Late night chat with K'del.
Who: A'son, K'del, Leova
What: A'son and Leova show up at K'del's place. Their ideas become a little bit more concrete.
When: Night of Day 10, month 10, turn 19 of Interval 10
Where: K'del's Weyr.
Logfile from A'son.
K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr(#1716RL)
Rank certainly has its privileges; among them are amply appointed apartments. Two chambers connect to form a large weyr, the outer cavern larger and better decorated. Here are impersonal furnishings: a seating arrangement of sofa and chairs in front of a large, tiled fireplace with a blue-and-black rug before it; an antique-looking desk, dinged and dented in a few places but polished and well-kept for its obvious age; a tall cupboard with tack-hooks beside it, gear for dragonriding neatly arranged inside. Two tapestries hung from the high walls depict overdone splendor for High Reaches Weyr, one a long view of the snow-covered bowl, and the other a hazy impressionist piece of dragons flaming over a springtime countryside.
The inner weyr, a sleeping cavern and a bathing area, is smaller and cozier and less ostentatious. A double-sized wooden bed in good condition, made up with sheets, pillows and comforter in varying shades of navy blue, light blue and bronze fills much of the area, as well as a nightstand covered in books, a wardrobe. A folding screen mostly shields the bathtub and toilet, with a towel usually slung over it, and a small collection of toiletries in easy reach.
There are signs of life within both parts of the weyr: an oil lamp on the desk, alongside papers and books and pens, often untidily stacked; a jacket on the back of the desk chair, the occasional empty mug or bottle of beer.
Contents:
Vrianth to Cadejoth, a surge of electricity to metal before her rider and Nikoth's have even left the kitchen: << They must find your rider. Is he home? >> /Happy/ Vrianth: the bit about dragons having to wait to get any action must not have sunk in yet. Yet.
Dragon> To Vrianth, Nikoth projects, << ...What are they doing? >> Flash of A'son and Leova stalking across the bowl. << His mind is busy. Too busy. >>
Dragon> << They are /hunting/. >> A fluff of toffee-colored hair, freckles that fade into acne scars, unimportant except that it's getting /done/. (Vrianth to Nikoth)
Cadejoth returns to Vrianth, sparks dancing across his metal, << He is. Home, and, /now/, waiting for them. >> He seems pleased, too, though his has more to do with sand rubbing against metal, the suggestion of eggs, somewhere. In the weyr, K'del waits in one of the chairs near the hearth, rapping fingers against the wooden arm-rest, his socked feet curling about the foot of the table in front of chairs and couch.
Dragon> To Vrianth, Nikoth projects, << I hope they bring us food. >> Hunting just brings up images of beasts dying. << I hope they get it done. >>
There's a warm thrill returned for those /sparks/, though Vrianth keeps her distance from his ledge, keeps to her own instead. It shouldn't be long before a couple of Glacier riders show up on a mission. A far-too-casual mission, or are they not even bothering with pretense?
A'son's steps are clear. He's not exactly the stealthy type and his gait isn't perfect. It's likely he'll make it up to K'del's weyr before Leova, though he'll pause before entering right away. His head will make its entrance first, peeking around like he did earlier. Making sure the way is clear, just in case there are any surprises waiting for them. There only seems to be the younger bronzerider though. He comes the rest of the way in without readily saying anything until he's crossed the room. "Hope you don't mind company.""
"Times two," says the greenrider on his heels, and gives K'del, K'del-and-his-socks, an expectant look.
Expectant looks and pauses aside, K'del straightens as the two riders enter, crossing arms in front of him which, at least, will stop him from fiddling. "Told Vrianth you could," he points out, indicating with a lazy tilt of his head the other chairs, the sofa. "Then you can tell me what's up." His toes drop from the table, settle upon the floor solidly; he adds, then, finally, "Given how unlikely I figured seeing the two of you together would be."
"Vrianth, huh?" A'son's eyes dart over the sofa, some blank look crossing his face. He backs up, turning a chair backwards and straddling it. There's a glance now to Leova. "Ruining my element of surprise." For the part about their pairing being unlikely, he simply lifts his shoulders. "My first choice is a little... probably uninterested. At the least busy." With a nod of his head in the greenrider's direction. "She's willing to deal with me."
"His idea," Leova mentions even as she preempts the couch while the older bronzerider's still busy backing up, has herself a seat with a gleam in her eyes. They could be preparing for that first flaming practice: it's that sort of a look. "Why don't you start off, A'son. Seeing as how it was your plan. And talked. And all."
