Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3) (5 page)

That was true. Also, she didn't
know who might be her enemy. Meeting them all wouldn't hurt, would it? Maybe
one of them would slip up and say something that would give them away? Even if
they didn't, she had a real career to see about too. Clarice was just
right
,
on that one.

Which was probably why she was in
charge of them all.

"I'll do that now." She
started to leave, but was waved toward one of the soft chairs.

"Oh, don't be silly. You can
eat first. You look a little
too
thin. That doesn't always play well.
Don't worry though, we can take care of that. The hair, too." She looked
at it, then winced. "Not that I'm insulting your style choice, but you
have good cheek bones. Why did you decide to go that short in the first
place?"

Pran was about to answer, when a
woman's voice came from the door, holding three plates on a large wooden tray.
She was familiar, after a fashion.

"That was so the techno-cult
that had taken over the town she was in wouldn't recognize her as a Guardian,
Bard Clarice. It worked, too. Pran and two other Guardians managed to drive
them away. That was right before the large battle, a month ago."

High Guardian Councilor Saran
moved in and set her tray on the big desk, not really looking at anyone in
particular, but taking in the whole room at once, at the same time.

Pointing at the fuzzy and very
short hair, the woman glanced at the High Bard directly.

"Don't underestimate Pran
here, Clarice. She's more than she seems."

It wasn't said lovingly, Pran
noticed.

Rather than go over the deep, and
no doubt insightful, take that High Councilor Saran had about the new
Apprentice, the sturdy and lean woman gestured to one of the other chairs. Commandingly.
Then suddenly sat in one of the others on the far side of it. Pran watched her
carefully, the whole time, and noticed the gesture, but didn't let that mislead
her. If Clarice did, that fact didn't show in her body language. It was an odd
kind of thing to do... except that it wasn't. All of the Guardians did things
like that, almost constantly. It hadn't seemed that bad, with Clark and Mara,
but a lot of that was down to the fact that she'd been more than a little
distracted for the last few months.

People trying to attack her
tended to do that. The whole taking over the world thing was even worse. Though
Doctor Millis
had
claimed that the real goal was just to help
reestablish the world. Not exactly the old one either, but a better one. The
real issue was twofold then, in her mind. The first part was simply that the
people in charge, like Saran and Clarice, would want to stay that way. Everyone
always did. It was probably human nature. If you could be the biggest,
strongest person in the room, you didn't want some larger more powerful man to
show up and steal it all away, did you?

The next portion was just that
the downloads needed to have bodies, if they were going to act in the world.
They didn't, their real ones having died centuries before. So they had to steal
the ones they had, and, if she'd been told correctly, the person who they stole
from went into some kind of box, or machine. One of those computers. Inside it
was supposed to be a different world, but how that worked, she had no real
clue.

It was probably the kind of thing
that had to be seen for yourself, and she simply hadn't. The problem there was
that of the ones that had, none of them could be really trusted. They were kind
of the enemy, after all, even if half of the ones she'd met were kind of her
friends.

Saran pushed one of the plates
over to Clarice and took her own, glancing at Pran.

"Eat up. We have work to do,
and being hungry won't help with it."

The soft chair was hard to get
out of. Not on the level of being real work, but it would slow her down if she
had to fight from there. It was tempting to simply switch her chair out with
the smaller hard one... So she did, not explaining her reasoning. No one
mentioned it, even though it took about a minute to move things around and get
her plate. There was a fork with it, but no knife. Not that she needed one. All
of the food was soft.

Potatoes with a thick gravy, an
already buttered and split roll, peas and okra that had pepper on it and a
piece of chicken that was actually made up of the meat from more than one
section. She'd never noticed any deboned birds walking around before, at any
rate. It all but fell apart for her, it was so tender. While she ate, Clarice
and Saran talked, which was clearly the work they had to get too.

The older woman, Guardian Saran,
took a controlled bite of potatoes and didn't speak until her mouth was empty.
She didn't set her fork down however, keeping it ready. Like a weapon.

"There's been another
skirmish, up near Ovland. About twenty miles south of there. We have three
missing Guardians. Guardian Clark believes that the tech cultists have some
kind of sound weapon that might have allowed them to capture our people alive.
If so, we need to be very careful. Not that they'll talk. Not even under
torture." This was spoken to Clarice, rather directly, but just after
that, almost in a shifty manner, the woman turned to look at Pran. Including
her in the conversation.

