Capable of acting as an agent of change
Who: T’zen and G’thon
When: Day 18, month 5, second turn of the seventh Pass
Where: Lower caverns and G’thon’s quarters
What: T’zen wants information. So...
It's become a common occurance the past several days, ever since the freak stampede that landed Tavaly in the infirmary. Lurking in the main thoroughfare of the lower caverns, T'zen watches people move about their daily business, eyes more closely watching faces and their various expressions, catching snippets of conversation. And occasionally he'll fall in step behind a pair of folk, and suddenly strike up a conversation, bringing up recent events and asking random questions until the people manage to break away. There's possibly a reason why there seems to be a bubble around the bluerider now as he leans against the wall, watching.
Amongst the daytime bustle of the weyr, the soft snick of a door being shut is lost in background noise. The former weyrleader, at first, is similarly lost; he strides down the residential hallway toward the main thoroughfare of the lower caverns at purposeful clip. By the time he actually arrives in that central cavern, however, a subtle clearing has occurred; the path the old man takes daily from his quarters to the stair that leads up the back way to the kitchens has become mysteriously open and people-free. Passerby can't quit escape his game, lopsided trace of a smile or the warmth that keeps his hollowed eyes lit from within, but hellos and respectful nods are the total of hospitality measured out to the man. No one particularly wants to talk to G'thon. Psychos in the lower caverns. Check.
Another man with a bubble. It's makes it a touch easier to pick out the former Weyrleader as T'zen continues his people-watch. As G'thon passes by, T'zen leaves the wall, stepping out to first trail G'thon, and then, after a moment's observation, his face grim, the bluerider catches up, blurting out with a sudden grin. "Well, good day, G'thon. A good day, today, isn't it?"
The charade's interruption does not go over particularly smoothly. G'thon's gait does not falter; his height makes his stride long and no small number of turns spent hurrying when on foot makes him inclined to a swift pace. But he glances sideways as the bluerider falls in alongside him, and the one-sided smile is already slipping away into a much more grim expression by the time T'zen makes his greeting. "I haven't checked yet," replies the older man in a tone which could be interpreted as warmly humourous, although such interpretation might very well be incorrect. "Is it?"
"Aye, it is today," says the bluerider easily as he matches G'thon's gait with a quickened pace of his own. He regards the man briefly before facing the direction they now walk. "Seems I've not had the pleasure of speakin' to ya much. Been a right load of things what's happened 'round here. Igen comin' in.. folk gettin' all riled and such. How're you?" It's a marked contrast in demeanor than the last time the two had ever really talked.. when G'thon carried the mantle of Weyrleader and T'zen seemed to fear the man. There's no such hint now, no hesitation in words. Just that odd light conversational tone. There's a bubble extending around both of them now.
G'thon stops and turns toward T'zen. There is, suddenly, a tired air about him. He has no smile for the bluerider. "Lovely. I have been completely lovely." Sarcasm is not the old man's strong point; he sounds as though he means it, but has no energy to be in the least bit pleased about it. He pauses only long enough for a sidelong glance into nowhere - more or less toward the way he came from - and to loosen his jaw with a silent mouthing of that "Ah" that sometimes summarizes the entirety of his opinion on a subject. "Would you like to come have some tea?" Abrupt? Perhaps.
T'zen's grin has a bit of a malicious twitch to it for a moment as G'thon responds. He's been pushing buttons more often lately; what's one more? There's only a slight wrinkle of his nose as he considers the beverage offered, but he simply nods, grin now settled to more of a stiff smile. "Certainly, G'thon. Lead the way." And after only a moment's pause, he continues, thankfully a bit quieter. "Right shame what happened earlier. In your room." And that, at least, carries an air of sincerity.
G'thon turns the next quarter-turn required to reverse course entirely. They will only manage a few paces before the parting of the sea swells and the tides fill in behind them; then, ahead of them, the path back to the residential quarters will remain clear, but for the occasional brave soul crossing from one side to the other, or one who has no choice but to duplicate that path on their own business. Even those keep several paces ahead. "It was obviously meant to be a message. I regret only that it cost another man his life." Weary, a little sad, but mostly weary, as if he didn't mind the message so much as the expense of the messenger. He walks swiftly, more so than before, forcing those ahead of them to hurry to stay out of speaking distance, though T'zen's height will probably make it easy enough to keep up.