K'del; "Don't much like surprises." He says it blandly, but with a tip of his head towards Leova; it might be a 'thank you for that'. Drawing one foot up, to cross over his knee, he tilts his gaze between one and the other to listen, brows raising slightly for what A'son has to say, then nodding to them both, then, back to A'son. "Whomever, so long as someone gets to the point. This is about the tithes. The plan?"
"Leova, me." A'son starts off, glancing over at her. "What you and I talked about earlier. The two of us are going to infiltrate the next tithe train to High Reaches. Hopefully, maybe something will happen. We're going to pretend to be a husband and wife on their way to visit Leova's pregnant... cousin, sister? Something?" This part escapes him and he looks her way again. "Dragons behind during the day. Follow overhead, far overhead at night." There's some of that nervous face rubbing. "For the other tithe trains, the last few remaining. There should be a pair of us undercover at each one. But only people we really trust. Who won't open their mouthes. Not to other riders, residents anyone." A shrug. "Anyone knows we're there..." He spreads his hands.
Which means that K'del gets a crisp nod in return, the greenrider sinking back into the cushions as A'son talks, only to sit forward again with a, "Cousin. He's not happy about it. So it can be /remotely/ credible." And now she stays forward, intent more on K'del than the explanation she's heard. At the end, "Don't necessarily have to be a rider. Can be someone with a real smart firelizard. If they exist... Something to get the word out."
K'del's fingers play with the cuff of his trousers, which is filthy from, presumably, being outside in the mud earlier. His attention appears to be focused off into the distance, while both speak, his occasional nods the only indication that he is actively listening. "That makes sense," he says, finally, now tilting his head back up, and shuffling back in his seat so that he can, more or less, look at both at once. "Rather at least one rider per pair. Not sure I'd trust a firelizard, if it came down to it. No - I like it. Reckon it can work. Suggestions, for the others? Can come up with my own, of course, but... Suggestions are good."
"Firelizard." A'son's mouth works around that one. "Would sort of like the dragon in there for muscle. Just in case. But I guess it would be easier than hiding huge animals." K'del's point about wanting at least one per pair is met with a nod. "I could see that working. Rather that than the 'lizards. They can scare if something goes real wrong." Jerking his thumb over to Leova, "She's much more in touch with the regular riders than me. Though I know a guy, V'ron. Old friend of mine." His hand ends up splayed across his face. "What did you think of for the distraction? You know 'Why is the weyr suddenly caring less' thing?"
"/Definitely/ at least one rider per," Leova says promptly. "People with holder, trader-if-you-can-trust-them, maybe crafter background, not Weyrbred, not too upscale. People who won't lose their heads, won't talk too much, can," a look at A'son here, "defend themselves. Enough. If it's a woman, someone not too pretty. " She adds, "One thing he mentioned: anyone's train don't get raided? Not the end of the world. Not as though we're needed for Fall." The list is next, starting with C'del himself, Sh'dor, ending with a few maybes such as, "E'dre's got incentive, but /not/ sure about handling himself, particularly if it gets to be a brawl. Same goes for Eila, though she knows trader-types."
K'del holds up a finger, while A'son speaks, though he doesn't seem to be asking for a pause. Instead, he hoists himself from his seat to go rummaging in his desk, and comes back with a scrap of paper and a pen, and begins to take notes. Particularly on the names. "Potential deal with Crom," is what he says, idly, as he writes, presumably in answer to the other bronzerider. "Could be really good for the weyr, but we need to work out any potential problems with it, first. Need to scout out this land deal before there's snow in the way. Right," this towards Leova. "Doesn't hurt, either way. Better to be prepared. E'dre? I'll consider it. Eila - mm. Maybe. Guess we'll see how we go. Have to work out how many we need, too. How many trains there are."
"Definitely defend themselves. Folks who know how to be on their toes. These people are organized, very organized." A'son's running a finger along his lips, listening to one or the other as they talk. "Exactly. Nothing happens we don't lose anything. Write off those of us missing as just folks who volunteered to lug extra goods around." Mention of dealings with Crom gets his eyebrows to shoot straight up, possibly to the cavern ceiling. "Land deal." It's repeated as he stares at the young Weyrleder, after a moment he just shakes his head. "Right. If nothing else it would be a good distraction." A tongue clicking. "How many are left? Roughly, you think?"
