Difference between revisions of "Logs:Sailors With Secrets"

It's been a couple of days, now, since young Thedrin went missing-- and if there were any doubts in the beginning about whether he had simply stayed out to play too long, those have now vanished. This kind of work is the kind of thing Snowdrift trains for, at least in part, and that has meant the wing has been largely focused on the search ever since. Today, a damp but not actually rainy afternoon, finds Emme paired with an older bluerider, Marlanda, as they sweep out to sea on a mission to track down any vessels that left Tillek on that fateful day. « Is that a sail? » Marlanda's blue Breivith projects an image of a distant white patch to the brown, hastening his wingbeats.

Understandably, the longer the boy has been gone the more frantic people have become over his fate. Which has prompted Emme and Rhazekth at least, to volunteer for as many shifts searching as is safe for them to do. And that white sail pointed out by Breivith is the first little ray of hope they've personally seen the whole time. It provides a much needed surge in the swirling eddies of sand in the brown's mind. « Let's find out for sure! » he projects back, flying faster as well but making sure not to overtake the blue. « Do our riders just... shout down to them? »

« It's not very efficient, is it? » Breivith, while obviously pleased to have found something worth looking into, can't help but be dryly sardonic at the process of the procedure. He suggests an image of them landing upon the deck of the supposed-ship, and crashing through it. And then another, of them trying to land on the water itself. Faster, then: wingbeat after wingbeat. And sure enough, there on the horizon, that white patch is growing steadily bigger, coalescing into the form of a sail and a ship beneath it, bearing north-east.

Rhazekth: Intrigued. He flickers out another image. One of them beating their wings under the water and capsizing the boat! The find obviously has him in good spirits. « Emme and I wil scrutinize the boat while you speak to the captain? » The words are obviously the brownrider's, and indeed Emme glances over with a raised brow of curiousity. As the more experienced rider, she figures it's up to Marlanda how they'll handle it. « I am good with details. I may spot something strange. » he adds.

Breivith finds that particular image most amusing, and sends back an image of the poor sailors flailing in the water... and one small boy being scooped up by gloriously heroic dragons, brown and blue, and taken home triumphantly. If only! « Please, » he confirms, rather more seriously. « If we can get close enough, she might like to jump down and take a closer look. If she thinks she can get back up again. » A dismal fate indeed, being stuck on the ship until they make port. As they get closer, it's obvious that the ship has caught sight of them, and, perhaps more to the point, has recognised that it is their vessel the dragons are coming from.

"Ahoy!" calls a man from up in the crow's nest. "Captain waits below! Duties to High Reaches."

Emme slings a bit of a salute to the man in the crow's nest, and then an eager smile over to her fellow wingmate. « Emme says she's game to try it! » Indeed, a little adventure in the form of leaping and grasping at riding straps will make quite a story to tell. "Hail! May Rhazekth and I get close enough that I can jump on deck?" she wonders aloud, to see if the man can give them that permission before they dip lower.

The sailor looks a little dubious - and perhaps a little concerned as the brown gets so close - but he gives a half-nod of assent nonetheless: it's always wise to be obliging to dragonriders. "If you can manage, of course," he says, yelling into the wind to ensure that it reaches the brownrider.

Breivith circles lower, hovering carefully just to one side of the deck, his rider shifting in her position so that she can face the man who, very obviously, is the vessel's captain. "Ahoy!" she yells, picking up the sailor parlance. "Did you sail from Tillek six days past?"

"My thanks to you then, sir." Emme is nothing if not polite, then allowing Rhazekth to circle carefully until she judges they're about as close as they can safely get t ohe ship. Her lips purse, of course, looking down at the substantial drop. « She may need to swim out, for me to pick her up. » the brown's dry tone completely at odds with the image of 'wet drowned rat brownrider' that he projects. Nonetheless, she gamely undoes varied buckles and straps so that she can climb down and inch over enough to drop down onto the deck into a thudding crouch. And with a grimace to boot. "Ugh." Wiping now wet hands against her leathers, she approaches the captain as well and offers a polite nod since her hands are dirty. "We're looking for a young lad, about so high..." is gestured, as accompaniment to the question.