Because she'd had the report that
Clark had turned in, which mentioned things about her and what she'd seen? That
made sense.

"I don't know how it works,
but if they had those things, sonics, I think they called them, then it might
work. When my leg was hit I could barely walk on it for most of an hour. Clark
had been hit worse, and went all the way out. It's hard to beat, if it gets
you." She took a bite of the delicate chicken. It was, without any doubt,
the most wondrous thing she'd ever eaten. Even the rich and tasty food on The
Lament hadn't been like this. The meat was actually still juicy, and it had
been cooked with herbs, she thought. However they did it, the food was
excellent.

The idea that this was just an
average lunch here took her aback for a bit. The concept that the High Council
would have better things than most people made sense to Pran, in abstract, sure.
That was back to the idea of being the strongest one in the room. If you were
the biggest, or had enough power, you got the food you wanted. Everyone knew
that. Even at the Grange, it had been that way.
Especially
there. The
big and strong ate well, and the weak...

Well, they did what they had to,
in order to survive. It was where she'd learned the first rule.

It was less obvious most other
places, but even school had been like that a little. Except that there it
hadn't been about being large, or having great muscles. No, it had been down to
skill. The best singer, the best storyteller... or painter. She'd been several
of those things, realizing that was the structure there in her first days, all
those years ago.

Here it seemed that the main form
of power would be a combination of things. Being a High Councilor wasn't
something she could pull off, but being needed to get things done
might
be. It truly was the first lesson she'd learned.
Survive
. Do whatever it
took, and try not to dwell on what it was, whenever possible. Even if it hurt.
Even if it meant killing people.

With those somber thoughts, she
took another bite, since Clarice had been right, earlier. She was too skinny,
and that made her look a bit sick, or poor. She might not be wealthy, but that
didn't mean she couldn't make herself
seem
that way, with the right
props, if she could pull off the physical side of things.

Since no one else was talking,
she went on, trying to make herself seem knowledgeable.

"My guess, and I can't
really prove this, is that they can't be replaced. The Guardians. All of your
brains end up being different, because of the early training, and the downloaded
people have to match up with that, or they can't fit in the body. That probably
means that Judges won't be taken over either. I... Don't know about me.
Maybe
it would work. They'd just have to find someone as crazy, in the right way. Does
anyone else use that kind of... Meditation and early childhood training, like
that?" Pran didn't look at the High Bard, because the implication was
pretty clear. They were both suspects, weren't they?

She'd even sort of been setting
things up to look more advanced than she really was, herself. Something did
occur to her, but she saved it, since Saran seemed about ready to speak.

"Not at the same level.
Well... I think some of the historians might have something like that going on.
The ones that memorize all the stories, in case something happens to the
written records? Some religious groups, too. I can't say for certain
however."

Clarice kept eating, so she did
too, which meant no one said anything until she was finished. It was
embarrassing, but she was done already, having eaten a lot faster than Clarice
had. Saran was nearly finished too, so at least she had company. Guardians
always ate fast. That was because they could be called away at a moment's
notice, she thought. She did it so no one could steal her food. Even after
seven years with no one even looking at her plate wrong, she
still
did
it.

That left her holding the remains
of her food, which was just an empty plate with some sauce on it, and a bit of
oil from the chicken, when she stood up. Like Saran had said, she had work to
do.

"We need a record of anyone
that's been missing, in their life. Especially among the High Council, but the
servants and staff here too. Spouses and all that. From what little I know, it
would be very hard for a download to fake being a specific person really. Not
with their families and friends. So we have an edge there, if we can get into
the records that might show that? Do you know where they're kept? I could...
Try to sneak in, I guess. Tonight. When everyone else is asleep?"

Both of the other women looked at
her strangely for a bit, and then laughed at her, with Clarice covering her red
lips with a hand, but seeming genuine in her mirth.

Her words were warm and kind,
however.

"Or, Bard Pran, I can simply
request that they be brought to us? I'm a High Councilor after all,
and
in charge of this investigation. I'll set that up. It might take a few days to
get them all however, since they'll have to be carted in. The warehouse is
outside of the city."
That
news got Pran to blink.

