Off Center (The Lament)

by Power, P. S.

  Then she grabbed the first man that had spoken, who turned out to be the headman's son.

  "Get with Guardian Clark. The big one. Take him to where..." She didn't want to say radio in public, but the man seemed to understand that and didn't make her.

  "This way, Guardian. This way." He moved to the door, leaving the rest of them alone with the dying. They weren't dead yet, however.

  Pran wasn't exactly a medical expert, her eight or nine hours of instruction aside. She could pretend though, she realized, and started to bark orders, as Roy found a wall and slid down it, clearly in as much pain as she was. If not more.

  "I want cool compresses for each of these people and fresh bedding. Their clothing needs to be washed and their bodies checked for fleas. This room needs to be cleaned constantly until everyone is better. Twenty-four hours a day. Get me a broom and I'll do the first going over. Roy, I want you to wash after me. Mara, if you'll check the town?" She didn't know for what, but the Guardian acted like it was just common sense. She stood and was out the door before the cleaning supplies came.

  She made herself move, pretending not to be exhausted the whole time, even though her hands didn't want to open at all, even to put the broom in it. When that was done, she helped Gert strip everyone, as new clothing and bedding came. It wasn't a fun task, since a lot of the people had soiled themselves, unable to stand to leave the room. Most weren't really aware of what was happening either. When the last person was cleaned and dried and the room had been washed, Clark came back, with Dorvish, the headman's boy. Though calling him a "boy" was unkind. She didn't want to bother with his age, but he had a man's beard and a wife that followed him in, wearing a mask of her own. She looked to be about twenty-odd or so and was better looking than anyone had a right to be given the situation. Pran nearly felt jealous about it, for five seconds or so. After that she just couldn't care enough anymore.

  "Clark, did you get word?" She stared at him, feeling ready to drop, and the man nodded.

  "I did, Doctor Pran. Doctor Millis said to tell you he agrees with what you're doing." He lied so easily that for half a second she thought he was teasing her, instead of reassuring everyone else.

  "Good. We need this entire town rid of fleas. No one healthy should do anything else if they have even a spare moment. Everything has to be cleaned, over and again, until there's nothing left of this sickness. The medicine will fix the ill people, hopefully, but we don't want it flaring back up later." On the good side, she decided, she sounded old and tired, as if she were so used to this that she wasn't really concerned. "Also broth for the ill. Something thin. That and boiled water that's chilled to room temperature."

  Everyone looked a little out of sorts over all the work they were expected to do, so Pran snapped at them, not feeling up to stupidity at the moment.

  "Do it. Gert, you and I will work this in shifts. Dorvish too. Three a day for the time being. Everyone cleans if they can, or the Guardians will be set to make sure they do it. Move." She didn't say who was on things first, since of course, it would be her. She was the bossy one after all.

  Plus they thought she was a Doctor. She nearly snorted at the idea, but made herself move. Roy came with her, walking into the snow, going door to door. Clark stood behind them, only speaking when the people inside thought they had better things to do than clean. Sometimes they did, having children to attend or being busy with cooking. Some of the men felt that only women should be made to do such tasks.

  They were wrong. She didn't even have to explain that, since Roy did it, yelling at the cooper that was trying to get his daughters and wife to do it all.

  "Everyone means everyone you lazy halfwit! Your town may die. If you aren't cleaning this place on hands and knees when we come back, I will personally have the large Guardian drag you out into the snow and see you flogged. Do you understand that?" He sounded serious too. Enough so that Pran felt herself being slightly impressed. The cooper alas, was less so inclined.

  "Now, you listen here boy, I don't let any man talk to me in that tone, much less some little snot nosed child that doesn't even have a beard!" He took a step forward, and Pran moved, even though her body ached and screamed at her in pain, taking three odd and out of place steps that had her behind the man, with her right knee nearly giving out under her.