The about-face does surprise T'zen a bit, until he realizes what has just happened, and now dons yet another different smile, this one smug. He half-trots after the ex-Weyrleader until he's matching pace again with a swift stride. And finally, he drops the smile altogether as conversation continues. "Message, eh? 'Cause of your hand in Igen's arrival, right?" It's both a statement, and a seeking of confirmation of many things. T'zen watches the man intently, willing to read anything in his expression as well as hear his words. "People turnin' up dead. People almost turnin' up dead. And the eggs. Not even the dragons are kept safe." There's more he wants to say.. but he now hesitates, waiting for the inevitable entry into a private chamber.
"I assume so. I can't say; there wasn't a note." This should be dryly humourous, but it falls rather flat. At his door G'thon pauses a moment and glances at the other man, one pale brow sliding upward. Obviously, there's some additional reply prepared on his lips, but after a moment he inhales precipitously instead, breathing the words away, and curls his hand to the doorknob. "Please come in" substitutes for whatever he was going to say, and by flattening his palm to the wood the former weyrleader presses the door inward, gesturing with the other hand in a courtly fashion: please, you first. "I promise it's fine. The staff did a wonderful job making sure it's still livable in here." By which he means, free of corpse bits.
That's confirmation enough for T'zen. G'thon didn't deny his involvment with the new leadership's arrival. His brows furrow, and a frown touches his lips as he follows the man inside. He looks around the room, as though seeking clues that may somehow hover in here. "Did you know him?" he finally asks, eyes settling on the bookcase. The juiciest bit of that rumor certainly stayed intact.
"Not well." G'thon does not seem to find the question particularly leading; he spares T'zen an almost curious look, then glances away, shaking his head, pressing his hand to the door. It snicks shut beneath his palm. After that the former weyrleader heads for the tea cart, waving out a hand to welcome the bluerider to his table and chairs, his divan, and - well, that's about it for furniture. There's a rug. "I haven't steeped it yet - the water's still hot." This idly confirmed by his hand upon the silver curve of the teapot. "I have an Igenite blend somewhere on the shelf, but I've been drinking a local berry-leaf mix these days. What would you prefer?"
T'zen laughs suddenly. "Igenite blend, eh? Nay, whatever you're having is fine." He eyes the cart warily, but is resigned to its contents. "Tavaly's a regular tea-drinker. And she's managed to get more o' it into me the past few sevens." He plops himself into a chair, watching G'thon again. "Any ideas on who's doin' this, G'thon?" he asks bluntly. "I mean, I ain't pleased 'bout them Igens. But someone out there is pleased less. And someone out there's after Jensen. Dunno if they're the same. Been figuring out a lot of stuff." The closed door seems to have done wonders for his tongue. "Guard's are supposed t'be trackin' them down. But after Tavaly-" he grimaces, pausing. "That stampede weren't no accident. Heard about it? Checked the pen afterwards. Feline pelt and a whip was there. Uneth smelled it out. Someone incited the beasts. Tried to do in my Tav." He's now looking at the door. "So's, I'm thinkin'.. guards ain't doin' enough. Time for me to. And I'm gonna find these folk."
"It's good for you," remarks G'thon with the somber sageness that comes from turns of behaving in a vaguely paternal way regarding the complaints or whines of a couple hundred dragonriders. He makes tea: it is ritual, a process of little metal balls with brass hinges and loose dried leaves and berry-seeds for scent, little clinks of silver on silver and soft watery sounds. "I expect it is a number of people, T'zen." Just enough weight to make it more than plain that he can still keep track of all of their names. "Too much has happened - and some of it too disconnected - for me to think it's a sole individual - or even a sole agenda." Then the pot's steeping and the old man turns away from it to fix T'zen with his lopsided smile. "The Lady Sian was no supporter of our weyrleaders. Leyron, in contrast, was a staunch one. Tavaly, probably not. Aida, certainly so. I think anyone trying to draw a connection between all of these incidents would be wise to look a little deeper than our weyrleaders - and I."
