Without Rhythm (The Lament) (6 page)

That got movement instead of an answer, with Paul running off, presumably to get the wagon ready. They'd have to take that, because the carriage was too small for as many people as they'd have. The easy solution would be to have the apprentice run alongside on the way back, but Pran wasn't in shape for that yet, she didn't think. Especially at night. Her exercise for the last years had mainly been dance, and while hard, it didn't lend itself to great running feats really. No, she definitely preferred the idea of riding if possible.

That might be being lazy though. Sighing she asked Clark about the idea.

"Heh. Good call. For tonight take the wagon and don't overstress your body. You've been up for what, two days now? We need all your energy to go into being alert. I'll get you a rifle. I'm just going to guess that the art school didn't teach you how to use one of those?"

The voice from the darkness was a mellow tenor and answered even though the question had clearly been addressed to her.

"No, no weapons or fighting at all, except for stage work. I don't know what you're thinking, trying to make her into a Guardian like this Clark. It isn't seemly. We should be working to repair whatever went wrong for her, she's a special talent... Not someone to risk like this."

That came from Bard Benjamin and didn't even get a response from the Guardian, who towered over everyone else, most of them still just standing around.

Pran answered, feeling more tired than she should, the weight of it all threatening to crush her, if she didn't keep moving.

"What is,
is
. I'll be alright. I mean, I'm scared and angry, but I have some kind of chance now and I really don't want to blow it, so, you know, stop undermining me with all this talk of how special I am, will you?" It was a stage whisper, meant for everyone to hear and got a chuckle from the Guardian and the older woman, who moved in and slapped her on the shoulder.

"That's the spirit kid. Besides, Bard Benjamin, if Guardian Clark says this one can handle this, she can. I've seen him be wrong before, but not often and she's clearly willing to try. I say we get out of her way for a while and see what she can do." The voice wasn't angry sounding, but was a little firmer in tone than most took with Bards.

Ben sighed, a dramatic thing that carried even in the dark how very much he disagreed.

"Of course Captain Mina. Just know that if you get her killed, there
will
be scathing songs about you both along the width and breadth of this land." He didn't sound like he was kidding and while the Captain laughed, Clark just turned and pointed to the wagon that had moved into view.

"Rifle first. Come with me to the weapons locker." He started jogging, making virtually no noise as he did it, Pran being the loud one, even though she'd thought her ability to sneak around at night was pretty good from all her adventures at school. They headed straight into the ship's main body and turned right this time, down a very dim corridor that had only one weak lamp for the entire length. There were windows, but Pran only knew that because of the tiny bit of shine and the reflection of the single point of illumination from the far wall.

"I'm getting you a light combat rifle. It fires metal bullets, using an air canister charge. One bullet to the head will kill a man, woman or child, if you're close enough. As a Guardian we do not take life if there is another option, or do harm that is unneeded. You may have heard that we're killers, and we do have to use that level of force at times, but it's always the last resort. You're in a delicate position here tonight. If you need to fight, you don't have the skills to do so without using maximum violence yet. Unless you can talk the people into giving up, of course. You did well earlier. I've rarely seen an aggressive man taken down only using words. If you and Paul come into danger alone, run, Guardian or not. If you have to fight..." There was a sound and the wall in front of her opened, a single wooden door moving in the dark, then after a bit a long tube came toward her, pointed down toward the floor.

"This is loaded, and has twenty rounds in it. Here, this is the safety, on the side. Up allows you to fire, down is locked. Remember that. Up to fire, down to not fire. Here, find it with your thumb. Got that?"

He showed her by placing his warm, very large and callused hands over hers, putting her hand on the stock at the bottom and actually moving her thumb to show what he meant.

"Yes. Then I just point and pull the button?"

"Right. The trigger. We'll have training on the proper way of doing that later, so try not to learn any bad habits tonight. Just assume that you can't hit anything more than a few feet away and aim for any attacker's middle. Which brings about the second part of this...

If it's you and Paul, or George, even Mara, in trouble... you run. Even if you have to leave them to likely death. Run back here and get help. If it's the Judge, then it's your duty to protect her no matter what that takes now. Even if you have to die to do it. Do you understand that? We
always
protect our charge. If that's the case you'll probably die, since Mara will have had to been beaten already and she probably can't be taken by people like the ones we caught, unless there are a lot more of them. Use all the guile you have in that case. I'd hate to lose my new apprentice on the first day. The other Guardians will laugh at me."

Then he started jogging again, reminding her to point the weapon down and not at anyone she didn't want dead.

"It's an airship. The balloon up there will explode if a spark hits it. This weapon won't do that, but there are also people up there and we don't need to make our Doctor too busy patching up friends."

"Right." If she sounded a little grim, well, who could blame her. It wasn't everyday that some giant Guardian sent her off with instructions that included possibly dying. It seemed a bit harsh for the first day, but she'd live.

Unless she didn't.

"I'm so scared right now. I really don't want to die." Pran said it out loud, expecting to be rebuked for it, called a coward or something like that, but they just kept running until they were at the side of the wagon.

Clark slapped her on the back once, solidly.

"Good. Better to be afraid and willing to do what's needed anyway, than to claim you aren't and freeze. You won't fail that way, no matter what comes." It sounded like he meant it, rather than just patronizing or coddling her.