  It had worked though, and to anyone paying attention, or more to the point being slightly distracted by the yelling man, it would look like she'd vanished and reappeared behind the man. He wasn't that big, and Clark pointed at her, his face calm as half the room gasped at what had taken place.

  "That's our Doctor. Not a Guardian, just the medical support. I don't think you really want to find out what a ship's officer can do if pushed to it. I'd suggest cleaning right now. We'll be back in an hour."

  Pran had to try not to limp on the way out. Her knee was killing her, but that faded as they worked through the snow. The rest of the houses were easier to deal with, but the place was large enough that they were not back to the coopers in an hour. It was more like six. However it had happened the place was clean when they came back and everyone was in fresh clothing and bathed. The man wasn't happy with Roy, but he didn't try to fight him either. It was enough.

  They were led to Dorvish's home then, which wasn't the largest place in town, but had a nice kitchen with a warm fire, where they were all going to be allowed to sleep. The man seemed embarrassed by it for some reason, but she was too tired by then to complain.

  "Thank you, for your hospitality. If you'd make certain that Gert is either on duty or sleeping now?" Then she drifted off, until early the next day, when Betty wanted her kitchen back. She got up slowly, unable to move faster, and at least had the pleasure of knowing that Roy was no better off. She climbed to her feet first and unbundled her jacket, which had become her pillow for the night's rest.

  Then, after being moved to the front room of the house, the woman started making them all food. It was clean, even on the floor there, but the town had a public bath house that they could use, with tubs that they were allowed to soak in for free. Not everyone was, but since they'd come to help like they had, the woman that ran the place was "honored" to let them use her facilities. There were no fleas in the wooden structure, which was coated mainly in cedar and nicely scented. The humid air was nice and her knee was looser an hour later when they got back to Betty and Dorvish's for that food.

  The rest of the day was mainly a repeat of the cleaning duty stuff. They looked and searched for anyplace a flea might hide and had every dog and much to their horror, the cats, washed and scrubbed for them. The people too. Most didn't have a problem with it, but a few had an odd aversion to being clean. They thought it would make them sick.

  Of course by then most of them were also more than a little aware that the girl that had come, with her very short brown hair, wasn't a real Doctor at all. She was simply too young for that. When Dorvish mentioned it to Clark the next day, as people were starting to do better, except the three who died in the night, the huge Guardian rubbed at his scar and didn't answer directly.

  "So, is she a Doctor or not?" The man was being a bit pushy, as if someone had put him up to it, but Clark shrugged.

  "Either she's a Doctor, or an Apprentice Bard that trudged halfway up a mountain in a snow storm to save your town. Which do you think will make people happier in the end?"

  The answer the man gave was surprising, since Pran honestly figured that he'd say Doctor, or let the whole thing drop then.

  "A Bard? An Apprentice at that? Amazing! I'll wait until everyone recovers to let them know, I take your meaning. Still..."

  On the good side, the next morning they were able to take the remains of the medical pack and trudge back down the mountain. It was easier going down, but still took nearly as long. There was less wind at least, and when they got back into The Lament, Pran was ready to sleep for a week. Except that she needed to practice, and also had to see about her new instruments. Being tired was an excuse, b
ut no one would care, later, when she wasn't ready.

  So she was a bit annoyed when Paul came to find her in the woodshop, limping still.

  "Bard Pran? Captain Mina, Judge Claire and the Guardians would like you to meet with them, in the Judge's quarters? They didn't say why, but it sounded decently urgent, if I'm any judge of such things." He paused and looked at her, his face moving into a slightly suspicious expression. "Do you really think that I look something like that Zeke fellow? He's a fine looking man."

  She did, which meant nodding.

  "Same build, roughly the same through the face. He's a bit younger, but yes. Pretty similar in looks. Though to be fair, I like you loads better."

  The man chuckled at her then.

