Difference between revisions of "Logs:Loyal Soldier"

Jo still comes by the hold often enough that her face is easily recognized when she enters its dive bar. With both Lanvec and Zuman out of sight from the threshold, the convict rider heads towards the bar when she spots one-third of the Greenfield bosses, Grathon. "Lanvec's in his office," he gives her as a greeting, pouring her a glass of something amber-colored without her even have to ask for it. "Thanks, Grath. We'll talk," she promises, taking and raising the glass briefly his way on her way towards the back of the bar. By the time she reaches Lanvec's ajar door, knocking once on it, she's already emptied the glass.

"Enter." From behind his desk, Lanvec lifts his gaze to watch the door, more interested than cautious: no one gets this far if they don't belong. It's with a smile that he recognises the bluerider, gesturing, already, towards the collection of bottles lined up in a row along a shelf at the wall; "Have another, Jo, and sit with me. Tell me your news."

Jo slides on in past the door, glass raised, only moving the ajar door wide enough to let her through. The linger smile is there as she steps towards the shelf to refill her glass, giving the office a sweep of her gaze first. "I hope ya been gettin' my letters well from my 'lizard," is her greeting as she pours, letting the liquor reach the top before she carefully brings it to her lips. "I don' get to come out this way often, these days, Uncle, but Greenfields always stay in my thoughts." Turning and settling into a seat across from him, "We seem to be fallin' into the same recipe of changin' Weyrleaders," she notes when it comes to news from the Weyr. "Or so, it seems. Ya know how the last time turned out."

"Should I be planning for the return of Weyrleader Taikrin?" wonders Lanvec, more amused than serious; he's not exactly hidden his feelings on the subject of that brownrider's loyalty. Tapping his fingertips atop the wooden surface of his desk, he adds, "Your letters, yes. But it's good to see you in person. Always preferable. And you've managed to get close to another goldrider. You seem to have a knack."

Idly turning the glass a little this way and that without spilling a drop, "As much as she turns from us, I still prefer her'n Aishani," Jo states, wry. "I don' think there will be another day for Weyrleader Taikrin, Uncle. And, well, there's Irianke, the Igen weyrwoman." The smile hitches up a bit as she leans back, settling a little more comfortable as she says, "She's not Aishani, but she's not Azaylia either. I'm....feelin' her out." Beat. "Seein' if she'n I could get along. Seein' if she's sympathetic like the Vijays came to be. That we lost that link to them, along with Aishani, still stings." It's hard to tell it on her face, her expression carefully composed. "But the knack comes from me readin' folks. That'n sex."

Lanvec's smile is more wistful and wry than pleased, though the slow incline of his head acknowledges more seriously what Jo has to report. "Sex," he says, at length, with a little laugh. "A useful skill. And? What are your conclusions? We could," he's frank, here, "use some powerful connections right now. Aishani was a blow."

Joining him in that smile, "It's always has been," Jo speaks of sex like a tool, keeping her gaze on him as she takes a drink. "As for my conclusions," she goes on to say, her tone falling toward something serious, "I'd say Irianke has a lot of potential. She's aware that I've killed before." She note this with a brief incline of her head. "That she asked at all takes balls. She doesn' want me to kill K'del, but she does want me to find a way to distract him'n that bronze of his, should her queen go up. I told her that I would look into it." Leaning forward, "That woman has a mind, an edge that could be useful for us," she notes, nodding. "For her to plan somethin' like this....to ask someone like me...I was told she's from traderstock in Igen. She's ambitious. So are we." Leaning back, "Then there's Farideh, the weyrling goldrider," she continues lightly, letting off the intensity that she used with Irianke. "Typical holdbred snob, but she managed to survive a dicey bar with me. Remains to be seen on if she's really able to be groomed."

"So she wishes him replaced." Not a question; just a musing comment made as Lanvec taps his chin. "Devious. That is interesting." He drops his gaze back to Jo, considering her for a few long moments before he says, "What will you do to proceed? What is your next step?"

"I don' know why," Jo gives a shrug to it as she nurses her remaining drink. "We never seem to get that far in our meetins' before she's on top of me. Or I her." It's frankly given, that bit. "But yes, devious. Interestin'. I have some ideas," she muses slowly, smirking a bit. "If a man can' be killed'n needs to be away from a place, then it's best to make sure he's driven to another place'n stuck there. Befall an illness, maybe. Run to the rescue of someone he loves, perhaps. An accident, even. Like I told her, the problem won't be K'del, though. It's Cadejoth." Setting the glass down, "After all these turns, dragons'n their ways are strange to me," she admits. "They're unpredictable. This is goin' to take timin'. K'del would have to be incapacitated 'round the time the queen is proddy. That might help cut time some, but would Cadejoth come anyway? The real question is, is there a way to incapacitate a dragon?" A rhetorical one, even.