Which had to be acting on his own part, Pran realized. He didn't know her at all. It made sense, in a way, he needed someone to go and get the Judge and while he could have gone himself, that kind of thing was, clearly what apprentices were for. That and doing the other low work that no one wanted to do. It was the same for Bards after all, everyone knew that. The apprentices cared for all the instruments and did laundry, saw to their master's meals and all that. It probably wouldn't be all that different for a Guardian, except that, instead of performing to warm up a crowd or doing part of the work on a decorative statue, she'd have to take prisoners and do things like this. Go rescue stranded people at night, and do the watches that no one else wanted.

Maybe.

The truth was, that even if it was a genuine thing, a real apprenticeship, there was probably a catch. Clark seemed like a decent fellow, if scary, but someone would want
something
from her. They had to. After all, she hadn't been trained for seven years to be a Guardian and didn't know their skills at all. Her even trying to pretend to do the job was an unfunny joke.

That didn't mean she wouldn't play along and do what she could. It wasn't comfortable, but it was at least as good a chance as selling herself on the street would have been. Better, if the Guardians kept pretending it was all real. That would mean she was guaranteed regular food and even some new clothing. Not good food or fine things to wear, just serviceable stuff. Like a miller's apprentice maybe?

Pran didn't know and probably wouldn't until it happened. For the time being she had to do her best to pay attention and at least look alert. The night was so very dark, outside the single lantern that Paul had burning on the front seat. She tried to see it all, listening for a hint of change, but she knew that people could be standing next to the road, waiting to hurt them and she'd never see it coming. They were well marked by the light after all.

Paul was being at least as alert as she was, though he focused on the path in front of them, eyes darting enough that she noticed him doing it. He was tense, but that was probably a good thing. After all, if they were attacked they'd have to run away as fast as possible and being relaxed and happy would slow them down.

The trip took a while, since wagons, while useful for hauling things, weren't very fast over all. The regular jolts helped to keep her awake, which was a positive thing. Otherwise Pran would have gone out and not noticed the white form in the road ahead of them.

"Hold." She spoke the word firmly enough that Paul actually pulled up, the wooden transport slowing well before they got to the Judge, her clothing bright in the lamp light. Next to her stood the driver, George. Pran thought that was the name.

There was no sign of Mara, but given what she'd seen Clark do earlier it was likely that the woman was about to render both of them unconscious if they weren't proven to be friendly pretty fast.

"Um, it's Paul and Pran. Guardian Clark sent us to get you, if we could. So, you know, don't kill us Mara. We caught the men that stole the carriage and don't know if there are more of them in on it. At least one of them was the rapist's brother." She tried not to sound scared, but it didn't totally work.

In front of them the Judge smiled, stepping toward them just a bit.

"It's true. Pran isn't lying, at least not that she's aware of. Hello Paul, so nice to see you. I thank you both for coming to our aid. We were rather stranded. Not accosted however."

From behind Pran a woman's voice came, not three feet behind her. From the back of the wagon.

"Excellent. At least someone came armed. I suppose you were told to fight to the death to save us? Heroically doing battle against an army without even a thought of retreat?" The voice was low, but friendly sounding.

When she turned Pran could only just make out that a person was there at all. She wouldn't have gotten the idea if Mara hadn't spoken.

"No. Only if Judge Claire needed help. If it was just you or... First Shipman George, we were supposed to run and get help. Maybe yell some helpful hints or something. Well, that part hadn't been added, so it might have just been fleeing."

"Oh
ho
!" There was a gentle slap on the back then.

"Official and everything then. Well, let's take up guard positions while Paul turns this beast around. There's a wide spot a few hundred feet further down that should work."

Then the woman was gone. Pran had been looking right at her, but she just wasn't there anymore.

She appeared in front of the lamp, walking quickly. The Judge moved off to the right hand side, apparently just planning on waiting. It seemed sensible from an energy standpoint, since walking the extra distance wouldn't help at all, but even to her, a simple ex-art student, that didn't make much sense. What if there was someone out there... Just waiting to get her?

True, if that was the case it probably would have happened already, but Pran jumped down from the wagon, which was about the height of her own shoulder, trying not to make the rifle in her right hand fire as she did it. Then she jogged and made a point of standing near the Judge, who didn't seem to be paying much attention to her. It was hard and probably seemed insane, but Pran tried to be a good Guardian, even if she wasn't one, and got the weapon ready, aiming it toward the woods on the right and then the left side of the road, alternating every ten seconds or so.

After a minute of this, the wagon well out of sight in the dark, except for the glow of the single lamp, George grumped at her a little. It was the kind of thing she'd expect from her older teachers, not someone that must have been about twenty-eight or so. Sour and edgy.

"No one is coming for us. You can put that thing down and stop acting like the woods are alive."

Pran smiled at him, trying desperately not to seem like she didn't know what she was doing. It was the truth, but she didn't want this guy to know it. Not if he was going to make a point of being a pain in the ass like he was.

"The woods
are
alive. I was, um, assigned this as a lesson, I think. Not because it's really dangerous. Either way I have to try to pay attention and not let anyone kill the Judge, or kidnap her. So, you know, I
have
to act like a freak right now. It's the job." She wasn't trying to be funny, but the man sighed, and didn't call her a moron, chuckling just a little bit at the end.

"Right. New fake apprentice. Well, luck to you there. Hard lot our Guardians. Once saw Mara fell a tree with a single blow. Think you can do that?"

"Oh, sure. Well, it might take me a couple, I'm new and all that. Maybe in a few days, if they don't get rid of me first, I'll do that for you." She could do it too. It would take a little advance work with a saw and a wood wedge, but she knew enough about how to carve wood and misdirection to set it up.
That
she'd had classes in. Stage magic was an art as well after all.

"Big words for someone as small as you are. I'll bet you a week of night watch that you can't."