Off Center (The Lament) (8 page)

The
"fire" part had to do with imagining she had a fire moving around inside
her, but even Mara pointed out that it wasn't really about that, but the breathing
and not wasting her energy.

"So,
it's not hard, but takes discipline. We can take turns watching the fire."
Then, as if it were supposed to be enough, Mara closed her eyes rather than explain
anything else and started to breathe heavily.

Slowly
though. Pran tried it and found it wasn't that hard to do. You had to tense the
muscles in the stomach, and it was work, but she managed. She even kept her eyes
open and about an hour later flowed forward carefully, to move the logs together
again. It was then that she understood that things might be a bit worse than she'd
feared.

Not
only was the world white now, instead of dark like it had been, but the wind was
picking up. It wasn't blowing
in
yet, but it was enough that, now that she'd
heard it and felt the cold air on her face, it was hard to miss. The heat reflector,
which was just some pieces of wood stuck in the ground, mainly being bark really,
was protecting the fire at least. The snow was still heavy and wet, so Pran added
some other wood to the fire too, hoping that might help keep it from going out.
Big chunks of the stuff that would last for a long time.

Then
she crawled back in, managing to elbow Mara, who didn't stir at all, and not track
anything back in with her really. It took a bit to get wrapped back up, but about
five minutes later she was back to her breathing exercises, feeling more than a
little tired. Still, lack of sleep wouldn't kill her, would it? She'd just
wish
she were dead.

In
her bags there were some of the pills that would keep her awake, if she needed them.
It was tempting, but they were so strong she had to figure that they weren't good
for the health. It was a real argument, she decided, until about half an hour later.
Being bored was less than fun, so she got one out, and took it, almost without thinking.

After
all, she had a reason to take it, not wanting to die. Bards were supposed to always
be doing things like that anyway, weren't they? Strange drugs, and drinking to excess?
Like having wanton sex, it was part of the mystique. She could at least take part
in a bit of it, right?

Nothing
happened at first, but she wasn't dumb enough to try and take more than one of the
things at time. The taste of green tea lingered in her mouth, which dried pretty
quickly, as she kept breathing through her nose. She could feel the force of her
actions pushing blood into her head, and even her hands, if not as strongly. It
really was keeping her warmer, she thought.

Next
to her Mara stirred a bit, and looked out at the fire, but didn't move, her breathing
just keeping pace with Pran's. It was like they were joined almost. Working together
as one. Except for the complete lack of doing anything part. She grinned and started
to work on a song inside her mind. An instrumental, for the lute, she decided, trying
not to actually hum the catchy tune. Then she carefully committed the thing to memory.
Nothing was worse than coming up with a good melody only to lose it, because you
didn't write it down.

The
snow kept falling, but the touch of fear she'd had about it went away. That would
be the drugs, which really did that part pretty well. She wasn't afraid of anything.
Not the cold, or the snow. Not Mara or Clark, or her future. Nothing. After a while
she let go of her new song and just focused on breathing. It was intense, and very
important.

She
still managed to tend the fire again, though Mara got the time after that. They
kept taking turns and didn't even try to go out of the little hut until the sky
lightened a bit. It was still dumping white down on them, and there was a half hand
span on the ground when she stepped out. The fire was still burning, so she banged
some of the wood together to get the worst of the white stuff off and then put it
on the red embers, blowing on it until it started to burn. After that she had to
find a bush and use it, which was bitterly cold. The only comfort there was that
Mara had to do the same thing too. Then she pulled the bags from the little hovel
they'd made, which was kind of pretty, covered like it was, and dug into the packs,
not caring which one was hers.

"You
brought combat drugs with you? And took some too?" There was hesitancy in her
words, but instead of barking at her about responsibility or anything like that,
Mara broke out two more, took one herself and handed the second to Pran, then passed
a water skin. "Brilliant. This will make it so we won't want to eat, but we
should anyway. The cold will burn more energy than it feels like and we have a day's
work ahead of us." She stowed the gear again and came out dressed much like
Pran already was, with mittens and a hat on her head, as well as warm dark gray
winter clothing. It was what the ship had, after all.

She
also had a small work bag with her, made of canvas. Hoisting it, she glanced at
the fire and sighed hugely.

"We
can't leave it like this. Pile all the wood on the top of it and then cover all
but the top with snow. It's not perfect, but we might have a fire left, later in
the day. Coals at least. Looking for wood in the snow is less than fun." She
grinned hugely and moved five or six feet to pat Pran on the shoulder. "The
Lament should be back today, and if not, I bet some village person will put us up.
But we need to stay ready for anything. I don't like the fact that we're stuck here
like this, even for a few hours. You were in Pumpkin Hollow yesterday, what was
the mood like? Do you think we need to be ready for combat?" That she was asking
that seriously got Pran to actually stop and think about it, logically.

"I
don't think so. They aren't fighters, as far as I could tell. Angry about a child
being abused, but no one really seemed to think that Clark and I were stealing the
man away to be bathed in perfumes and fed candies. My guess is that as long as we're
polite to them, they'll probably be more than willing to have us around. You and
I, that is. If Will Butcher came in with us, someone might well try to hurt him
again. Being sick like he is-" She was about to give her opinion, that no one
would want to beat a dying man, or one that seemed that close to it, but Mara looked
around and then whispered to her gently.

It
was eerie sounding however. Like she wasn't worried, but knew something Pran just
didn't.

"Good
point. Don't mention that to anyone. If he dies, and it can be traced back to his
beating, then the men that did it are going up on murder charges. People that might
willingly sit out a few months to deliver a beating, may just try to fight, if they
think the stakes will be measured in years or decades. How's your gut feeling?"