Working out how many trains: Leova's gaze slips back towards the inner weyr, briefly, briefly before finding its way back. She's been quiet anyway, for word of Crom. Until, deliberately, "One other name: reckon his first choice'd be a help. Planning, even if he can't make it on a train without being recognized. Backup at the least. You know he'll be pissed, A'son, you leave him out of that much. Won't be you he holds it again, either."
Nod, nod, nod, from K'del. A'son's reaction to the mention of Crom seems to come as no surprise to the young Weyrleader, whose expression is rueful for it, shifting in such a way as to imply 'I know, I know, what can you do'. Of course, he's not been here long enough for Crom to be personal. His words come after Leova's, starting only a moment after she's finished: "Got to ask. Even if you think he's not interested. Better that way. Not sure how many tithes, though. New to all that. A couple. A handful. Find out from Milani, lat-- later." He stumbles over that last word, as if realising too late; awkward, awkward.
There's lots of laughter at that. The haha 'are you dumb' type of laugh. "He /won't/ hold it against me? I'm going to be exactly the person he holds it against." A'son rubs his face. "I doubt he'll want to." A finger lifted. "And he can't, can't, can't, come on the tithe trains. Especially any from Crom. Even amongst the minor holders someone is going to recognize his face." There's another face rub. "Fine. Fi-" Milani's name brings his eyes up to K'del, a long look. "Fine."
"As much," Leova allows with a lift of her shoulder. She's watching the men, watching them look at each other, and then she says with a stretch of her legs, bootheels digging into the rug, "Another thing. Won't be so many trains, one way or another. I want dibs on getting to go."
"Well," says K'del after a moment. "Rather he doesn't hold it against /me/, is probably my main point. Don't think he likes me much." He doesn't say anything more at Milani, and avoids A'son's glance at him. At least he didn't say 'later on tonight when she comes to bed with me'. Thankfully. "Reckon we can safely agree that both of you are going, so long as you both want to. Since you're masterminding. Everyone else? Depends on numbers."
"Yeah, we get to pick our poison. So to speak." A'son agrees, he's still looking not too happy about having to track N'thei down. A conversation he's not excited to have in the near future. "He doesn't like anyone that much. But." There's a lift of his shoulders as he looks across to K'del, then Leova. He leans his chin onto the back of the chair. "What is back-up going to involve?"
Not anyone: Leova has something one-syllable to say, but muttered. Then: "Got to catch at least one. Bare minimum. More's better. Want to protect the train, all right, but /need/ to find what they did with the others. And why, just why they're doing this." She glances to K'del. "Any other Weyrs getting this in their territory? That you know of."
"Back-up. Anyone and everyone who can answer the call. Will try and keep people around who're ready, but that's hard, if no one else knows about it. But. General call to arms. Reckon that'll be enough." K'del's response to what Leova says is a sharp, forceful nod: "/Right/. At least one. At /least/. More'd be better. Not thrilled about looking like an idiot, but even less, if there's no payoff. Not that that's what matters, overall. I want it stopped, and I want to know who and why." His head shakes; now, he's grimacing. "No. Nothing. So it's just us they're after."
"Figures. No one ever likes us." A'son says, all mournful tones here. "Can't just be a general call to arms. If we say that it's like painting a flag on us that says we're up to something. We need a point person here and then that point person has his or her own group. But not a general thing." His lips quirk, "Could see N'thei for that. He's certainly one for loafing here if he doesn't have anything better to do. Has his own group of manly men, fan club almost." He lifts his shoulders. "Can't be any worse than what's happened so far. But if they pop up, we'll catch them. At least one."
"If," Leova says to K'del's last. "You're positive they'd tell," the slightest of pauses, "us. However. Don't want so many people they get in each other's way, got to agree there. And there's logistics: like to get a better look at where those trains got taken, think about the travel time. The wingleaders: want F'rint to know we're doing /something/ when we don't show up. Something useful." A... morale-building exercise? She rakes curved fingers through her hair, sits back with another mutter, this one suspiciously like damn-silver-thread-anyway.
K'del hesitates for a moment, thinking, then nods. "And this is why we're working on this together." Or because of Tiriana, but still. "Right. You can ask N'thei to do that; sounds like a good idea." There's enough to think about, between the two of them, that it takes him another couple of comments to continue, "That's true. They might not. Mm. F'rint. Right." More thinking, his shoulders stretching out as he shifts. "What was that?" The mutter. His eyebrows raised.
