[Log] Shiny!
Who: P'ax, Shad, Tiriana, Zahriel
When: Day 24, Month 3, Turn 21
Where: Bowl, High Reaches Weyr; Council Room, High Reaches Weyr
What: A miner arrives just in time for a clandestine meeting.
Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond, allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far north.
Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries.
Contents:
Shad
Zahriel
Isforaith
Obvious exits:
Living Cavern Inner Caverns Garden Patio Ledge [Sky] Galleries Weyrleader Complex East Bowl Weyr Entrance
Shad
Shaduriess is a young man at that exceedingly awkward stage of growth in late adolescence, all knobby knees, sharp elbows, and broadening shoulders that he's struggling to keep up with. He has slightly more muscle than most teen boys his age, thanks to his craft, but he still manages to look a bit on the skinny side for his increasing height. He has a broad-featured face with brown eyes and brown hair, and wears sturdy, long-wearing tunics and pants in browns and creams. He sports the simple knots of a Smithcraft Apprentice on his shoulder.
Zahriel
Thick back hair is tousled and unkempt, swept every which way by the careless brush of wind and hand. Falling just short of the nape of his neck, it frames his strong, long-jawed face. Large, expressive eyes, eyes, a rich hazel in color, are often obscured by heavy bangs. His broad nose is slightly crooked to one side, evidence of an ill-set break in the distant past. Firm lips are a shade thin, edged by smile lines. His chin is also firm, almost stubborn in its set, and often shadowed, like his broad jaw, with a hint of shadowy stubble. His naturally pale complexion is darkened to a rich tan by exposure to wind and sun. Zahriel appears to be around 21 turns of age, give or take a turn or two.
A shirt, once dyed deep ochre, has faded to tan, worn to scruff at the open collar. The long sleeves are often rolled up to his elbows, exposing tanned forearms. A simple vest of black dyed leather fits snuggly over his broad chest, laced at the base of his spine. Wherhide pants, dyed ebon, are belted about his slender waist, fitting snuggly against thighs and calves, disappearing into thin black calf-boots. The boots themselves are thin and supple, carefully reinforced at heel and toe, with thick, ridged soles to provide both protection and traction against rock.
P'ax
There is nothing soft or kind about the face of this young man. He has a long, thin face and a somewhat fleshy nose. The most significant thing about him are his penetrating, cold blue eyes. Thin lips complete the planes of his face, the upper extended wider than the lower and slightly fuller to give him the appearance of a perpetual scowl that can only be countered through great effort. His hair was probably once a light brown but has bleached to a dark blond and even lighter in places, kept longer than is strictly necessary with a tendancy towards very messy.
P'ax can only be described as long and lanky, his height accentuated by his lack of spare flesh. His shoulders have finally begun to fill out into their full potential, along with the ropey cords of muscle the stand out, making him look powerful in a more graceful way than bulk would. His height only lends credence to the more intimidating parts of him, all 6'3" of him handled nicely now that he's grown into it.
He wears a white button-down, rolled up to his elbows, and gray wherhide pants. His boots are servicable, if well used. Pulled firmly down over his head is a knitted cap with a stiff brim the sticks out over his eyes. A wide belt is fastened around his lean hips, holding a belt knife, a soft wherhide pouch, and what is unmistakably a long finger bone from some animal dangling like a charm. On his shoulder is the knot of a greenrider from High Reaches Weyr.
It's a clear dusk at the Reaches, snow melting slowly as the winter tries to break up. Iovniath, of course, is not the happiest dragon about this, and she has stretched out in the shadowiest, snowiest corner of the bowl as if to claim what little snow remains. Her heat, though, is doing little to preserve it, and neither is her rider's continuous stomping around in it while oiling a few choice spots on the gold's form. "Yeah, yeah. It's beautiful. Still could've seen that from inside, though," Tiriana gripes.
