Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3)

by P. S. Power

  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.

  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 warp
ing 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."