T'zen locks in on G'thon's gaze, watching the man, hearing every word intently. He nods slowly. "Was a woman what tried to kill Roa. She's after Jensen- the Captain.. who knows how many others. Captain says it could be instigator-related." There's a gleam of interest in his eyes at that. "Might be, Tav's part o' that.. bein' his sister an' all. But she ain't a supporter of Igen either." He rambles on, touching fingers as though they released points of fact or conjecture. "Aida said there were several men what was with her when she was held. And that was definitely against Igen. You, I wager, has to do with Igen." He peers at G'thon. "I figure you'd like back at them much as I, so's I'm talkin' to you. So's you think it's two groups then? Against Igen.. and maybe against our guardsman? No relation?" It makes sense, and yet makes it so much more complicated. T'zen's eyes are looking about the room again, contemplating.
The former weyrleader is immeasurably calm; he doesn't, at this point, even slip up a brow. But he lets T'zen talk himself out until it's apparent from the bluerider's wandering gaze that it's safe to put in a few words. Then he does so: "I think it's more than two, T'zen. I believe it's a failure to make significant and adequate accommodation for the underrepresented combined with a failure to keep the malcontent firmly under thumb. A few acts of violence were not caught quickly and punished publically - and now everyone with a bone to pick believes they can get away with murder." Literally, apparently; even G'thon spares enough wry self-awareness to glance sidelong at his infamous bookshelf. After that he straightens and goes around the tea-cart to the other side so he can check the pot and overturn cups into saucers while continuing to face his guest. Soft-spoken, eyes downcast upon his task, he asks, "What woman?"
"More than two," the bluerider echoes, leaning back in his chair. "What by Faranth is going on around here?" He nods curtly at punishment. "'Least we caught the fella what did in them eggs. Shame he just disappeared. Nobody can say what happened. Not so public, that punishment." He shakes his head at that. And he watches teacups right themselves. "That's what I want to know, G'thon. Who's this woman? I take it, then, you don't. Anybody.. talked to you? That was suspicious-like?" Because of course, anybody that's bad would look like it.
"I would not have... well. It's not my place." G'thon's little wry and crooked smile is directed at the tea. At last he's satisfied with a check in the pot, so lifts and gives it a little swirl to blend the fluid and pour. "As for suspicious speakers - let's see. I have had pleasant visits from some of the riders, most of whom have been as mystified and frustrated as you. Miniyal dropped by to let me know she has resigned her post in records, which I do regret, but I am convinced she did so without any external pressure. And I have visited the Headmaster. I believe he is as upset as one might expect, considering."
T'zen sniffs curiously at the aroma from the newly poured tea, one arm falling over the back of his chair as he shifts sideways in it. "So, nobody comin' and givin' you threats or anythin'? Been hearin' there's a lot of blackmailin' goin' on. Trying to put faces on the faceless." He smirks. "So's I can wipe 'em off again." He watches G'thon go through his ritual, now in the tea-pouring stage, and finally broaches another topic. "Why, G'thon? Why Igen? Why'd you do that? It amounts to half the problems 'round here.."
Fruity. Raspberry, thimbleberry, a little darker undercurrent like there might be licorice or sarsparilla root as well. G'thon, too, inhales of the steam rising from the fresh-poured cups. "I would not say Leyron's misfortune was without threat, T'zen." Gentle rebuff, warmly replies. He sets aside the pot, takes up one saucer and the cup atop it, and in the other hand gathers up a little cream-pitcher and dish of sweetener. Tiny spoons accompany. So burdened he comes over to offer these things to his company. "I had no expectation of an Igenite weyrleader, T'zen. I must plead ignorance - or at least misjudgement - for J'cor's arrival. However, I believe he means well." The wry, one-sided smile seems a little wan there; the inviting light threatens to die out of hazel eyes. "As for Yevide, I can really only say that I believed her capable," and upon this word there is a little weight, just a very little, enough to make it a comparison to some other state left unsaid, "of acting as an agent of change."