"And," is Lanvec's prompt addendum to that, "what happens in you fail? If he remains Weyrleader, you put yourself in a very difficult position. An alternative would be to attempt to play both sides: You tried to help your weyrwoman, but you also ran to your weyrleader's rescue... too late, perhaps, but perhaps not."

"I must never be seen helpin' either of them," Jo says with little inflection. "My loyalty has always remained here, Uncle. My hand will never be seen. It would undermine everythin' we've done to get into the Weyr." After a pause, "I have some that owe favors for me," she says with a nod. "They have no ties to here nor any Weyr. Holdless, at best. There's a good chance this will fail," she says it with certainty. "Anythin' involvin' dragons raises the risk. If it was just K'del to deal with, that would have been easier. She's aware of this. The attempt seems to be enough for her. If it comes to playin' both sides," she adds, a touch wry, "I'll make sure someone is there in my stead for the Weyrleader."

Lanvec accepts this with a nod, though there's something in his expression to suggest he's still thinking through the possibilities. "It would do our cause good, of course, to have the Weyrleader on side," he muses. "It's about time you collected some rank and influence. Like Taikrin, but--" A wry smile. "Your loyalty is not in doubt. Is there someone in mind to replace K'del? You would do well to get in with him, too."

Nodding, "K'del would never side with us," Jo seems certain, eyes narrowing slightly as she picks up her glass. "His disdain tells me enough. The way he handled 'Shani told me enough. The new Weyrleader could be worse than him, or better. Irianke hasn' told me those she has in mind, but she did want me to drop some names in her ear. It's a shame that we," indicating the two of them, "don' have one of us ridin' bronze at the moment. This last clutch, we couldn' get any into candidacy without bein' noticed. The best we have is M'ron. He rides brown. I'll admit, there's few I would see as Weyrleader in that Weyr. Only one that comes close is this man named H'vier'n he's an ass. He was in with Aishani, though, which means he might be more pliable to us." On rank, she mulls that over as she takes a drink before she looks his way and says, "Rank will push me from flyin' under the shadows, Uncle," she seems to warn, her words slow. "It will work like a double-edged blade for us."

"I'd hoped we'd have a bronzerider long before now," admits Lanvec, only slightly disgruntled. "You'll have to do better, next time. We can plant some people out there-- turn them into nice, solid holdbred boys, eager to serve." Again, he taps a finger to his mouth. "I trust you'll find some good names for that goldrider of yours. The more helpful you seem... but it seems, to me, it is time you had that rank. I take your point, but it's not that simple. You're already known to consort with goldriders. You're not exactly flying under the shadows completely, are you? Seems to me, not much stays secret in a place like that."

There's a look of understanding in Jo's sharp gaze for their predicament of convict bronzeriders as she says, "Do ya have any kids here ya want dropped into certain holds? Perhaps to get integrated now'n have one of us search them out when the time comes? Boys, especially. Even some of the holdless boys down on their luck might could be turned." She briefly inclines her head on finding Irianke some names as she drains her glass. "All of my skills will be at her use, if ya like," she states easily enough. She seems to consider the last, even, chin lifting a bit before says, "I've also managed to stay in between bein' seen as a harmless slut with lil' care for anythin', to a crazed troublemaker that is seen not to be taken too seriously. I consort with goldriders, advise certain weyrlins'n drink'n fuck my way to an early grave'n I wear it like a cloak on a winter's day. If someone thinks me dangerous, it seems to excite'em more than scare'em. If it scares'em, I deflect enough that they forget the reason why they were scared of me in the first place. The Weyr sees what I want'em to see'n that is the shadow I fly under. However," and there's a lopsided grin growing now, "perhaps yer right. If I can don identities, I can hold rank as well. Just means more eyes will be on me. Means I'll need to be more careful of my activities."

Lanvec raps his fingers upon the table three times, and then nods. "I'll start placing them, now. Better if you and yours have nothing to do with it. It'll take some time. But," he inclines his head towards Jo. "You do what that goldriders of yours needs to. No need to rush into any rank... but it's something to think of. You can be a general, Jo, my girl, not just a soldier. In the meantime, I might have something that can assist with your K'del issue. In a way, it could all work out perfectly for all of us."

