Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3)

by P. S. Power

  That left her with a problem still, and she let her jaw clench. After all, it wasn't really her problem, was it?

  She didn't like it, but after the next course came, she looked at her Doctor friend and held his gaze.

  "I'm... Going to have to go to this fantasy world of yours and make sure I can come back and that it isn't a trick. Some other people as well. Otherwise I can't let you do it to those kids. Not all of them. A few maybe, since they're so sick they don't deserve to live right now, but... Well, if it's a trick, I don't want to die either. Can it be done, and is it safe?"

  That got a nod from the three downloads in the room, and a hard look from Clark, who shook his head.

  "No, we can't risk it. If it is a trick, they could put someone else in you and use them to infiltrate. They planned to try it before, with both of us. I was hooked up to the machine at the time, so it seemed a credible threat." He all but glared at their friendly Doctor.

  For his part he simply nodded.

  "A very poor plan. I'm sorry for any inconvenience that caused you both, truly. They meant well, but... We try not to kill anyone, so the idea was to have you two replaced, and then flee. That would leave you both alive, inside the system and yet not a threat to our plans. I can assure you however that no one will harm you there. It isn't allowed. No violence is. I think that Pran going would be a good start at any rate. No one would easily fake her musical talent, for instance. We have some very good musicians mind, but they're very different in what they can do. It will be simple enough to ascertain who comes out. For that matter, you don't even have to go all the way in. We have a way of letting you experience it without ever leaving your body. That would probably work best anyway. It's far faster and takes less energy."

  She nodded, liking the sound of that better, though Clark clearly wasn't convinced. Pran clapped her hands once, and smiled anyway.

  "Good! Well, let's set that all up then. We can meet here for dinner in two days? If that won't put you out I mean, Clarice. Or you, Kabrin? We could hold this someplace else, I'm sure." Maybe Captain Mina would let them use The Lament for it? The idea took her for a second, since it would mean fewer chances for people to storm in and take over by force.

  Someone almost had to try that, didn't they? It was foolish and unneeded, so of course they would. People were most often in things for themselves, and if that meant ruining what was best for everyone, well, so be it. Right?

  She decided not to play that game herself, and to take the high road, at least outwardly. Inside, well, she'd survive, whatever it took. If that meant being the one to bring everything down in order to benefit the most, then so be it.

  Was that small and narrow minded? Yes, it really was. Nothing in Pran's world had ever told her that doing otherwise was the right path however. Even staring at the world with more information than she'd ever had before, it was the same, wasn't it? Those with power and influence, with families and people to look out for them, got the best of everything. Everyone else was just used. Nothing more than a hole for someone to fill up, however they pleased.

  She tried not to dwell on things from the past, but it was harder than it should have been. Finally, trying not to seem moody, she went back to her practice for the next day, going over everything, several more times, trying to improve with every note she played. Every breath became dedicated to being more than she was, for a while, until it was time for bed.

  Sleep didn't come easily for her that night, since she had dreams. She hated those. They led to nothing but waking up covered in sweat and breathing hard, with a pounding heart. It didn't just happen once either, since her whole night became about ways for her to fail. First she didn't get Wald killed in time, and he had his way with a tiny version of herself as he choked the life from her little, far too thin, body. Then it was The Lament she failed, not stopping the downloads that were attacking her in time. She watched as they pulled the crew off, one at a time, then killed them all, shooting them with rifles... in the head. The last one was Roy, which forced her mind awake again.

  On the last dream... She merely screwed up playing for Twyla and Paul. Every note came out wrong, and her fingers refused to do what they were supposed to, making everyone laugh at her. Clarice came and took back her Bard title and everyone talked about how sad it was that she'd faked her way through school, never having any talent at all.

  That one was a dream she'd had before, of course. In fact, it had come the first time about two weeks into school, and she'd answered it by getting up early and practicing. This time she did the same, knowing that, no matter what, her day wouldn't be harmed by knowing what it was she had to do.

  Outside her door, on a wooden clothing hanger, just dangling from the brass knob, was a complete outfit. She tried it on, and it was a bit too big, but using the mirror in her bathroom, she was able to tie it down in the right places and give the impression that the slightly oversized thing was that way on purpose. Then she took it off, and hung it back up. There was no need for her to get food on it, or put extra wrinkles into the mix. Part of performance was always looking like you belonged there, wasn't it?

  That meant, since her night outfit was a bit covered in dried sweat, that she had to shower and then put on the still slightly damp clothing she'd washed the night before. It was going to be cold, walking in them to work, but it had to be done. Elsewise she'd look slovenly. Smell that way, at least, which was just as bad.

  The morning was oddly quiet, and she was able to work until about noon, since Brown had come in early and sat with her, chatting as she put his face into the clay. By the time Clarice got there, the pale statue looked enough like the man that the woman sucked in air, gasping in surprise.

  "Pran! That's... Incredible. We should have it put in bronze. I can set that up for you? I have some contacts, here in the city, and it should be a thing we can get a license for." She just stood though, staring at the thing, which wasn't that good. Not yet.