P'ax comes skipping down from the leader's complex, lifting his riding jacket up off his shoulders to protect the back of his neck from the weather. A quick check of the Weyrleader's ledge will give away Yyth still up there with Cadejoth, which leaves little doubt as to where the greenrider just was.
Shad is finally off shift, and, having cleaned up, is wandering the Bowl, oogling the dragons. Hey. He's new to the Weyr, and to seeing dragons in such numbers. He grins when he spots P'ax, and waves, then turns at a glimmer of gold in the corner of his eye, and just sort of /stares/ at Iovniath.
Zahriel is newer. Like, literally right off the dragon new. Not even off the dragon yet. The blue that sweeps in from the sky above the bowl barely has a chance to plant his feet before the miner throws himself down the dragon's side, carrysack bouncing against his back. "Ho, don't break a leg there," the rider calls, reaching down to steady his passenger as the young man lurches against the blue's foreleg. "Rock! Precious ground. Don' see how you can stand all that sky up there," Zare groans with a shudder, eliciting a chuckle from his ride.
Not the first person to stare at Iovniath, is Shad; but in a Weyr, it's uncommon enough that the gold flicks her lids idly and eyes him back for just a moment before she deliberately turns away, nose poised on a snowbank. There's little so delicate about Tiriana, especially as she straightens up and turns, catching a glimpse of the gawker. She frowns, demands, "What?" Iovniath's chuff sounds like a sigh, and her gaze flicks to the landing blue and his unsteady passenger to watch them instead. Those other females that dare consort with her mate, she does not deign to acknowledge, of course; such would be unbecoming.
P'ax lifts a hand to wave to Shad and it's possible that the tall young man might warn the young smith against staring if he was closer, but Tiriana's attention is already on him and he turns his own attention to the landing blue and the passenger, eyebrows lifting. "Shards I love the smell of fresh meat in the evening."
Shad gives himself a shake, then bows to both gold and rider. "Forgive me." He says. "I just ... Iovniath is very lovely." Not a lie, either. And then there's a blue to contend with, and a green-faced new arrival. "Hello there."
Not sure that Zahriel's quite green-faced... but he's definately happy to have his feet back on the ground. "You riders, I'll never understand you and your... flying... thing." Now that his feet are back on solid rock, he's steady enough to grin up at the bluerider. "Thanks, J'kel, I appreciate the lift. Really. Even if it involved, you know... not being on the ground. My duties." Hefting his carrysack, he turns on heel and surveys the bowl. Oh, yes, and all the people who saw his performance. "Oh... lovely." His grin takes on a sheepish tinge.
Well. If there's anything likely to soothe Tiriana's ruffled feathers, it's compliments. She pauses, and while her eyes narrow at Shad, the next question out of her mouth is a little less demanding, at any rate: "Who are you?" And, well. It probably helps, too, that there's someone else to distract her from the smith; Tiriana glances around at Zahriel a moment later and takes him in appraisingly. "And you. What are you doing here?" Warm welcomes, definitely the Weyrwoman's forte.
Somebody has to be the proper welcoming committee, and who better than P'ax? Well, he's a step up from Tiriana at least. He bustles forward to greet the miner, offering helpfully, "Need any help with your pack?" The Weyrwoman just gets a look of confused disgust. "Really, woman, were you born in a barn? That's Shad, he's the new smith apprentice. And this tasty morsel is --?" an opening given to the older man to supply his name and really, what he's doing here.
Shad's about to tell Tiriana who he is when P'ax descends on them, and Shad just sort of stares at P'ax, mouth open in stunned disbelief. Did P'ax really just insult the WEYRWOMAN? "P'ax, mind your manners!" He scolds, then bows again to Tiriana. "Apprentice Smith Shaduriess, at your service, m'lady."
