Without Rhythm (The Lament)

by P. S. Power

  Once the door was shut, everyone safely in the hall, Doctor Millis sighed.

  "I've seen worse. This is unusual though, isn't it? We normally don't take prisoners ourselves, just have them delivered in capital cases. He didn't kill the woman, did he?"

  "No. It was closer than I like, and I don't think she would have lived, but Pran stepped in just in time. Ten minutes later and we'd probably have just found a body in the morning. It won't influence the case, so this man is getting off lucky this time. Hopefully the retraining will work and he won't have to be executed for trying this twice."

  There was a genuine sadness to the man's voice, matched by his face in the dim light. It was hardly the callous expression she expected at all.

  Then, even if it was late and most of the ship was asleep, they went out to stand first watch, Clark telling her what to do, but not giving her a weapon. It was pretty much what it seemed like on the surface, they just listened and watched. There was a deeper level, where they were supposed to hold a meditative state that allowed them to be hyper aware of their surroundings the whole time.

  "Which you don't know how to do yet. Pay attention and try not to let your mind wander. That's really all there is to it, but it can be a bit difficult at first."

  It really was too, since the events of the last day kept hammering at her. All she'd lost, the fear she felt from the attack in the alley, even now. The ache of her body, in places she hadn't even been cut. It was a lot harder to just pay attention to everything outside herself than it sounded like, which meant she was nearly half a minute behind Clark in noticing that something was coming.

  He pointed it out with a relaxed hand gesture.

  "The carriage. You can tell by the sound. Pay attention, since this is one of our horses. You should be able to recognize it by its walk. The sound of the wheels squeaking too. Stand ready anyway, since it could be a trick or trap. We always have to be prepared, even when it might not make sense. Being constantly ready and observant is a large part of standing watch." He focused for a few moments, his eyes locked on the carriage as it moved toward them.

  "For instance, why are they driving without lights? There are several reasons they might do that, but the prime one is trying to escape from someone following them. We need to spread out. You stay here, off into the night, so you won't be easily seen, but near the camp. I'll call for you if it's safe. If an attack comes, for right now, try not to engage with anyone. Stand back and throw things. Rocks or sticks. Throw and then move, and repeat that as quietly as possible. Remember, Guardians don't retreat in battle." He grinned, actually showing teeth in the dim firelight.

  "At least that's what we tell everyone when we aren't running away. Head to the right." It was pretty clear that he was kidding with her about retreating. It made her sigh and wonder what she'd signed on for.

  Pran took it at a jog, her leg stinging a bit as the bandage slid, wondering what could be wrong, if anything honestly was. Maybe it was all a test for her? Or a game to keep her mentally active?

  Hopefully it was just that, not a real attack.

  Trying to control her breathing she felt around on the ground for something to throw, and came up with a stone the size of her fist, ready to fight if she had to.

  Then she just had to wait, tensely.

  On the good side it really did keep her mind off her own troubles, so at least she had that going for her. For some reason, even though it was out of place, that made her smile.

  Chapter three

  Pran waited, crouched down so that if anyone had projectile weapons they couldn't hit her as easily, not having a clue what to really do. Clark had disappeared and the only sound, other than the wind in the distant trees, was the carriage coming ever closer. Still dark, no lantern hanging to show their way.

  After a bit it stopped, and there was a sound of voices talking in hushed tones. She couldn't really make them out, but it wasn't Claire or Mara as far as she could tell. If they were in the carriage they were lying down or something, since the three forms that got out were pretty clearly all men. It was tempting to move closer, not knowing what was going on, but she had her orders. Besides, for all she knew these men were just there to chat with Clark or the ship's Captain.

  That didn't seem too likely, since less than a minute later one of the men vanished.

  She'd been watching the scene and as far as she could tell he was just gone. She got it long before they did, whoever they were. It was so eerie she nearly thought of ghosts before she realized that Clark had gone in that direction. A moment later a second one did the same thing, going from visible to gone faster than she could really track in the dark.

  The last man let out a scared squeak and ran away from the carriage and the fire, toward her after a fashion, even if it wasn't perfectly in line with where she was. Without pausing to think, she threw the rock in her hand as the man got close, not standing up to do it, which made it more of a hard toss than a good powerful blow. He screamed when it bumped him anyway.

  "God! Help!"

  Then she stood, holding her right hand like she held something, which she didn't, not able to find a second rock yet.

  "Get on the ground and place your hands over your head. That's all the help I can give you right now. Do it or the thing following you will kill you!" Pran waited, ready to... run away actually. Or maybe fight, but if it was possible she decided to avoid that one. After all, she didn't really know how, so it made sense to not try until someone showed her a trick or two.

  "Quick, he's coming closer, I can hear him. I can try and beg for your life, but... Hurry!" Its urgency was so great that she nearly believed it herself. That was what good acting was about after all. The man in front of her, thankfully, seemed to think so as well.

  "God." It was whispered this time, not screamed. He went to the ground, a set of muffled grunts as he went to his stomach.

