Difference between revisions of "Logs:Paying a Woman to Do a Job"

The rattlesnake wind, dust-devils at noon, the long stretch of jack-rabbit silence and cactus heat-- then the blast of gunpowder and ricochet; « Meet us on Nabol's 'heights. Business. » (Wyaeth to Kaylith)

Wyaeth senses that Kaylith is liquid that rushes then evaporates to a small trickle that threads in through that dusty dryness, « We come. » succinct.

In the sky, Kaylith has arrived. In the sky, Kaylith emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Kaylith backwings to a landing. Kaylith has arrived.

On a clear day... Wyaeth perches on the edge of the Nabol fireheights, lanky bronze a dust-baked contrast to the fertile greens that patchwork the summery valley. Halfway to the stairs down, N'thei walks with an older-looking guard, the bronzerider carrying his gloves and cap, the guard nodding thoughtfully while the two talk. Coincidentally, just when Kaylith emerges overhead, they break stride with one another, guard back toward his men, rider to the edge of the heights.

Kaylith sets down lightly, the merest hint of greeting going Wyaeth's way and then she settles into a sun-warmed ball once her rider has dismounted. Shanlee's attention passes a cursory path around the fireheights, touches on the bronzerider and guard then drops to the vista below. Waiting, in apparently dutiful pose.

Head turned, N'thei follows the line of Kaylith's descent, watches briefly where Wyaeth acknowledges Kaylith in kind. Once Shanlee dismounts, once the guard goes back to work, he raises a hand toward the greenrider with a beckoning fold of his fingers to her dutiful distance. "Come here. Need a second pair of eyes." Passes for a greeting?

Hand clasped to opposite wrist behind her back, the redhead turns slowly, catches that beckoning gesture and regards N'thei through veiled interest. Shanlee's response is somewhat on the dry side, "Nice of you to ask. We're doing fine. Yourself?" steps however close the distance, eyes seeking out whatever it is the bronzerider is having problems seeing.

N'thei delivers Shanlee his particularly unamused look, his intentionally bland-and-blunt eyeroll. Really. "There's a hill just over there, you see." He reaches halfway over Shanlee's shoulder to direct her line of sight toward the hill in question, a tall one with a flat crown a few miles down the road leading from the Hold, one that could command miles and miles more view of the wagon-road. "Post a watch there and you'd see halfway to Tillek, neh?" It's a huuuuuuge exaggeration.

A short smirk meets that eyeroll, and then it's on to business. Shanlee's eyes narrow and zone in on the hill pointed out. Slight shoulders roll, "Good part of the way at any rate." Turning a quizzical sidelong glance on to N'thei now, "Reckon Thread's going to coming marching up the path way over yonder are you?"

It would be easier to answer, to explain, but N'thei prefers to level another bland look at Shanlee while he steps toward the wall surrounding the heights. "Do you believe I'm worried about thread, or are you just trying to be clever?" He sweeps a hand toward that hill again, outlines it with the trace of his fingertip, continues, "Put a little lean-to up there, room for man and dragon out of the wind, good watchpost." At that, he looks back, a glance to ask the greenrider's opinion.

Shanlee tracks the bronzerider's path, her lips twitch once in response, "Tell me what you want to watch for, and I'll tell you if it'll work or not," simple. As to the provisions to be made for such a watch point the greenrider takes a longer look out the way of the hill, then meets N'thei's glance with a querying lift of brow, "Day and night in shifts?"

"Suppose. The road's not lit at night, but there should be enough to see by as long as one of the moons are up and it's a clear night." N'thei must not have thought that part through too well to judge the new filing of teeth over lip, to judge the candid voice that hides none of his mental processes. "I need to spell it out for you? Thread's gone, what is there to watch for but trouble. Want the holds to remember why they need us."

"Dragon doesn't need light to see at night," Shanlee points out. N'thei's last draws a guarded look to settle on him, "And by trouble you're meaning quite what exactly? Lord Fax been raised from the dead or something?" Then through an exhale of breath, "Guarding," flat summation, "Seems a little...ironic don't you think?" given the activities surrounding Crom a while back.

N'thei folds his arms and lets the wall support his weight, rests on his forearms against the stones to face toward the valley all spread out below. "Just trouble, Shan, in all its idle-hands forms." He answers Shanlee's last question with a snort, dismissive, and a tilt of his chin to the flurry of activity in the courtyard where a trader wagon is set to depart through opened gates. "L'vae's cousin got robbed."

Its just as well N'thei's back is to her, for the dark amusement in response to his first that flits briefly across the fine features will have gone unnoticed. Shanlee's tone however carries little more than interested query as she steps up and dangles forearms over the wall, "The brewer? A shame that. Some fine ale they turned out." Now the weyrsecond pins the bronzerider with a more pointed look, "Since when did you start taking the concerns of your rider's to heart, hmm? Something in it for you then? Finder's fee, ale for a lifetime?" a few items listed for him to choose from.