Pran
patted it. After a second she grinned.

"Flat
and a bit hollow. I'm not hungry, like you said, but I can chew on some dried fruit.
Let me get it." She knew where it was after all, having packed a lot of it,
so they wouldn't accidently run out of food. When she handed Mara her double handful
of pears, apples and some walnuts that had already been shelled, the woman started
to eat without comment. Only when she was done did she clarify.

"I
was asking if you felt sore. I don't, but most do after a night like that. Fire
Breath is harder than it feels like."

"Oh,
nope. I feel fine so far. It might be the drugs? That or all the singing I do. It's
not like I never do breathing exercises, after all." It was part of the job.
At least if you wanted to be good at it.

She
only got a grunt in return, not any information about which thing was the most likely
reason, but they had the fire set up, so that it would burn out if they didn't return
soon enough, rather than spread, and left the shelter up. They had several of their
oil cloths in it, but short of taking off most of the layers, they'd just have to
stay, for now.

"It's
a risk of the resource, but I'd rather pay for a few new cloths than get back here
in the dark and not have a shelter, with snow coming down around our ears. Shall
we move into the village? I don't think it's
way
too early, anymore."
The lady nodded at her own words, her cheeks a nice rosy color from the cold, as
was the tip of her nose. The hat made her look funny, having ear flaps that folded
down, but Pran figured she looked the same, so didn't mention it.

"Lead
away?" It was bright enough for her to be able to see after all. Mara waved
her ahead anyway.

Then
after a second explained it.

"Unfamiliar
path for me, you've walked it several times. We can leave the gear here, but bring
the weapons and a bit of food."

The
walk was different, since the ground was firmer underfoot, and she was allowed to
just walk, instead of running a walking guard. It sped the whole trip up, and even
the Guardian next to her mainly moved like a normal person. True, a few times she
was suddenly gone, when Pran looked over, to find that even her footprints weren't
there anymore. A bit later, each time, she was back before Pran could locate her,
and finally laughed, and then pointed at her feet.

"You
can see the tracks. Anyone can. I was just walking backwards in them at the same
pace as you traveled forward, so you didn't hear me do it. Then once you got about
four meters ahead, I slipped off into the brush. It's too dangerous to move without
rhythm right now. It's slippery enough that you'd end up hurting yourself if you
tried. So we move to one of the alternate techniques. You can go next." She
said it as if the idea of walking through the freezing brush with snow falling down
her neck was a special treat.

The
only good side was that she only had to do it twice before they got to the village,
which still had muddy streets. It was just covered with white now. An improvement
visually, at least. It took the filthy looking mud pit and turned it into a rather
picturesque landscape. If she would have seen this first, she might well have thought
more kindly about the place. They had a lot of stone buildings, and even the big
barn she and Ben were supposed to play in later was pretty now. The roof was glistening
in the sun as she moved, the tiny crystals that had stuck to it not melting yet
at all. Given the temperature out, they might not that day. Hopefully they could
warm the place inside, or her strings would snap when she tried to play.

A
lot of the houses, and they were real enough places, she saw, with nice sturdy doors
and even glass windows in place, had thick plumes of wood smoke coming from the
chimneys. The whole village smelled of it. That and various meats being prepared.
She wasn't hungry at all, so her mouth didn't water, but it was pleasant enough.
There was no noise however.

Not
past the sounds of a few animals back in their pens, behind the main street.

"You
know," Pran began, realizing that she was probably going to say the wrong thing,
but feeling willing to do it anyway. "This place would benefit a lot from some
good roads. Even gravel would help."

Mara
shrugged and looked around, her foot slipping on the still soft mud under the main
street, which hadn't gone solid yet at all.

"That
kind of thing takes a lot of work, and villagers feel entitled to their half year
off. Asking them to do something like that might mess up the holiday schedule. Can't
have that."

The
funny thing was that, as hard as Mara could be at times and as much as she looked
down on "lazy and soft Bards" She seemed pretty serious.

For
her part, Pran blinked and stopped in her tracks, which meant her right boot started
to sink, until she realized what was happening and scrambled to the left side of
the track, near a large building that seemed like someone's home.

"They
get a half year off? Each year? How does that work?"

Mara
stared at her for a bit and then gestured around them.

"The
growing and harvest seasons are set by the weather. There are some daily chores,
but most of their work is finished in those busy seasons. Then, if they have time
for it, they do building projects and what not, before things become impossible
that way. To you and I that seems hard to understand, because we have to work those
cold seasons, and don't take many days off. That isn't what most people do. My folks
are town people, and they still take a good quarter of the year off. They run a
shop, and work more than most, but in the winter they might not even open the door
for a month at a time, just waiting for someone to pound on the window if they need
anything."

The
way she said it was matter of fact enough, but Pran had to feel a bit out of step.
She'd never actually known any of that at all. To her it had always seemed like
everyone just worked all the time. School had been seven days a week, with only
a half day for religious services, and at the Grange... Well, you did what you were
told and it wasn't much fun, so things like days off went without notice. They'd
been schooled occasionally, and worked in the gardens. They could play too, skipping
rocks or whatever, at times. Mostly they tried to work, since it made things better.

Even
the youngest quickly learned that being useful got you better food and a chance
to survive without trading your behind for scraps from the older boys. Most of the
time. The girls were worse. The boys would stick it in you, and be done with it.
It would hurt, but they got enough that way that no one was really raped. You had
to eat, and if you just let them do it, they mainly wouldn't force you. The older
girls were animals to the younger ones though. Some would torture the little kids,
claiming it was a game. Not letting them breathe until they passed out, or burning
them with the ember ends of sticks. Then there were the Keepers...