Zahriel blinks slowly at P'ax and mouths the words "Tasty morsel?". Another blink, and the miner thoughtfully rubs at his chin. "Er. Well. I think I have it." And indeed, he takes a tighter grip on the strap of his sack, though he doesn't quite step away from the greenrider. "I'm Zahriel. Er. Zare. Miner. I hear you have rocks." It's a Weyr. It IS rock. However, Zare seems unaware of how inane he just sounded. "I was on an exploratory dig in the Telgar highlands, couldn't get away 'til now. Please tell me you still have rocks?" This last is directed at the Weyrwoman, along with a beseeching expression.
There are many possible responses to such rudeness, most of them violent. Tiriana does none of those. In fact, for once in her life she takes the high road and entirely ignores P'ax. Her gaze turns first to Shad, but there's more bowing there, and so with an odd look and a shake of her head, she settles for a moment onto Zahriel. "No," she drawls an answer to the miner. "We don't. Why, you looking for revenge on the one that hit you in the head?"
Tiriana is neither the first,nor the last woman he's ever going to insult. She's not even the first Weyrwoman he's insulted. An eyebrow lifts at Shad and a cocky little shrug given. But.. Bigger fish to fry right here. P'ax's face lights up with something bordering on feverish delight. "A /miner/? My luck is just getting better and better every second." He hoists a bag that's been hiding in his hand, empty except for something heavy in the bottom. "We /do/ have rocks and I happen to need someone who likes rocks."
Shad just can't quite figure these people out sometimes, but Zahriel, at least, is somewhat familiar, in that he's a miner. Smiths and miners have worked together for a long, long, long time. "Don't mind P'ax, Zahriel." Shad advises. "He tends to speak without thinking." And if Shad was a bit bolder, he'd be severely tempted to smack P'ax upside the head, but he's not that bold. Not yet.
There's probably a sharp retort stewing in Zahriel's mind - indeed, there's a flash of one in his dark eyes before he unexpectedly grins. "Lady, if I took revenge on every rock that's beaned me on the head, I'd be too busy with a pick to do my duties. But no, I come because the Hall told me you found shiny rocks, and I like shiny rocks. Even better, I know shiny rocks. So they sent me up." That glint in his eyes warns that he may not be as slow, or stupid, as he might sound. Turning his head, he sends a wink towards Shad for his comment, then turns to P'ax. "May I?" he asks, holding out a hand.
Again with the eyes narrowing, but at least it stops the smartassery for a moment. Tiriana has heard a pair of very important words. "Shiny rocks? What?" Forget the rest of the conversation.
P'ax pauses for a moment and turns stiffly towards Shad, eyes narrowing. "Last I checked, you didn't know much about me beyond what I have allowed you to know or believe about me. I /never/ speak without thinking." Now annoyed, he turns his gaze back on Zahriel, trying to smooth away the cross lines that tighten the corners of his eyes. "If you wouldn't mind, Journeyman, might I walk you somewhere out of the rain? I have a few questions to ask of a ...sensative nature." Politely he dips his head in the Weyrwoman's direction. "Unless you'd care to join us, ma'am?" Shad, evidently, is not invited to this party, as he's not included in P'ax's look.
Shad sort of hunches in on himself, then shakes his head, muttering under his breath about ... something. That is probably not complimentary. "See you guys later then."
Zahriel's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm amazed at your astuteness," he drawls softly, "as I don't wear my rank knot often. It makes diving difficult." He shrugs, smiling slightly. "But, then, I suppose the Hall wouldn't send an apprentice for this," muses the miner. "So. Good point. Is it raining?" He glances up at the sky, curiously unaffected by the weather, then abruptly turns towards Shad. "Now wait there. A smith's view might be nice. They like rocks too, after all. Surely his opinion could be useful on this... what did you say? Sensitive... matter." If he noted the Weyrwoman's question, he doesn't acknowledge it.
"I should think, as the Weyrwoman, there wouldn't be too many 'sensitive matters' I shouldn't be involved in," is Tiriana's dry response to P'ax's question. It's followed a beat later by another look at Shad as he starts to slink away; then, to Zahriel askance. "Right, right. Because of course we need a twelve-year-old apprentice, too, no?" she wonders, brows lifting as she studies the youngest member of their cadre.
