Logs:About A Ship
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| RL Date: 26 September, 2012 |
| Who: Ali, E'ten, N'rov, N'muir |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ali, E'ten and N'rov discuss their findings with Weyrleader N'muir, who is not happy. |
| Where: Council Chambers, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 11, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| It's late evening when Bijedth receives a touch from Isyath- gentle, for her. « Mine wishes to speak to yours, in the council chambers. » Ali's there, along with E'ten, the map that's been carefully copied by E'ten spread out on the table. The junior's seated in one of the chairs- not at the head of the table, of course, fiddling with the ends of the shawl as she waits. "You should explain it," she telling E'ten, "He- he trusts you most." To say that E'ten is very comfortable with the klah rather than tea is an understatement, given that he's likely on his second or third mug since finding himself sketching and fleshing out a map so detailed that he must have consulted with Adiulth more than once. But the end result is a map that borrows from what he's seen combined with the Harper Hall's provided maps to the Weyr. The end result has the same areas encircled and still being held in place and the bronzerider? He's standing, sleeves rolled to the elbow and since he's spend who knows how long transcribing what he saw. It doesn't keep him from replying to Ali without any hint of amusement, "At least, we didn't cause trouble. Just.. made some good observations while keeping our identities secret." Like a big, slumbering beast, Bijedth's rumble hints of deep, dark, distant /quiet/ - his sleeping mind rolling over in a subtle attempt to stay asleep. But alas, the Giant awakens briefly to the call of his youngest queen, bleary-eyed mind full of the fog of deep rest. It's acceptance of a sort, seeming to be dutiful to young Isyath as N'muir's clipping footsteps draw closer and closer to the Council Room entrance announcing his arrival before his figure ducks under the threshold. "Weyrwoman-" N'muir's brown eyes flick from goldrider to bronzerider and back, and his footfalls towards the table slow. "And... Wingrider. What is it?" "You think that will make a difference?" Ali wonders, aloud; judging by her visible discomfort, she apparently suspects otherwise. The tea in front of her has barely been touched, despite her obvious exhaustion. She straightens, by pure habit, as N'muir arrives: "Sir, thank you for coming-" a beat, "Sorry, for disturbing Bijedth, but I thought you should hear, and I didn't want to disturb the Weyrwoman yet." And then she looks at E'ten, expectantly. It's all on him, apparently. Me? E'ten doesn't draw a finger to point at himself, even as one hand reaches for the mug of half-filled klah that still has some measure of warmth to add to fingers spent in sketches. What would be a casual gesture, however, is certainly laced with more formality short of a salute on N'muir's entry. Saluting with a mug in hand might be amusing. Still, gesturing to the map with his free hand, he explains, "It may be nothing or it could be something to simply observe. To keep an eye on just in case, we have a repeat of what happened before." He knows how the news might sound, perhaps. "We were able to discover something odd about a ship bearing Nerat's colors but clearly headed to the Fort/Bollian region. The map could be something else entirely, but with the tithe bound to sail and arrive soon?" Again. Nothing to take to chance. "There are locations marked that don't conform to anything in particular to my knowledge. Not any major deposit location but along some traveled routes. The working theory is to ask which route does the tithe take on its way to Fort? Is there some connection or not?" With all of those questions posed, he does think to add as a last, "No one knows riders were there. We made sure of that." N'muir shakes his head, dismissing the apology easily as an idle hand pulls out a chair to claim for himself, but it's not long before unspoken questions begin transforming his calm, tolerant mood. His eyes sink heavily into the weyrwoman, uncertainty and the barest hint of a regretful frown weighing against her words before following her attention to E'ten. It's then that his brows knit sharply together and he leans with dubious air onto the table. It's a long moment before he holds his hand out for the map. "Ships /are/ allowed