"Alright. Hopefully he'll take to it." There's a nod for the part about talking to N'thei. And then, "Can't you lose us in the paperwork? Tell F'rint that Leova and I got promoted to different jobs." A'son waves his hand around, trying to think of something. "Or I got in trouble so I'm temporarily assigned to... some horrible duty. Make it confusing. No one knows where the bunch of us really are. We're talking what... maybe four or five riders?"
He wants to know? Leova gives the young Weyrleader another of those level looks. "Hadn't worked my tail off in that silver thread thing, had to learn all that? Would be hanging around jawing over what's left of the ale right now. And he's /dead/." Her heels dig into the rug again. "Hope this new class has to do it too. Payback." That before she turns back to A'son, catching up, "Depends on how many trains. Not too many. You know... Could maybe keep it in Glacier. S'trun and them. Can't think that F'rint can't be trusted. /F'rint/."
K'del, ultimately? Is probably not happy with that particular answer from Leova. "Oh," is what he says, his gaze dropping towards his feet. Oh. Well then. He's silent, then, until coming up with: "Just Glacier and Avalanche. That's the easiest way to do it. Can talk to F'rint. That's easy. Stupid; should have thought of that already. Will do that first thing tomorrow. And find out exactly when those tithes are leaving, how many there are. Details, details. Soon, though."
A'son looks between Leova and K'del. "Second you talk about someone being dead is the second the conversation turns sour." Just in case the young whelps didn't know, he informs them. There's a grunt as he gets to his feet, turning the chair around and pushing it back. "Sounds like too many people. But you're the Weyrleader." Caution, worry, suspicion it all lines his face when he shoves his hands into his pockets. "Let us know what's going on by tomorrow night?"
Leova lifts a shoulder, lets it fall: lets the chips fall. She /will/ allow, like A'son, "Prefer mostly Glacier. Simpler." But so it goes. "Add the maps to those details. Milani'd be able to help out with the clothes'n things. Food. A few marks." All that before she draws her legs in, slowly, leans forward, slowly, stands. Slowly. "There's somebody I've got to tell I'll be gone. Even if I can't say why."
K'del's gaze shifts from one to the other, then lowers back towards the ground. "Fine." It sounds like he's trying really hard to sound positive; it doesn't completely work. "Just Glacier, then. Maps, food, marks. Tomorrow night, definitely. I'll get Cadejoth to let you know when. After dark, though, so's it's not particularly surprising that you're visiting me." Again. His gaze slides back towards Leova, as she stands, expression heading towards curious, but all he says is, "Fine. Say it's about the Crom thing, if you need an excuse. Anything else, or are we done?"
A'son's eyes cause him to look over his shoulder and to the door. "Yeah, Leova. You're not the only one." That worry on his face begins to turn into guilt. Then he's doing another one of those headshakes, attention back to K'del. "I don't think I've got anything else." He says but then he's biting his lip and adding on, "This goes bad? Just tell everyone it was all me. Keep your name in the clear. At least one of us here doesn't have terribly much to lose."
There's just a brief nod from Leova, a low, "Hope it's the Crom train, then." Only slightly less so, after a nothing-else headshake of her own, and then a glance flicked A'son's way: "Payback, hm." And she aims to catch up with the older bronzerider, take his arm hard, the one that he'd knifed back when. Before they're dismissed.
"If you... like." K'del doesn't look terribly comfortable about letting someone else take the blame, though, after a couple of moments, he nods his head. "Maybe. Anyway." Leova's remark gets a twist of the lips, and a shift of the shoulders, neither of which say too much, and then he bobs his head more sharply. "See you tomorrow, then. Have a good night."
"I would." A'son tells their teenage Weyrleader, shooting him an all too serious look. Then he's turning his back on him and heading out, "Good night, K'del. Leo- Ow, what are you /doing/." He snaps at her, wrenching his arm back and continuing his walk on out. "Lost your mind?"
"Practicing," the greenrider tells him, far too sweetly, as she follows. Floating behind her, "Night, K'del." And, "/Not/ going to go bad." As a belated order to them both? Vrianth would be proud.
The teenage Weyrleader lets out, finally, the sigh he has probably been holding in throughout this little meeting. In over his head. "Fine," he says, slowly, then, as he watches them go. And, okay, he smirks a little. Violence. Always does it. Not to mention the rest.