The bluerider receives the implements of tea silently, taking the cup, dumping too many spoonfuls of sugar into the tea and ignoring the cream. He'll turn it into klah yet. "Well, yeah, a body ain't a welcome message. But you've no face to who did it. No voice. Shardin' white wherries." He then sips at the concoction in his cup. He eyes G'thon. "Really? J'cor weren't part o' the plan?" That's clearly news to the bluerider. "So.. accident? Bad timing?" He shakes his head, no too convenient. "Yevide betrayed ya, eh?" That sounds much better, and he nods, pleased he thought of it. "Means well? Sure. Means to keep what he took. Hard t'blame folk for bein' unhappy. But they's crossing a line when it's our own folk what are dyin'. Ain't the Weyrleader Igen or Weyrwoman what is raising a knife to people, what I can see."
G'thon heads back to the cart to dress his own tea, a little cream and a touch of sweetener, each sparing. "I - Yevide acted irrationally, upon a girlish notion." His head is bowed, eyes upon what he's doing: little spoon, tiny stirring, silent and graceful, a habit he's perfected over the turns. "But perhaps." He looks up for just a moment with a dry grimace, then carries his tea over and seats himself across from the other man. "I believe you are correct. They may not be doing what I would have wished," and for this there is a little glimmer of bemusement, or perhaps something else, that brightens the former weyrleader's lopsided smile. He washes it away with a sip of his tea, then winces; it's too hot, for him anyway. The cup is lowered again into the saucer. "I am certain they're as troubled by these events as we are."
A thought suddenly crosses T'zen's mind. Sad, really, how easy it is to read when such things happen. A twitch of his brows, the sudden flare of clarity in his eyes. His mouth dropping to his natural pout. Whoah. A thought. His free hand comes up to muss in his crazy blonde hair. "Aye, troubled. I'm sure they've gotten a right dragonload of threats." He considers the mess that used to be tea in his cup. "Right dragonload. Surely with all that, there'd be some clues." His mouth twitches up into a smirk again as he considers a new notion. "Maybe it's time I pay Weyrleader Igen a visit. A friendly one." Yes, he had to clarify that. And his eyes flick about the room, considering more ideas. He makes a 'hm' and sips at his sugary tea.
"Well, Weyrleader Reaches certainly enjoyed your last visit," murmurs G'thon through a dry twist that could not quite promote itself as a proper smile, even a one-sided one. After that he pushes himself up out of his chair. Abrupt, a bit, again. Perhaps, given the state of his Weyr and the state of his dragonless life, he may be forgiven for these tiny rudenesses, this forgetfulness where propriety is concerned. "I would be most obliged, T'zen, if you could let me know if you do discover anything valuable - especially if there is anything that I can do about it, or to help you. With that in mind - " Having headed back toward the tea-cart, probably to further adjust his tea, the old man turns around and levels a balanced and unsmiling look at the bluerider. "Please be careful."
T'zen tips back the cup, downing the rest of the tea in one massive gulp as G'thon rises. "'Course I'll keep ya in the loop, G'thon. You do the same. Learn anythin', tell me. I ain't gonna hide no more while folks get hurt." He sets his tea stuff aside, and stands, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself. New information, new ideas. Closer to a solution? Eh.. two out of three. He simply laughs at G'thon's warning. "Bein' careful ain't how I work. I fly the edge, man. It's what's kept me alive." He gaze darkens. "Thread don't chase me. I chase it. Them murderer's are gonna find the same. And find themselves charred." He starts for the door. "Thanks for tea, G'thon."
"You're welcome," he replies, mildly, managing a little smile. He sets his own tea down on the cart and turns to face T'zen. "Have a good day." That last, offered as acceptance of farewell; the old man waits until the bluerider is safely gone to draw a deep and cleansing breath and exhale a great, weary sigh. Shaking his head, G'thon goes back to his tea in peace.