to sail around, you know..." And yet: "Have either of you spoken to anyone in Nerat? Is it a legitimate ship on a legitimate voyage?" Ali can't help but fidget as E'ten explains- but she's nodding here and there, as he speaks, and she gets up, moving around her chair to retrieve another mug, reaching for the tea, and pouring a mug, before setting it wordlessly in front of N'muir. Even though the klah's right there, she avoids it, deliberately. She stands near to N'muir's left, looking down at the map. "I- I don't think they were legitmate, sir. I heard them- some of their crew- talking in the bar about the Boll tithe. That's why I- I asked E'ten and N'rov to take a closer look." There's a guilty little expression here, especially since she names N'rov; she's well aware he's already on shaky ground with the Weyrleader. "We haven't spoken to anyone, sir. Just you." "I know, sir." Spoken or rather speaking after taking a slow sip from the mug, E'ten glances to Ali as yet another piece settles in with a nod of his head. "It's why I kept an open mind about it. Still, Ali isn't one to summon without due cause. It needed some investigation to see if she was onto something potentially concerning," he says, taking a step away from the map that's already openly displayed on the table for all to see. "It doesn't hurt to have a little caution does it, Weyrleader? Even if it could be completely harmless." That look is turned upon Ali again, brows too angled, eyes too sharp, mouth too tight. "Weyrwoman Hattie is more knowledgeable in... political matters," N'muir mentions, voice dropping with soft purpose - a hint, perhaps? He emits a sigh, eyes dragging themselves miserably to the mug of tea without claiming it with his hand. Almost begrudgingly, his attention slides to the map on the table, expression no less comforted by what's drawn there. "You're absolutely certain this ship sails with that crew?" That frown flexes again. "Caution indeed." That grouchy misery begins to tighten into frustrated displeasure, and he lets it slide from rider to rider before fixing it squarely on E'ten with no warmth for his wingmate. "Keep an eye on it - /from a distance/. Do you understand me? If this ship does turn out to be legitimate-..." He begins to push himself up out of his seat, tea untouched. "Is that all, Weyrwoman?" E'ten, now being pointedly ignored. Looking grateful for the backup from E'ten, Ali straightens, although she's still adjusting her shawl, her discomfort at N'muir's look obvious. "Headwoman Shevena told me not to bother the Weyrwoman when she's managed to get her into her weyr." And Ali, even though the Headwoman doesn't out rank her, clearly isn't willing to go toe-to-toe with her. "I- I followed them. To the ship. I'm sure," she says, fingers tightened into balls, as if bracing herself. Her gaze cuts towards E'ten, then back, trying her hardest not to shrink under N'muir's look. If there /was/ anything else, the chew of her lower lip suggests she's planning to hold off it on- for another night. "Yes- that's all, sir. Good night, sir." While the map takes the brunt of N'muir's observations, E'ten just continues to stand at some cross between 'completely straight' and 'saluting straight'. There is a difference. With a crisp nod of his head, the bronzerider doesn't even counter with a verbal response to press any other opinion than a clear, "Yes, sir." Only once he's not observed does he allow his gaze to turn to Ali with a hint of encouragement. N'muir stares wild-eyed at Ali and takes a breath that forewarns of hot, angry words to follow. Instead, his lips seal themselves shut with visible effort written in the tension of his jaw, and after giving a quick nod of farewell for the weyrwoman (and a bit of a glare passing over E'ten), the Weyrleader turns on his heel and clips more crisply than usual out of the Council Room into the familiar shadows of night. Ali is a tense, stiff pole under N'muir's look, barely moving. It's only once the Weyrleader heads out that the junior dares a breath of exhalation that sounds like relief, stepping around the chair to sink into it. "Well, at- least he didn't ground all of us," she says, shakily, with a look to E'ten. To Isyath, Bijedth so wants sleep but hangs, unable to find rest in the background of his lifemate's emotions. The fog cloud that is Bijedth drifts to his young queen. « He does not like to hear of you being so close to danger. If you were hurt, we would all hurt. Deeply. » While