Off Center (The Lament) (5 page)

What
the man had said stuck with her as she went in to see to her tasks. She'd actually
heard that he wasn't that bad in bed, from the same woman that had tried to blind
the Judges in order to escape. Actually, the woman, evil or not, had sort of recommended
Roy to her for that purpose. It was kind of interesting, in a way. The only reason
that she was being as shy with him as she was had to do with...

Really,
things from her past that she didn't want to bother with at the moment. The Grange
didn't exist for her now. She'd survived it and gotten away, into a better life,
and she wasn't going to let that place ruin it for her.

To
cover the mental lapse she jogged inside and stripped, then used a dry towel to
get at the weapon, just sitting there, shivering a bit as she worked. It was like
that, sitting there naked, that Bard Ben found her, knocking on her door gently.

"Are
you awake for the day yet Bard Pran?" He had a good tenor voice. She was nearly
his equal in playing, but he was still getting better in a lot of ways, and it would
be foolish not to notice that about him.

"I've
been
awake and into Pumpkin Hollow twice so far today. I'd let you in, but
I'm sitting here naked. I don't have anything dry to wear." She hadn't gotten
anything from the storage locker after all, so sighed and started pulling the cold,
damp and now rather darker black material on again.

The
voice at the door spoke as if all of that was somewhat normal, instead of every
single part of it being strange.

"That
sounds industrious. I was thinking of walking in later and seeing if I could set
up an engagement. These small towns never have coin this time of year, but it's
worth it, just for the good will of the thing. Would you be interested in joining
me?" He said it that way, because technically she didn't have to. He wasn't
her
Master
after all.

If
she were a fool and lazy, she might have even have stood on that fact. She wasn't
though. She smiled as the cold shirt hit her small breasts, making her nipples tighten.
Not caring overly, knowing that the heavy material would hide most of it, she opened
the door.

"I'd
love to. Apprentice Roy already set that up for us. Ten songs and some news, for
some wood plank and possibly some other things. Gut and glue. That might not happen,
but their headman said he'd ask around for it. Eventually I need my own instruments.
I can make them, but no coin." She'd never had any really, so it wasn't something
new to her. Apprentices and students just didn't. Neither did orphans. At least
not the ones at the Grange.

Bard
Benjamin clapped as the door opened, then let his hand go to his chest and sighed
dramatically. He was cute, and knew it. He was also, she remembered, the only boy
that she'd ever kissed. Well, he'd kissed her, mistaking her for someone else in
a dark hallway, but it had been him anyway.

In
a way it was one of her nicest memories.

"I'm
almost sorry I lost you as an Apprentice, you know that, Pran? If it wasn't for
the fact that I'd be constantly overshadowed by your talents, and you're getting
a position that you actually deserve, I would have begged for you to stay. That
sounds like a decent deal even, given how small this place is. What kind of hall
do they have?" He sat on the edge of Roy's cot, then reached across the small
space and touched her leg. It wasn't flirty, just a test for wetness, she thought.

Pran
wondered how to best introduce the idea, but then just let her shoulders come up,
trying to look cute. She was a bit thin, and flat in front, but that meant she looked
young enough to pull off some little kid actions at times. She didn't want to overdo
it however. She was an adult after all, if not a terribly old one.

"Drafty
barn. One that I've been assured doesn't leak that badly. What that means here I
don't really know. The whole place is a mud pit, so we should change there. Oh,
they also all think I'm a boy. I'd be insulted, but, honestly, I just don't care.
I need to work up some audition pieces for Bard Clarice, that's almost the only
thing I have time to think about right now." She paced the three steps that
the small room allowed and then turned back.

Bard
Benjamin stood, and put both hands on her damp shoulders.

"Then
let's get you something dry to wear, and then go and set up something that will
impress both the High Bard Councilor and a backwoods village, shall we? It sounds
like a worthy challenge!"

Pran
had to agree, it really did.

"This,
is impossible." Bard Benjamin used his slightly goofy, but charming smile to
soften the blow. Not that Pran hadn't gotten the basic idea a good hour before.
She knew enough songs, at least with Ben's help, to entertain the villagers. More
than enough really, since they had time to actually practice and she had an old
guitar to play, as well as a borrowed tampan.

Those
things just weren't good enough for the High Bard, that was all.

"What
I'd want to see, if I were Bard Clarice, would be new material. Anyone can learn
a few things by rote and parrot them back..." He sighed and shook his head.
"Well, anyone that's good enough to have been schooled in the subject. It takes
something special to come up with novel work. Especially ones that don't make your
ears bleed, or that scream of so much pretension you want to run pell-mell from
the room."

Pran
nodded, since the punch-line for that was always the same at the art school. She
spoke the words with an innocent tone to them, tilting her head and making it a
question, as if little her couldn't possibly have heard it before. Even if they
had gone to the same facility.

"It's
all right if they scream, as long as they stay put for the whole show?"

Ben
looked at the far wall and after a few seconds sighed.

"Yeah.
I know, it sounded like a joke to me too, back when all we needed was to impress
our instructors and make the other kids jealous of our wondrous skills, but when
you're playing a place like this, it's really true. Sometimes. If drinks are served,
don't count on
anyone
caring that you can do the seven step fingering for
the Madrid Cycle. I've gotten boos, yells and even ale thrown at me from the audience,
even when I was in key and playing requests. There's no way to tell what will happen,
and really, as long as they stay and don't injure you too much, you have to figure
it's a good show." He paused, clearly for effect, his eyes and sage face looking
over his lute. "Unless you're horrible and the door is locked. In that case
expect to be lynched shortly. People get serious about their entertainment."