  Pran felt good about what she said, but realized that it might be more about the woman trying to flatter her into making mistakes than not.

  "Oh! Right. I actually forgot to mention anything. Stupid of me. I had a bad night. Dreams. Those are never good." She took a breath, and so did Clarice, getting what was about to happen.

  The High Bard was clearly smart that way.

  "So, Clarice, do you think that Michael Morse was telling the truth last night?" Pran wondered if she needed to give Judge Brown a poke, but the man dropped into a trance state and focused on the High Bard, his face not even seeming troubled by the strange idea.

  After all, she was asking about the founder of their society, as if he were alive and well. At least someone with the same name, which was still strange, wasn't it? No one named their child that. Not that she'd ever heard. Then again, she'd never met anyone with the family name of Morse, either, had she?

  It seemed like a bit too much to dump on some boy just as he was born, however.

  The woman, who was dressed in a lovely white gown that stuck out in the back a bit, with a bustle, and had small pink roses over the whole thing, nodded. Then, looking at the Judge, who was still having vision difficulties, she spoke the words, making their conversation clear to anyone listening.

  "I've known of him for over three centuries, Pran. I've worked with him for over a hundred years off and on and while we've never been close, I've always known him to be the kind to keep his word, whenever possible. More than that, this is very possible. Your plan is perhaps the best chance we've had since the new climate models have come in, over a hundred and fifty years ago. There are some things I'm worried about, but Michael's good will and honesty aren't one of them." Then she stopped speaking and almost glared at Brown, daring him with her eyes to call her a liar.

  That's what it looked like to Pran.

  Instead, the man spoke, his voice very calm.

  "True. What are you worried about, that might disrupt things?" He took over the questioning, as if it were a trial, doin
g it smoothly and as if it were his job that day. While he spoke, Pran just listened, and went back to her work. It was nearly time for food again, and once she got cleaned up and changed, she was putting her efforts into the performance that would be needed later.

  That didn't mean she should waste time until then, however. She was less covered in clay that day, but would still have to wash everything again that night. It was going to get annoying, she knew, since everyday was going to be like that for a long time, if she did her work well enough. For the time being she put that out of her mind and started working on the hair. That took relief carving, removing tiny bits of clay in thin lines, to make it look about right.

  Clarice blinked at her, but spoke clearly, not trying to hide anything that Pran could tell.

  "There are several different groups in the system. One of them splintered off about two hundred years ago, and has formed a rather militant structure. All they do is practice for war. These are minds that have done nothing but assumed they were going to come out here and take over through force some day. That's the Coalition. The Firmament is another such group, except less violent. Their beliefs will be harder to deal with however, since they don't accept that there was even a problem in the first place. Now, these are fringe elements, and they don't speak for the larger whole. Not even close. They're potentially dangerous however. Warriors... Well, I probably don't have to tell you why that could be a problem. The Firmament is made up of those that denied the climate problems that were being caused by their actions however. They tried to blame everyone else for it, saying that it was all a lie, even after people started dying. We should have kept them out of the system, but a few of them, about a million people, had traits that were deemed useful. It was a mistake, and now they think that God wants them to come out here and will allow them to rule you all."

  "True. How big of a threat are these groups? Can they be stopped?"

  That got silence, and finally the woman sighed and looked at Pran, her face a bit miserable.

  "I don't know? They shouldn't be a problem, but that was always the case. I fear that they will be, but I don't know if it's going to happen. The Coalition has people that are out here now however. Ex-military mainly. They're dangerous people, once they have the right tools. They're very well trained. Easily the equal of the Guardians. The Firmament... Those nuts really and truly believe that they're the best suited to rule. Even after hundreds of years of proof that they're wrong, they believe that this was all just a trick, to force them to not believe in their religion anymore."

  Brown nodded, "again, true. Now, I think that I should go and talk to High Judge Sims. I... This is rather important."

  That got Pran to snort, as Clarice looked worried suddenly.

  "No doubt. Still, if you'd get her to come here? I need to get changed for later and start practicing my set again. She might as well read us both, at the same time. Guardian Saran, too. Notice how Clark and Mara haven't been around all day? You can bet they're busy doing that part already, but again, it won't hurt to have a Judge go over this. A few times, as boring as that is." As long as it didn't interrupt her performance later.

  That was the important thing, or one that mattered to her at least as much. Yes, people from the past maybe coming to help mentally ill and tortured people was good, but she had a reputation to make, and a lot of important people would hear about what she did that day. It had to be well done, or it might set her back years, as far as reputation building.

  Brown went off alone to round people up, and she washed up in the big sink, closing the door to the front area. That meant she was stripped down to the nothing at all, and slightly damp when the back wall suddenly opened, bumping into the table that had been set before it. That moved with a slight screech, and not four, but five Guardians stepped out, along with three Judges. Pran wanted to cover herself in panic, but hid that impulse. That would make her look bad. Like prey.