Isyath's mental tones are calm, Ali's roils in the back of her thoughts like an impending storm on the horizon. « She was not in danger, » the queen tells him, reassuring. « We were flying, and then we hid, where they could not see us. » (Isyath to Bijedth) "Yet," comes the quip with another, longer pull from the mug now that the drink is even cooler. Giving N'muir even more time to get further and further away does without saying as he offers the faintest of smiles to Ali as he moves to pull over one chair with a foot before sitting as well. "He still might or make sure I'm too busy to do much more than eat and sleep. Still, it probably went as good as expected." The dark-haired woman's eyes close, taking another breath as if to steady herself. "At least he- listened to us. You- you had better take care not to let that ship see you and Adiulth. I don't think they'd take kindly to being monitored by dragonriders," Ali finally murmurs, glancing in E'ten's direction now. "You didn't say anything about being in a bar." Countering with hints of amusement trailing in his voice, E'ten leans forward on one elbow as he looks towards the map now that he can with a clearer gaze. "Adiulth and I will find a place based on this to observe discreetly. I know they won't like having riders observe, much less find out that we knew these locations ahead of time. For once, firelizards would be helpful in this. But I have enough with just Adiulth." The fog vaguely clears in the distance for some unrelated thought, and then: « You are both very precious and beloved. Be careful, dearest little queen. » Bijedth's voice drifts away, his haze settling back into sleep. (Bijedth to Isyath) To Bijedth, Isyath's response is wordless, comforting reassurance that follows the bronze back down into his sleep. All will be well. "I- that's where I heard the sailors talking," Ali says, visibly uncomfortable, still shaking a little in reaction, reaching for the untouched tea she placed out for N'muir and taking a sip, as if that might calm her nerves. She leans forward a little, to view the map. "I have a blue, but he's too- too wild to make him obey for any length of time. One of the harpers, I think, has a well trained gold, but that means telling them." The harpers. She leaves /that/ decision to E'ten with an inquisitive tip of her head. She's seated in a different chair than when N'rov left, looking a little unsteady. That's when N'rov returns, with a klah pot (and two mugs, just two), snacks, and altogether too knowing eyes. He pauses just within the doorway, and double-checks, "He /is/ gone?" But that last's after a different double-check: they /have/ survived? Regarding Ali from behind the rim of his mug, E'ten leans back against the chair until setting the mug onto the table with a lean in her direction and a hand that lifts outstretched towards one of those shaking. It's a half completed thought and act that is disrupted by N'rov's return, the gesture moving towards another spot on the map. "He's gone. We're not grounded. And we need to give him proof, I bet. What we have is enough to bring reasonable question but.. it may not be until I see something that Adiulth can relay that he'll be ready to go in with all wings." So to speak. Tapping one edge of the map with his fingers, he looks between both with a low exhale of breath as he returns to Ali's earlier suggestion. "If we need to tell the Harpers, they could help. But until then, it'll go to someone higher in rank." It's the way information travels really. By measures, color returns to Ali's features, and E'ten's gesture, even aborted as it is, earns a faint smile. With a deep breath, as N'rov reappears, she reports: "He's to watch the ship. Which- I guess is the best outcome we could have had. I mean, if E'ten's watching the ship, and you're supposed to-" she glances at N'rov, and trails off. It's supposed to be a secret, right? But she looks distinctly uncomfortable, and obvious about it all the same. Instead, she takes a sip of her tea, focusing on that. "I'd rather- avoid the harpers, at this stage. I- it's hard to know whose side they might be on." She sounds, if anything, wary. Those same gray eyes linger, interrogatively, on where E'ten's hand had been. N'rov doesn't follow it to the map at all, except for what's required to negotiate matters so as to not set anything atop the document. "Proof beyond the labels?" /Had/ he mentioned the labels? He continues after Ali without real pause, just a clink or