Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3) (14 page)

Now, she tried to tell the truth,
herself, most of the time, since lying could get a girl in trouble when it was
found out. That was about self protection, and getting everyone to
underestimate her. Whatever happened in the end, however, she needed to be able
to seem like she was with whoever won and always had been. So far that should
work, well enough, as long as the people from the past didn't decide that she
was just too big of a threat to their plans.

Even at that, she could sort of
get behind what she'd been told about, at least. They wanted to come back and
help the world, improving the living conditions of people, without harming the
planet like they'd done before. They needed bodies though, not having them in
the special place they existed in. It was supposed to be a grand paradise too.
Filled with splendid music, and shows, as well as all the good food a person
wanted to eat.

No one had to work either, she
was willing to bet, and all you had to do in order to get inside was give up
your life.

If it
wasn't
a con, then
those downloads were some of the worst salesmen in history. Anyone with half a
thought in their head would see that giving up their life without seeing the
goods first was crazy, though. Not that she thought Doctor Millis had lied to
her about that. The fact was however, she just couldn't
prove
he wasn't.
Not without dying and going to see his magic world for herself.

It was nearly like what some of
the religions promised, wasn't it? If you were good and wholesome, and did what
they said without asking too many questions, you'd get to die and go to their
wonderful secret world, that was only for them. Only they'd never
show
you this place first, would they? All the effort had to be yours, up front,
with the payoff being hidden away behind a curtain.

Pran doubted that there was a
god, and if there turned out to be, then he or she was a monster. Every boy and
girl in their right mind that lived in the Grange knew that, didn't they? All
six of them. The insane and delusional ones might think they had a special
friend at times, but even they didn't claim it was
god
. Not openly. It
would probably have gotten them tortured, or stabbed to death. That was because
of the Keepers though. Those evil creatures that claimed god had cursed them
all, and put them there for being the worst kind of humanity. The ungodly.

Blinking, her thoughts having led
her away from the discussion, she nodded, catching back up.

"Yes, let's get to things
then." She didn't run out, since there was dignity needed for things, but
did manage to find Twyla at her desk, even if Jacques wasn't around yet.

"Bard Pran! Guardians. Is
everything all right?"

Giving the woman a nod, she
lifted her right hand, which had her lute case in it.

"I wanted to go over the
program with you. Plus to tell High Councilor Jacques that I have a shipment
arranged for the Gladstone to O'Brien leg of the trip too. Only at ninety
percent of standard rate, but we should have a Guardian or two on board. That
means a small tax break, doesn't it?" It did for Judges, but everyone
nodded about it, which was reassuring. Too much of what she was doing had been
based on guess work so far. "That's for High Councilor Climes. I have
three other deals from him for the same rate fee, if it comes up. He only has
to make them available, so if nothing is needed, that's fine too."

Twyla clapped, once. Hard.

"Ha!" It was an
explosive sound that made the others in the room look over at them all.
"That's not bad! Marty Climes will barely budge off of eighty percent,
most of the time. How did you manage it?"

She shrugged, since it hadn't
been magic, really.

"I asked. It seems like the
last bit of overland shipping was clipped off due to snow in a lot of places.
Winter is hitting early this year. So he has a lot of things that need to be moved.
Do you want me to see if he'd like to do more at those rates? He probably
thinks he's getting a deal, or he would have fought harder. Of course if he
did, I'd have walked away. As it is, I don't know if The Sorrow will take the
deal."

That got a snort, from one of the
other desks, as a middle age man held up one hand toward her.

"Bring me five more
shipments for that price and I'll give you three percent of the resale value.
That's all inside the next two weeks, mind. I have slots open past that too, if
it can be managed."

That started a bidding war, since
it seemed that a lot of people like the idea of assured cargoes. She shook her
head, and looked back at Twyla, who'd offered to take her assured three loads,
for four percent of the sale value.

"I'll let
you
have it
for three percent, if I can get two extra invitations to your wedding? Riley
and Donal. Um... Riley is the one that works down stairs?"

The words got a blank expression
for a moment, but also a shrug.

"Riley Zenig? I didn't know
that he'd want to come. You say his partner's name is Donal? I can write that
up now. I have some extras with me, just in case anyway. Shows me, not asking
in the first place, doesn't it? Maybe I should send something off to all the
High Councilors? It can't hurt to make friends."

