Without Rhythm (The Lament) (23 page)

Pran felt a sudden wash of kinship with Tuvin and how he could let himself become a little distracted by things like that. She forced eye contact and nodded.

"From the Bards' High Councilor herself. Just until they find me a better position she said. Apparently she's a personal friend of the Guardian High Councilor, who really thinks that me getting someone's leg broken isn't worth losing everything. It might be fitting for me to be here though, as punishment. It really wasn't the best plan ever, was it? Poor Sollen." For the first time in days a feeling of remorse washed over her for that. She hadn't realized it, in the rush and stress, but that part of things really bothered her. The boy had just been helping and was really a good friend to her. In return she got him hurt and possibly falling behind everyone else. Because of her big ego and swollen head.

Hopefully he'd keep up with his studies and not let the event throw him off too much.

"Wait... I'm not up to speed here. You're my apprentice, or did they put you in charge and knock me down again? I hope not. That would be embarrassing." He was making a joke, because both were pretty unusual. Most masters didn't take their first apprentice until ten or fifteen years after finishing their own first year. Ben was still in his.

Not that far in either, if Pran had the math right.

"Nope, I'm
your
apprentice. So you know, free laundry service and all that. I don't have my own instruments. The school confiscated the ones I'd made." It rankled, but there was little to be done about it at the moment. She didn't have any way to make more, she didn't think.

Ben just nodded though and then yawned.

"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.

  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 grinned 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?"