When: Day 18, month 5, second turn of the seventh Pass
Where: Lower caverns and G’thon’s quarters
What: T’zen wants information. So...
It's become a common occurance the past several days, ever since the freak stampede that landed Tavaly in the infirmary. Lurking in the main thoroughfare of the lower caverns, T'zen watches people move about their daily business, eyes more closely watching faces and their various expressions, catching snippets of conversation. And occasionally he'll fall in step behind a pair of folk, and suddenly strike up a conversation, bringing up recent events and asking random questions until the people manage to break away. There's possibly a reason why there seems to be a bubble around the bluerider now as he leans against the wall, watching.
Amongst the daytime bustle of the weyr, the soft snick of a door being shut is lost in background noise. The former weyrleader, at first, is similarly lost; he strides down the residential hallway toward the main thoroughfare of the lower caverns at purposeful clip. By the time he actually arrives in that central cavern, however, a subtle clearing has occurred; the path the old man takes daily from his quarters to the stair that leads up the back way to the kitchens has become mysteriously open and people-free. Passerby can't quit escape his game, lopsided trace of a smile or the warmth that keeps his hollowed eyes lit from within, but hellos and respectful nods are the total of hospitality measured out to the man. No one particularly wants to talk to G'thon. Psychos in the lower caverns. Check.
Another man with a bubble. It's makes it a touch easier to pick out the former Weyrleader as T'zen continues his people-watch. As G'thon passes by, T'zen leaves the wall, stepping out to first trail G'thon, and then, after a moment's observation, his face grim, the bluerider catches up, blurting out with a sudden grin. "Well, good day, G'thon. A good day, today, isn't it?"
The charade's interruption does not go over particularly smoothly. G'thon's gait does not falter; his height makes his stride long and no small number of turns spent hurrying when on foot makes him inclined to a swift pace. But he glances sideways as the bluerider falls in alongside him, and the one-sided smile is already slipping away into a much more grim expression by the time T'zen makes his greeting. "I haven't checked yet," replies the older man in a tone which could be interpreted as warmly humourous, although such interpretation might very well be incorrect. "Is it?"
"Aye, it is today," says the bluerider easily as he matches G'thon's gait with a quickened pace of his own. He regards the man briefly before facing the direction they now walk. "Seems I've not had the pleasure of speakin' to ya much. Been a right load of things what's happened 'round here. Igen comin' in.. folk gettin' all riled and such. How're you?" It's a marked contrast in demeanor than the last time the two had ever really talked.. when G'thon carried the mantle of Weyrleader and T'zen seemed to fear the man. There's no such hint now, no hesitation in words. Just that odd light conversational tone. There's a bubble extending around both of them now.
G'thon stops and turns toward T'zen. There is, suddenly, a tired air about him. He has no smile for the bluerider. "Lovely. I have been completely lovely." Sarcasm is not the old man's strong point; he sounds as though he means it, but has no energy to be in the least bit pleased about it. He pauses only long enough for a sidelong glance into nowhere - more or less toward the way he came from - and to loosen his jaw with a silent mouthing of that "Ah" that sometimes summarizes the entirety of his opinion on a subject. "Would you like to come have some tea?" Abrupt? Perhaps.
T'zen's grin has a bit of a malicious twitch to it for a moment as G'thon responds. He's been pushing buttons more often lately; what's one more? There's only a slight wrinkle of his nose as he considers the beverage offered, but he simply nods, grin now settled to more of a stiff smile. "Certainly, G'thon. Lead the way." And after only a moment's pause, he continues, thankfully a bit quieter. "Right shame what happened earlier. In your room." And that, at least, carries an air of sincerity.
G'thon turns the next quarter-turn required to reverse course entirely. They will only manage a few paces before the parting of the sea swells and the tides fill in behind them; then, ahead of them, the path back to the residential quarters will remain clear, but for the occasional brave soul crossing from one side to the other, or one who has no choice but to duplicate that path on their own business. Even those keep several paces ahead. "It was obviously meant to be a message. I regret only that it cost another man his life." Weary, a little sad, but mostly weary, as if he didn't mind the message so much as the expense of the messenger. He walks swiftly, more so than before, forcing those ahead of them to hurry to stay out of speaking distance, though T'zen's height will probably make it easy enough to keep up.
