by P. S. Power
"True." That was all he said.
It was a bit spooky.
Chapter five
There was a decently large surprise then, as Clarice looked out the wall of windows to the right of the room.
"It looks like it's about time to go home then. We can just leave the fire. The floor boy will see to putting it out for us. Judge..." She looked at the older man, who was about her own age, and floundered for a bit. Pran saw that and stepped in, since it was probably her job anyway.
"Brown. We should get you back to your room first." Her plan was to learn where it was, but the man simply stood up and seemed ready to try going on his own.
"I got here well enough, and can again in the morning. If I don't wait too long I should be fine. I'm afraid my night vision isn't up to the task of taking moonlit strolls right now." He didn't explain the whole thing, so Pran did, just short handing the real story for him. They could go over it all the next day, except that Bard Clarice seemed to already know that part of the story. It made sense, given her job.
"I'd heard. You're recovering from your ordeal?" The concern in her voice seemed real, and she glanced at the man, who really was looking right at her face, even in the dim room. That probably meant he was doing better than he'd been letting on.
That was probably habit and fear, as opposed to lying on his part. It was scary being blind, even for a little bit. She could see him doing that. Still, not letting everyone in on that fact made sense to her.
In fact, she let her voice rise a bit, when she spoke, so that anyone out in the hall could make out her words, and went over to the door, to open it.
"The Doctors say that Judge Brown might be fit for work again in four months, if all goes well. He's staying with us here though, so that I can use him as a model for that statue you wanted me to sculpt. We'll start in the morning, but we need to take him to his room now, since his vision is too damaged for things like that. The dark will steal it all, I fear." It was a bit over the top, but that sounded real enough to get the word out. Or would, if anyone was listening.
Clarice got the idea it seemed, and nodded to her, projecting well herself. Probably better than Pran had, honestly. Her voice was less strained and just as loud.
"That won't be a problem. In fact, if you'd like, Judge Brown, Pran and I will do that right now? Are you staying in the commons quarter?"
It turned out he was, but he seemed embarrassed, either by that fact, or that he was being delivered home, like an invalid. Pran went to get her things, since she'd need them, if she wasn't supposed to sleep in the office. When they were out the front door of the building, after a slow climb down the stairs, she looked at her Master, who had the Judge holding on to her arm, not needing to carry as much with her. She had a small folio porter with her, which was a strange case that only artists used, with hard wood sides inside a canvas bag. It was meant to keep papers from being crumpled, while not being too heavy to travel around with. Normally they were used for drawings and paintings, but apparently High Bards used them for notes and things like that, too.
The commons quarter was nice enough that Pran doubted the Judge would feel embarrassed about his accommodations. The two story high buildings were almost right across the street, and were similar to one another, but had different decorations on the outside and took up several rows, if what she were told was right. The traffic bustled through the whole city, compared to what she was used to seeing, most of the people going to their homes or rooms. She could tell based on what they were carrying, which wasn't enough to be out making deliveries for most of them. They did pass Donal, the cart man who was clearly finishing his own day.
She called out.
"Hello! Did the day go well?"
"Aye! The horses did their job and carried people, and I did mine, making the streets here a wonder to behold. How did you find your new Master, boy?" He winked at the others, clearly understanding who Clarice was, and recognizing a Judge in robes when he saw one. He was a city man, and had seen it all before, most likely. Really, that probably meant he'd be a good contact for her, didn't it?
"Not too poorly. I managed to get a bit of work, in two days, playing for a wedding. Twyla and Paul... Um, Twyla is the daughter of the High Airship Councilor. Do you know him?" It probably seemed an insane thing to say, but oddly enough the man smiled and gave a nod.
"I do indeed! I'd heard that little Twyla was to wed, just last week. I should see if Riley can wrangle us an invitation. Are you going, Clarice?" The cart fellow looked over at the High Bard and addressed her casually enough that it was clear they'd met before, and more than once. Which was really just bizarre. After all, most people didn't stop and talk to the men and women that kept the streets clean, did they?
Then, how would she know that? The places that she'd been hadn't really had anyone to do that kind of thing. Maybe it was what you were supposed to do? Check in with each of them as you walked down their street? It would be a great way to make certain you were keeping tabs on everyone, wouldn't it?
Clarice smiled and let her head nod a few times.
"Oh, indeed. Kabrin and I got an invitation the other day. I wasn't aware that Bard Pran would be playing for it, but that's something to hear. She's brilliant. Also a girl, if you can see past the short hair. There's a real story to that though, which I bet Riley can fill you in on. It's one of those kinds of things, and best not spoken of in public." She turned to look at Pran and winked, pretending to be playful, but holding something under that. "There are art supplies in it if you can work out who Riley is in the next week. I wager you won't."
Pran looked at the woman, and wanted to roll her eyes. The whole thing practically screamed what the situation was, didn't it? Why even play a game with it, if Pran could just go in the next day and ask a floor boy about it? That meant it was something that the woman next to her didn't think one of them would know, and that few others did, for some reason. Probably because the man went by his last name at work.