Mara smiled and nodded, but Clark
just looked around, his eyes glassy, still being in a trance state. It didn't
fit his act, but no one noticed either. Twyla didn't wait, just writing it out
instantly then setting it alongside a sturdy ledger that she opened up.

"So, three percent for three
full loads of goods? Nothing specific as to what they'll be, I get that, but
from Shipping that could be anything, from lumber to canned food. I have places
for all of them, from... Almost everywhere on the continent right now. This is
normally a down time for us. A bit slow, going into winter. Not as bad as
summer of course, when everything just goes by land. It's cheaper that
way."

The envelope was slid over then,
and Pran didn't have to sign anything. She'd either be paid for it or not. She
hadn't really thought that she'd get anything from it in the first place, so it
was a nice little bonus that way. The invitation in its crisp tan envelope was
the real bargain however.

Then the woman looked at her expectantly,
which got her lute brought out. She mainly wanted instrumental pieces, and it
was only for the after party, not the ceremony itself, which was good, since
she'd have to learn something new for that, she realized. So it was a simple
list of songs to play, that she needed to run over, if she got a chance, but
already knew. That would make it easier by far.

Now all she needed was a costume
to wear. The wedding colors were sky blue and a lemon yellow.
That
she
had to use acting skill to not cringe about. Either was fine, but together they
made her eyes water. It wasn't her wedding however and if those were what the
bride wanted, then she, apparently, was going to have them. Fair enough.

Pran didn't know how that worked,
having never been to a wedding before, herself. For that matter she'd only met
a handful of married
people
in her entire life, and other than some of
the school instructors, most of those had been in the last few months. It would
be interesting to see how it was done, if she were allowed. She had seen fake
weddings a few times, in plays that had been put on at school, but they were
usually comedic in nature, so had exaggerated components to them. Like giant
cakes being served at the end.

Why would anyone do that, right?

After packing her things up she
managed to get out of the room with only three people suggesting that they
might be able to sweeten the pot a bit, if she could come up with other cargoes
in the next weeks.

"At eighty-five percent?"
She called it out as a question, and while no one was thrilled with that, two
of them nodded at her.

Then she left, with her Guardian
friends behind her. They just didn't get to do a lot, on a duty like that, did
they? Well, her job was to get them
in
places, wasn't it? Clark had the
responsibility to take it from there. To that end she went to the stairs and
then headed down, not knowing what she'd find. Probably a dungeon, if one well
sound proofed. Instead it was a single unmarked door, and when she opened it,
all there was in a tiny room was a single small desk, about like the ones the
floor boys had, and a rather stern looking man in a clean white tunic, who had
a drab coat hanging on a wall hook. There was a door behind him however.

He looked at her, seeming
confused, rather than angry.

"May I help you?"

Pran nodded, since it was always
better to be agreeable if you could manage it.

"That would work. I have
this for High Councilor Zenig?"

The man smirked a little, but
there was a dry feeling to it. He also included the two guardians in it as
well, as if not trusting the situation.

"Oh? I can take that here.
Or do you need to see the man himself?" It was skeptical, and for all the
world, accusing.

She didn't get it, so shrugged.

"Not really. It's a wedding
invitation. The daughter of the High Airshipping Councilor and the First Mate
of The Lament. Donal suggested that he'd like to go, and Twyla, the bride,
thinks it's a wonderful idea, and looks forward to both of them coming."
She was laying it on a little thick, but the man took it and looked at her like
there was some trick to the whole thing.

Then he glanced at Mara and
smiled.

"Donal? Well, that should go
over well enough. Who should I say did the delivery?"

Clark cleared his throat then,
interrupting her again.

"The High Bard's Assistant,
Bard Pran. Please let him know that High Councilor Saran looks forward to
seeing him there, as well." That had the tone of an order to it, which was
weird.

The desk man just nodded, happier
seeming suddenly, as if his world made sense once again, and this wasn't really
about something silly, like a party invitation.

As far as she knew it was, but
what did she know? It could all be part of some secret plan that no one had told
her about. Other than her own, which was just about meeting people and building
contacts. Making herself useful enough that they wouldn't get rid of her too
easily.

He stood, but didn't move to
enter through the other door, or explain why he didn't. Instead he simply made
a soft sound with his throat.

"Ahem. Thank you, then, Bard
Pran. I trust that if we need you, we can send a runner to your office? Third
floor, near the back on the right, isn't it?"

