Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3) (18 page)

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, doing 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.

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.

Even then most just stood around,
listening to her. At the end of her ten song set Paul ran over and distracted
people. With an offer of
cake
.

"It's set up over here.
Come, everyone, we're almost ready for it!" He was a bit older, being about
forty, and lean, with a good face that reminded her how she'd kind of flirted
with him a few times. He'd never responded, which probably had something to do
with his coming wedding. He still limped a bit, having been shot in the leg
about two months before.

Pran tried to stay seated, not
putting her instruments away, until he took time to come over to her and wave.

"Pran, come on. Everyone
means
everyone
." There was a bit of a tone to the words, that spoke
of him being used to bossing people around. She got up however, so it worked
for him pretty well.

The cake, once she saw it, a
minute later, was
incredible
. It was made of small balls of raised
dough, she thought, and covered with a sticky looking caramel. Cinnamon too.
She thought. It was about half as tall as she was and sitting on a table that
put the whole thing even with the top of Twyla's head. On the very top was a
small, and not very well done, set of figurines. One of a man, the other a
lady.

Paul and Twyla cut the first
slice, working together, and everyone clapped, as if that were a great feat of
courage, or skill. Once the first slice was pulled out, it was clear the
interior was of a totally different kind of cake, one that seemed to be made of
dried fruit and nuts.

A voice spoke, from over her
shoulder, a man, but she didn't understand who it was at first, having been
distracted by the spectacle in the other direction.

"That looks good, doesn't
it? Who would have thought that old Paul could land anyone, much less a peach
like her. Not that I knew him well. I wasn't on the ship that long."

Turning, she understood why that
was.

"Zeke! Are you in for the
meeting tomorrow then?" It made sense to her, since the hard looking
military man from the past was one of the small handful of downloads she'd ever
met. He didn't get a hug from her however, since the last time they'd met he
had
sort of planned to steal her body.

When she got a good look at him,
he looked nice. Dressed for a wedding, but also in real clothes, not things
that were made of strange materials from the past, and had odd looking
fasteners that ran up the front. This was just a burgundy tunic and trousers,
with a pair of leather boots in tan.

The man frowned at her.

"Sorry? Meeting? Is this
another one of those things that you do to throw people off? I ask about
this
,
and then when I'm distracted end up with a bullet in my butt?" There was a
suspicious look then, as if her dress could be hiding anything. A kinetic
pistol, or maybe an air rifle?

All she
really
had was a
sap.

"Nope. Michael Morse and a
few other people are going to be there, some of the High Councilors, too. I
thought you might be coming to act as a representative from the Coalition? That
is your group, isn't it?" Hopefully not that other one that Clarice had
spoken of. They sounded too silly to take seriously.

"I... used to be. That got
old after a while. I mainly just came to see if you were on our side or
not."

She nodded.

"The current plan is to try
and get things under control without fighting or bloodshed. Help the kids at
the Grange and maybe steal the bodies of some of the people in Camp Wallace. In
order to help them, which is real enough. It doesn't get millions of bodies,
but Doctor Millis thinks that a lot could be done that way and some of the
technical plans you have might work. It isn't great for a military take over
though. Do you think your old friends will put up with that? Just helping
people and not killing everyone that won't do what they want?"

The man, even if he didn't
realize it yet, was sort of surrounded. Not just by Guardians and hands from
The Lament, either. Three of his own people stood right there with him. Kabrin
too, being right next to his wife. It was pretty clear that the Bard didn't get
who this man was supposed to be, so hearing the conversation lull, he moved in
and put his hand out.

"Hello! Are you related to
the groom?" There
was
a resemblance there. Pran had always thought
so. Ezekiel shook his head, but smiled, which was a large thing that showed
well cared for teeth.

"I'm a friend of Pran's.
From The Lament. I was..." Then he looked past the man and noticed that a
wall of black had come up around him. It looked almost like a protective detail
that
really
wanted to do a good job.

Pran waved her hands, making
little motions to get them to stand back.

"No fair, I saw him first.
Now, I want to try that cake, if I'm allowed. Then I need to finish playing. I
expect you to all start dancing, so that everyone knows what to do. I thought I
was about to lose everyone earlier." Visions of a lynch mob had come to
mind, but Kabrin laughed, even if no one else did.

"
Hardly
. They were
simply enthralled, that's all. The bride and groom arranged quite the coup,
getting you to play for a private engagement. Clarice was also telling me that
I need to come to her office and see the sculpture that you're doing? I think
that's a fine hobby, for a performer like yourself, but you should really think
about a music career first. There's more money and fame in it. Then you can
command the best sculpting jobs as well, when you tire of it. Unless you intend
to go into politics full time? I hear that it can be rewarding." There was
a glibness to almost everything he said, but also a strange kind of charm.