The about-face does surprise T'zen a bit, until he realizes what has just happened, and now dons yet another different smile, this one smug. He half-trots after the ex-Weyrleader until he's matching pace again with a swift stride. And finally, he drops the smile altogether as conversation continues. "Message, eh? 'Cause of your hand in Igen's arrival, right?" It's both a statement, and a seeking of confirmation of many things. T'zen watches the man intently, willing to read anything in his expression as well as hear his words. "People turnin' up dead. People almost turnin' up dead. And the eggs. Not even the dragons are kept safe." There's more he wants to say.. but he now hesitates, waiting for the inevitable entry into a private chamber.
"I assume so. I can't say; there wasn't a note." This should be dryly humourous, but it falls rather flat. At his door G'thon pauses a moment and glances at the other man, one pale brow sliding upward. Obviously, there's some additional reply prepared on his lips, but after a moment he inhales precipitously instead, breathing the words away, and curls his hand to the doorknob. "Please come in" substitutes for whatever he was going to say, and by flattening his palm to the wood the former weyrleader presses the door inward, gesturing with the other hand in a courtly fashion: please, you first. "I promise it's fine. The staff did a wonderful job making sure it's still livable in here." By which he means, free of corpse bits.
That's confirmation enough for T'zen. G'thon didn't deny his involvment with the new leadership's arrival. His brows furrow, and a frown touches his lips as he follows the man inside. He looks around the room, as though seeking clues that may somehow hover in here. "Did you know him?" he finally asks, eyes settling on the bookcase. The juiciest bit of that rumor certainly stayed intact.
"Not well." G'thon does not seem to find the question particularly leading; he spares T'zen an almost curious look, then glances away, shaking his head, pressing his hand to the door. It snicks shut beneath his palm. After that the former weyrleader heads for the tea cart, waving out a hand to welcome the bluerider to his table and chairs, his divan, and - well, that's about it for furniture. There's a rug. "I haven't steeped it yet - the water's still hot." This idly confirmed by his hand upon the silver curve of the teapot. "I have an Igenite blend somewhere on the shelf, but I've been drinking a local berry-leaf mix these days. What would you prefer?"
T'zen laughs suddenly. "Igenite blend, eh? Nay, whatever you're having is fine." He eyes the cart warily, but is resigned to its contents. "Tavaly's a regular tea-drinker. And she's managed to get more o' it into me the past few sevens." He plops himself into a chair, watching G'thon again. "Any ideas on who's doin' this, G'thon?" he asks bluntly. "I mean, I ain't pleased 'bout them Igens. But someone out there is pleased less. And someone out there's after Jensen. Dunno if they're the same. Been figuring out a lot of stuff." The closed door seems to have done wonders for his tongue. "Guard's are supposed t'be trackin' them down. But after Tavaly-" he grimaces, pausing. "That stampede weren't no accident. Heard about it? Checked the pen afterwards. Feline pelt and a whip was there. Uneth smelled it out. Someone incited the beasts. Tried to do in my Tav." He's now looking at the door. "So's, I'm thinkin'.. guards ain't doin' enough. Time for me to. And I'm gonna find these folk."
"It's good for you," remarks G'thon with the somber sageness that comes from turns of behaving in a vaguely paternal way regarding the complaints or whines of a couple hundred dragonriders. He makes tea: it is ritual, a process of little metal balls with brass hinges and loose dried leaves and berry-seeds for scent, little clinks of silver on silver and soft watery sounds. "I expect it is a number of people, T'zen." Just enough weight to make it more than plain that he can still keep track of all of their names. "Too much has happened - and some of it too disconnected - for me to think it's a sole individual - or even a sole agenda." Then the pot's steeping and the old man turns away from it to fix T'zen with his lopsided smile. "The Lady Sian was no supporter of our weyrleaders. Leyron, in contrast, was a staunch one. Tavaly, probably not. Aida, certainly so. I think anyone trying to draw a connection between all of these incidents would be wise to look a little deeper than our weyrleaders - and I."