What: A'son and Leova show up at K'del's place. Their ideas become a little bit more concrete.
When: Night of Day 10, month 10, turn 19 of Interval 10
Where: K'del's Weyr.
Logfile from A'son.
K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr(#1716RL)
Rank certainly has its privileges; among them are amply appointed apartments. Two chambers connect to form a large weyr, the outer cavern larger and better decorated. Here are impersonal furnishings: a seating arrangement of sofa and chairs in front of a large, tiled fireplace with a blue-and-black rug before it; an antique-looking desk, dinged and dented in a few places but polished and well-kept for its obvious age; a tall cupboard with tack-hooks beside it, gear for dragonriding neatly arranged inside. Two tapestries hung from the high walls depict overdone splendor for High Reaches Weyr, one a long view of the snow-covered bowl, and the other a hazy impressionist piece of dragons flaming over a springtime countryside.
The inner weyr, a sleeping cavern and a bathing area, is smaller and cozier and less ostentatious. A double-sized wooden bed in good condition, made up with sheets, pillows and comforter in varying shades of navy blue, light blue and bronze fills much of the area, as well as a nightstand covered in books, a wardrobe. A folding screen mostly shields the bathtub and toilet, with a towel usually slung over it, and a small collection of toiletries in easy reach.
There are signs of life within both parts of the weyr: an oil lamp on the desk, alongside papers and books and pens, often untidily stacked; a jacket on the back of the desk chair, the occasional empty mug or bottle of beer.
Contents:
Vrianth to Cadejoth, a surge of electricity to metal before her rider and Nikoth's have even left the kitchen: << They must find your rider. Is he home? >> /Happy/ Vrianth: the bit about dragons having to wait to get any action must not have sunk in yet. Yet.
Dragon> To Vrianth, Nikoth projects, << ...What are they doing? >> Flash of A'son and Leova stalking across the bowl. << His mind is busy. Too busy. >>
Dragon> << They are /hunting/. >> A fluff of toffee-colored hair, freckles that fade into acne scars, unimportant except that it's getting /done/. (Vrianth to Nikoth)
Cadejoth returns to Vrianth, sparks dancing across his metal, << He is. Home, and, /now/, waiting for them. >> He seems pleased, too, though his has more to do with sand rubbing against metal, the suggestion of eggs, somewhere. In the weyr, K'del waits in one of the chairs near the hearth, rapping fingers against the wooden arm-rest, his socked feet curling about the foot of the table in front of chairs and couch.
Dragon> To Vrianth, Nikoth projects, << I hope they bring us food. >> Hunting just brings up images of beasts dying. << I hope they get it done. >>
There's a warm thrill returned for those /sparks/, though Vrianth keeps her distance from his ledge, keeps to her own instead. It shouldn't be long before a couple of Glacier riders show up on a mission. A far-too-casual mission, or are they not even bothering with pretense?
A'son's steps are clear. He's not exactly the stealthy type and his gait isn't perfect. It's likely he'll make it up to K'del's weyr before Leova, though he'll pause before entering right away. His head will make its entrance first, peeking around like he did earlier. Making sure the way is clear, just in case there are any surprises waiting for them. There only seems to be the younger bronzerider though. He comes the rest of the way in without readily saying anything until he's crossed the room. "Hope you don't mind company.""
"Times two," says the greenrider on his heels, and gives K'del, K'del-and-his-socks, an expectant look.
Expectant looks and pauses aside, K'del straightens as the two riders enter, crossing arms in front of him which, at least, will stop him from fiddling. "Told Vrianth you could," he points out, indicating with a lazy tilt of his head the other chairs, the sofa. "Then you can tell me what's up." His toes drop from the table, settle upon the floor solidly; he adds, then, finally, "Given how unlikely I figured seeing the two of you together would be."
"Vrianth, huh?" A'son's eyes dart over the sofa, some blank look crossing his face. He backs up, turning a chair backwards and straddling it. There's a glance now to Leova. "Ruining my element of surprise." For the part about their pairing being unlikely, he simply lifts his shoulders. "My first choice is a little... probably uninterested. At the least busy." With a nod of his head in the greenrider's direction. "She's willing to deal with me."
"His idea," Leova mentions even as she preempts the couch while the older bronzerider's still busy backing up, has herself a seat with a gleam in her eyes. They could be preparing for that first flaming practice: it's that sort of a look. "Why don't you start off, A'son. Seeing as how it was your plan. And talked. And all."