  "Ah, good to hear, if nothing else. Thank you. I guess I'm feeling my age a bit, with the gimp leg. So, message passed. I'll be seeing you." He left without looking back, limping away, but with a straight back and a slightly jaunty air to the whole thing.

  It occurred to her that the man might think she was flirting with him, even if he hadn't acted like it at the time. What would she do if he wanted to have sex with her? That idea didn't scare her in particular, she realized. For one thing, she could just say no. Paul was a good man and wouldn't force her to do anything. Besides that, she might say yes. If Roy could go around having fun with anyone he wanted, why not her?

  Then she realized that if she were going to flirt with people, she'd have to do a bit better than that. She knew what to do, but hadn't been bothering much, being too busy.

  She finished cleaning up the space and wiped all the saw dust away, like she'd been told to. It didn't take long, but given the warnings about that she figured that running off and leaving things unsecured and dirty would not make her look good. Then she jogged a little to get to the Judge's chambers. In all it was about fifteen minutes later when she got in the room, to find everyone else sitting there, except Mara who'd let her in.

  Captain Mina had a mug of coffee in her hand and raised it to her as if it were a salute.

  "I hear that you practically saved Hilden by yourself?" She wasn't being sarcastic, but it wasn't true.

  Pran shook her head and looked at the others, one by one.

  "It was a combined effort and mainly the medicine. Plus, we lost a few people. The rest was just me acting bossy and pretending I knew what to do. Acting, it's my job. In part at least." She winked and moved to the empty chair next to Clark, since he was her favorite person. It was still warm, meaning that it was the one Mara had been in, but she moved to the one next to Captain Mina without comment.

  The woman took a slow sip from her mug and looked at the others, smiling a bit. It wasn't a happy looking thing at all.

  "Heh. You know, that's sixty or seventy percent of leadership right there. Barking orders and acting like you know what to do, while everyone else stands dithering. The rest of it is the hard part. Getting it right so you don't lead people to their deaths. Most of the time it isn't that hard." She brushed at her short salt and pepper hair and leaned back a bit. "I was contacted about an hour ago. We have new instructions from the High Council. We're to try and recapture the escapees, if we can. More to the point, Guardian Clark and yourself are assigned that task."

  Pran made herself blink, as if she didn't understand. It wasn't a hard thing to pull off, since she really didn't.

  "Me? What am I supposed to be doing in all this? Sing them into submission? Act them into giving up?"

  Clark wasn't helpful at all, merely clearing his throat, which made a low and rumbling noise in the otherwise silent room. Nearly silent, since the engines were running there was that. Plus the sound of people breathing and moving. Also a tapping foot, which was Claire.

  So not that quiet at all.

  "I've seen you do that before, if you recall? Had a man surrender due to little more than you talking to him."

  She recalled the scene and it had worked. Once. It wasn't the same as being a Guardian. Captain Mina seemed to get that.

  "I asked about it, but apparently High Guardian Saran managed to talk High Bard Clarice into it. She's eager to have you with her, however. She asked me to tell you that personally. Something about her not wanting to have to do her own laundry?" She waited a beat and then laughed at her own joke. "No, really she mentioned being impressed from the reports. Still those are the orders and they come from your own people. You're supposed to aid Guardian Clark in this recovery effort, if you can. Past that I'm not certain why, exactly."

  Judge Claire half snarled at the rest of them. Well, not, Pran realized, at her, but the others. As if these orders were their fault.

  "What are they thinking? Pran isn't a combatant. Not a trained one. I'm going to put in a complaint, with both the Guardian and Bard commissions. This is nothing more than abuse. Placing an untrained person in harm's way is-"

  Clark interrupted her, his voice soft.

  "Don't. Pran and I probably won't be able to find the trail at all. We'll ride for a week out, and then meet back up with you, our due diligence done. There's probably something else going on, and this is simply an excuse to delay our arrival into the Capital. Even in a slow wagon, they'll be so far gone that we won't easily find them now. Not with two of us on horseback. Provided we can get horses, that is."