Jo nods to Lanvec's counsel with ease, the convict rider agreeing with an even, "Sounds good to me, Uncle. I think, I'm positive that we can still get one of our own ridin' bronze. It will happen. In the meantime, I'll make sure Irianke has everythin' she needs. I'd be interested in seein' how trustworthy she turns out to be." Of course, it seems only Lanvec's compliments could bring forth the tall-tale sign of a pleased blush on her cheeks as she dips her head. "Ya've given me so much already, Uncle," she states with that level of respect. "That ya believe in me....I'll take any help ya can offer," the last gets added smoothly with a nod of thanks. "Ya know I'll do my best for us here."

"The more useful you are... the more she'll owe you. It'll be a good test, indeed." Lanvec's pleased by Jo's reaction to his words, though it shows only about the edges of his eyes; his expression remains serious, his nod firm in combination. "We've a little problem of our own," he explains, then. "Linuore," he names Greenfield's holder, always uninvolved in underworld dealings, "has always ignored our ventures; she knows we're here, but we have... an arrangement. Her son and heir, however... might just be that he's a forty-turn-old man still waiting for his inheritance. Maybe not. But he's all about getting us out and gone. We need to be rid of him, which is complicated by his sister, Ienavi. Lady Crom. We don't want Aughan coming down on us."

"My thoughts as well," Jo seems pleased to hear. She could add more, but hearing about the trouble with the holders there stays her words. She sets her empty glass down as she listens, frowning through what she hears. "Can he be maybe persuaded to shut up 'bout kickin' us out?" she goes through the alternatives, mentally. "Maybe there's an arrangement he wants, or we can persuade him in that he wants?"

Reluctantly, Lanvec shakes his head. "We tried. Tried every avenue we can. Tried intimidation-- that only made it worse." A misstep; he acknowledges that with his expression, if not his words. "No, he has to go. His brother's all about keeping peace; he's a better bet. My thought is-- timing. If he goes down, his sister hears, Crom gets involved... that weyrleader of yours' got no choice but to come when they call. He doesn't go, he ruins his reputation, and his relationship with Crom. He goes... in the leadership transition, the whole issue loses potency. Swept away."

One can see it all clicks by the look on Jo's face. She straightens up a bit, seeming to work it through in her head. Something making her brows furrow, "I've heard that the Weyrleaders have records on every rider in the Weyr," she states, meeting his gaze. "Mine shows that I have a connection to Greenfields. All of our crew, even Taikrin. That means we can' be seen anywhere near Greenfields when it goes down, 'less one of our faces somehow gets back to K'del. Perhaps one of those that owe favors to me can be useful here," she suggests with a pointed look. "Otherwise, ya know I'd do it myself. M'ron'n Dov would be more'n eager to."

"I know you would," agrees Lanvec. "But you're right: it can't be any of you. If you've a connection with someone who is otherwise completely unconnected..." His nod is sharp. "It needs to look like what it is, but be plainly nothing to do with us. Something... that is suspicious enough to draw attention. To raise a fuss that will keep K'del busy. Of course, you'll need to keep the other goldrider busy, too. It's no use if he sends her, instead." There's that smile, now; so cold and calculating, so sure. "Such a sorry thing. Poor Linuore. Poor Ienavi. Perhaps he just stirred up a nest with someone else."

"The bar here draws many a stranger," Jo drawls out, the smile cool. "We can never monitor who comes in or out of these doors. Not when they look like someone that belongs, passin' through." Tapping the table once, "I know just the one," she reveals quietly. "He owes me quite the favor'n he'd be eager to see us squared. Ya'd barely know he was in the room until he has the blade at yer neck. He can make a scene look like a scene, however ya want it. It can make it look entirely personal. As for Irianke, she will be easy enough to distract. Farideh, too, if it comes to that."

Lanvec's nod is sharp. "Good," he says. "Then I'll leave it up to your capable hands. Make it happen, Jo. Make yourself..." There's that smile again. "Indispensable." Beat. "Go. If you need anything, you know where we are."

There's that smile from Jo that's so Jo - cocky and far too sure of herself as she drags to her feet with her glass. Wry, "Yer will, my hands, Uncle," she says with a nod, stepping back towards the door. "The same to ya, Grath'n Zuman. Anythin'." Then she's gone, slipping out from the office and returning to the bar proper with a mark piece for Grathon, an exchange of words between them involving catching up, and then she's out the bar towards her waiting blue dragon.