  Then all was silent for a while, too long maybe. Just as the man made a noise like he might try to get up and run, Pran found a second rock and worked to dig it out, speaking slowly as she did.

  "Careful... don't make too much noise. He'll hear you. We do not want that."

  That earned her another few minutes, which meant that the man was still on his belly when Clark finally came over, just appearing alongside the fellow somehow.

  "Good. Caught two in one night." In a few very deft moves that didn't seem like movement at all, the man on the ground was restrained.

  "Now, please tell me where the Judge and the Guardian are. You have one half minute to do this. I don't have time to play. My charge is gone and that does not make me happy. Tell me what happened to her. Now."

  The man on the ground laughed, a half panicked sound that didn't make sense.

  "Or what, you'll kill me? I'm ready to die. You took my brother. You had no right."

  Pran walked forward herself, but stayed a good ten feet back.

  "Wait, who's your brother?" She had a feeling that it wasn't going to be Paul the wagon driver.

  "Yarl. Some trumped up claim he raped some bitch in town. We stole the carriage from in front of the Doctor's house and came here to get him back. You have no right. He's a good man."

  "What?" Pran knew she shouldn't speak, but her nerves were too far gone to care about what was right anymore. At least for the time being.

  "We caught a man in the act of raping the woman. Beating her at the same time... That isn't what a good person does. I'm also pretty sure that trying to break him out is also a bad idea. Shouldn't you have waited for morning, and, oh, I don't know, gone to the trial and tried to find out what actually happened first?"

  The response wasn't what she expected, which was a reprimand from Clark for running her mouth. Instead it was just cursing from the man on the ground.

  "Well, we should get these men in a cell then and go back into town to pick up the others. Can you drive a wagon or carriage?"

  "No. I've never had the opportunity to do that." The orphanage hadn't had o
ne after all.

  "Alright. I'll get Paul. I have to stay here and watch the prisoners and protect the ship. You and Paul will go and find the others. I'll get you some weapons, just in case there are more people involved in this. Help me with these three."

  By "going to get Paul" he meant ringing a bell just inside the main door loud for half a minute, which pretty much got everyone on the ship, which was more people that Pran had suspected traveled on it, even though she should have guessed, given how big it was. They boiled out, most carrying some kind of weapon. Makeshift stuff for the most part, no pistols or knives. A few had sticks and one woman had a pole that when she really focused on it, turned out to be a broom. She did a quick count and found there were nine in all. Half of them women and one a boy that seemed to be about her age, give or take a year. Probably an apprentice something or other on the ship.

  "We've had an attempted attack, and taken three prisoners. We don't know if more are coming, though it seems unlikely. Everyone should take what precautions the Captain says to secure the ship." Clark said it all as if it wasn't a command, but no one seemed to be buying that part at all.

  "The new Guardian Apprentice, Pran, is going to collect the Judge, Guardian Mara and First Shipman George. Their carriage was taken and brought here. We weren't told of any harm done to them, but we can't be certain of that yet. I'm remaining here to secure the vessel." There was a pause, which invited questions from one of the women.

  It was hard to make out her face, but she was decently lean and tall, had large breasts and sounded older, like a person in her early fifties might.

  "We should be able to secure the ship, if you need to go into town after your charge. Sending a brand new apprentice on her first day..."

  Clark nodded.

  "I have given that some thought, but have no doubt that Apprentice Pran can meet this task. Paul, do you know where the Doctor's office is in town? That was their last known location. It concerns me that they haven't called in yet."

  That got movement instead of an answer, with Paul running off, presumably to get the wagon ready. They'd have to take that, because the carriage was too small for as many people as they'd have. The easy solution would be to have the apprentice run alongside on the way back, but Pran wasn't in shape for that yet, she didn't think. Especially at night. Her exercise for the last years had mainly been dance, and while hard, it didn't lend itself to great running feats really. No, she definitely preferred the idea of riding if possible.

  That might be being lazy though. Sighing she asked Clark about the idea.

  "Heh. Good call. For tonight take the wagon and don't overstress your body. You've been up for what, two days now? We need all your energy to go into being alert. I'll get you a rifle. I'm just going to guess that the art school didn't teach you how to use one of those?"

  The voice from the darkness was a mellow tenor and answered even though the question had clearly been addressed to her.

  "No, no weapons or fighting at all, except for stage work. I don't know what you're thinking, trying to make her into a Guardian like this Clark. It isn't seemly. We should be working to repair whatever went wrong for her, she's a special talent... Not someone to risk like this."

  That came from Bard Benjamin and didn't even get a response from the Guardian, who towered over everyone else, most of them still just standing around.

  Pran answered, feeling more tired than she should, the weight of it all threatening to crush her, if she didn't keep moving.

  "What is, is. I'll be alright. I mean, I'm scared and angry, but I have some kind of chance now and I really don't want to blow it, so, you know, stop undermining me with all this talk of how special I am, will you?" It was a stage whisper, meant for everyone to hear and got a chuckle from the Guardian and the older woman, who moved in and slapped her on the shoulder.