Not the fact that it might take
some time, or that a High Council member would have that sort of access. No, it
was that a
Bard
was in charge of an investigation. That pretty much
didn't make sense, did it?

She nearly asked about it, when
Saran raised an eyebrow, and looked at her sideways.

"
Bard
Pran is it? I
wasn't aware that she'd finished her Apprentice duty, yet." It was spoken
dryly, and Pran smiled, about to explain about the boy in the hall that would
want to have sex with them all, but Clarice merely
smiled
, her face
pleased looking.

"Have you heard her
play
?
Her singing voice is at
least
the equal of my own, and her playing is
twice as good. If she's half that talented in any other area, we'll need to
send her on tour
immediately
. As it stands, I'm planning to cosset her,
and hand feed her treats until she forgets that my job is an
elected
position. In five years we might just find ourselves with a new High Councilor,
once people see her true talent." The woman deadpanned for a bit, then
shrugged. It was artfully done, and drew attention to her perfectly. "Of
course, the real job here is less about being a good Bard, and more about
learning how to smooth wheels with the right kind of grease. I have nightmares
where I run about with a little oil canister trying to make the rest of this
place stop squeaking."

Pran was still on her feet and
managed not to roll her eyes. The woman was being kind to her, but no one was
promoted on their first day. It would look bad, in fact. Like she had some kind
of greater purpose there. Spying, or at least had acquired the good dirt on the
woman, to blackmail her with.

"Speaking of grease and
squeaks, I need to set up that shipping run, if I can. Say, High Guardian
Saran, you don't need to get anything from Gladstone to O'Brien in the next
week or so, do you? High Councilor Times needs to send some dyeing compounds
there." It struck her as suspicious again, but the fact of the matter
indicated it was probably what it seemed. Chemicals for dyeing expensive
fabric, or whatever it was. Alpaca wool? Perhaps they were a type of sheep?

As far as she knew she'd never
even heard of that before. That probably meant only the very wealthiest could
afford it.

Saran nodded, but didn't add
anything for a few seconds. When she did speak it was after her own last bite
of succulent chicken.

"I'll need to check my files
on that. I think there might be something, but it's not coming to mind just at
the moment. Can I leave a note here, if I find something? Or do you get your
own office too? If so, Tuvin is going to be pretty jealous. I'm keeping my
Apprentice in a tiny closet, along with the writing supplies." It was
teasing. Pran could tell, since the lady was smiling at her now, instead of
acting like she really wanted to beat the truth out of her. Not that she'd been
less than polite, but something about her had relaxed a lot. Probably to throw
Pran off guard.

Or
Clarice
.

If she were in on the other
side...

That would make fantastic sense,
wouldn't it? Really, if she didn't half like the woman already she'd have
suggested it to Doctor Millis the next time they met. After all, getting the
person in charge of the investigation for the other side would be
huge
.
Pran didn't like that it was a Bard though. They made songs, stories and
pictures. Plays, and even games, were part of their duties.

Taking charge of this
investigation however, was off. Wrong, even. So much so she had to wonder why
everyone else wasn't complaining about it. Then, perhaps they were? It wasn't
like they'd come and just tell her. Not yet. Soon though, she needed to make
certain she had those kinds of contacts. It got her moving to the door
suddenly.

Clarice made a face, but Saran
just looked at her. It was questioning.

Pran shrugged.

"I need to get to Captain
Jacques then. Does he work out of an office here, or will he be on his ship?"
She could find it, she thought. It looked identical to all of the other
airships, being large and white, but it also had a small and slightly dirty
looking smudge on its nose. Or it had, when she'd seen it two months before.

His new Apprentice Shipman had
botched a landing and run into a tree. That
had
to be embarrassing.

Clarice put her hands together.
It was a move used to get attention, and focus the mind of an audience. Big to
start with, but rapidly coming to a single point. The movement would attract
attention, and was gentler than clapping or yelling.

"I don't know if he'll be
around this time of day, but his space is near the front, on the first floor,
left hand side. One of the good offices." Holding up her left hand,
dramatically, the woman heaved a sigh that was worthy of a stage performance.
It was nice to see. Comforting, Pran realized.