Logs:L'vae's Second Cousin Got Ripped Off
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| RL Date: 5 June, 2008 |
| Who: L'vae, N'thei |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| When: Day 21, Month 6, Turn 16 (Interval 10) |
| Starting as just part of the background at first, Bremuth's consciousness coalesces smoothly. There's the essence of a question marring the serenity. His rider, yours. Might they meet now? Where? (Bremuth to Wyaeth) Subtlety. Pfaaaah. Wyaeth's a shotgun-blast across a tumbleweed-quiet desert; « N'thei's in the council chambers. L'vae wants to talk, go talk. » Just leave Wyaeth the hell outta it. So he's learned, so he commands in brusque thoughts. (Wyaeth to Bremuth) Wyaeth senses that Bremuth is obliging, fading away without another stir of thought. Council Chamber, High Reaches Weyr(#770RIJs$) This cavern, nearly as large as a dragon weyr, is filled with an oval table, surrounded by chairs, at which meetings are held. The chair at the far end of the table is somewhat larger than the rest, the embroidered seat cushion done a little fancier, but not too much so. In the center of the hardwood table the symbol of High Reaches Weyr has been inlaid in colored stones, gleaming in the light from the glowbaskets hung around the room. A natural alcove is filled with shelves, all piled high with neatly ordered records of past turns. A short passage leads back to the Weyrleaders' ledge. After dinner. The Weyr slows down, people drift toward whatever occupies their evenings, lights come on inside weyrs, the bowl empties. At one end, the weyrleaders' complex shines against the gathering dusk, glows and shadows detailing the movements of those inside. Across the shared ledge, in the council chamber, the shadows are at rest; N'thei sits back at the table, arranged a few seats down from the elaborate chair, his feet up on the edge of it, a hide held limp across his belly. His attention turns to the entrance, waits for footfall, eyes tilted upward with patience in them. Bremuth lands with quiet wings in the pool of light beneath the weyrleader's complex. L'vae is quick to slip down the dappled shoulder, stroking fingertips the last to leave the smooth hide as he heads for the stair. They absently rake up through wind-blown hair, pushing it back from his forehead while he makes his way down the passage. There's no hesitation at the threshold of the chambers, though his step eases into a slower swing as he finds the weyrleader waiting. "N'thei. Sir." The brownrider's chin dips. Slowing feet finally halt two seats down, his wrist dropping over the chair's back. Amused, "Ought to cut that mop to respectable bristles." N'thei beckons with a fold of his fingers immediately afterward, his eyebrows raised when L'vae takes the liberty of entering, of sitting; the smile that greets his daring seems to lack recrimination, but it's so hard to tell with him sometimes. "Assume this isn't a social call, so what can I do for you tonight." He pulls his feet down while speaking, the better to turn his attention properly to the younger man, to lay his hide in a neat face-down tent on the table. "Hm." The sound doesn't quite qualify as a chuckle, and the wry smile that curves on L'vae's lips is brief. A little nod tips his head at N'thei's assumption. "I'm afraid I've had rather troubling news from my cousin." The brownrider's attention is focused right back, businesslike. Engaged. "The one who's a brewer. Apparently one of his shipments was waylaid in Nabol." The hand dangling over the chair back turns, fingers splaying a little from their curl. "Was it." In-Nabol is where N'thei seems to bother really tuning in, all talk of the cousin up to that point of little interest. His frown is thoughtful, then apologetic like the shrug he maneuvers for L'vae's benefit. "I'm sorry to hear that. Were we in any position to assist financially, I'd be happy to help, but our cups don't exactly run over, neh?" Light laughter, self-deprecating in light of recent financial windfalls. "We could keep a watch if it comes through here? Or perhaps you're asking for extra watches near Nabol?" Like he might guess why L'vae brings this to his plate. Another nod. It was. In response to laughter, L'vae's lips curve up. "Don't they?" He doesn't put much emphasis into the words - can he pull off innocent? He's not inclined to dwell on financials at the moment, in any case. "It may be prudent." But there's more than that. "And as for watching for things coming through here?" There's a little upward tick to his eyebrows, but mostly he's watching N'thei. "Perhaps a good starting point would be with our visitors, the Vijays?" N'thei resumes a portion of his earlier posture, no more the squared and attentive shoulders of a formal reception. Reclined into his chair, slouched, fingers laced lazily across his belly, he graces L'vae with a tolerant smile. "Meaning?" Head cocked, eyes bright, all ears. "You know," L'vae starts a little more conversationally. Perhaps prompted by the other man's relaxed posture. "I didn't feel right about putting much stake in the rumors, about the traders stealing from us. But now." Those fingers flex again and his voice drops back into a flatter tone. "From what was seen of the thieves, it looked as if they may have been from the Vijays." He pauses. "How well do you know these traders?" Seldom one for long pauses, N'thei stretches this one to its length. His fingers stir where they're laced, a roll of them while he holds L'vae's look with steady scrutiny. Then, calm; "Well enough to look the other way. I feel bad your cousin was robbed, but he's not my concern." The implication: But the Weyr is. "If there's worry about thieves at Nabol, we'll assign an extra pair there to sweep the roads, watch for anything suspicious." He shrugs with a smile to acknowledge the frail compromise. L'vae's fingers close, his jaw tightening. "Not your concern?" The words are said low and heavily, indignation simmering in undertones of his voice. "Are we not responsible for protecting the people beholden to us? How else do we earn our tithe?" His head gives a little shake, and he takes a deep breath. It brings him up out of his seat, to stand straight. "And what of the weyrfolk who have lost things dear to them? Are they not your concern, either?" There's true curiosity underneath the brownrider's quiet anger. With slow deliberation; "I will not answer to you." Anyone. N'thei listens to the whole of L'vae's questions without interrupting, with a steady calm to match the brownrider's indignation. "If you have something /practical/ to suggest, then I'm listening. But I don't suffer righteousness well so master your temper, lad, before it makes a fool out of you." Still seated, he raises his eyes to follow L'vae while he stands. L'vae is nearly frozen in place, the tension of clenched teeth ticking in his cheek. He's silent for a time. "May I be excused, sir?" Is all he ends up saying, the tightness of his voice marring the politeness. The reverse of the gesture that beckoned L'vae into the room dismisses him from it. N'thei tosses his fingers toward the door carelessly and sits, shaking his head in silent disapproval. L'vae bows his head, deferential despite everything. Quietly, he turns and makes his way briskly out into the stifling warmth of the night. |
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