"Yes. That should be fine.
You could come and visit, sometime, perhaps? I can play for you and show off a
bit. It might be fun." The man didn't seem like the kind to enjoy things
like that, but he managed to nod agreeably enough.

"That could be interesting.
Perhaps I could bring a few of the others. It does get a bit stuffy down here
at times. Say tomorrow, in the afternoon?"

Pran shook her head, but softened
the rejection with a smile.

"The day after. I have to
practice for the wedding which is tomorrow at about four, I think. The party
after that, at least. Call it about two in the afternoon, so that high Bard
Clarice can meet you all too? I'm certain she'd love that."

For some reason the man actually
looked happy then, even if he didn't move in the slightest.

"I look forward to seeing
you then, and hearing you perform. Thank you."

"See you then!" She
took that as a not so subtle hint to be gone. Clark left first, being that they
were kind of trapped there if he didn't move, being so large, and Mara waited
for her to leave, taking up guard positions. It wasn't until then that she
thought she understood what had just happened.

She didn't mention it until they
were all the way back in the High Bard's office, however. It was still empty,
being before ten even. Just about time for them to go to the little trial and
make certain the surly and no doubt dangerous High Councilors were well
guarded.

"That man...He thinks that
I'm not really a Bard, doesn't he? I mean, not just an Apprentice putting on
airs either, but something else. Probably one of you." The clothing might
have indicated that, she thought.

Clark looked at her thoughtfully
and tilted his head, slowly.

"That... could be. My guess
is that they'll expect a show of
some
sort when they come, at any rate.
Best be ready for them. Now, we should go and see to that trial. As the record
of arrest, you
have
to be there, after all."

Which made sense.

All of the witnesses should be.

In a fashion that didn't amaze
Pran at all, about half of the people that had come to see two grown men fight
like little kids over a crust of bread didn't show at all. It was telling, as
to who had secrets, wasn't it? Judges didn't really read minds, of course.
Judge Clair had assured her of that several times. They just got so close that
most people couldn't really tell the difference. That was all. They were all
trained, from the earliest childhood selection time of nine years old, to hold
to mental states that allowed for extreme empathy and understanding of others
positions. They also learned a hundred other things like face reading and body
language, that allowed them to know what people were thinking a good chunk of
the time. If the people were familiar enough to them, they really could guess
what they would be pondering in the moment too. Which was eerie.

A great trick, as well, but other
than learning what different stances meant from her friend Clair, she hadn't
had time to try and master the whole thing. If it was physically possible for
someone her age to manage it. The fact was that few adults even bothered to
try, or ever had. It was a useful skill, but in a very narrow area of life.

If you had secrets however, like,
say you were stealing money from people, or sleeping with your neighbor's cow,
you might well not want to be in the same room with any Judge. The High Judge
was even worse, at a guess.

Cutely enough the tiny woman had
an even smaller girl with her, dressed in full official Judge robes, when Pran
got there. She wasn't the only one either. In fact, there were
six
Judges in the room, if they counted the children that way. She didn't ask who
they were, or why they were there, since it wasn't her responsibility. Plus,
they all looked like they were in a trance already, and watched everyone,
carefully.

Looking around, she noticed that
there were others there too, just not in the robes of office. She saw Judge
Brown, and waved, which he saw enough of to return. Then she moved over to him,
since Clair was right beside him. She was in a nice yellow gown that looked
almost warm enough for the weather.

When the woman saw her, she
smiled peacefully.

"Pran! How are you doing?
Are you fitting in well? Do they feed you enough?" This came with a hug
from the woman, who was only about ten or so years older than she was. Maybe a
bit more, but the topic had never come up exactly.

"The food is good, actually.
I'm keeping busy and making my way, well enough so far. It's only the second
day, so no one has suggested I be stripped naked and run out of town yet. I
imagine that will happen in about... When does the trial start?" She meant
it, and Clair gave her a hard look, but Mara laughed.

"Our little Bard friend here
was the one that brought in the two warrior High Councilors. A citizens arrest.
All legal, and probably the best possible thing that could have happened to
them both. If one of them had gotten a lucky punch in or thumbed an eye, this
would require more than a fine and a week of hard labor. I notice that you
brought in the trainees? Is that a good idea?" She glanced at the little
girl up front, who looked pretty competent.