Fine ale. "Never tried it." Don't care, says the flatness of tone. N'thei turns his head to settle one of his more customary expressions on Shanlee, the one that's used to being baited, that's been picked on enough not to meet every little challenge any more. "Matters? I want a watch set, so we'll have a watch set, you can tell people you're just following orders. And you'll have to dig deeper if you're trying to get a rise out of me."

To getting a rise out of N'thei, "Couldn't be bothered," Shanlee responds with attention trained to the wagon below. As to the ale, "Good enough, better than some of the swill I've come across." Following orders, her jaw tightens, "Aye, Sir. As you say, Sir. Just following orders." Then adding with a sidelong glance, "And if you really want some kind of informed opinion on this new watch, you'll have to actually give some," pausing, "information." Pushing off from the wall, the greenrider takes a step back, turns her head back over to that hill, "Starting tonight I presume?" the watch.

Tricky smile, one N'thei aims at the amble of the rickety wagon out the gates of Nabol. "Bothers you, does it? Following orders? Get comfortable being better than someone, more skilled, more capable, then thread's gone and suddenly he's not so incompetent any more. Would bother me." Like he's come out of reverie, he straightens abruptly and turns toward the fireheights to indicate the watchdragon, visible way down at the end there. "Just add a second pair of eyes up here tonight, whoever you think will be happiest with the detail. Fl'ursk has a girlfriend down this way, neh? Him maybe."

His words curl a smirk back onto Shanlee's mouth, "Think I'm at a loose end and out of my depth when I don't have thread to fight do you?" low laughter, "How sweet." Green eyes stroke along the same path N'thei's do, touch on the watchdragon and then turn an amazed look over to the Weyrleader, "Seriously. You're suggesting a rider that has a girlfriend down this way," snorting, "Only thing he'll be watching is her..." words cut off. The red head tilts up to the sky, back over to that hill and finally to where they now stand, "A'lan. Has insomnia. No girlfriend here."

"Oh no," N'thei begins merrily enough, his arms crossed over his middle, his eyes turned brightly on to Shanlee for a spell. "I think you're out of your depth with the idea that I actually know what I'm doing. You're a good Weyrsecond." Hit on the /second/. "But I don't see it being your pocketbook that suffers most if you're not doing my job for me. But I could be wrong." The whole matter of Fl'ursk's girlfriend, of A'lan's lack, meets a chuckle and a shrug and a deferential, "Whichever. Both good enough men." Aside from distraction factor.

Shanlee meets his merriment with a placid enough smile, "Always the second, never the leader," in such a manner as to suggest it actually made no difference to her. Her smile turns up to a crooked line, "Somehow wrong to pay a woman and not find her on her back, aye?" blunt but amused at the thought nonetheless. Back to the matter at hand, there's a short nod, "We'll see how A'lan works out." There's short hesitation, "Was there anything else?"

N'thei thinks over that crude joke with pretend thoughtfulness, a deep-set frown, an eventual nod as if he grudgingly acknowledges the fact. "Never did sit well with me, you're right, paying a woman to do a job that doesn't start with hand- or blow-. Oh well, too late to worry about it now." With a shrug, he starts toward Wyaeth, the bronze on the edge of the fireheights where he can act like he owns the whole of Nabol to match his possession of the Reaches. "No. I'll bring out some likely lads to survey the hill, get to work building a shelter, should have it all ready in a month." After a backward glance, "/Was/ there anything else?" Open prompt for comments, questions, and concerns.

Lips press and curl as Shanlee bites back sardonic laughter, "Tsk. Should have made your terms clearer, Weyrleader. Ah well, next time we can look at arranging things differently," after 200 turns or so have passed and they're both dead. At Kaylith's side, a hand to emerald hide, the weyrsecond turns a look over her shoulder, "Within a month, aye?" and she tucks that information away. The red head shakes easily from side to side at N'thei's last, "No, no. Just let me know if you find that ale. Was about to place another order, reckon they'll be set back some now."

"If we find that ale." N'thei smiles promisingly; one could almost assume that he even intends to look for it, though it's safe to assume that Shanlee knows him well enough by now to read the amused cadence for what it is: a big fat lie. "You'll be among the first to know. --Still an alcoholic then?" Gloves drawn on, knit-cap pulled over his head, he pulls up to Wyaeth's neck with a rattle of laughter. "Let A'lan know, will you."

Shanlee responds mildly to the dig from her perch between neckridges, "Don't really drink ale." Let's just gloss over the other part that had gone with that. Gloves are pulled back on with greater care than necessary a sidelong glance going to N'thei her expression carefully shielded and offering a dutiful nod, "Soon as I get back. I'll let the relevant parties know."

Just before take-off, "Good. See you back at the Reaches then." Eventually. That's not where N'thei and Wyaeth go directly, though they hop *between* promptly enough. All faith in Shanlee to deliver A'lan's orders.