Difference between revisions of "Logs:Suspicions Again"

Records Room, High Reaches Weyr(#367RJs) Books. Scrolls. Bound hides. Maps. If it's a record pertaining to the Weyr, it's likely to be in this roughly oval room with its floor-to-ceiling cherrywood shelves, its multitude of slots for scrolls, and its wide drawers for materials that shouldn't be rolled up or folded. A scribe is usually on duty at the tall desk up front with its good view of the room, and is able to help visitors find what they're looking for via the big bound index on its rotating stand. Past the desk, several tables stand in neat rows for note-taking, each stocked with glowbaskets, scrap hide, paper and pencils. Additional lighting is provided by a many-armed wrought-iron light fixture, its glows gleaming through luxurious glass containers in fluted shapes instead of baskets. To one side of the room, a gap between two sets of shelves outlines where another set once stood, now replaced by a tapestry-covered aperture. Peeking behind the tapestry reveals another cavern, this one likewise full of shelves, but occupied by only a few boxes of older records and a somewhat musty air of disuse. As well, two narrow but solid doors are locked when the room is unattended and a discreet staircase provides direct access from the Weyrleaders' weyrs.

It's not long after Arekoth and Hraedhyth have been ripping through the skies that the brown reaches out to another of the Weyr's remaining queens. « Iesaryth, » is quietly intense, his voice not quite grating in its lower register. Emotions might flicker in the background, perceptible in feeling, but not quite manifesting into colour in his mind. « Is yours alone? » The question is qualified, a vague suggestion of background noise to except the guard he anticipates. (Arekoth to Iesaryth)

It's something Iesaryth pays attention to, but is not surprised by, Hraedhyth's sudden intensity and anger. She is watching from the Star Stones rather than her ledge, of late - but she doesn't seek to stop the flight, just sends the soft sound of waves crashing on the beach, eternal and constant. Arekoth's question has her darkly amused; « She is always alone. » An exaggeration, but... « She will be with the dust and scrolls. » The musty smell of the records room. It's not where her rider is, but will be. (There's a thread of annoyance released for guard, Brieli's alone...) (Iesaryth to Arekoth)

H'kon has made his way out of Azaylia's weyr even before Arekoth has chewed over Iesaryth's response, and made his excuses to the gold whose ledge he occupies - though not for much longer. « He is coming. » And the brown, too, takes his leave, although his trajectory is short, down into the bowl, where he can (uncharacteristically) pace the ground, waiting. Waiting even before H'kon reaches the records room, pausing at the entrance long enough to scrub at his beard, and then pushing inside.

There's a couple of Taikrin's guards just outside the door, but they don't give the brownrider any trouble - either he's expected, or Brieli has laid down some ground rules in a way that the other junior hasn't. Inside, there's the usual scribes and such, but it's otherwise quiet. The goldrider herself lingers by the doorway to the council chambers, still standing tall, but clearly worn by exhaustion. Still. When H'kon enters, she lifts a hand by way of greeting, but says nothing until he's in earshot. "I assume this is... confidential." She's curious, by her expression, the arch of fine brows.

As he steps up to Brieli, H'kon's salute is clean, despite the increasingly haggard look about the man's face as this day wears on, stubbornly endless. The motion seems to put the brownrider more at ease, some lines becoming less prominent about his mouth when he shifts to an 'at ease' sort of stance, still comfortingly formal despite the name of it. His chin lifts, he hesitates, and in the end decides on, "At your discretion," with a nod. "It is not the sort of thing I'd give to the ears of a multitude."

Returning the salute in a sort of perfunctory way, Brieli tilts her head to take in H'kon's expression for that long moment in which he chooses his words. She's not impatient with the time it takes - the pause just intensifies the look in dark, narrowed eyes. "What is it?" Straight to the point, as she casually leans against the wall. Not tired, no. Just leaning.

H'kon takes a breath, lets it out as a short sigh. He looks a bit away from Brieli and her wall for the curt, "I had a conversation with I'kris, where he acted very strangely. His actions suggest guilt over something related to Iolene's murder." He forces his gaze up to the weyrwoman, and manages to sound entirely put-out (in a formal way) for the next. "I've joined Arekoth in his suspicions. I believe he'd already spoken them to Iesaryth."