K'del; "Don't much like surprises." He says it blandly, but with a tip of his head towards Leova; it might be a 'thank you for that'. Drawing one foot up, to cross over his knee, he tilts his gaze between one and the other to listen, brows raising slightly for what A'son has to say, then nodding to them both, then, back to A'son. "Whomever, so long as someone gets to the point. This is about the tithes. The plan?"
"Leova, me." A'son starts off, glancing over at her. "What you and I talked about earlier. The two of us are going to infiltrate the next tithe train to High Reaches. Hopefully, maybe something will happen. We're going to pretend to be a husband and wife on their way to visit Leova's pregnant... cousin, sister? Something?" This part escapes him and he looks her way again. "Dragons behind during the day. Follow overhead, far overhead at night." There's some of that nervous face rubbing. "For the other tithe trains, the last few remaining. There should be a pair of us undercover at each one. But only people we really trust. Who won't open their mouthes. Not to other riders, residents anyone." A shrug. "Anyone knows we're there..." He spreads his hands.
Which means that K'del gets a crisp nod in return, the greenrider sinking back into the cushions as A'son talks, only to sit forward again with a, "Cousin. He's not happy about it. So it can be /remotely/ credible." And now she stays forward, intent more on K'del than the explanation she's heard. At the end, "Don't necessarily have to be a rider. Can be someone with a real smart firelizard. If they exist... Something to get the word out."
K'del's fingers play with the cuff of his trousers, which is filthy from, presumably, being outside in the mud earlier. His attention appears to be focused off into the distance, while both speak, his occasional nods the only indication that he is actively listening. "That makes sense," he says, finally, now tilting his head back up, and shuffling back in his seat so that he can, more or less, look at both at once. "Rather at least one rider per pair. Not sure I'd trust a firelizard, if it came down to it. No - I like it. Reckon it can work. Suggestions, for the others? Can come up with my own, of course, but... Suggestions are good."
"Firelizard." A'son's mouth works around that one. "Would sort of like the dragon in there for muscle. Just in case. But I guess it would be easier than hiding huge animals." K'del's point about wanting at least one per pair is met with a nod. "I could see that working. Rather that than the 'lizards. They can scare if something goes real wrong." Jerking his thumb over to Leova, "She's much more in touch with the regular riders than me. Though I know a guy, V'ron. Old friend of mine." His hand ends up splayed across his face. "What did you think of for the distraction? You know 'Why is the weyr suddenly caring less' thing?"
"/Definitely/ at least one rider per," Leova says promptly. "People with holder, trader-if-you-can-trust-them, maybe crafter background, not Weyrbred, not too upscale. People who won't lose their heads, won't talk too much, can," a look at A'son here, "defend themselves. Enough. If it's a woman, someone not too pretty. " She adds, "One thing he mentioned: anyone's train don't get raided? Not the end of the world. Not as though we're needed for Fall." The list is next, starting with C'del himself, Sh'dor, ending with a few maybes such as, "E'dre's got incentive, but /not/ sure about handling himself, particularly if it gets to be a brawl. Same goes for Eila, though she knows trader-types."
K'del holds up a finger, while A'son speaks, though he doesn't seem to be asking for a pause. Instead, he hoists himself from his seat to go rummaging in his desk, and comes back with a scrap of paper and a pen, and begins to take notes. Particularly on the names. "Potential deal with Crom," is what he says, idly, as he writes, presumably in answer to the other bronzerider. "Could be really good for the weyr, but we need to work out any potential problems with it, first. Need to scout out this land deal before there's snow in the way. Right," this towards Leova. "Doesn't hurt, either way. Better to be prepared. E'dre? I'll consider it. Eila - mm. Maybe. Guess we'll see how we go. Have to work out how many we need, too. How many trains there are."
"Definitely defend themselves. Folks who know how to be on their toes. These people are organized, very organized." A'son's running a finger along his lips, listening to one or the other as they talk. "Exactly. Nothing happens we don't lose anything. Write off those of us missing as just folks who volunteered to lug extra goods around." Mention of dealings with Crom gets his eyebrows to shoot straight up, possibly to the cavern ceiling. "Land deal." It's repeated as he stares at the young Weyrleder, after a moment he just shakes his head. "Right. If nothing else it would be a good distraction." A tongue clicking. "How many are left? Roughly, you think?"