The captain turns his attention from bluerider to brownrider and back again, his expression showing some surprise at Emme's willingness to drop onto the deck like that. "Careful your dragons don't tangle my sails," he says, gruffly, but not with any audible malice. "Aye, that's when we left Tillek. You really trying to tell me that you've come out here looking for a lost boy?" He shakes his head. "We've no boys on this vessel. No stowaways, neither."

Marlanda frowns, shifting her position upon Breivith. "Then you won't object to showing my colleague around, will you? Just so that we can reassure the frantic mother."

To Rhazekth, Breivith is amused. « She would look funny like that. Perhaps if she climbs the mast? » All that rigging. Better hope she isn't afraid of heights!

"Aye, Captain. We're very careful." Emme assures, a confident smile in place despite the way she suddenly glances at the crow's nest. « Her favorite spot on the island was the cliffs, where her legs could dangle. She is fine with heights! » It's the climbing part that apparently has her concerned. But, bright and hopeful expression remains in place as a quiet counter to Marlanda's concern. Good cop, bad cop? Ahem. "I looked after the younglings back home; they're sneaky little wherries sometimes Captain. It would certainly be no fault of yours if he found an especially good hiding spot. I promise I'll be quick with a search?"

The captain's jaw clenches, but after a moment's hesitation, he nods, indicating the ship behind him with a wave of his hand. "Shall I show you around?" he asks of Emme, already taking a half step across the deck.

"No," says Marlanda. "Why don't you stay here and talk to me, Captain. Perhaps your first mate will do the honours? I'd like to know where you're headed, and what your cargo is. You sail rather further west than most intent on Boll."

This obviously doesn't please the captain, but he dutifully calls for aforementioned first mate - a man in his mid-twenties, swarthy, with a gold tooth. Very piratical.

« You suspect something? » Emme was quick to pick up on Marlanda's line of questioning, and though she's good at ensuring that no suspicion shows on her own face, Rhazekth has no problems prying with questions to get answers /for/ her. "Good afternoon to you, sir. My name is Emme and I'm rider to Rhazekth." she introduces, offering her hand to shake despite the swarthy appearance of the first-mate. "If you'd be so kind to show me around? Any places small enough for a child to hide - cargo stores, closets, and the like as well. We wouldn't want to be lying to the youngling's mother when we report back afterall." Like a true goody two-shoes, really. Above, Rhazekth croons his encouragement. Just to call attention to his imposing self, in case any gold-toothed men get ideas.

« She's not sure. We are further west than the shipping paths. But perhaps they've good reason? » Breivith's tone holds uncertainty - but also determination. « Look out for anything unusual. Even if they don't have the boy, they may not be... entirely above board. » Marlanda, in contrast, gives the captain an almost toothy smile, reassuring him, "This won't take too long. Now. Your destination?"

Meanwhile, the swarthy second-in-command is terse. "Varmiel," he says, shaking her hand in a way that suggests it's not something he does often, or feels entirely comfortable with. His nod seems to indicate that he's willing to show her the places suggested, and with that, he leads the way down into the bowels of the ship. For the most part, there's not much to see: sailors at work, sailors at rest. And then-- /there/. There's a bundle of rags in the corner, down in the storage hold where they seem to be otherwise carrying great crates of wool. And amidst the rags, there's something made of Tillek blue.

Giving polite nods to the sailors as they make their way through the ships hold, the young brownrider glancing pretty much every whihc way as they go. And when she spots the bundle of rags with telltale blue, she does a double-take. "Pardon me." she murmurs, stepping away from Varmiel so that she can slips between a couple of crates and kneel down to pluck at the bit of blue sticking up from the rags. « She may have found something. A pile of rags in unlikely place. Tillek blue showing. She is reaching for it now. » he relays, tension suddenly threading through his tone as a chitter of scarab wings.

The rest of the pile probably is just rags, but the Tillek blue is undeniably not-- a fine weave, well-made, and still whole: a shirt. Small boy sized. With something hard in an inside pocket somewhere. Hard, and maybe... round? Varmiel looks bewildered at the interest, intoning, "Just rags?" It seems genuine, though the way Emme reaches for it seems to make him nervous, too; he glances around, as if looking for someone to back him up.