P'ax says flatly, "You're a little old to be an apprentice -- at least, not a very good one." He closes his eyes briefly. "I was a smith before I Impressed, if those credentials would suit you?" He glances after Shad and there's a hint of remorse in his eyes but it's faint and fast. He nods to Tiriana, "Of course, Weyrwoman, your insights would be very useful."
Shad hesitates, then glowers at Tiriana before recalling himself to his manners. "I am hardly twelve, milady." He says, trying to keep his tone civil. "And if my knowledge would be of use, I'd be glad to come." His knowledge is sure a heck of a lot more up to date than P'ax's.
"Twelve?" Zahriel takes a longer look at Shad. "No, surely thirteen. Fourteen!" Again, that wink towards the apprentice, before he shifts his stance so he can take all three of them in at once. "I appreciate that you, too, like rocks. We all like rocks here, how wonderful. However, good rider," and here the smile leaves his face, and he takes on a more serious mein, "is it necessary to bar him from this? Is this a secret of such magnitude, then? It was not impressed upon me as such by my masters." Boy, when he loses the laid-back yokel air, he loses it all the way.
The businesslike change in Zahriel's demeanor does not go unnoticed, but Tiriana regards him only a moment, frowningly, before she glances at Shad, shrugs, and lets her eyes fall for a longer moment on P'ax. "Yes, do share, rider," she tells him. "What's with all the cloak-and-dagger?"
P'ax presses his lips together and glances towards Tiriana a bit imploringly for her back up on this. "My apologies, sir, but things may be beyond the scope of what your Masters know about." He touches his fingertips to the bridge of his nose. "Why don't we just invite the pigs, too, they'll be about as useful."
Shad sighs. "I think I had better go." He says, his tone somewhat stiff. "Good day, everyone." He starts heading for the entrance to the Living Cavern.
Zahriel's lips tighten slightly, but he does not call the apprentice back. "As you say, rider," the miner replies, a bit stiffly. Far be it for him to lecture the greenrider on manners, especially when he himself has only arrived at this Weyr. Sighing, he eases his sack on his shoulder and shakes his head, scooping his hand through his hair to draw his bangs from his eyes. "Enough, this melancholy is making me want to dive without my guide rope. Rocks should excite a happier passion. Come, rider, Weyrwoman, show me these stones that my masters thought would pique my interest and share with me your secrets."
"You. Stop," Tiriana barks after Shad as he turns to leave. She doesn't look that way, instead keeping eyes steady on P'ax and Zahriel. "You may come. And--perhaps we should retire to the council room for our little... whatever." She's already turning, in fact, to head that way, apparently expecting all three men to follow.
P'ax doesn't move to follow Tiriana, his jaw a little slack. "You... " whatever he's about to call the Weyrwoman, it dies in his throat, coming out as a hiss. If looks could kill, the pretty goldrider's back should be going up in flames right about now. He jerks his head stiffly at the miner and Shad, and then takes long strides to catch up with the woman, mouth tight with rare anger.
This ... is such a pain in the ass. Shad goes silent, literally keeping his head down as he turns and follows the others ... at a distance. First chance he gets to disappear, he's /gone/.
Zahriel pauses momentarily to admire Tiriana. Can't fault a woman who can take control. Then he hikes his pack onto his shoulder and follows, his expression melting into one of carefully contained amusement.
You head to the council chambers.
Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr
At the heart of this oblong cavern is its meeting table: a long hardwood oval with a mirror's dark shine, High Reaches' sigil picked out in lapis and onyx at its center. Twenty chairs surround it, each softened by an embroidered cushion that's just a little too stiff for complete comfort -- meetings need to be kept short, after all -- with the chair at the table's head, facing the ledge, being somewhat larger than the rest.