two, "Stay home and twiddle my thumbs, if that's what he asks me to do. It's a good thing the eggs haven't hatched, or he'd have me shoveling dragon dung. As it is, don't be surprised if you see me on far, far-off sweeps. Or /don't see/ me, as the case may be." "Supposed to be doing what?" Hand? What hand? E'ten might have covered his intended gesture rather poorly but it doesn't keep him from looking between the two at the possibility that he's missing something. Something likely important. "The Harpers.. overall wouldn't be bad to be brought into the fold of information but I would be surprised if any would actually tip off anyone. Still, even those who live at the Hall hear things they likely wouldn't. Shouldn't." Point in case: Him. "But later, they might come in handy. Especially if they heard anything." "I- thought it best not to bring you up, specifically, after his reaction." Ali murmurs, of N'rov, with a slanted, sidelong glance in his direction, and perhaps a glimmer of gratitude for how swiftly he picks up her misstep. "Maybe- maybe tomorrow, when he's calmer." If that's possible. "Besides, the labels isn't /proof/- it's... it's an indication. They could just be reusing barrels that were originally Fort Sea's." She refocuses on the map, chewing on her lower lip. "Maybe," she says, hesitantly, of the harpers. "But we need stronger proof; he's right. I'm just- not sure how to get it- not without going back into Fort Sea. I think for now we just need to make sure they don't do anything to the train." "Not unless they were being blackmailed or on the take?" because N'rov evidently has a cheery view of life this evening, antic humor twitching up one corner of his mouth. He cuts it off with a wryer nod Ali's way, message received, then pours for himself, klah rather than tea. To E'ten, skipping the train altogether, "Laudably conservative, don't you think? Reusing crates without bothering to take the labels off, and it isn't even tree-eating Pass? And speaking of hearing things, I wouldn't mind getting my own hands on a well-trained gold." "I won't say that it can't happen, N'rov." Meaning harpers on the take. It's just one of those things that E'ten would be extremely surprised of. With another swig of klah, it's a hefty sip that finds him already moving to stand with no shortage of reluctance in his actions. "All together, it could be something that can't be ignored. But if I'm going to be ship watching, I better get some rest. If we ever get back to Fort Sea..." It's an idea that isn't remarked on further, looking between Ali and N'rov and then gesturing to the map. "If you want or need to keep the map, Ali, you're welcome to it." The faint press of lips from Ali might well suggest she's of a mind with N'rov, but far too polite to say it- especially in front of E'ten. "The likelihood is rather remote- but they /could/ claim that." As E'ten starts to make his leave, she says, "If-" with a shake of her head, as if she considers that a bad idea. "I'll- keep the map for now. Thank you. And I hope you- sleep well. Even after all the klah." With a light-hearted smile, even if it is a shade forced given the current topic, she reaches forward to grip the edge of the map. N'rov's latter comment earns a surprised look, then, after a pause, "You could always ask Journeywoman Felire when her gold's due to clutch next, though I expect there's a long waiting list, for a queen egg." With E'ten moving to go, N'rov quickly unbundles some of the snacks, the better to wrap some up (flaky nut-filled pastry dusted with sweet spices and sweetening and, generally, sweetness) and thrust it at his clutchmate: "Here. It sounds as though you'll need your strength." He idly licks a flaky bit off his thumb, slants a look at Ali and then says to them both, "Thanks for handling it, with the Weyrleader. I don't expect it was easy." His tone's gotten serious, and lower even than his accustomed baritone. "And you." Spoken in kind to Ali, E'ten leaves the map but keeps that mug and finds himself the recipient of ... pastries. Once the bundle is abruptly in his reach, it's accepted with a nod of thanks towards his fellow bronzerider, wingrider with an added, "Anytime." He doesn't get any further into how that entire talk went, looking to both before heading towards the bowl and his own bed. The dark-haired woman watches the exchange of pastries with an inadvertant little smile that doesn't linger overly long; instead she rolls the map up, using a bit of corded