  "That's the spirit kid. Besides, Bard Benjamin, if Guardian Clark says this one can handle this, she can. I've seen him be wrong before, but not often and she's clearly willing to try. I say we get out of her way for a while and see what she can do." The voice wasn't angry sounding, but was a little firmer in tone than most took with Bards.

  Ben sighed, a dramatic thing that carried even in the dark how very much he disagreed.

  "Of course Captain Mina. Just know that if you get her killed, there will be scathing songs about you both along the width and breadth of this land." He didn't sound like he was kidding and while the Captain laughed, Clark just turned and pointed to the wagon that had moved into view.

  "Rifle first. Come with me to the weapons locker." He started jogging, making virtually no noise as he did it, Pran being the loud one, even though she'd thought her ability to sneak around at night was pretty good from all her adventures at school. They headed straight into the ship's main body and turned right this time, down a very dim corridor that had only one weak lamp for the entire length. There were windows, but Pran only knew that because of the tiny bit of shine and the reflection of the single point of illumination from the far wall.

  "I'm getting you a light combat rifle. It fires metal bullets, using an air canister charge. One bullet to the head will kill a man, woman or child, if you're close enough. As a Guardian we do not take life if there is another option, or do harm that is unneeded. You may have heard that we're killers, and we do have to use that level of force at times, but it's always the last resort. You're in a delicate position here tonight. If you need to fight, you don't have the skills to do so without using maximum violence yet. Unless you can talk the people into giving up, of course. You did well earlier. I've rarely seen an aggressive man taken down only using words. If you and Paul come into danger alone, run, Guardian or not. If you have to fight..." There was a sound and the wall in front of her opened, a single wooden door moving in the dark, then after a bit a long tube came toward her, pointed down toward the floor.

  "This is loaded, and has twenty rounds in it. Here, this is the safety, on the side. Up allows you to fire, down is locked. Remember that. Up to fire, down to not fire. Here, find it with your thumb. Got that?"

  He showed her by placing his warm, very large and callused hands over hers, putting her hand on the stock at the bottom and actually moving her thumb to show what he meant.

  "Yes. Then I just point and pull the button?"

  "Right. The trigger. We'll have training on the proper way of doing that later, so try not to learn any bad habits tonight. Just assume that you can't hit anything more than a few feet away and aim for any attacker's middle. Which brings about the second part of this...

  If it's you and Paul, or George, even Mara, in trouble... you run. Even if you have to leave them to likely death. Run back here and get help. If it's the Judge, then it's your duty to protect her no matter what that takes now. Even if you have to die to do it. Do you understand that? We always protect our charge. If that's the case you'll probably die, since Mara will have had to been beaten already and she probably can't be taken by people like the ones we caught, unless there are a lot more of them. Use all the guile you have in that case. I'd hate to lose my new apprentice on the first day. The other Guardians will laugh at me."

  Then he started jogging again, reminding her to point the weapon down and not at anyone she didn't want dead.

  "It's an airship. The balloon up there will explode if a spark hits it. This weapon won't do that, but there are also people up there and we don't need to make our Doctor too busy patching up friends."

  "Right." If she sounded a little grim, well, who could blame her. It wasn't everyday that some giant Guardian sent her off with instructions that included possibly dying. It seemed a bit harsh for the first day, but she'd live.

  Unless she didn't.

  "I'm so scared right now. I really don't want to die." Pran said it out loud, expecting to be rebuked for it, called a coward or something like that, but they just kept running until they were at the side of the wagon.

  Clark slapped her on the back once, solidly.


  "Good. Better to be afraid and willing to do what's needed anyway, than to claim you aren't and freeze. You won't fail that way, no matter what comes." It sounded like he meant it, rather than just patronizing or coddling her.

  Which had to be acting on his own part, Pran realized. He didn't know her at all. It made sense, in a way, he needed someone to go and get the Judge and while he could have gone himself, that kind of thing was, clearly what apprentices were for. That and doing the other low work that no one wanted to do. It was the same for Bards after all, everyone knew that. The apprentices cared for all the instruments and did laundry, saw to their master's meals and all that. It probably wouldn't be all that different for a Guardian, except that, instead of performing to warm up a crowd or doing part of the work on a decorative statue, she'd have to take prisoners and do things like this. Go rescue stranded people at night, and do the watches that no one else wanted.

  Maybe.

  The truth was, that even if it was a genuine thing, a real apprenticeship, there was probably a catch. Clark seemed like a decent fellow, if scary, but someone would want something from her. They had to. After all, she hadn't been trained for seven years to be a Guardian and didn't know their skills at all. Her even trying to pretend to do the job was an unfunny joke.

  That didn't mean she wouldn't play along and do what she could. It wasn't comfortable, but it was at least as good a chance as selling herself on the street would have been. Better, if the Guardians kept pretending it was all real. That would mean she was guaranteed regular food and even some new clothing. Not good food or fine things to wear, just serviceable stuff. Like a miller's apprentice maybe?