She nodded though, needing the supplies, if that was real. It wasn't like she was being paid for her work at the wedding. That was all just part of the deal to make the special shipment work. Of course if she really managed to pocket forty percent of whatever the Energy Councilor shipped... That would be something.
"The man who runs the basement?" It wasn't clear how much she was supposed to mention about things, after all. Brown didn't so much as blink, and Clarice smiled, but Donal actually chuckled out loud.
"Ah! You're a smart one then, aren't you girl? I feel bad about that now, calling you a boy, earlier. I guess I'll have to make that up to you. Later, however, given that I see more work opening up ahead. Well, some jobs are never done." There was a step then a pause and a happy grin from the old man. "Ah! I know, maybe you could come along to dinner in a week or so? I'm sure Riley would love to meet a clever young lady like yourself." He glanced at Bard Clarice, as if asking permission, but Pran answered for herself.
Like she had a right to, or something.
"That sounds fun. Tell you what, I'll go and beg Twyla for that invitation for you and Riley, and deliver that to him tomorrow. I think I have some ideas he might like anyway. Or not. I can play for the people in his office or something?" Because, Bard. It made sense, didn't it?
For some reason the man laughed, but didn't comment on what she'd said, clearly thinking it was a joke. Probably thinking that she wouldn't be able to do it. If it had been more serious than that, he would have warned her. Maybe. They'd only met twice now, and that didn't mean too much in this place, she bet.
After that they walked for a bit, but halfway down the street Brown pointed at a pathway.
"Through here. It isn't far. Thank you both for walking me home, but I would have managed." Then he stepped off the path, missing the stones and nearly tripped.
It was perfect, since Clarice had to hold him up. It wasn't dark yet, but a nice twilight, and while she could see her way, the man with them was clearly moving more than a bit
on faith and hope. Trying not to look weak.
That was always a good plan.
She giggled, and spoke a bit louder than needed.
"All right, I admit it, I made the whole thing up so that I could find where your room was, in case I want to come for a visit? You did say you were single, didn't you?"
The man rolled his eyes, but found the path and started walking, pretending that there was no problem with his vision.
He also didn't answer, which was a bit strange, but not too much so. She was being heavy handed. Besides, maybe he wanted to be the one to make the first move? It was also possible that he didn't think she was cute enough, being that people called her boy all the time lately, and meant it.
Except for Lyse from Pumpkin Hollow, and the floor boy in the stairwell.
She hadn't forgotten about that thought, though she didn't have much to go on at the moment. The floor boy could have just noticed that she had breasts, if small ones and the right hip structure. Lyse... Now that she thought about it, that one was funny, wasn't it? The woman, clearly slow, had seen what no one else in her small village could. That Pran wasn't a boy, but a girl.
Come to think of it, so had Zeke.
She couldn't remember if Will Butcher had too, because he'd been pretty banged up when they met, but Zeke had clearly gotten that she was a female, even though she'd been wearing heavy clothing and pants, instead of a dress or skirt, when they'd met. It was like the people from her own world, the outer, real one, just saw certain things and made assumptions, but the old people, the downloads, didn't.
Not that she knew that. Or that anyone except Will and Zeke were downloads. Doctor Millis, of course, but he'd seen her with longer hair first. Not long, but enough that she'd seemed like what she was.
Lyse... Well, she kind of made sense. She was slow enough that she might just be able to pull off living in the town she'd grown up in, if she were replaced with someone smart that knew to act the part carefully. Will Butcher had a basement full of cages and equipment to do that with too, not a hundred meters from the woman's home.
Of course, if that had happened, then the man had lied about it, even to the people on his own side. Why would he have? To hide it from her? That might make sense, she supposed. Pran was an unknown to him and could have been someone simply claiming to be on his side. Which had really been the case, so it made sense.
It made her wonder if the gear would still be there, then? If the Techs had an agent still in the village, then they hadn't really lost anything, had they? It was something she needed to learn, if she could.
That got her to shake her head again, and on an impulse, hug Brown as he moved to the door of his building.
"Please come tomorrow? It means a lot to me. I don't have any friends here yet." She sounded young, and plaintive. Also incredibly manipulative. Like her goal really was to get the poor man into her bed.
Which reminded her to ask about that. So far she didn't have one. She could probably scramble something up, but it would be easier if she knew what the score was that way. If The Lament was still there, which it would be for a few days, she could probably share her old room with Apprentice Roy. At least while she worked out what else she was going to do.
The man managed to escape, but didn't struggle out of her arms too hard, and once they were walking away, Clarice started chattering before she could ask about it. She walked firmly and quickly too, since the night air was starting to get cool. Not truly cold, but her breath showed in it as she spoke.
"Kabrin is my husband. Bard Kabrin Smith. If you feel up to it, I'd love for you to play for him soon. His instrumentals are legendary. He mainly does composition now, and directs the orchestra here in Lincoln." She walked along for a bit before continuing. "I'll warn you though, he might try to bed you. If you don't want to, simply tell him no. Unless you want a place in his orchestra, that is. In that case you probably should. I'm not that pleased about his sleeping around, but Bards... Well, you know how they are. He is very talented however, and charming enough. Not too hard on the eyes either. It's simply that having you in the house like this will probably be too much for him, and he'll mess up, again. Normally it isn't too bad, because he keeps that kind of thing at work."