« Tillek blue? Yes -- she needs to look at it. He was wearing blue. He might be here! »

"This shirt, is most certainly not rags." For perhaps the first time, Emme's tone holds a note of censure in it. She may be polite, but his nervousness has her on edge enough for her concern to show through. Her hands grasp the pockets when the hard and round object is felt and she reaches inside. "Thedrin? Are you here sweetheart? You aren't in trouble. I'm a rider. I just want to bring you home." she calls out, eager to speak before Varmiel tries to quie her with false excuses. « She calls his name. There is something in the shirt. »

And once he's passed that along, Emme starts winding her way through the crates, even climbing over or across like she's used to navigating over the strangest of terrains. "Would you have an explanation for the shirt, Varmiel? This is finely crafted material."

"Just rags," insists Varmiel, though he sounds less certain. "Picked it up at Tillek. Woman down on the docks collects 'em for us. Useful, on a ship." He is obviously uncomfortable with Emme's continued search, though there's no answer to her calls; he blinks, wincing obviously at her mention of the name. And even more so as the object she's hunting for turns out to be a ring: a ring with Tillek's seal on it.

« We're leaning on the captain, » reports Breivith. « He claims innocence. Doesn't know what we're talking about. Keep looking. If you don't find anything, come back up. Let's see what they're hiding. »

Emme's surprised gasp at finding THE RING should be enough to turn heads at the very least; clearly, now, she's not only concerned but angry. "What's the name of the woman who gives you the rags." she insists, holding -up- the ring so that it's visible before she pockets it safely. "I want everyone down here looking for the boy and I mean -now-." she snaps, suddenly finding her backbone it would seem.

« The Tillek ring seal was in the shirt pocket. She is demanding a thorough search below deck. SHe will open every crate if she has to. » Rhazekth promises, continuing to circle and keep an eye on things from above. Indeed, the girl has started to open up crates if she has to, caring not in the least for any inconvenience it might cause.

Pale under his tan, Varmiel hesitates-- but then calls out. "All hands! We're opening the crates for the Brownrider." If he's reluctant, well, at least he's making the effort, now, getting out a crowbar to aid the process, one crate after another, all hands at work. "Don't know her name," he says, firmly. "Just some woman on the docks. Call her the rag woman."

A few moments later, Marlanda and the captain are joining the group, though the captain keeps sending wary glances up to the deck, where the remainder of the sailors are still at work. "Found anything?" the bluerider asks, eyeing the crates.

There's no boy in any of the crates, nor any indication that there might have been, once. What there /is/ is rather less wool than the ship's manifest suggests there ought to be... and rather more old and very beautiful tapestries.

"Thank you." Emme breathes, breaking open crates right alongside the first mate - though by the time they've opened them and found no boy, her eyes have watered at least once. "Shardit. We were so close." she whispers, looking up at Marlanda and giving a quick and sad shake of her head. "He's not here. But these are." The tapestries are gestured at. And then she hands the blue shirt over to the bluerider. "Varmiel here says they get rags from a woman on the docks at Tillek and that's where they got this from. They don't know her name."

After a pause, and a look at both captain and crew, she swallows. "I think we need to find her next. But..." Tapestries. Her gaze, at least, holds a question that she won't voice herself. « Smuggling? Maybe we can enlist their aid and get information, in exchange for keeping quiet about the tapestries. The boy is more important. »

"I swear to you," says the captain, beseeching and desperate, "We don't know anything about any boy. None of our sailors are younger than fourteen; we won't take little ones. We don't kidnap anyone." He's ever so careful not to look at the tapestries, and so is Varmiel, but unless they're particularly good actors, they don't seem to know anything.

