dangerous situations. I should protest. I'll go and talk to Clark and get them to leave you alone."
Pran cleared her throat, then smoothed the front of her all black, still slightly moist, outfit.
"No. I owe everyone too much to whine about a night of hard sleeping. Besides, Mara needs me. I'll be fine. Wet, no doubt, but maybe there will be another song in it?" She stopped for a second and then started to tap a steady beat with her hand on her right thigh.
After a second she let the words start to come.
"I can see just where it's at, the lost and lonely drown-ed rat... Soaked to the bone, far past the skin, somebody please, oh let me in." She could have kept going, but left then, because the tune was actually sticking with her a little. It was a simple thing, but lively enough that kids might like it.
She was, in fact, still singing it lightly when she started signing out everything she thought she might need from the stores. There was heavy, cold weather clothing, which she decided to get some of, since she didn't really know what would happen. It was easier to take clothing off than to create it from thin air. That meant getting a heavy satchel pack and four pairs of socks. That and some oversized boots to go with them, as well as two pair of heavy mittens. When Mara came in she squinted for a bit, and then turned to the side, so that she could see what was going on.