Pran though so at least. Young,
but they all were at one point or another. She didn't give her assessment of
them, because Judge Brown spoke, his clothing matching his name, she realized,
which worked better than she would have figured. It was a shirt and trousers,
but she didn't really need him to pose that day, since it would all be about
building a human form to the right size and adding the first base layer. She
had to prep the clay too, she realized, which would slow her down if there
wasn't enough ready. That could take up to a day.

The man spoke gently, so that his
words wouldn't spook any of the kids. Or, possibly just because there was no
need to yell at the moment.

"They came on a tour of our
offices. It happens about once a month. Since this came up it was decided to
allow one of them the chance to get some experience. It was a minor enough
offense that there won't be serious consequences. If Judge Tansy misses
something, Judge Sims will make a correction, so there's no risk, or incorrect
application of the technique or law."

Mara looked at the little girl
and then shook her head.

"I actually meant that it
might be wrong to risk her having to go up against two angry High Councilors at
such a young age. I don't doubt her
ability
. She wouldn't be up there if
she wasn't able to do the job." There was certainty in her words then.

Brown, even if he were in a light
trance himself, frowned.

"I... hadn't actually
thought about that. Should we suggest that to the High Judge? I wouldn't want
the girl to be targeted unfairly, but an angry person might do anything, at
times."

Pran shook her head.

"Nope. Don't worry, I'll
handle this. If I don't have to do my own time in a camp for stopping them in
the first place. There was a couple of slaps to distract them from each other
and at least one good kick to the ribs on one of them. I don't know if that was
legal or not, now that I think of it. Well, I'm sure Tansy will let me know. Do
you think she'll let me serve my sentence during the holidays? I could work
here in the city, cleaning streets or whatever."

Clair nodded, and patted her back
gently.

"If it comes to it, I'll
make sure to suggest that to her. It would be a bit of favoritism, so you'd
have to show that it was needed for your work, and that no one else can do that
for you."

That was interesting. Pran had
thought that once you were sentenced there was no way out of it. She'd seen a
half dozen trials so far and if a person had to go to a work camp, they
went
.
None of them had been High Councilors however, but why would a Bard get special
treatment that way?

Maybe so they didn't make songs
about the places?

It was Tuvin that stepped
forward, his eyes raking the small crowd of onlookers in the office space. It
was more open than a lot of places were, and he was clearly expecting a fight
of some kind. To that end she got ready herself, regretting the lack of a good
weapon. She didn't even have a cudgel on her. That would have to change, she
suspected.

Someone moved toward her, which
she noticed due to a change in air pressure, her mind focusing already. Alert,
but calm. She didn't do it perfectly, but she
had
been practicing. A
small Judge boy looked at her closely, reading her.

She mouthed a few words to him,
silently.

"In case there's a problem
and I need to fight." That got her a solemn and slow nod in return, as if
it were a real thing. She just liked to be ready when she could.

Out loud she spoke to Clark.

"I should be armed. I don't
suppose I could borrow something?"

To her surprise Salle handed her
a hard wooden rod with a leather strap on it. A sap. If she needed to, she
could knock a man out with one. Or kill them, though it would take work to get
that done most of the time. If it was meant as a joke, it didn't show on his
face. She tucked it into her waist band and covered it with her shirt. None of
the kids or other High Councilors that had shown up seemed ready to truly riot
on behalf of the men that were in trouble.

Tuvin spoke loudly, but didn't
yell.

"Attention to the Judge.
Attention to Judge Tansy!" Then he moved back a step, ready to protect the
girl from harm, if it came.

"Please bring the accused
forward." The girl's voice was soft, but not weak. Girlish, was all. A bit
breathy, but that was due to the trance state she was holding.

The two men were both let out of
their cells and not manhandled into place, since they went willingly enough.
The tax fellow scowled at the little girl, and started to speak, only to have
Pran cut him off.

"What is this? I-"

"
Stop
." That got
the man to turn and look at her, his face a bit less then pleasant when he
realized who was standing there. "Attention to the
Judge
." She
raised her eyebrows and nodded at the girl meaningfully. That was all the help
she was giving the man though. The High Farm Councilor seemed to realize what
was going on and looked at the young woman politely enough.

The smaller man scowled at her
again, then did it, not smiling, but clearly seeing that the situation wasn't
being treated as life and death either. Not yet.