Zeke looked at him and smiled.

"I wasn't aware that we
still had used car salesmen." Whatever that meant. There was a smile with
it, but Clarice moved in, and hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"Stop that. He's my
husband
,
and also just telling the truth. Bard Pran is one of the most impressive
talents that I've seen in years. Decades, and I'm including
me
in that.
You know about my famous ego."

The man looked at her, and then
nodded.

"Sorry there, then. So...
Cake and then arrest, or has the situation changed? Pran was saying something
about a meeting, but you can never quite tell with her." He looked
directly at Doctor Millis, who was in a black suit and had a strange ribbon on
again. This one was green and red.

"That does seem to be the
case. So, no arrest, I don't think?" He looked at Clark, and then Mara and
they looked over at Saran, who shook her head.

"Well, better we know about
people than not. Things are still a bit uncertain for people to come in,
unannounced like this." Her glance moved over toward Pran. Like it was
her
fault?

It wasn't that however, she
realized, just the two well dressed old men that had come up behind her. One of
them was Donal, but the other was bigger, being tall and thin, and had a full
head of jet black hair that didn't match his thin, almost gaunt, face.

"Oh, hi! I was just about to
get some of that cake? We should all go." It looked good and while there
was plenty, she needed to get back to work, or everyone would forget she was
there.

Her clever plan to distract
everyone and get them focused on more relevant themes, such as a wedding party,
didn't work too well. Donal smiled at her, beaming, and then took the hand of
the larger man next to him. They were darling together, but several of the
people looking at them flinched a bit. Put off by the scene, for some reason
she didn't understand.

It was funny, but all of those
people were standing away from the group around her, except Kabrin. He looked
away, while his wife subtly shook her head at him, lips clenching.

"Bard Pran, this is my
partner, Riley. Riley, this is a friend of mine, Pran." It was said with
perfect clarity, and almost none of the accent that she associated with the man
from their previous two conversations. That kind of sold the idea that he was
more than just an old man that liked clean streets, didn't it? She put out her
hand to shake, which got the High Councilor, of whatever it was they called
spying, to take it back, his eyes a bit cold.

"It's so nice to meet you,
Bard Pran. We should speak, later." It had the tone of being an order, not
just a pleasant suggestion. Why this man in particular would want to talk to
her, she didn't know.

Except that she was surrounded by
both important people and infiltrators from the past? That could be enough
reason, she had to allow. Smiling she nodded.

"That would be great. Now,
who's for getting some of that cake, before I start my second set?" She
walked away, gesturing, as everyone kind of followed her, seeming tense as they
did.

The cake itself was a bit dry,
and too rich for her, but she ate what was given her and managed not to get her
hands sticky at the same time. Then, working her way over carefully, no one
watching her in particular she got set up to play again.

The performance was less
overawing it seemed, because she was largely ignored, except by the dancers. It
was nice, and people came over to ask her to play specific tunes, which she
only knew about half of off the top of her head. In the end she played for
hours, watching the crowd only loosely, since her focus
had
to be on
what she was doing. Even trying anything else would end up with her making too
many mistakes and looking bad. In the end however, after Paul and Twyla were
allowed to leave, Captain Jacques came over and gave her a small hug.

He smelled of wine, but didn't
paw at her really. He just seemed happy.

"Perfect. You did very well.
I suppose I should actually pay you for this? The deal was for ten songs, but
you did much more than that." He spread his hands, as if saying he hadn't
asked
her for anything like it, but she winked.

"Paul's a friend of mine,
and hopefully I attracted some positive attention here." She paused and
then had an idea for the second time. It kind of made sense to her, given
everything that had been happening. "If you
really
want to repay
me, would it be possible to borrow an airship for a meeting tomorrow? A big
one. You'll want to be there for it, I think. I'd rather hold it someplace
unexpected, like up in the air. There will be... Well, I can't tell you who
will be there, but if it isn't worth your time and the lend of a ship, I'll pay
for it myself. Given that I have no money at all, you have to get that I really
mean it when I say that it's a big deal." She nodded a bit, and smiled, encouraging
him to agree with her.

Slightly tipsy or not the man
looked at her like she was suggesting the use of an entire airship for a
personal party. Which she realized, she
kind
of was. It was a ridiculous
idea, but after a moment he shook his head.

Her face didn't fall however,
which was a good thing, given what he said next.

"A simple up and circle?
That can be done. I'll ask Mina to set that up. She should be around here
somewhere. What time?"