Without Rhythm (The Lament) (4 page)

As they pulled up, near the fire, she heard him. It had been some time, but she remembered the voice. The laugh and the way he'd spend extra time with the younger kids if they were having problems in classes, tutoring them.

Ben.

Bard Benjamin now. She recognized the playing, a little weak on the bridge work, because he could never quite get his left pinky to make firm contact with the fret. He wasn't horrible because of it, but everything he played had a slightly high pitched twang to it. At least he wasn't trying to sing. That would have been harder to keep doing as the wagon pulled up. It was considered very rude to interrupt a Bard.

Instead he stood, serenading them with a gentle smile on his young face, lit only by the flames of the small fire in its metal safety pit. He didn't seem to notice her at all at first, which was fine. He was two years older than she was, but after that kiss... She'd thought about him sometimes, even knowing that he hadn't been interested in her. She was too young after all, and besides, he'd been waiting for someone else, not her.

She'd never asked who. It wasn't any of her business.

For one thing, they hadn't been friends exactly. They'd gone to the same school and it wasn't huge, which meant they'd shared some classes, but that was all. If they'd spoken a hundred words over five years to each other, Pran would have been surprised.

For his part he timed the song pretty well, ending it just after the wagon stopped moving.

"Prisoner? This late in the day? Where's the Judge... and Mara? Do you need me to do anything?" He sounded worried suddenly, but Clark just cleared his throat and hopped out of the back, making the whole wooden structure creak as he did. He was fit, but still heavy.

"Yes, please get some bandages for the new apprentice here. She has a cut on her forearm and upper thigh. Some cleaning agent too, if you would?"

"New apprentice? How did that happen, I thought that your higher-ups said that no new students were available..." He packed the guitar up before moving to get supplies for her wounds. It probably seemed odd to the others, but Pran got it. They were taught to treat their tools very well. A guitar like that was worth half a year's wages, so you didn't leave it sitting out in the night air, unguarded, with criminals sitting not ten feet away.

The apprentice bit was getting a bit old though.

Clark kept it up, apparently thinking it was humorous. Some people did that, not realizing how important timing could be for jokes. Do it too long and you lost all the shock value, which was what made things funny.

"Conscripted her. That or she volunteered, I'm not sure which the report will say yet. I need to get Mara and Claire in on it as well. She announced herself as a Guardian though and then took in a rapist, caught in the act. That has to count for something. She started in the dark too. How many people would even try it?"

The Bard started walking toward the ship, jogging a little, which seemed quick enough, but meant he was gone for several minutes anyway, coming back with a small canvas bag that had a sturdy looking strap on it. Instead of helping her out himself Ben handed the things to Clark who started to tend her wounds as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The cleaning agent stung and burned, but Pran managed not to let it show at all, even as the liquid was dumped on the wound liberally.

"I normally wouldn't use it like this, so wastefully, but treating wounds in the dark is dangerous. Too easy to miss part of it and leave a person open to infection, so if you have the resources it's better to spend extra on caution in that case." The words were still slow and relaxed, almost happy sounding, which didn't seem right.

Pran wondered about that. Why was she getting medical attention and polite care when the other prisoner was being left face down in the back of the wagon? OK, there was a difference in what they'd done, that was plain. Maybe the Guardian really was going to cut her some slack? She'd broken the law, that was true, but she really had been trying to do the right thing, maybe that counted for something? She wasn't in restraints yet either.

"Um, should we do something for him? The prisoner?" She tried to make it sound like she wasn't a prisoner, since that might influence how people thought about the situation. It was a long shot, but this was just an audience. A small one, but important to her possible future. If Pran didn't try to play them exactly right, then she deserved to go to the work camp.

The large man finished wrapping her wounds, doing it right over the clothing she wore, which didn't seem very efficient, but probably wouldn't be a problem, soaked with cleanser like the wounds were.

"Agreed. We need to get him secured in the cell and then roust the Doctor. I don't suppose he's still awake?" This seemed to be directed at the Bard, who was standing near the fire, enjoying the warmth.

"In bed by ten, every night he can. Want me to go do that? It can take him a while to get himself around."

"Please do the Bard Benjamin. Well Pran, do you feel up to escorting the prisoner, or do you want me to do it? I can't tell how bad your wounds are. Give me a self-assessment." The tone was surprisingly dry for some reason, suddenly serious, like he really cared if she was badly injured or not.

Pran thought about it for a few seconds before speaking.

"Some pain, the leg wound is worse than the arm, but the bleeding is stopped. Um, isn't having me take the prisoner in taking the fake 'apprentice' thing a bit too far though? I mean, there have to be rules on things like that, handling prisoners and who can do it. Aren't there?"

The big man chuckled again, a warm sound that rumbled in the air a bit.

"Surprisingly few. As to the apprentice thing, well, call it wishful thinking. Mara and I are running a four person watch with just the two of us. We're badly understaffed as an organization. It's hard work and very few are willing to take it on. Even when we get someone in the field, after training, some of them can't handle the work. Prone to freezing in the moment, or being lazy. You didn't hesitate much though. Most girls your age would have run away from the scene, some wouldn't have even mentioned it to anyone. We heard you trying to get help for that woman, which is why we ran over in the first place. Then when that didn't work you went back and tried to stop it. Alone and not knowing that anyone in the world would be coming to help you. Took injury doing it too and didn't let that keep you from going back for more. Sure you
might
be crazy, or lazy, but you have part of what we look for and don't sound stupid. I liked the part where you tried to pretend that there were several Guardians just outside the scene like you did. It was pretty convincing. I know that
I
looked around for the others at least."