Interspersed between glowsconces upon the smooth walls, ancient tapestries depict the territories High Reaches protects in a particularly pastoral fashion, all fluffy clouds and fluffier llamas, or else fishing crafts sailing merrily out to sea. Among them is also a natural alcove, its several wooden shelves primarily stocking fine wines and liquors as well as the glasses to serve them, though the lower shelves also hold whatever hidework requires particularly frequent attention.
A narrow wooden door leads to the Records room, while the tunnel that extends to the weyrleaders' ledge is wide enough for three men to walk abreast, with just enough kink in it to block the wind.
Obvious exits:
Records Room Weyrleader Complex
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Iovniath's voice comes back, cool and unflustered whatever the reactions of those around her. << And why should we be so frightened of a boy? >> she inquires.
Dragon> It sounds silly. Cadejoth /knows/ it sounds silly. But... << He could be a spy. >> Hastily, he adds, << For Crom. He came from Crom, and K'del says he came with information. Which might have been fabricated to misdirect us. >> /So/ silly. << K'del thinks he's probably not a threat, but just in case... >> (Cadejoth to Iovniath)
Sweeping into council chambers, Tiriana would certainly gloat if she saw P'ax's face--though, she might be anyway; it's hard to distinguish that from her usual smug superiority. At any rate, she takes her place at the head of the huge table, nudging out the chair and sprawling into it with her hands folded together in her lap as she waits on her followers. "So," she begins then. "What's this all about?"
Dragon> There are not wheels, exactly: nothing so mechanical for Iovniath. But the sensation is there, in the slow crackling of ice in her mind. She's calculating. << He may be, Cadejoth? >> she says, slowly. << Then we should find out, no? >> (Iovniath to Cadejoth)
Dragon> For Cadejoth, it is a sensation of cogs, instead, of chains slowly clinking-- and then faster, as he begins (he thinks) to catch on. << Misdirection! >> He seems enormously pleased by this concept. << We give him information, and see if others know it? >> Iovniath, truly, is wise and good; she is a fine pack leader, so crafty and clever. (Cadejoth to Iovniath)
Dragon> It's like a pat on the head for a good puppy: Iovniath indulges the bronze with the faint brush of snow and fur and all those things he so loves. << Yyth's often apoplectic rider may think us fools, but we are not. >> (Iovniath to Cadejoth)
Dragon> Patronizing it might be, but Cadejoth positively glows in the wake of this: so easily pleased! The rattle and twang of his chains gains momentum in his joy, though it is not so consuming that he cannot agree, albeit carefully (Yyth, after all, is his /friend/). << No, we are not! I will reassure Yyth: all will be well. >> If he could, he'd beam. (Cadejoth to Iovniath)
Dragon> To Cadejoth, Iovniath, bemused, as ever, with just how easy it is to redirect her mate, replies in a flurry of sparks, << Yes, Cadejoth. You do that, please. >>
Dragon> To Iovniath, Cadejoth will! Helpful, useful, /sensible/ Cadejoth, good boy.
P'ax has his head cocked, seemingly waiting for something, when he enters the chamber. Whatever it was, he must be satisfied because he nods a few times, seemingly to himself. The seat Tiriana pushes out isn't taken -- the other two men are gestured towards it while he takes a place at the other end where they can all see as he pulls the bag open. "Right then. First of all.. Zahriel?" He tests the name. "The 'shiny' rocks you must be referring to are pegmatites, and I regret to inform you they aren't here at the Weyr. Life would certainly be much easier if they were though," he adds under his breath. "It might be helpful in me filling you in if you tell me what your Masters told you of the situation though." A glance is given over to Shad, a slight twitch to his mouth.
Shad sort of skulks into the room, taking a seat close to the door rather than one of the indicated seats, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, especially when P'ax slants him a look. Cripes.