Working out how many trains: Leova's gaze slips back towards the inner weyr, briefly, briefly before finding its way back. She's been quiet anyway, for word of Crom. Until, deliberately, "One other name: reckon his first choice'd be a help. Planning, even if he can't make it on a train without being recognized. Backup at the least. You know he'll be pissed, A'son, you leave him out of that much. Won't be you he holds it again, either."
Nod, nod, nod, from K'del. A'son's reaction to the mention of Crom seems to come as no surprise to the young Weyrleader, whose expression is rueful for it, shifting in such a way as to imply 'I know, I know, what can you do'. Of course, he's not been here long enough for Crom to be personal. His words come after Leova's, starting only a moment after she's finished: "Got to ask. Even if you think he's not interested. Better that way. Not sure how many tithes, though. New to all that. A couple. A handful. Find out from Milani, lat-- later." He stumbles over that last word, as if realising too late; awkward, awkward.
There's lots of laughter at that. The haha 'are you dumb' type of laugh. "He /won't/ hold it against me? I'm going to be exactly the person he holds it against." A'son rubs his face. "I doubt he'll want to." A finger lifted. "And he can't, can't, can't, come on the tithe trains. Especially any from Crom. Even amongst the minor holders someone is going to recognize his face." There's another face rub. "Fine. Fi-" Milani's name brings his eyes up to K'del, a long look. "Fine."
"As much," Leova allows with a lift of her shoulder. She's watching the men, watching them look at each other, and then she says with a stretch of her legs, bootheels digging into the rug, "Another thing. Won't be so many trains, one way or another. I want dibs on getting to go."
"Well," says K'del after a moment. "Rather he doesn't hold it against /me/, is probably my main point. Don't think he likes me much." He doesn't say anything more at Milani, and avoids A'son's glance at him. At least he didn't say 'later on tonight when she comes to bed with me'. Thankfully. "Reckon we can safely agree that both of you are going, so long as you both want to. Since you're masterminding. Everyone else? Depends on numbers."
"Yeah, we get to pick our poison. So to speak." A'son agrees, he's still looking not too happy about having to track N'thei down. A conversation he's not excited to have in the near future. "He doesn't like anyone that much. But." There's a lift of his shoulders as he looks across to K'del, then Leova. He leans his chin onto the back of the chair. "What is back-up going to involve?"
Not anyone: Leova has something one-syllable to say, but muttered. Then: "Got to catch at least one. Bare minimum. More's better. Want to protect the train, all right, but /need/ to find what they did with the others. And why, just why they're doing this." She glances to K'del. "Any other Weyrs getting this in their territory? That you know of."
"Back-up. Anyone and everyone who can answer the call. Will try and keep people around who're ready, but that's hard, if no one else knows about it. But. General call to arms. Reckon that'll be enough." K'del's response to what Leova says is a sharp, forceful nod: "/Right/. At least one. At /least/. More'd be better. Not thrilled about looking like an idiot, but even less, if there's no payoff. Not that that's what matters, overall. I want it stopped, and I want to know who and why." His head shakes; now, he's grimacing. "No. Nothing. So it's just us they're after."
"Figures. No one ever likes us." A'son says, all mournful tones here. "Can't just be a general call to arms. If we say that it's like painting a flag on us that says we're up to something. We need a point person here and then that point person has his or her own group. But not a general thing." His lips quirk, "Could see N'thei for that. He's certainly one for loafing here if he doesn't have anything better to do. Has his own group of manly men, fan club almost." He lifts his shoulders. "Can't be any worse than what's happened so far. But if they pop up, we'll catch them. At least one."
"If," Leova says to K'del's last. "You're positive they'd tell," the slightest of pauses, "us. However. Don't want so many people they get in each other's way, got to agree there. And there's logistics: like to get a better look at where those trains got taken, think about the travel time. The wingleaders: want F'rint to know we're doing /something/ when we don't show up. Something useful." A... morale-building exercise? She rakes curved fingers through her hair, sits back with another mutter, this one suspiciously like damn-silver-thread-anyway.
K'del hesitates for a moment, thinking, then nods. "And this is why we're working on this together." Or because of Tiriana, but still. "Right. You can ask N'thei to do that; sounds like a good idea." There's enough to think about, between the two of them, that it takes him another couple of comments to continue, "That's true. They might not. Mm. F'rint. Right." More thinking, his shoulders stretching out as he shifts. "What was that?" The mutter. His eyebrows raised.
