Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3)

by P. S. Power

  Not all of them were bad though. Even the Firmament wasn't evil, really. Or that Remembrance group. Lacking in common sense, possibly, and not very willing to adapt to change, but that wasn't the same thing. Good people did things like that all the time. It was too easy to see everyone else as bad, if they didn't agree with you, wasn't it? Pran probably did that a lot, but didn't think it was the case this time.

  Even Dovish and Tammy were just hurt and lashing out. She'd shot Tammy, for instance. Then the woman was taken away, put in a cell, and tortured for information. It wasn't shocking that the lady might be a little upset about it all. Yes, she'd needed to be stopped in the first place. Pran didn't doubt that at all.

  Dovish... It was a mistake to take things out on her or Donal, but understandable. The man had made mistakes. Who didn't?

  The night wore on, which she counted on the bells.

  Everyone was worried, and it showed in the little things they did. Clarice fussed over her, offering constant sips of cool water and broth. It was enough that Pran finally had to ask her to stop, before the stitches split on her stomach.

  Doctor Soros kept going over plans, most of which centered on the idea that things were about to fall apart. That Donal was already dead, or mutilated, and that these savage people of the new world would take it out on the rest of them. Punishing them with attack and torture.

  On the seventh or eighth iteration on that theme, Doctor Millis stopped him. Gently.

  "Except that these people are less violent than we are. We, the people of the System, are the ones that brought danger and harm into this world, aren't we? Oh, they aren't perfect. No one ever has been. They aren't savages however. Less technologically advanced than they could be, but even that is our fault." He stopped and looked Pran directly, his face calm and ancient.

  "How is it your fault? You saved everything." That was the history lesson, at any rate.

  "Sure. I did, by making up rules that more or less punished generations of innocent men and women. The life you have isn't hellish, but it isn't free either. It's the one I gave you, you know. I was the one, the single person, that decided we couldn't sustain the numbers that we had back then. People were dying, in the billions. Disease, mainly. It was the poor sanitation, the wars, the lack of clean water to drink. So I commissioned the System, in an attempt to save the knowledge we once held. Then... I forced those that survived to give up almost everything. You don't even know what's gone now, it's been so long. This used to be a world of wonders."

  Pran wanted to shrug, but knew better than to try.

  "It still is." The man seemed doubtful, but she rolled her eyes up at him, as he sat about ten feet away. "Think about it. We aren't poor and crippled creatures. We do everything that's needed. We have art, and science, and... people mainly get to eat. Maybe it's not the same as what used to be, from what I heard, but we don't starve, or..." She ran out of things to say, or nearly did.

  After a second, Pran let her eyes close.

  "And... just recently I heard a rumor that we might be having some new things coming. Weird people from the past are giving it to us?"

  That got a laugh, from Bard Clarice. It was happy enough.

  "Things do seem to be changing, don't they?"

  There was a muttering that she didn't understand, from Doctor Millis. It was a bit muted, but he turned away.

  Almost embarrassed. Because, as Michael Morse, he'd had to give people less than he thought they should have. Riches and splendor wasn't their lot, and he seemed to feel bad about that. Like wealth was the only thing worth having? Pran would have given up every chance of having a wonderful house like the one she was in currently for a real family. To have ever had parents that loved and cared for her, even. Her friends were worth more than all the techno tricks that ever existed, to her. Even these people with her now were.

  Pran didn't want to argue the point, but nodded at the High Bard. It hurt, but had to be done.

  "They always do that. Change. Hopefully this will be good. If not, then we start over and try again. That's what you did, wasn't it?" She managed to fix the old Doctor, the former leader and creator of the society she lived in. "Things stopped working, so you did it over. Until you got it right."

  The man didn't speak, but there was a sad and slow smile on his face.

  A commotion came from the front door then. It wasn't loud, but after about ten seconds Guardian Clark called out.

  "We have him! Donal Cartman is alive. Beaten, but not harmed beyond that. Those that had him captive have been taken to the city jail. Also alive." Guardians didn't kill, if they could help it. That was part of their training.

  Pran got up, while everyone was looking toward the front of the house, and started to hobble that direction, to help get Donal inside. He wasn't there, naturally. No, he was taken to receive help. At the door, standing next to the giant Guardian, were several faces she recognized, but they all seemed unharmed. Mara, Clair, and Judge Brown were there. Along with Tuvin, and oddly enough, Tims. The missing floor boy.

  Not missing at all, it seemed. In fact he was the one that spoke first.

  "You... should probably be lying down." His face looked older now suddenly. He was hundreds of years old, even if in the body of someone no older than she was. It showed around the edges.

  Pran grinned.

  "And miss out on all the visitors?"