Dark eyes widen slowly for that, though apparently Brieli's been kept apprised of Arekoth's suspicions, no matter how odd they may seem. She's not shocked, just somewhere between horror and disbelief. From the Star Stones, Iesaryth has a burst of static and energy, sent over the waves to Arekoth. « We spoke to Vrianth and hers. » There's a certainty in the brown there; she believes he can be trusted. Her rider might be more skeptical initially, but this is something that requires skepticism. "I know about Arekoth. Iesaryth and Hraedhyth spoke to Svissath... and there's something wrong. But she won't force a dragon to go against his rider." A purse of her lips. Maybe the goldrider would. "What... what made you think that? Aside from Monaco's general... interest in the Weyr?"

Arekoth meets that energy with an intense, « Fine, » that doesn't manage to keep off a green glow. « But they're not the ones you should be speaking to. » It comes with an icy chill, almost agressive. H'kon is far more steady in all this, of course. "We were speaking about the state of the Weyr. He raised protests that he'd done nothing, when I'd accused him of nothing. He spoke specifically of the murder. He escalated in his protests before leaving outright." With each sentence, each added element, H'kon's head bobs. Brieli, of course, wouldn't be able to see the contortion of his fingers behind his back. They relax a moment later anyway.

Iesaryth doesn't fault Arekoth for that, but does halt that chill before it touches stormy waters. She knows who they need to talk with. The gold and her rider will handle this; there's no concern for her rider's ability to talk to someone, make them talk. Brieli has another purse of her lips, this time looking towards the council room momentarily. "I suppose it could be stress. But he's said some things that... well. Not everyone agreed with her." Iolene, presumably. She has a glance to H'kon for that, knowing. But; "We have to talk to the girl. Perhaps she'll 'remember' something. I--" A pause, before she'll admit, slowly, "I don't really know what to do if you're right. If it was a rider."

"A good many-" is qualification for Brieli's suggestion that certainly wouldn't have made its way out of H'kon's mouth on almost any other day; but now, here it is, and with some bitterness in it; he manages to bite down on it even so. He lowers his eyes, this time purposefully, a quiet apology of sorts that turns into a set stare at the floor. Another sigh, then, "Two lives complicates things. More so if they are foreigners," is spoken with the emptiness of a final, and knowingly vain attempt at something like hope. "Not all will see it that way." And the glance to empty tables is telling, before H'kon looks back to his weyrwoman. Arekoth gives a restless prod to Iesaryth, but holds his tongue otherwise.

"I know. I have a table full of people. Of notes. It makes it that much more difficult, to try to sort out who disagreed so much that..." They'd kill over it. With a sigh of her own, looking towards the brownrider, Brieli agrees, "There would have to be discussions. I would prefer not to be put in a position where Monaco expects something of me that I can't give. But more death--" She just shakes her head. "There's more lives than just two at stake when there's a death. Absence can cause chaos. We can't know what that might do." Pushing off the wall, she decides, "They'll see it the way they want, but that doesn't mean we have to go with that perspective. You've told Azaylia?" Iesaryth must have passed that on; she only has the crash of waves, water that can wear anything down with time. Something will happen, is happening.

H'kon's brow knits as he listens to her, lips pressing together in a line, the focus of his eyes fading off until he's looking at some spec in the air between them, maybe. Reaction - to anything - is quite stunted. "Azaylia?" Returned from reverie, a few quick nods serve as recovery. "Just now. I can also go to B'sil, Lujayn, if you would like. Of course," and he tilts his head, "we are at your call." His weight shifts back to his heels, forward to the balls of his feet as he makes ready to leave. And doesn't. "In the end, he is Monaco's rider. If this is him, he must answer. But he is Monaco's."

"Yes, I am sure that will be of great concern to the people who do want blood over this." Brieli's tone is wry, dark, even as she smirks. "And I suppose they ought to know, though the more people that do, the more difficult this becomes. Once we talk to the girl, I'll speak to him. He's my clutchmate." It's hard to tell how the goldrider feels about this, just now - but her dark gaze is conflicted, fixed across the room before, "Thank you, H'kon. Despite the difficulties, we have to know what happened. No one will feel settled otherwise." Least of all, the goldriders, who have been lost to exile and murder. So far. With a shift away from the wall, she starts back into the council room.

H'kon shifts a bit on the balls of his feet as he brings his hands to his sides from behind his back. "Yes," is finally the response he gives her. For all of it. Another salute, and the brownrider stays standing to allow Brieli to take her leave. He waits a few beats thereafter, for that assigned guard, before himself moving for the exit, and from there, to the still-pacing Arekoth in the bowl.