rope to hold the roll tight, leaving it on the table. "I haven't seen the Weyrleader that angry since- in a long while," Ali says, trying to keep her voice even, but mostly failing. Instead, she takes a sip of her tea, and with mug still cradled between her hands, adds, gaze darting upwards: "I'm just glad E'ten was there. And you- don't need any more grief from him. The last thing I'd want is for him to take you off that sweeps duty, N'rov." N'rov's slow to turn back, even when E'ten's out of sight. But then, when he looks at Ali, it's not to address what she says but rather, "Is that relaxing tea, or stay-awake tea?" His voice is still deep, but quieter now somehow, without that peculiar undertone. "It's supposed to be relaxing, but I'm not sure if it will help," Ali answers, with the lightest of laughs, head tipping forward further, presumably to study the bottom of the mug. "Maybe once- once Issy's asleep. She's restless; hungry, I guess. We'd best go hunting early tomorrow." "All right," N'rov agrees, though it's even as he hunts down the teapot to lift off its lid and give it a speculative sniff: literally nosy. "I told myself it wasn't so much being sidelined as out of the line of fire. I don't doubt that he went easier on you with E'ten there than he would have otherwise, too." He glances over at Ali. "It doesn't sound like you don't like telling E'ten about the tithe train any more than I do. But I have to wonder if he's watching to see if we /will/ tell, in this, where it shouldn't do harm even if we do... but he'd still know." The sniff of the teapot earns a bemused sort of look from Ali, but at least it earns a begrudging sort of smile, after a time. It doesn't last for long, though. "The Weyrleader wanted it secret," the junior says, uncomfortably, of her earlier reticence. "I think we /should/ tell him, and I /want/ to, but-" she's not exactly keen to go against N'muir's wishes at the best of times. "He- he might be. Testing us," she adds. "Testing you, more like. And I don't want to risk it." For him, for the plan, whichever. She shifts her shoulders, awkwardly, trying to keep the concern out of her voice and failing. "You should- you should get some rest. The Bollian watchdragon is saying the train's likely to start out early tomorrow." "If it's an emergency, he'll find out all right," N'rov says flippantly, though perhaps not as much so as he should. "Tomorrow." He pushes the rest of the bundle across the table, next to the rolled map, including the oversized thumbprint cookies with their wells of slow-cooked, intense not especially sweet fruit. "I suppose I can't probably can't get on the good journeyman's list by then, though I do have hopes of talking her out of one before I'm forty... especially if you share any lesser-known preferences that I could fulfill." But he's barely stopped, his head tilted her way. "It's hard on you? Waiting for us to do it and you have to sit back, enough to make anyone restless." "Good," Ali murmurs, with a smile, for discussion of an emergency. She pushes to her feet, slowly, limbs cracking briefly as she stretches- hesitating as she looks at the pastries, then him- she doesn't reach for them, though, but tucks the map under her arm. It's the latter question that makes her stop, chewing her lower lip. She looks away from him, deliberately, to consider, although her expression- full of uncertainty, maybe a little wistfulness- is plain enough. "I- need to be here. Have to be. Besides, if I tried, I think Bijedth would ground Issy." Could he, anyway? The junior doesn't appear to know, or to want to find out. "Could he?" N'rov's evidently on that same line, especially after observing her expression like that. Only, quickly, "Never mind." It's so close to taking the question back. "Night, Ali." He'll retrieve the klah he'd brought, walking out with long, impatient strides, but the pastries? If she doesn't take them, perhaps a drudge will be made very happy. Or they can molder. There's a quick shake of head from the junior, though whether it's an answer to his hastily-revoked question, or refusal to answer is difficult to tell. "Good night, N'rov," Ali murmurs in return. With the map tucked under one arm, she takes one step towards the exit after him, then hesitates, looking at the table. With a sigh, she moves back to reach for the leftover pastries, less out of any desire to eat them than a desire not to leave them to waste there. |
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