Without Rhythm (The Lament)

by P. S. Power

"I don't get it, but if it isn't a joke... congratulations. We have a woodshop on board, so you can use that. I'll have to set something up for you to make enough money to pay for supplies. How much wash are you willing to do?" He grinned again, the door open further than it needed to be.

  "Lots. I didn't know we had a workshop. I can make what I need. I'll have to buy the strings, but..."

  The door shut then, without anything else being said. Pran guessed that she'd been dismissed. It was a bit abrupt, but there was work to do. Being an apprentice anything seemed to mean that, didn't it? She hurried back to the galley and started a five minute begging fest with the cook, who was certainly not happy to make special meals for people on short notice, but relented when Pran offered to write out the supply list for it and sign her own name to it. She did add who it was for in tiny script to the right, but the woman didn't complain about it messing up the paper. It took most of an hour to get ready, which meant she got to eat a sandwich herself. The bread was heavy and a bit dense, but still good.

  Then she needed to deliver the meals on special trays, so that people could eat in bed. Paul needed help sitting up, but made himself smile when he saw her come in. The other injured people needed different help and didn't know her at all, but perked up when Ben came in a few minutes later, carrying three instrument cases.

  "Ah! I see the food has arrived already! Now we have your afternoon's entertainment. What shall it be? A story to pass the time? A song or two? Or if my voice is too much, perhaps we could convince Bard Pran to sing for us?" He pulled out his guitar, but the story the people wanted wasn't one he knew at all.

  "What's going on? No one is telling us shit here." Paul nearly growled the words, but the others acted just as interested. One of them was a townsperson though, so she hesitated to tell them the news in full. No one thought she'd know that kind of thing anyway, so it wasn't a huge deal.

  She nodded to the man across from her and sat on the edge of Paul's low bed, as if they really knew each other or something. He didn't seem to mind, not even grunting in pain.

  "The town is secured. The Mayor, as you may know, was killed by the attackers and another several people died. I don't have their names. We have prisoners and other Guardians have come, along with many airships, to help keep everything safe." Pran stopped there, but Paul wanted to know more. Oddly what was important to him had to do with which ships were there.

  It was his life after all, and he had friends on other vessels it seemed.

  "Um... I don't know them all. The Sorrow, The Scourge and The Conscript. I don't know the other names."

  Paul perked right up, letting his fork fall into the dish in front of him.

  "Oh ho! The Conscript? That should make for a merry reunion then. Captain Jacques and First Mate Twyla... I wasn't expecting to see them for nearly a month. Do you think you could ask Twyla to come visit me? If her duties permit of course." He looked incredibly pleased by the idea, so she nodded. It wouldn't hurt to ask after all.

  She got up to see to it, since, after all, it wouldn't take two of them to entertain the three men. That it was part of her job, to entertain anyone...

  She felt a chill run down her spine.

  It just didn't seem real yet. Once a thing is lost it could be hard to remember that it was really yours when it was found again.

  Chapter twelve

  The rest of the day involved Pran running between her new duties as a Bard and showing people in to The Conscript for meetings. She kept the rifle with her and the situation was tense enough that no one questioned her on it at all. It turned out that there was only one other Bard on all the ships that had landed, a very old woman that had been rather important at one time, but now had taken the rather low position just so she could travel and see the world.

  There were two other Judges however, since that was a common enough way for them to travel. Pran picked these things up as she walked people in from other vessels, her skin growing cool as the night wore on. She was ready to perform with Bard Benjamin, but instead of anything official they were told to keep the revelry low key and small. That meant just plinking away at a lute for a while or playing the reed pipes while people drank coffee or juice. Most of them were various ship people, cooks and First Mates, all of whom paid more attention to the dark around the fire than to the music being played. The thing there was that they all had information, but they didn't seem to be able to put it all together right. Not that she could either, but it wasn't that anything was being hidden, they just didn't know enough.

  One of the men, an older fellow that she had a strong suspicion was an actual Captain sighed and sipped something slowly from a mug that was either the worst coffee ever or had something in it that wasn't that at all. At least the others didn't make faces constantly as they drank. He didn't seem to get drunk though, so it was probably fine.

  "Always trouble having Guardians on board. Can't leave well enough alone, always prying into everyone's business."

  Pran didn't bother to try and defend anyone, because the man kept talking and did it himself in the next breath.

  "That we keep having to make them do it is the real crime. The old tech got us into huge problems, but everyone seems to think that they're the special ones that can handle it now. Like anyone trying to build an army is responsible enough to run a civilization? Morons."

  A few of the others nodded along, and Pran kept playing, her fingers lightly strumming a delicate tune, one not too tense or edgy, trying not to set anyone off. Nerves needed soothing right now, not teasing into action. She kept going, changing songs three more times before taking a break to get some juice of her own. It was a night cooled berry, served from a wooden cask. The clay mug she was given for it was about the same as what everyone else had, but was clean and unused. She settled back for a few minutes, waiting for people to either get bored and leave or request a song or two. Instead an old woman settled in beside her holding a steaming cup between both her hands.