« Could be, » agrees Breivith. « What if they don't know anything? Do we take them in, then? » He projects an image of their riders, handsomely rewarded by Lady Edeline who is smiling and smiling as though she's not a grieving mother-- and then he pauses. Well, okay, maybe not like that, is his silent admission. « Marlanda says take the lead. See what you can get. »

Emme nods at Marlanda, and then walks over to one of the crates to lift up a particularly expensive looking tapestry. "I expect you know something about these, though." she suggests, careful not to get the item soiled when she places it back down in its crate. "I believe you when you say you don't have the boy, and you don't know where he is." is then conceded, albeit reluctantly. "So in the spirit of goodwill, I suggest a deal."

She allows the offer of reprieve from smuggling charges to settle for a few seconds before continuing, with a steady voice. "We need a thorough description of the rag woman, and information about where you procure your cargo. If any of the information you give us provides a solid lead, we'll keep quiet about the tapestries. But you won't do it again. Do we have an agreement?"

The two sailors exchange a glance, though whatever it is they're trying to convey with it is difficult to discern: neither seems to have changed their expression whatsoever. "Aye," says the captain finally, and with a note of reluctance, even now. "She works on the east docks, in the building opposite the Salty Haven. Collects rags, bags them up, sells them. She's been there as long as I can remember." He reaches behind his ear to scratch, vaguely. "Bought everything else from the wool merchant. Terival. We didn't know there was aught but wool, I swear." He doesn't meet Emme's gaze at the end of that.

Marlanda coughs.

"Right. You didn't know there was anything but wool, and I'm really the Lady Holder of High Reaches." Emme replies, deadpan. "Marlanda, what do you think? We could always pull out all these tapestries and take them back to the Weyr with us. Might be a shame when our friends here showed up on shore with nothing but their wool though." And she affects a moue of disappointment for the idea too.

He swallows, that sailor, and before Marlanda can say a word, he's speaking again. "Fine. Terival set up the deal for us. No idea where he got the tapestries from; we didn't ask. We'll store 'em and sell 'em... just the once, I promise. We'll never do it again." Beat. "We've given you all you've asked for. Please, just let us be. Please."

"Terival. And, how would we find him?" Emme's all business again, and even sounds polite once more. Now that they aren't trying to lie, her expression is almost pleasant. "For what it's worth, I believe you. I think that will suffice for us." There's a questioning lift at the end of that, while she gazes at Marlanda to see if the other woman agrees.

By now, the captain seems resigned. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then says, "Inland from the docks. But you can ask anyone: everyone knows Terival the wool merchant." There's hope in his gaze, when he opens his eyes again: he, too, glances at Marlanda, almost as though he's beseeching her to end this... whatever it is.

"I think that will cover it," agrees Marlanda, to the relief of both sailors. "But if we hear anything more out of you... If your names come up again... We'll know. And we'll turn you in. Good day to you." She turns without waiting for further response, climbing back up the wooden stairs and heading back out onto the deck. Now for the fun bit: getting back onto their dragons.

Emme smiles brightly, as if they've won the equivalent of the Pern lottery by being able to pull this off. It's tempered by the fact that they've only been led to more clues and not a little boy. But, it's a start. A lead. "Gentlemen." she adds politely, before turning on her heel to head back up the wooden stairs only a step behind Marlanda. « Not what we wanted, but better then leaving with nothing. » Rhazekth is still morose, obviously. And then so is his rider when she long climb up to the crow's nest is spotted. Sigh.

« Perhaps it's a clue. Perhaps the rag woman will know something, » soothes Breivith, though he is clearly as disappointed as Rhazekth. « We'll find him. We'll keep looking. There are more ships and more days and more... more. » "You first," says Marlanda, with a sigh, apparently no less enthusiastic about the upwards climb than her younger wingmate. "And then we'd better head home, I guess. Report in."

« I hope so. » Rhazekth is nothing if not earnest. And to lighten the mood, he projects the image of flailing riders tumbling into the water. "Not funny, Rhaz! I caught that!" Emme mutters, releasing a pent up sigh as well. "Alright, up I go. I'll buy the drinks when we get back. We'll need them after this." is added, before she falls silent to behin the ascent upwards. Not once does she look down until she grasps riding straps firmly and uses them to haul herself up. Good thing riders gain upper body strength with all that firestone tossing. Home again, home again...