Without Rhythm (The Lament) Read Online Free PDF Page A

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