T'zen locks in on G'thon's gaze, watching the man, hearing every word intently. He nods slowly. "Was a woman what tried to kill Roa. She's after Jensen- the Captain.. who knows how many others. Captain says it could be instigator-related." There's a gleam of interest in his eyes at that. "Might be, Tav's part o' that.. bein' his sister an' all. But she ain't a supporter of Igen either." He rambles on, touching fingers as though they released points of fact or conjecture. "Aida said there were several men what was with her when she was held. And that was definitely against Igen. You, I wager, has to do with Igen." He peers at G'thon. "I figure you'd like back at them much as I, so's I'm talkin' to you. So's you think it's two groups then? Against Igen.. and maybe against our guardsman? No relation?" It makes sense, and yet makes it so much more complicated. T'zen's eyes are looking about the room again, contemplating.
The former weyrleader is immeasurably calm; he doesn't, at this point, even slip up a brow. But he lets T'zen talk himself out until it's apparent from the bluerider's wandering gaze that it's safe to put in a few words. Then he does so: "I think it's more than two, T'zen. I believe it's a failure to make significant and adequate accommodation for the underrepresented combined with a failure to keep the malcontent firmly under thumb. A few acts of violence were not caught quickly and punished publically - and now everyone with a bone to pick believes they can get away with murder." Literally, apparently; even G'thon spares enough wry self-awareness to glance sidelong at his infamous bookshelf. After that he straightens and goes around the tea-cart to the other side so he can check the pot and overturn cups into saucers while continuing to face his guest. Soft-spoken, eyes downcast upon his task, he asks, "What woman?"
"More than two," the bluerider echoes, leaning back in his chair. "What by Faranth is going on around here?" He nods curtly at punishment. "'Least we caught the fella what did in them eggs. Shame he just disappeared. Nobody can say what happened. Not so public, that punishment." He shakes his head at that. And he watches teacups right themselves. "That's what I want to know, G'thon. Who's this woman? I take it, then, you don't. Anybody.. talked to you? That was suspicious-like?" Because of course, anybody that's bad would look like it.
"I would not have... well. It's not my place." G'thon's little wry and crooked smile is directed at the tea. At last he's satisfied with a check in the pot, so lifts and gives it a little swirl to blend the fluid and pour. "As for suspicious speakers - let's see. I have had pleasant visits from some of the riders, most of whom have been as mystified and frustrated as you. Miniyal dropped by to let me know she has resigned her post in records, which I do regret, but I am convinced she did so without any external pressure. And I have visited the Headmaster. I believe he is as upset as one might expect, considering."
T'zen sniffs curiously at the aroma from the newly poured tea, one arm falling over the back of his chair as he shifts sideways in it. "So, nobody comin' and givin' you threats or anythin'? Been hearin' there's a lot of blackmailin' goin' on. Trying to put faces on the faceless." He smirks. "So's I can wipe 'em off again." He watches G'thon go through his ritual, now in the tea-pouring stage, and finally broaches another topic. "Why, G'thon? Why Igen? Why'd you do that? It amounts to half the problems 'round here.."
Fruity. Raspberry, thimbleberry, a little darker undercurrent like there might be licorice or sarsparilla root as well. G'thon, too, inhales of the steam rising from the fresh-poured cups. "I would not say Leyron's misfortune was without threat, T'zen." Gentle rebuff, warmly replies. He sets aside the pot, takes up one saucer and the cup atop it, and in the other hand gathers up a little cream-pitcher and dish of sweetener. Tiny spoons accompany. So burdened he comes over to offer these things to his company. "I had no expectation of an Igenite weyrleader, T'zen. I must plead ignorance - or at least misjudgement - for J'cor's arrival. However, I believe he means well." The wry, one-sided smile seems a little wan there; the inviting light threatens to die out of hazel eyes. "As for Yevide, I can really only say that I believed her capable," and upon this word there is a little weight, just a very little, enough to make it a comparison to some other state left unsaid, "of acting as an agent of change."