"Alright. Hopefully he'll take to it." There's a nod for the part about talking to N'thei. And then, "Can't you lose us in the paperwork? Tell F'rint that Leova and I got promoted to different jobs." A'son waves his hand around, trying to think of something. "Or I got in trouble so I'm temporarily assigned to... some horrible duty. Make it confusing. No one knows where the bunch of us really are. We're talking what... maybe four or five riders?"
He wants to know? Leova gives the young Weyrleader another of those level looks. "Hadn't worked my tail off in that silver thread thing, had to learn all that? Would be hanging around jawing over what's left of the ale right now. And he's /dead/." Her heels dig into the rug again. "Hope this new class has to do it too. Payback." That before she turns back to A'son, catching up, "Depends on how many trains. Not too many. You know... Could maybe keep it in Glacier. S'trun and them. Can't think that F'rint can't be trusted. /F'rint/."
K'del, ultimately? Is probably not happy with that particular answer from Leova. "Oh," is what he says, his gaze dropping towards his feet. Oh. Well then. He's silent, then, until coming up with: "Just Glacier and Avalanche. That's the easiest way to do it. Can talk to F'rint. That's easy. Stupid; should have thought of that already. Will do that first thing tomorrow. And find out exactly when those tithes are leaving, how many there are. Details, details. Soon, though."
A'son looks between Leova and K'del. "Second you talk about someone being dead is the second the conversation turns sour." Just in case the young whelps didn't know, he informs them. There's a grunt as he gets to his feet, turning the chair around and pushing it back. "Sounds like too many people. But you're the Weyrleader." Caution, worry, suspicion it all lines his face when he shoves his hands into his pockets. "Let us know what's going on by tomorrow night?"
Leova lifts a shoulder, lets it fall: lets the chips fall. She /will/ allow, like A'son, "Prefer mostly Glacier. Simpler." But so it goes. "Add the maps to those details. Milani'd be able to help out with the clothes'n things. Food. A few marks." All that before she draws her legs in, slowly, leans forward, slowly, stands. Slowly. "There's somebody I've got to tell I'll be gone. Even if I can't say why."
K'del's gaze shifts from one to the other, then lowers back towards the ground. "Fine." It sounds like he's trying really hard to sound positive; it doesn't completely work. "Just Glacier, then. Maps, food, marks. Tomorrow night, definitely. I'll get Cadejoth to let you know when. After dark, though, so's it's not particularly surprising that you're visiting me." Again. His gaze slides back towards Leova, as she stands, expression heading towards curious, but all he says is, "Fine. Say it's about the Crom thing, if you need an excuse. Anything else, or are we done?"
A'son's eyes cause him to look over his shoulder and to the door. "Yeah, Leova. You're not the only one." That worry on his face begins to turn into guilt. Then he's doing another one of those headshakes, attention back to K'del. "I don't think I've got anything else." He says but then he's biting his lip and adding on, "This goes bad? Just tell everyone it was all me. Keep your name in the clear. At least one of us here doesn't have terribly much to lose."
There's just a brief nod from Leova, a low, "Hope it's the Crom train, then." Only slightly less so, after a nothing-else headshake of her own, and then a glance flicked A'son's way: "Payback, hm." And she aims to catch up with the older bronzerider, take his arm hard, the one that he'd knifed back when. Before they're dismissed.
"If you... like." K'del doesn't look terribly comfortable about letting someone else take the blame, though, after a couple of moments, he nods his head. "Maybe. Anyway." Leova's remark gets a twist of the lips, and a shift of the shoulders, neither of which say too much, and then he bobs his head more sharply. "See you tomorrow, then. Have a good night."
"I would." A'son tells their teenage Weyrleader, shooting him an all too serious look. Then he's turning his back on him and heading out, "Good night, K'del. Leo- Ow, what are you /doing/." He snaps at her, wrenching his arm back and continuing his walk on out. "Lost your mind?"
"Practicing," the greenrider tells him, far too sweetly, as she follows. Floating behind her, "Night, K'del." And, "/Not/ going to go bad." As a belated order to them both? Vrianth would be proud.
The teenage Weyrleader lets out, finally, the sigh he has probably been holding in throughout this little meeting. In over his head. "Fine," he says, slowly, then, as he watches them go. And, okay, he smirks a little. Violence. Always does it. Not to mention the rest.