Zahriel rubs his chin, but doesn't take a seat, instead choosing to prowl around the room, studying, of all things, the walls. "Not much. They told me that there had been some interesting stones found in the High Reaches, and that I might want to have a look at them, being a student of stones, as it were." He smiles thinly, tracing the stone of the wall along the edge of a tapestry before turning to look at the trio gathered about the table. "I'm afraid they hurried me here with little explination, as I was later than they wanted coming in from the field."
"The what?" Tiriana's face scrunches up with incomprehension at the minerly words tossed around. Frowning, she peers between P'ax and Zahriel for a moment, then settles her eyes on the slinking Shad instead, as though he just might be able to interpret for her. "Peg-whats? What the hell are those supposed to be?"
Lucky Tiriana, Shad can indeed translate. "They're a special kind of rock, milady. They have a lot of several different, and valuable, metals and ores in them, which is what makes them shine."
Lucky Tiriana, Shad can indeed translate. "They're a special kind of rock, milady. They have a lot of several different, and valuable, crystals in them, and can also have various metal ores, too."
P'ax gives up on giving Shad the stink eye for a moment, blowing out a breath as Zare speaks. "Alright. Shells... I wish I had more time to fill you in on the politics going on here, but it's probably better for your head if I don't. In a nutshell... we promised a man a wall, and he wants us to make it out of those boulders.. Probably hoping we don't realize what we have, would be my guess." He shrugs his shoulders and shuffles around in the bag. Two rocks are pulled out. Both are about the size of two fists, though one has more quartz in it than the other, otherwise they're similar to someone who isn't trained to notice the difference. "Here, Tiriana, this is a pegmatite." He rolls the more quartzy rock towards the Weyrwoman with casual irreverence.
"Pegmatites." Zahriel's face grows thoughtful again, and he studies P'ax consideringly. "That's a lucky find. While it is true that in general we don't put much value on gemstones, as a whole, the types of crystals which form within pegmatite are often... of extreme quality." Among other uses of both the stone and what lies within its ugly exterior. "A wall? Of pegmatites? That's... that's..." The miner can only stare gape-jawed at the greenrider.
Tiriana, wrinkling up her nose, leans forward to grab the rock and turn it over in her hands for a moment. Her lip snurls. "So... we have really boring rocks with fancy names. What exactly are we supposed to... ohhh." She catches on then, and eyes the stone she holds more intently before bopping it a couple of times on the edge of the table, like that's going to make rubies spill out or something. It doesn't, but it does scuff the table up a little more. She doesn't care. "Tell me we got a guard on those rocks."
P'ax nods his head a few times for Zahriel's expression. "That's sort of what I thought you'd say." Or not say, at least. "Which is why..." he shoves the other rock towards the miner. Granite, dull, boring granite. "I'm proposing the discreet removal of the boulders to be replaced with ordinary rock. Of course, we'd need someone with the right eye to find suitable replacements. And secrecy is a must -- Just the riders moving the rocks and the miners helping out." His eyes flick to Shad, "You'll have to forgive me for not wanting you here, Shad, but the more people who don't need to know, the more likely it will be Browden finds out, and that man seems to be one step ahead of us lately. If we do it right, by the time Browden discovers that we've switched the rocks, he'll not only be out the crystals, but he'll have ripped his own wall apart looking for them."
Shad feels a bit better about P'ax's grumping at this point. "Count me in this." He says. "I may not have Zahriel's training, but I do know a bit, I'm /from/ Crom and Browden probably doesn't know I've been transfered here. He'd have no reason to think twice about my presence there. Especially if we explain it as wanting to make sure the wall doesn't need shoring up."
Zahriel takes the granite chunk and weighs it in one hand, frowning at it. "That seems a bit underhanded. Actually, that seems a lot underhanded." Still, the miner's begining to understand why his masters had been so insistant he leave the exploratory dig for this. "What does the Weyr hope to accomplish by such subterfuge?" Dark hazel eyes flick up to the greenrider, studying him with a bland expression. "What does the Weyr plan to do with the pegmatite? As I said. The crystals formed within the stone are of unusual quality and size, and some of the minerals are quite useful to both the miners and the smiths for their work - yet, overall, cut stone from a granite quarry would be worth more to the layman, weight for weight." Mind, there's nothing of censure in the young man's tone, only wary curiosity.