Pran nodded, getting a lot from what had been said. Including the important portion of it.
"I get a room? Or a cot at least? I don't need much."
Bard Clarice smiled kindly, her soft slipper like shoes barely making a sound, compared to Pran's work boots.
"A room, only, but it has its own bath. Also the radio is in it, which means I can put you on the night duty, listening. There normally isn't much traffic on it, so it won't be too bad. Plus, if they bother you too much, you can just turn it off. It's really only supposed to be used for Bard related business, the one I have, but that doesn't actually come up much, so I tend to use it for currying favor with the others. That's why I'm in charge of the Investigation, really. The fact that I'm considered harmless and not that important. Before you ask, yes, that does hurt the ego, more than a bit. When I was elected it was at the height of my fame, and I figured it would be all about people showering me with gifts and accolades. They used to you know, when I was on the stage each night. I was wrong on that score. The other Councilors don't care much about that. Not unless they're having a party. Then I'm popular enough."
Pran didn't really like the sound of that. She'd assumed that the investigation had been given to the woman next to her for a better reason than that. Like she had skills in that area, or secret contacts. This made it sound like it had been dumped on the only person that couldn't afford to tell the rest of them to go soak their heads on the issue. Except, that wasn't right, was it? The Guardians could have done it, or the Judges...
Except that everyone would see those kinds of people coming and stop talking, wouldn't they? That was why she was there, to help get Clark in places. It wasn't about him being too stupid to do the work, just too visible.
"That sounds fine. Hopefully I won't sleep through anything important. I need to be into the office early, since I have some things to set up. I need to go over the music for the wedding party, too. I don't suppose you have a dress I could borrow? I just have this, and a second set of them. I'll warn you though, the last time I borrowed anything it was from Judge Clair, and I destroyed it."
That got her laughed at, but in a friendly fashion.
"Oh, my. Wine stains?"
"Nope. Tears from running away from people trying to kill me." More exactly she'd been running toward them, but nothing had really happened. It was a good thing, since she wouldn't have been able to do much if she'd caught them at the time.
"You know Pran... you have a lot of good stories. We should put them into song. That, or write up a play about your adventures." It was an offhand kind of thing that Bards, or at least the student ones, often said. Normally about things that were far too tame and normal for that kind of thing. Getting a good mark on a project, or a date to a party. They didn't actually do it though, so it was pretty much considered a joke.
She even had one that she'd actually written up. "In the Rain", it was called. When Pran had played it for Bard Ben he'd suggested that it sounded a bit too much like bragging. He wasn't wrong really, either.
"Nah. It's far more interesting to hear about the other people. Like Guardian Clark. You should meet him. In fact, I'll see about arranging that in the next few days. Guardian Mara, too. I'm sure you'll like them. Judge Clair could make a good story or two, as well. Or Apprentice Shipman Royce. He once climbed a mountain with two guardians in order to save a town from the Black Plague. In a snowstorm. Then, even though he could barely move, he worked for days to kill all the fleas and tend the dying. Most of the village survived, which Doctor Millis said they probably wouldn't have, unless the medicine had gotten through like it had. It was pretty heroic."
Said that way, it would make a good tale, she decided. A song about Roy, and how he'd helped to save those people. Th
e tricky part was the tune, for her. Other people did it differently, but she liked to work from the music to the words, rather than the other way around. Just to get things started she let the pace of their walking act as a beat for it.
Which Clarice clearly wasn't going to allow. Not right at that moment.
"Here we are. That place up there, on the left?" It wasn't a palace, perhaps, being too small for that, and not made out of stone, or gilded, as her new Master probably deserved. The other places weren't either, and this one wasn't the largest by far, but it was nice, and looked to be about the size of...
Pran didn't really know. Other than the places around it, she'd never seen anything as nice or big. From the distance she'd figured that these places had been more government buildings, to be honest, not personal dwellings. If she rearranged the space it was probably nearly as large as The Lament, she decided. Not just the gondola underneath, where everyone worked and lived, but the whole thing. No wonder they had space to put her in. They could have probably fit all the families in Pumpkin Hollow. That wasn't even her being mean about it.
"What? No drawbridge?" She grinned, trying to make it seem like she wasn't all that close to being overawed by the structure they were approaching. The woman knew where she lived after all, and from the wry and slightly troubled expression on her face, she understood the why of the statement, too.
"I know, I know. Kabrin insisted however. We had to put on a show at least the equal of our neighbors. I don't understand that thinking, but it's nicer to have him happy than not. He tends to be a bit mercurial, at times, if he doesn't get his way."
To Pran it sounded a lot like the woman was warning her about a potential danger, rather than simply carrying on a conversation with her new Apprentice. The thing there was that she couldn't be certain of that. If the man was as bad as he sounded, why did she stay with him? If he wasn't, why make him out to be a sexual monster ready to devour young girls as soon as they came within arm's reach?