  "Bard Gina. You're rather good. I haven't heard of you on the airship circuit so far. First duty?" She said it calmly, her eyes on the fire, not anything else. For all the world it sounded like she was just making professional small talk.

  "No ma'am. Bard Pran. Apprentice Bard Pran... I'm not even a full day into that, so I'd be shocked if anyone has heard of me at all." She grinned. "Well, except as the trouble maker from The Lament."

  The woman nodded and sipped her beverage slowly. It wasn't coffee, and didn't have a discernable odor at all. Tea of some kind, or possibly a medicinal concoction.

  "I see. The Lament? Good ship I hear. They all are, so not a big surprise. Good crew. Well, perhaps in the morning I could come and visit with you? We don't have a lot of our fellows out here. You have a master with you, of course?" It was a question, but one meant to prompt the rest of the information that Pran probably should have given instantly.

  "Bard Benjamin. He's on his first duty, but he was the only one of us near when the word came down from Bard Clarice that I wasn't in exile and dispossessed of all worldly goods anymore. Not that they aren't all gone still." She blushed and looked away not wanting to explain, but knowing it would be better to say the words herself than to leave people asking questions.

  "My end of school prank went wrong and a friend of mine ended up with a broken leg. I was kicked out hours before I was to graduate." She didn't add the rest, but the old woman smiled a little and wrapped her gray blanket around her to keep the chill off before saying anything.

  "So, your first introduction to politics? It's a hidden thing, but if you're good enough it will probably happen a few more times before you gain enough of a reputation to not have to worry about it all. Bard Clarice... You know, she was my apprentice. That was back a ways. A nice young lady. A little lazy with the non-singing arts. Had the talent, but had to be pushed." If she had more to add after that it didn't get said though and she stood and gave Pran a wink.

  "Alright, do you know the 'Seven Circles'?" She grin
ned when she said it, but stepped back as if it were a real request.

  It was the hardest song that they were taught in school, and the lute version was particularly difficult. Most full bards would have just laughed at the woman for suggesting it as an impromptu request, and Pran knew that she was supposed to do the same. She would have, except that it was one of her graduation projects for the boards, meaning she'd practiced it for nearly half a year already, so she just checked her tuning for a few seconds not making eye contact. Bard Gina clearly expecting her to make a joke, her face holding a mischievous grin at the teasing.

  "Yes, I know it indeed." Pran started playing then focusing as intently as possible on her fingering, making every note as crisp and clear as possible on the old lute. After a few seconds everyone stopped talking and stared at her.

  After the first verse of the seven rounds people started to walk toward the fire in its little metal pit. She just focused on her work, trying to give herself to it totally, letting the emotions of the past days filter through into it. The circle of anger strained the strings and the circle of peace, the last one, was almost muted and gentle compared to the others, but when the music stopped, there was dead silence instead of applause.

  For a few seconds Pran wondered if she'd gotten it wrong somehow. She knew she hadn't, but...

  Bard Gina laughed. It was a gentle thing, old, but happy.

  "Not bad. The best version of it I've heard in fact, and that includes my own, which I didn't think possible. Do you specialize in music then? Instrumentals? Or the Lute in particular?"

  Pran shook her head, and started to play again, just the little tune that had jumped into her head while trying to run like a Guardian a few days before.

  "Sculpting. Carving in stone in particular. I like performing well enough, but it isn't my main strength." She tried to sound humble about it, which wasn't that hard to do, since no one got that worked up over people making statues. They were too big and unchanging for most people to really appreciate.

  That was the part that Pran liked about them. They didn't change, just sitting there, impressing the world with their permanence. Unless you dropped them off a roof of course. She nearly winced at the thought, realizing that she owed the school a new statue at least, even if she hadn't been treated fairly by the council. They weren't the Headmaster or the instructors after all, just the people that came in to destroy lives.

  Bard Gina nodded again, looking around her at the others, who were pretty focused on them both.

  "Indeed? I look forward to seeing your work in that area then as well then. What is this you play now? It's very unusual? I can't quite make the cadence..."

  Pran didn't have a name for it, but she was performing and that meant always seeming like you knew what you were doing. It was part of the lessons she'd had for years.

  "The Guardian's Reel." She said the words as if it were a real thing, and oddly enough most of the audience smiled when they heard the name.

  The man that might be a captain pointed at her.

  "Got that one dead on then, haven't you? They never hold still and never make normal sense when they do! Just like that. You think they're heading left and find them behind you, you look right and they're going straight and true. Damned annoying at times." He smiled though and sipped from his cup. "How about something with a regular tune? Just for a bit, before my head starts to hurt?"

  She played several, singing softly a few times when requested. Bard Gina did most of that part of it, requesting some difficult pieces as if to see what she could do. Then left suddenly, only to return two songs later, holding two instrument cases. At first Pran wondered if she was going to play too, or show off her own skills, which she was welcome to do, but instead the woman handed the cases to her between songs.

  "Try these. Guitar first." It was a very old thing, the case made of well kept leather though, the body of it dinged in a few places, but still sound. It had to be tuned first, which Pran did quickly, starting to play less than five minutes later.