The girl spoke.

"These two men, Morris
Exeter, and Lee Jamison, stand accused of public fighting and breach of the
peace. This was well witnessed, and a known thing. Is the Recorder of Arrest
present?"

Pran got a helpful shove from
Clair, so took a step toward the scene and raised her voice, projecting for the
crowd. "I am, your honor."

"Please step toward me, and
state your name."

"Pran." She stopped
there, having been asked for her name, not anything else.

The girl looked confused for a
moment, then nodded.

"Do... um, do you have a
title? Or a second name for the records?"

She did, finally, a few of them
that were even real.

"I'm Apprentice Guardian and
Bard, Pran. No second name. No family connections, being an orphan." It
got a few of the people there to look at her, but no one mentioned the two
titles.

The youthful lie sniffer nodded
then, as did most of the Judges watching.

"True. Can you tell us why
you made a citizen's arrest of these two men, from the beginning of..."
She floundered for a second and looked at Judge Sims for a prompt. It didn't
come, the lady merely waiting for the Judge of the day to go on. Or not. It was
her court, so that made sense. She was in control of it, no matter how young
she was. "From... when you first noticed something was happening?"

She nodded a little and didn't
put her hands behind her back, since that would be muting her body language and
look like she was being untruthful. Given all she knew that
might
be
inconvenient for her.

Which was probably why a young
girl was doing the job there and not the High Judge herself. So that
she
wouldn't have to report everything that her fellows were thinking to the room.
It wasn't about Pran, since no one there would care about her that way. They
either knew what she did or assumed she had no secrets beyond what anyone might.

"It was between the seventh
and eighth bell, and I was up on the third floor toward the back, when I heard
a commotion. Being foolish, I hurried to find the source of the noise, in case
anyone needed help, and found two men, both standing in an angry, but not
violent, fashion. Shouting at each other. I didn't understand why. Something
about stolen flour, I think. I asked them, very firmly, to step back and not
continue as they were doing. Then one of them, the larger of the two, suggested
that I simply didn't understand what was happening."

"True. There is a little
hesitation at some points, but no overt lying. Can you explain, uh, tell us
what happened next?"

"At about that point, and I
might have the timing wrong here, the floor boy for that area stepped between
me and the men, I believe it was in an attempt to protect me, in case violence
ensued. They began fighting and I went around the floor boy, Tims, to try and
stop them. Calling out didn't work, so I tried slapping them on the back of the
heads, and ended up in the middle of their pile on the floor. Tims then jumped
in to pull me free. It was rather heroic on his part." She smiled a bit
and shook her head as people laughed. "Which
isn't
what you asked.
Sorry, your honor. Things were intense for a bit, and I was hit a few times and
blocked more than that. Then I placed them under arrest, and Guardian Salle
came. We discussed the matter and then the men came along with us to the cells
here. Peacefully, and without further issue." It was true, so she added
the last bit, since it might help them a little.

"True... I... There were
some things that seemed wrong, but I couldn't... It
was
true." She
looked at the High Judge, who nodded.

"Misremembered things that
are believed can seem like that at times. Please continue."

Tims, who had bothered to show up
like a good floor boy, seemed a lot more relaxed than he had. There was no
stress in his voice, and in fact, he seemed just a touch drugged. His face was
slack, and his body language so subdued it was probably impossible to tell
anything that way. The girl looked at him and frowned, but narrowed her eyes,
her trance slipping.

"Your name?" The girl
seemed hard, but the story that was told, while it differed from hers slightly
was pretty close, and the girl did proclaim it true, though it was clear she
didn't know what was going on either. In short, she lied about it, which some
of the other kids picked up on. Pran waved to the collective group, using a low
gesture down by her right hip. When they all looked over she shook her head no,
just a bit and pursed her lips. She couldn't afford to put a finger in front of
them, since everyone would see that. Thankfully it was enough, and the kids
went back to listening as the High Counselors told their own stories. The first
one, which came from the High Farmer, told of treachery, backstabbing and
unfair tax assessments.

The High Tax Councilor had a
similar tale, if one about a public official allowing people in his area of
control to cheat the system, which he tried to back with threats and ultimately
violence. It was true that the other man had thrown the first punch, but that
fact didn't seem to interest Judge Tansy too much.

 "The reason for your crime
does not mitigate your actions. Stand fast, for sentencing."