  Pran made a face.

  "I've never been on a horse in my life. It would be quicker for me to lead one than try to ride, I bet."

  That turned the conversation to first how to ride, and then to when they'd be leaving and from where. A town was picked to the west of Pumpkin Hollow by about forty kilometers. That was the figure that the men might have made in the time they'd had, in a heavy wagon that could only be pulled by one horse at a time. If they hadn't just gotten some saddles and ridden off. In that case, well, it was probably the case and they simply weren't going to find them. Everyone knew that, but Clark still insisted that they go.

  When they finally moved to leave the room, he clapped her on the shoulder.

  "If nothing else you'll learn to ride. A Bard should know horses. This isn't the best time to be traveling, but it's not the worst either, as long as we aren't actually up in the mountains. It will be fun. Like camping."

  Remembering her last bit of camping, with Mara, she shuddered and hugged her arms to her body.

  "So no sleep the whole time and cold, dark nights of warming meditation, while sitting up?"

  "Exactly! Who could ask for anything more than that? You'll want some liniment. I bet that Doctor Millis will have something for saddle sores. Best to prepare for it and get some for me as well. I know how to ride, but that's different than doing it all the time."

  Then he patted her back again, this time to move her along. Sighing she went to find the Doc, since drugging herself might be the only way to get through the whole thing. He wasn't hard to find, just sitting in his office, talking to a woman with the door open. She was one of the crew people. A ship's hand.

  "So take this, one each morning, for ten days. Then come see me again. It should do the trick. It's good that you came in early, it will save complications later." He passed a small paper envelope to the woman and looked over to see Pran and smiled.

  "Ah, just in time. Take them all." This last bit was spoken to the woman that had gotten up to leave. She was thin and decently nice looking, with long dark hair that made Pran feel a twinge of envy. She didn't touch her own hair though, and the woman smiled at her, which was nice.

  When she left the Doctor gestured to the door, which was still open and didn't speak until it was closed.

  "What can I do for you, Pran?"

  She grinned, "liniment for upcoming saddle sores and any information you might have about where Zeke and Will Butcher might have headed? For some unknown reason Guardian Clark and I are being sent to try and round them up. Any ideas?"

  The old man looked at her for a long time, and then shrugged.

  "Many, but I don't know that telling you is a good idea. Liniment I have howe
ver. Plenty of it."

  She let herself be contented with that.

  After all, she wouldn't have said where the men were going to their potential captors either.

  Chapter fifteen

  Saddle sores, she understood after four hours of riding, weren't a joke at all. Pran felt like her legs were being ripped apart at the hips too, which no one had mentioned at all, when they were speaking about the coming discomfort. The only good part about the trip was that, instead of camping out, they were actually stopping in the local towns, and staying at inns, when they could.

  That wasn't for their comfort, Clark assured her, making sure he seemed very dry about the fact the whole time. It was all about finding information. That part was pretty bizarre to her. Why were they really looking for information, about men they knew wouldn't be anywhere near there?

  The large Guardian laughed at her for asking.

  "Because," he grumbled at her as they rode toward the small village of Humboldt, which didn't seem worth the trip at all. "Real or not, we were assigned a task. My guess is that we aren't really supposed to find anything, but that isn't the job at hand. We have to try, and really do our best, since that's what will be expected of us. Why else send us to look for them?"

  Pran rode for a bit, the very gentle and easy to ride horse she had just following along with Clark's black and white plow creature. Calling that thing ahead of her a horse was a bit too far afield, she decided, since it was a beast capable of carrying the man at all. Hers was older and placid, but looked like a horse was supposed to. Not shaggy and rough at all, but decently sleek and just starting to get her dark winter coat in.

  After a while she screwed up her face, knowing that asking the same question again wasn't likely to get a different answer, but still not really understanding why she was there at all. She got about halfway through the line this time before the man interrupted her, his voice still gentle.