That
had actually all been in the classes, but Ben was the first working Bard Pran had
ever talked to about how it all applied in the real world. It was different than
she thought, but not so much that she couldn't handle it.

"That
would be a good one to learn. For a rote piece I mean. The Madrid Cycle? I could
work some variations, not that some new things wouldn't be good too. I have the
Guardians Reel, but I don't think most would appreciate that." She grinned,
and then started to play. It was the same each time, since she wasn't just playing
random noises, but it was done in a way that made it seem like it didn't have a
regular pattern. To her surprise, Ben sat through the whole thing, without holding
his head even once. He didn't tap along though, which was pretty close to impossible.
You couldn't predict what it was going to do until you learned the pattern. That
was the point. It played four times though, and then, at the last instant, what
should have been a few notes from the real and natural ending, she stopped, silencing
the strings.

Ben
actually let his mouth fall open and faked a shudder. Or maybe it wasn't all that
fake? It left you yearning for completion and didn't deliver at all.

"Argh.
I get it, I've seen them, but... I want to shake you now! I'll never get that out
of my head. It didn't finish..." There was enough playfulness in it that she
just started playing a tune that had been running through her head for a while.
Well, she'd practiced it a few times, but she hadn't set it down on paper, not having
any at the moment. The Lament would have some in the storeroom, but she didn't know
if writing down music counted as a legitimate use for it. She'd have to ask the
Captain, and while the woman was nice enough, they didn't actually spend a lot of
time in the same places. When they did, the other woman was always busy.

Still,
her playing mollified the man and he waited for several seconds after she finished
playing to nod his head.

"Does
it have words?"

That
part was awkward, since it did, but the story they told was hers. The one from the
night she went out into a storm to guard The Lament and her crew, and ended up facing
a band of technological warriors. Or at least people that wanted to fight and kill
them all. She'd won, and in the song she did too, but it was...

Different.
She'd changed a lot of the details. Mainly so it would scan better, and not take
half a night to finish. No one really wanted to listen to a twenty-three minute
song. That got boring for everyone involved.

"Yes,
but... you have to promise not to laugh."

Ben
wrinkled his nose, and then shook his head warmly.

"Oh,
no. I'm not promising that until I hear it. It's all right, I think I know what
it is..." He was being falsely dramatic, and placed his hand on his chest while
looking up at the ceiling, to the left. "It's a love song to me, isn't it?
Well... It's about time. I mean, I went to an art school for years and none of the
girls ever bothered. You'd think they hardly noticed me or something. I certainly
wrote things for
them
."

It
took a few seconds for Pran to master herself not to mention that he'd never written
one for her, but she managed to fiddle with the tuning knobs long enough for that
almost overwhelming, and clearly stupid, desire to pass.

"In
The Rain." She started playing first, since there was an introduction and sang
the words with good projection, even though they were alone in Ben's room. It was
also his workspace, and four times bigger, or more, than what she shared with Roy.

It
all worked pretty well, since she couldn't help but polish things as she worked
on them, and instead of chuckling at the end, given her hubris, making a song about
herself, Bard Benjamin just nodded.

"That's
good. I see what you meant, about not laughing. Even making it so you faced four
men in the dark, instead of fifteen, it seems almost like an exaggeration. Especially
the part about the Guardians giving the young Bard Apprentice a Kinetic Pistol like
that. Everyone knows they'd never do that, don't they?" He smiled, since Clark
had,
and she'd even managed to use it. Not well, as it turned out, but it
had stopped the metal carriages when nothing else would have, which had sort of
been the point at the time. "Also, the girl in the song was afraid. I'll bet
you never were."

The
words were a little grudging, rather than being proud of her. Or maybe it was jealousy?
It was a good story, really. Pran just nodded.

"I
wasn't, but that was the drugs that Clark had given me, so that I could stay awake
and pay attention long enough. Though... There were parts that I was still pretty
certain I was going to die. Most of it, really. Things also hurt. Those metal carriages
hit hard, even moving slowly."

The
full Bard just shrugged.

"Don't
let it bother you. I won't be the last person to feel a bit less manly after learning
that's all true. So, that's two pieces. You know, you really should do a love song
as well, if only to show you have enough range for it." This bit of advice
came out sounding serious though, and worse, even though there was a sudden urge
to punch him in the throat for having said it, she knew he was right.

"The
only real problem there is that I've never been in love at all. I've never even
kissed a boy. Not that counted at least." She dimpled at him, and Ben sighed
a bit, but didn't deny the fact. It hadn't been aimed at her even, the hallway had
just been dark, and she'd come around it at the right time. That was all.

Instead
he looked at her seriously and took a half breath. It was what they'd been trained
to do when speaking, if they were afraid their voices might shake at the wrong time.

"But
how many times have you been kissed when it didn't count?"

Pran
stood up suddenly and walked out of the room. She still had the guitar in her hand,
but didn't stop, and didn't call back to the man, even if she was being horribly
rude. She managed to stop herself ten feet into the wooden hallway, near the door
where the prisoner was staying. In the sick room rather than one of the cells. Those
were on the other side of the ship, almost exactly.

A
bit of noise came from within, and sounded like struggling, so she popped the door
open, half expecting an escape attempt, or that the man was in his death throes.
It wasn't that, at least. Instead he was sick, and covered with a sheen of fine
sweat that glinted a little in the pale light from the window. They wouldn't bother
with lamps in the sick room, unless the patient needed them for comfort.