Missing Elements (The Lament Book 3) Read online

  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.

  Chapter three

  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 lev
el. 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.

  Like home.

  Not that she'd ever truly had one of those.

  That would mean, in any story that she'd ever learned, that the woman was going to turn out to not just to be an enemy, but their secret leader. The mastermind behind the whole thing. It was something to keep in mind, but for the moment her words held more information than Pran would have expected on her first day.

  "All of the High Councilors are equal, of course. Except that some are given greater weight than others. Shipping by air is decently important, hence the good space, down there. To get an idea of how we poor and beleaguered Bards fare in this, you need only look at how the others stuff us back here, on the roof."

  Saran chuckled, but shook her head.

  "True enough. As a guide, that can work for you Pran. If whoever you're looking for makes money in taxes, or would really hurt the rest of us if they just walked away, then they're on the first floor. If it's just about something gentle or fun, then the third is for them. This is the happiest level, by far."

  She nodded, and then tilted her head, deciding to speak her mind. It was probably wrong anyway. But if the files weren't stored in the lowest level, then what was? Something secret, she bet. At least if it wasn't the overflow for the people no one thought mattered too much.

  Like her, it seemed.

  "So, the lowest levels are used to store secret tech? Download machines, and computers?"

  Both women stared, and Saran was suddenly on her feet, a kinetic pistol coming out from under her clothing. The things weren't tiny, but it hadn't been visible before. Looking down the barrel, her life not even bothering to flash in front of her, s
he grinned.

  "Calm down, please. It just makes sense. I, personally, captured some technology not a month ago. It has to go somewhere. There's one of those download things in the basement of my house, in Pumpkin Hollow. It was the one that I got from Will Butcher, acting as his agent, and collecting goods for his escape? So unless that was cleaned out, it's still there." Her guess was that someone had been in there within days, to secure the place. She would have done it, if she'd had half a chance.

  Clarice snorted, and then sighed.

  "Yes, we do keep the secrets down there. Not just technology either. It's where our watchers operate from. You should go there and play for some of them soon. See if they'll open up to you. They never have for me, but if you do it openly, and take treats, it might wear them into a pliable state."

  She kept moving toward the door then, ignoring the fact that there was a deadly weapon pointed at her at the moment.

  "Sounds fun. Futile too. I mean, I wouldn't tell me anything like that. Would you? If you tell people your secrets, then everyone will know them." There was dramatic eye rolling, but no lowering of the pistol yet. She paused at the door anyway, deciding that being shot with it from there would kill her even if the wood was between them. Closing it quickly wouldn't help her much. "High Councilor Saran, if you do find that you have anything that might be in that area, please let me know? That will probably help with the rest of it. Thank you!" Then she walked away, plate still in hand. She certainly wasn't going back in...

  Except that she had to.

  There were other plates. Worse, her Master was still eating.

  "Oopse! Let's stack the plates in the other room. I'll see about passing them off to Walden again. Here..." She held out her hand to Saran, who got her own dish, and let her go to the other room alone, then she left, acting as if it hadn't been a giant oversight. Trying to walk out with a dish like that. She didn't even know where to take them. She might well have ended up traipsing over half the ship looking for the galley.