  That got a few grins, but she was still led back to the sofa in the other room, and helped into a reclining position by Clark and Mara. Judge Clair came and felt her forehead, as if she were ill. Well, she might well seem that way, being a bit pale and all that. Blood loss could do that, she was discovering.

  Clark nodded toward her, and then, almost as an afterthought the others that were there.

  "The System people helped get this settled. No lives were lost, though it was close. A few were injured. There will be a trial in the morning. Then..."

  He shrugged, his face turning away a bit.

  Mara smiled, and did the same thing, her eyes moving back to Pran reluctantly.

  "When The Lament comes back, we're on circuit again. There are some things to take care of, but the interesting things will be here, no doubt. We'll be out for three months, barring incident."

  Pran... felt her heart drop. Her friends, the people that were as close to her as her own family should have been, would all be gone then, wouldn't they? Still, they'd be back, and hopefully not forget her.

  "I... I'll miss you. I don't know what I'm doing now. I have a statue to finish getting into bronze, but that won't take too much longer. Then... Well, I'm not really needed here, am I? The whole thing with being Bard Clarice's Apprentice was pretty much about getting us into place here. Now that's done."

  It was a bit sad, but what would be happening anyway. Maybe she could get a new position with someone? That would be about the best case, wouldn't it?

  Looking over at her, the High Bard smiled and nodded.

  "For now, why don't you stay with Doctor Millis and act as liaison with my people? It might mean going into the system yourself, but there are centuries of art that you might be able to bring back with you. Music, poetry, paintings and more. Things that I can't even properly explain, without you seeing them. If that's fine with you, I mean, Michael? You're working off of The Lament still, isn't that right? Pran can come back here as soon as the tour is done, since I need an assistant. You should perform too, if you go into the System. Millions will want to see you. Hundreds of Millions, if they're smart and take the chance."

  That started a long discussion, in which it was pretty clear that Bard Clarice wasn't getting rid of her, as much as wanted to show her off to her friends back home, instead.

  It was interesting to her, to realize that. This woman, the High Bard, had lived in a small box somewhere for so long it had become her real starting point. Her true home.

  Pran agreed to the plan, partly because you didn't tell the High anything no, if you were smart and had any other opti
on. The other portion of things was different than that, however.

  She realized it all in a rush, and had to wonder if blood loss was playing a role in things that night. It was most likely that, but she didn't care.

  Because Guardians Clark and Mara would be there. So would Paul, and Judge Clair. Apprentice Roy, too. Even Doctor Millis and Bard Ben, unless he'd gotten a position somewhere better already. Her friends.

  Her family, as much as she had one.

  That got her to thinking about other things, and finally she came around to something pretty novel in her own life. They were her family, but even more than that, she too had decided that a tiny box was where she belonged. A floating one that moved around.

  And she was going home.

  To The Lament.

  Three months later

  "Get the ropes tight on the right!" Pran called this out and waved to the boy, Bard Sollen, who was on the tension line, next to First Mate Paul.

  The kid, who had grown at least four inches in the half year she'd been gone did it instantly, and shouted back.

  "Tight!"

  "Then, on three, heave!" Everyone was helping, and pulled exactly when she said. It wasn't just the ones she'd brought either, but everyone at the school had turned out to help. Actually, they had more people than could really hold part of the rope effectively.

  It didn't take long to get the new statue of Michael Morse up on the school roof, where she was standing by to move it into place. Nothing fell this time, and the ropes held firm and fast. She'd made certain that would happen, getting the crew of The Lament to help with it. They were an airship team, so if nothing else, they knew ropes. It worked perfectly, of course.

  On the ground, next to the Headmaster stood the School Council. The ones that had sentenced her to remaking the statue. That part of the punishment had been fair. She'd broken the old one, after all. This one was better though. For one thing, it looked like Michael Morse, the way he did now, complete with distinguished lined face and silly ribbon around his neck.

  A tie, he called it. It looked rather unpleasant to her, but she wasn't one to judge based on things like that, was she? Pran was done up in a nice sky blue dress, her hair still short enough that without it people tended to think she was a boy. Unless they were from the System.

  To her surprise, several of the new leaders from there had come in to see her work. Not that it was all that special, compared to the place they lived. She'd been in there, several times, once just to make certain that her mind really could go in and come back out safely, to prove to everyone else that it could be done. Supposedly that meant there was another version of her living in there still. A copy that would keep making art and never die. Not unless the System went down, which wasn't too likely to happen for several hundred years yet.

  Pran wished her the best. It was a lovely place, the System. Varied and with things that actually took work to explain to everyone. She'd tried and would keep doing it, but there was a lack of words in the world to get it done, she thought.