The plotting certainly makes Tiriana smirk, as does Zahriel's assessment of it. It certainly doesn't turn her off the idea any. "You--" she gestures at P'ax "--make up some kind of fancy logical smithy reason. Me, I could give a rat's ass about the stones if it comes to that. I'm pretty happy just screwing that bastard over hard." Beat. "Although I do like shiny rocks still."
P'ax glances at Tiriana and tips his head Shad-wards subtly. "If Browden saw any of us, Shad, it would be VERY dangerous for the Weyr. Especially if he saw dragons coming out of between with rocks and going back between with them. He's definitely no idiot, he'd be on us like a canine on a tunnelsnake before the first dragon was off the ground." A deep breath in, a deep breath out, and a slow grin is given to Tiriana. "My dear Weyrwoman, I assure you I have /every/ intention of seeing him screwed over as hard as I can manage." Zahriel gets the best of his attention. "More politics. Essentially, High Reaches had already promised the boulders to the minercraft, we have a standing business deal. To renage on it would not only sour our ties with the minecraft, but we would be losing out on a fair few marks that the Weyr could, frankly, really use these days. The pegmatites belong to us, to do with as we would. Browden is banking on us being too ignorant to know what those boulders really are -- honestly, it's nothing short of stealing. We won't be quarrying good granite, either. We'll be transporting it from a rockslide in the mountains on unbeholden land. It is /essential/ that we don't take rock from anyone's land, nor any of value. We're protecting our interests, and covering our asses."
"A curious saying. Covering our asses. Isn't that what pants and saddle blankets are for?" Waving away his own non-sequitor, Zahriel sighs and turns back to the wall. "I understand more and more why my masters were so insistant I leave the highlands for here. This is certainly of more import to the craft as a whole than a possible find on Telgar lands." Turning back, he smiles thinly. "While my passion lies in cave diving, the talent the Hall prefers to acknowledge is that I am adept at delving and prospecting - that is, identifying rock and ore, finding veins, and sussing out their strength and absolute composition. I have... an affinity for rock, as it were. It runs in the blood." In other words, he has the eye they're looking for. That explains why he had been allowed to stay in the field as long as he had, despite the importance of the task at hand.
Shad nods. Right. Secrecy and sneakiness. Not like he's done THAT before. And sweated bullets over it, but he can do it again. P'ax (and, he assumes, Tiriana, though K'del) would both know that Shad would like nothing more than to see Browden roasting on a spit himself. "Whatever needs doing, I'll do it, and gladly."
"Good," Tiriana announces abruptly. She stands then, her chair pushed back with a scrape on the stone floor. "You three," and a waggle of her finger takes in Shad, P'ax, and Zahriel all, "can handle the switch-out. And I'll take care of Browden, yeah?" That's settled enough for her, at least, as her mouth broadens into another smirk. And she sets off, not toward her own weyr, but toward her Weyrleader's.
P'ax nods to Zahriel, "Perfect. We'll need to get this organized fairly fast, I'd think. Browden will be wanting that wall as soon as he can get it, so the switch will need to happen before he can raise too bit a fuss." Tiriana's abrupt departure has him blinking after her and then he shakes his head. "That woman is nothing but a headache," he grumbles and finally slumps into a chair once she's gone.
Zahriel watches Tiriana leave with a faint smirk on his lips. "Oh, I don't know. She seems capable enough. Then again, I haven't the knowledge of her you have, nor am I likely to gain it, as I doubt I'll be here for much longer than it takes to solve your rocky little problem." The smirk grows as the miner turns to face the greenrider, eyes twinkling at the pun.