The bluerider receives the implements of tea silently, taking the cup, dumping too many spoonfuls of sugar into the tea and ignoring the cream. He'll turn it into klah yet. "Well, yeah, a body ain't a welcome message. But you've no face to who did it. No voice. Shardin' white wherries." He then sips at the concoction in his cup. He eyes G'thon. "Really? J'cor weren't part o' the plan?" That's clearly news to the bluerider. "So.. accident? Bad timing?" He shakes his head, no too convenient. "Yevide betrayed ya, eh?" That sounds much better, and he nods, pleased he thought of it. "Means well? Sure. Means to keep what he took. Hard t'blame folk for bein' unhappy. But they's crossing a line when it's our own folk what are dyin'. Ain't the Weyrleader Igen or Weyrwoman what is raising a knife to people, what I can see."
G'thon heads back to the cart to dress his own tea, a little cream and a touch of sweetener, each sparing. "I - Yevide acted irrationally, upon a girlish notion." His head is bowed, eyes upon what he's doing: little spoon, tiny stirring, silent and graceful, a habit he's perfected over the turns. "But perhaps." He looks up for just a moment with a dry grimace, then carries his tea over and seats himself across from the other man. "I believe you are correct. They may not be doing what I would have wished," and for this there is a little glimmer of bemusement, or perhaps something else, that brightens the former weyrleader's lopsided smile. He washes it away with a sip of his tea, then winces; it's too hot, for him anyway. The cup is lowered again into the saucer. "I am certain they're as troubled by these events as we are."
A thought suddenly crosses T'zen's mind. Sad, really, how easy it is to read when such things happen. A twitch of his brows, the sudden flare of clarity in his eyes. His mouth dropping to his natural pout. Whoah. A thought. His free hand comes up to muss in his crazy blonde hair. "Aye, troubled. I'm sure they've gotten a right dragonload of threats." He considers the mess that used to be tea in his cup. "Right dragonload. Surely with all that, there'd be some clues." His mouth twitches up into a smirk again as he considers a new notion. "Maybe it's time I pay Weyrleader Igen a visit. A friendly one." Yes, he had to clarify that. And his eyes flick about the room, considering more ideas. He makes a 'hm' and sips at his sugary tea.
"Well, Weyrleader Reaches certainly enjoyed your last visit," murmurs G'thon through a dry twist that could not quite promote itself as a proper smile, even a one-sided one. After that he pushes himself up out of his chair. Abrupt, a bit, again. Perhaps, given the state of his Weyr and the state of his dragonless life, he may be forgiven for these tiny rudenesses, this forgetfulness where propriety is concerned. "I would be most obliged, T'zen, if you could let me know if you do discover anything valuable - especially if there is anything that I can do about it, or to help you. With that in mind - " Having headed back toward the tea-cart, probably to further adjust his tea, the old man turns around and levels a balanced and unsmiling look at the bluerider. "Please be careful."
T'zen tips back the cup, downing the rest of the tea in one massive gulp as G'thon rises. "'Course I'll keep ya in the loop, G'thon. You do the same. Learn anythin', tell me. I ain't gonna hide no more while folks get hurt." He sets his tea stuff aside, and stands, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself. New information, new ideas. Closer to a solution? Eh.. two out of three. He simply laughs at G'thon's warning. "Bein' careful ain't how I work. I fly the edge, man. It's what's kept me alive." He gaze darkens. "Thread don't chase me. I chase it. Them murderer's are gonna find the same. And find themselves charred." He starts for the door. "Thanks for tea, G'thon."
"You're welcome," he replies, mildly, managing a little smile. He sets his own tea down on the cart and turns to face T'zen. "Have a good day." That last, offered as acceptance of farewell; the old man waits until the bluerider is safely gone to draw a deep and cleansing breath and exhale a great, weary sigh. Shaking his head, G'thon goes back to his tea in peace.