  Mara and Clark had both seen her goods before, she was certain, and Clair had helped her dress more than once, when they were on The Lament. Saran didn't seem concerned at all, being more focused on her current duties, but didn't have a weapon in her hand, just a slightly wary look about her. Brown looked away, smiling, and Judge Sims stared, but directly at her half turned face.

  Tuvin... He was so deep into his watching trance that he did no more than take in that she was there, looking around for threats. It was incredibly professional of him, really. Pran felt herself being a bit impressed.

  "Or, you know, you could all come in the front door? Well, help me get dressed then. We don't want to waste a lot of time on this today. Tuvin, would you go and let Clarice know that you've all invaded? Then go and get the second floor boy, Tims? Maybe get some food in, too? I shouldn't eat anything messy, not if I'm changing first." She moved to the clothing and started to put it back on, which got Clair over to help her.

  Tuvin didn't respond at all, until Saran nodded to him.

  "That sounds like a plan. If you'd see to that?"

  Almost without notice, seeming to vanish from where he was, the boy was at the door, and through it, then there was gentle speaking from the other side. As soon as that ended, Clarice came in too, while Pran was still half clothed. The woman looked at the assembled people and rolled her eyes.

  "That's a different way to handle things. Come now, let's allow Pran some small measure of dignity, shall we? Look at the statue she's making first. It's only partly finished. Isn't it amazing?"

  It was a bizarre thing to worry about, but Saran looked at it closely and so did Judge Sims. Clair glanced over, but didn't move to examine it, being busy helping to tie things into place.

  Lifting her left hand, Saran nearly touched the face of the thing, but didn't. Two fingers hovered over the surface, as her face softened.

  "This is near as good as I've ever seen. You should find a place for this, Farley." She looked over at the tiny Judge Sims when she spoke, the name seeming strange and foreign, Pran not really having heard that the woman had a first name before. Of course it wasn't really going to be Judge, everyone knew that, but it was still discordant.

  Until the lady in question smiled, looking first at the artwork and then the subject, Brown. He had a first name too, Pran bet.

  "I think that can be arranged. The training center could use something in the courtyard. How much would that run?" This was said to the High Bard, as if her strange circumstance had been forgotten.

  "I think we can probably let it go for about three hundred. It will be in bronze, so that's actually more than a fair price. I don't want to rob Pran of her percentage, but young Bards always have to struggle a bit. It builds character."

  That got a chuckle from the older people, and a smile from Clair, but Pran ignored it. After all, there was real work to be done, and these people looked like they wanted to take her whole day up on things that were planned for the next. It was wasteful, as far as time and resources went.

  She needed to practice again, and make sure she was ready.

  That and get something to eat. Being hungry wouldn't make her play better, after all.

  Everyone else acted like that couldn't possibly be on the schedule, not when there was all this other stuff to deal with.

  They were wrong about that, clearly. That was all.

  Chapter twelve

  The wedding was a lot sweeter than she'd figured on it being. For some reason, Pran realized, her idea of what a real wedding would be involved a lot more exacting recitation of lines, long speeches and possibly a fight scene throw in. When no one decided to contest the ceremony, she nearly did, just because it seemed like someone had to.

  There were a lot of people there however. In fact, she counted a little over two hundred, and more people came for the party after that, because they'd had to work, earlier in the day. About three quarters of the people from The Lament were there, all in their nicest outfits. That included Roy, who smiled at her just before the party got started, but didn't bother
her. She was busy, getting set up, anyway so didn't do more than smile back, trying to be friendly.

  The rental hall was right next to the chapel, and was lovely. Everyone used it, in Lincoln, if they had the funds to afford the place. Apparently it was being paid for by Jacques, and Twyla's mother.

  Who wasn't Captain Mina at all.

  It was High Dyeing Councilor Times. The woman had sat in the front row, and beamed at her little girl, even as Jacques shot the occasional hard glance over at her. Given that he thought she was some pretty foul things, that was probably to be expected. They'd gotten through the hard part however, and if either of them ruined her performance by getting drunk and fighting... Well, she had plans for that. Not from them in particular, but anything that had drunk people at it, could be trouble that way and you either practiced your responses, or you flailed about, looking like an amateur.

  Most of her songs, after the first one, were good for dancing and would get more bouncy and light as the evening wore on. She'd contracted to do ten songs, but worked out nearly twenty, most of them very popular pieces that people should like. That would be for later, though. After the one that Twyla had requested first. The Seven Circles. Apparently she'd heard Pran play it before, and really liked the variations she'd done on it.

  When she played, everyone went quiet, even though it wasn't a concert and she was supposed to be the background music, nothing more. At the end of the piece, as she silenced the strings of her lute, no one made a sound for about half a minute. That was far too long, and she knew that it hadn't been a failure, so she just started into the next one. People were standing, with only a few being at tables, but they didn't even dance until she switched to a light and popular guitar piece.