  As soon as the statue, the one that looked like Doctor Millis in stone, was in place, the school Headmaster moved forward to stand on the platform some of the students had put up, and turned, gesturing expansively, first up at the new decoration and then at the man standing in the audience who really did look very much like it.

  Pran did good work in stone.

  "Once that spot held the image of Michael Morse. A man from a past age, that founded this great land. Now, in that same spot, is a different image, of the same man, from that same time! Truly, we live in a time of wonders and greatness! I'd like to thank you all for coming out today, and also, I'd like to thank Bard Pran, for donating this lovely creation to our humble school. Thank you, Pran." It was said graciously, but the man always had been kind to her, hadn't he?

  She just waved.

  This, she knew, was the last thing she really had to take care of before her new life could truly begin.

  The Grange was gone already, shut down two months before. All of the Keepers scattered to other places in their religious order, where they could pray and fast in peace, untroubled by young and tormented minds. The kids from there... Well, not all of them could be helped really, only about half of them. That part had shocked everyone in the outer world however. They were taken into the system, but the others, the ones that just needed help, weren't. If drugs or machines could help them, that was what happened.

  Even the people from Camp Wallace were given that same level of care. No one simply stole all the bodies or anything. Not yet. It was more than she'd figured on really happening, to be honest about it.

  Inside the System, things were more unsettled than outside, since they weren't one people, even after hundreds of years. That wasn't her lookout however, and even Doctor Millis didn't seem all that concerned about it. They'd either come around, or be locked in there forever. The waiting list for a chance at a body was very long, with millions of names on it, but not everyone was being allowed access to it. Those that wanted to take over by force weren't, for instance.

  This however, was the last of her old life, being put away, finally. The school would go on, but she was done there. It was, in a very real way, her graduation.

  On a very fine note, Bard Clarice had let her keep that title of Bard that she'd thrown her way, that first day. She'd tried to claim that she hadn't earned it yet, but that had gotten Kabrin to laugh at her, then offer her a position in his Orchestra again.

  After a while, she headed down the ladder to the ground, to find Bard Sollen talking to Apprentice Roy and Judge Clair. Clark and Mara were about five feet away, ready to defend their charge if it came to it. There had been trouble in the town of Compton before, and that meant being prepared for the worst. That didn't happen though.

  Sollen just gave her a hug.

  "That's much better than the one I have half finished. Carving isn't really my thing. I don't suppose that you know anyone that wants some nice paintings? I've done some decent landscapes..."

  That started a discussion about the fact that his work technically all belonged to the school. After a while though, it wound down, and the boy got another hug from her.

  "I have to leave now. Back to being Bard Clarice's Assistant. You should write however, and make sure to write her, too. It won't hurt, when it's time for her to pick your new master in a year or so."

  Then, almost as one, they all left.

  Pran didn't know what would be coming next, but this time when she left school, her heart felt lighter. Whatever was coming, it was good.

  She could feel it.

  Other works by P.S. Power that you can pick up today on Amazon.com:

  The Young Ancients:

  The Builder

  Knight Esquire

  Knight

  Ambassador

  Counselor

  Slave Line

  The Dark Half of the Sun

  A Simple Darkness

  Ancient Kings

  Lord of the Sky

  The Silence Within

  Kingdom of Stars

  Goddess of the Moon

  Envoy to Earth

  The Keeley Thomson Universe:

  Keeley Thomson: (The Complete Series)

  Demon Girl

  Keelzabub

  Mistress of Souls

  Demon Trap

  Demon Bait

  Other Places:

  Shortcuts

  Detours

  Road Blocks

  Other books in the Keeleyverse:

  Christmas of the Vampire (Richard Swirlin, Vampire)

  Friendzoned (Becky Hoader)

  Gwen Farris:

  Abominations

  Monsters

  Strangers and Lies

  Tremble in the Dark

  The Infected:

  Proxy

  Gabriel

  Cast Iron

  Proxy: Reunions

  Cellophane

  Goblin

  Ghost girl

/>   The Lament:

  Without Rhythm

  Off Center

  Missing Elements

  Dead End:

  A Very Good Man

  A Very Good Neighbor

  A Very Good Thing

  A Very Dark Place

  The Greasepaint Chronicles:

  A Fear of Clowns

  Other works:

  Crayons

  Unrelenting Terror (Which no one should read, under an circumstances!)

  Ijime: The Bullies (As Dan Abe)

  Gratitude: A Thanksgiving Story

  Table of Contents

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter fourteen

  Chapter fifteen

  Chapter sixteen

  Three months later

  Other works by P.S. Power that you can pick up today on Amazon.com:The Young Ancients:The BuilderKnig...