Pran didn't know how to respond at first, it wasn't exactly an offer after all, not a real one, but she didn't have anything else to do and even if she could just get a meal or two out of this situation she had to try it, didn't she? She had nothing after all. That also meant nothing to lose.

"I'm not lazy. Bard Ben here can testify to that. If he remembers me from school. I've been kicked out, but I was near the top in my class. Unfortunate injury during a last day prank." Quickly she described the whole thing. She still felt shame over it and probably always would. Poor Sollen.

"Wait,
Pran
? I... didn't recognize you in the dark like this, come closer to the fire... Please I mean..."

She did it, which got first a small smile then a concerned look.

"Wait, the school council kicked you out hours before you graduated? Just for that? I mean,
you
? That doesn't make sense. I'll call on the Headmaster about it. The worst you should have gotten was a fine and a stern talking to. Maybe have to cover the boy's medical expenses. You didn't attack him after all and people can get hurt. Negligence, certainly, but you weren't even an adult yet. It isn't right." Then he walked off, mumbling something about getting the Doctor.

"A Bard then? Near fully trained too?" Clark shifted a little to face her.

"Not a Bard now. I can play four instruments, sing, remember long tales, paint, carve, act, do performance magic and write stories. Not exactly what you need as a Guardian, is it?"

That got a laugh from Paul, the wagon man.

"Isn't it? If you can do all that and were top of your class that means you have to be smart too. You don't get into an art school if you aren't. Brave, smart, and not lazy at all I'd guess. You
do
sound a bit reckless, but a few beatings will probably fix that. I have to say Clark, I think I'm actually starting to see your point with Pran here. You should try to sign her up. I don't know if anyone that old could make it as a Guardian without the early training, but if not we could always use someone bright in engines on The Lament. Worth looking into at least." His voice was a bit gruff, but didn't sound old, just a bit worn, like someone that had a cold and tried to sing too much.

Pran wondered at the whole thing, still suspecting a trick, but finally she shrugged.

"Room, board, upkeep and training. Normal apprentice wages, you know, shoes and clothing, some cleaning gear, since I don't have any. For that I'll work doing whatever you want. You know, do what I'm told and try my very best no matter what. I'd rather not have to service everyone on the ship sexually, but I really was about to try whoring myself, so..." It made her stomach tense thinking about it, but it was all true. She expected laughter then, but no one made any sound except the man in the back of the wagon.

"Dumb whore."

Everyone else ignored him.

The large muscular man in black stood and gestured her to do the same.

"Alright then, bargain. It won't be easy, but do all you said there and I can at least show the Captain that you're worth taking on, even when you can't make it as a Guardian. We'll start the real training in the morning, before the trial. Right now, help me get this prisoner in the cell, so the Doctor won't have to come out into the chill air. He's a bit delicate."

That got a laugh from Paul, but no explanation. Standing, which felt stiff and painful on the right leg, Pran moved to get the man out of the back of the wagon, only to find him picked up bodily by Clark, set on his feet, arms being pulled back just a bit on the restraints for control. He did it with one hand, then gestured for her to take over.

She reached past the controlling hand, under the restraints instead of over, since Clark was doing the same thing, bumping her arm into his. Then she placed a firm hand on the man's jacket and grabbed the cloth again. That way he couldn't spin on her as easily. The moves got a smile from the large man. Her new master, it seemed.

"Good. You learn fast. Keep that up. I'll guide from this side, so you can watch what's behind me and I can do the same for you. If anyone comes up, even a friend, or if something happens that you aren't absolutely certain about, you call it out. Don't be shy about it, better a thousand false alerts than one wrong one. I'll do the same. Go ahead and start walking backwards."

The instructions got called out very clearly, telling her when to step up at the lip of the ramp going to the hatch and how to use the bump bar to open the thing without turning around. It was just a latch big enough to hit with an elbow, though she had to back into the door hard to get it to open all the way. There were some dim lights on inside, which had to be special, since no one would light something as large as the hallway she was walking down normally. It was nice inside, but mainly made of wood with sturdy metal fixtures and railings.

"About thirty meters back on your right there's a door. You'll walk past it about three meters and turn the prisoner around while I see to the door." It took a while to get there, walking half the length of the ship backwards it seemed, but she did what she was instructed without being told, hoping to do it right, since she really wanted to make a good impression.

Almost as if he realized that, the rapist kicked off the wall as she started the turn, pushing her back, using his greater weight to swing her in place. There was an impact against her head, but Pran didn't let go, holding on for dear life in fact. She couldn't let this evil man take away her only chance after all. It was hard and she nearly lost him, but by pulling as hard as she could on his arms and kicking him in the back of the heel several times she got him to finally stop.

"Moron. Cut that out. If you were going to fight, you should have done it at the outer door, when you might have been able to run away." Her voice was angry sounding, but it had been a day and a half, more than that, since she'd last slept and really she was at about the end of what could be put up with.

"Door open. Walk him in. Backwards again."

This part of things made sense, but as she got in the cell a thought occurred to her, what if this was all a trick? Just by shutting and locking the door she'd be trapped in place. With a rapist. Sure, a bound one, which would give her a chance to fight if she had to, but still... It was scary. The Guardians didn't just
let
people into their ranks after all. Maybe she really would be in trouble.

"Prisoner, face the wall. Any attempt to resist further will have you stunned. Pran, work him around to face the back wall. If he tries anything just let go and move to your right. Then come out of the cell."

It didn't take long, and she was out without any trouble, the man backing up to a hole in the cell door when told to, so the restraints could be taken off. Clark folded them twice and the woven metal wire bending easily, and tucked it back into a small pouch on his right hip, after putting his Kinetic pistol away.