  Then the Bard requested she play something original. Pran had to think for a second, remembering one of the two pieces she'd actually written out before. It had a song to it, so she could sing too. It was a nice enough piece, but a little bland, now that she'd actually seen something of the world. The other piece she'd written was simpler and from when she was younger. The Lonely Song.

  She did that one next, then moved into a traditional drinking song, not singing the bawdy words, but getting most of the audience to stomp along lightly. It was needed after the first two, or everyone's energy would flag. They weren't exactly happy pieces. Nothing about her life really would have been.

  Gina just watched her as if for weaknesses, and suggested she try the lute in the other case. It was of decent but not top quality, made for someone about her size, so probably not Gina, who was smaller than she was by half a foot.

  "These used to belong to Bard Thom. That name probably doesn't mean much to you, but he wrote The Seven Circles. I think he'd like for you to keep these for him. At least until you get your own?" She didn't add more, but Pran nodded.

  "I'll try to do them, and Bard Thom, proud ma'am." She didn't turn the gift down, even though it felt strange, being given anything at all by a stranger.

  "Thank you. Him too of course."

  Gina finished what was in her cup and stood, her back popping as she did.

  "A conceit of the old, Bard Pran. Someday, not too far in the future, someone will speak of you and I'll be able to tell them about how I aided you, in some little way. Not a huge thing to some, but making the world a better place is all the comfort I have left I fear. You being able to make music freely is definitely that."

  Pran let tears come to her eyes, not trying to hide them. It was, just about at least, the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. Others had given her chances to make something of herself, but very few had ever just helped her like that. Just given her things to make her own life easier and better.

  She played for hours after that, until her fingers started to get sore and everyone needed to be off to bed.

  Pran headed that way herself, happy enough for once, that she didn't even expect the bad dreams to get her as she laid in the dark. They did, of course, because even being able to play again, she wasn't a different person. The next morning showed that when she was woken by a knock on her cabin door. Roy answered it, but it was for her.

  Clark stood in the dim hall, the light through the window not bright enough to really see by yet, but enough to be able to tell that morning had just begun to break.

  "We need another body on the guard line. There's a meeting on The Conscript in an hour, but we can't leave things undefended." He didn't say more, which was good.

  Pran wouldn't have heard him over her yawning anyway.

  "Right." She stood in the dark, then stooped to try and find her boots. It took a few moments. She put them on and yawned again, grabbing the rifle that she'd kept by the head of her bed.

  They walked out without saying more, heading toward the mess hall. The lights were brighter in there, a cheery warmth coming from the galley already. The morning cereal wasn't out yet, so she grabbed a handful of dried fruit and started munching, loading a bit more into her side pouch, in case she missed lunch too.

  Clark didn't say anything, just waving her outside to find the others as they got ready to move out for the morning. He did give directions then however.

  "Walking guard or hiding position. Six hour shift, stay alert. Pran will take the back of the field here." He looked around, but none of the other dark forms said anything about that. He explained anyway.

  "She's a Bard, so we want her close if she has to call an alert. Steady though, so we can count on her to do her part. The rest of you will be on descending sectors..."

  That part he didn't have to explain, because they all apparently knew what that meant. Pran didn't, but she knew the rough area that she was supposed to watch, having run the whole lin
e the day before. The others vanished then, but Clark grabbed her arm as she moved to go to her area too.

  "I'll walk with you. Just until we set the route."

  It was a little more than that, she realized, since he called out to the guard on duty with a low whistle. She could have made the same sound, now that she'd heard it, but before that she wouldn't have known it was a thing. The idea was, most likely, that anyone coming out of the dark not giving the proper signal would probably be stunned and restrained for questioning. It was a headache she didn't need, so was glad for the Guardian's company.

  "Pran, you understand what to do?" The man sounded calm and certain, as if she really would.

  She smiled though.

  "Of course. If I see anyone I run away, screaming for help at the top of my lungs." She meant it as a joke, but the man patted her on the arm.

  The other Guardian who was still standing there chuckled. It was a woman, but not one she recognized.

  "About right. Smart one here. New apprentice?"

  "She was. She's back to being a Bard now, but when I knocked on her door in the wee hours of the morning she didn't tell me to go soak my head like she should have, so I figured it was worth a try. I'll explain it all in a bit. You have the watch."

  "I have the watch." Pran said the words, but tried to fight her mind into the whole highly focused state that she needed to stay in for the morning. At least the whole thing wouldn't be in the dark. She tried to move through the brush, seeing the path that the others had used after a while. It looked like an animal trail, but there were boot prints on it. It made a path that was largely hidden for her to follow. She also tried to move without rhythm, which she felt awkward doing at first. After a few hours it felt easier. Probably because she was doing it wrong, but she got a lot of practice looking at the trees and bushes, while trying not to move in a pattern that she could recognize.

  No one came to relieve her and finally hunger drove her to eat a bit more of the fruit, which was hard to do while paying attention. She didn't have much, because she was thirsty and hadn't thought to get a water bottle. It was a mistake and they had them on the ship. Most of the other Guardians carried one on watch too, so they wouldn't have to leave for a drink. Just as she was about to do that she found them. Two people, hiding in a bush.