Logs:Saucy
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| RL Date: 16 February, 2010 |
| Who: Tiriana, Vinque |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tiriana and a trader reach an accord. |
| Where: Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 13, Turn 21 (Interval 10) |
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| Though there aren't any eggs on the sands yet, still Tiriana loiters by their entrance, in the bare patch of ground that holds out against the snow. There, the ground's wet and muddy, but the steady snowfall can't quite stick; too much warm air wafts out of the hatching cavern. The Weyrwoman, though, looks like she's had more than enough of that, and she takes up a position to one side, where she can take advantage of the winter air to cool off flushed cheeks and damp hair. A cart of things is usually not too quiet, and today's no exception. Vinque has just such a cart, pushing it in front of him, slowly and steadily through the snow. Metal and wood clatter against each other from within the cart as he pushes it over the snow, bundled up warmly as he is. Apparently he's been in the cold for some time, since his face is red with windburn. A couple of people approach the man with the cart, goods are exchanged for marks, and the merchant bids the the buyers farewell. Despite the cold, he smiles as they depart. His gaze turns to the Weyrwoman as she exits and bows low and respectfully to her. He's a little further away than would be comfortable to call out a greeting, but he does offer his respect nonetheless. The procession of cart and buyers does draw Tiriana's attention, and she watches while the people purchase and pay and then move on again before she leaves the sands behind entirely to approach the bowing Vinque and his goods herself. Her greeting is not nearly so charming as his acknowledgment, though, as she opens with, "What /are/ you doing?" If Vinque is offended by the greeting, he doesn't show it. Infact, he remains quite charming nonetheless. "Greetings to you, Weyrwoman," he offers. "What am I doing? I am but a humble Trader, seeking to turn goods into marks this cold winter night," he explains. "It's so much easier to keep moving and keep warm." Tiriana is impervious to such niceties, her expression remaining at best skeptical as he launches his spiel. She's too busy peering at his cart, his goods, to really listen too closely. "That's true," she concedes to the last. "So what are you selling, then?" There's nothing illegal, immoral, or fattening in the cart (though likely only none of the latter because it probably wouldn't survive being out in these temperatures). Just mainly supplies and tools, some small articles of clothing -- scarves, hats, gloves, and the like -- and small trinkets of various make. They're all of reasonably good quality, so there's no danger of badly-made goods making their way into High Reaches. Well, not from Vinque, anyway. His response to Tiriana's question is a smile and, "Only small items, ma'am. Small but good, quality items." Not above reaching and inspecting the items hands-on, Tiriana seems determined to check everything and approve it before she continues on her way. "Mmhmm," she says, peering back at the youth again. "And who are you, then? What trading family? I didn't think we had any here now, really, what with getting snowed in on the ground now." Vinque doesn't seem to mind the inspection; few of the goods are delicate enough to break when dropped. "My name is Vinque, ma'am," he offers, bowing once more, this time with a flourish. "My mother and I work independent of the larger trading families. We offer quality goods at a modest price, without unnecessary raising of price. We work places where others wouldn't. Just because there's snow, doesn't mean the need for goods has ceased." He maintains his easy smile as he speaks. Tiriana runs a hand over a few last items, then leans idly against the cart, elbow propped up on it as though it's hers and not his. "Can't say as we're too fond of traders around here, after what happened with the last group that thought they could just stay here," she says slowly, flicking one hat with a finger as she eyes Vinque. "And independent traders--sounds even sketchier. Who's your mother?" Vinque's smile finally fades a little, and he tilts his head a little. "My mother's name is Lavinia," he offers easily. He doesn't object to the elbow-leaning. Or really to the questioning. "I understand your suspicion. And there's really nothing I can say that will make you any less suspicious. I can, however, assure you that all these goods are quality goods. And that my mother and I do move around. But with the current lack of traders here, she and I thought it might be a good idea to concentrate here, so we could still get goods to workers here. I won't lie, we were also hoping to turn a profit. But if it will help more than just us...." "You're right there," Tiriana says of her continued suspicion, though she does smirk at least at the thought. Breezily, "Yeah, yeah. You just want to help the people, and if they happen to lose all their marks in the process, well. It happens." She snorts, shakes her head, and eventually just shrugs. "And where do you get all these goods? Or is that some kind of trade secret? Vinque chuckles. "Well...I do try to keep my prices fair," he defends. "Granted, I don't exactly give them away free...but I /do/ have to buy them, so to stay in business, I do have to charge marks for goods." Where did he get them? "The source of my goods /is/ a bit of a trade secret, yes...but I'll tell you anyway." He winks conspiratorically, as if he is indeed imparting a great secret to her. "Crafters' apprentices will make goods for practice that are generally of decent quality. But they may not be able to actually use them, themselves. So I take them off their hands, for decent prices." He smiles. Tiriana, lifting her brows at that explanation, straightens up and smoothes a hand over her shirt beneath her open coat. "Well. If you can't tell the Weyrwoman your secrets," she agrees dryly. "Then, you probably shouldn't be in my Weyr. Vinque, huh? And Lavinia. Are you planning on staying here through winter, then, or am I going to have to send one of my riders out to dump you wherever you're headed next?" Vinque finally gives up the ghost of a smile, huffing an exasperated sigh. It seems he's getting a bit irritated now. "...All due respect, Weyrwoman," he begins. His tone is level and even. "But if my being here at /your Weyr/ is so objectionable, I will gladly leave right now, the need for goods with all that construction going on notwithstanding. Furthermore, I can send word along that High Reaches doesn't /need/ traders here, and I can surely stem the tide coming here, so to speak...." The bite in Vinque's words makes Tiriana laugh, apparently pleased with riling him up. "Oh, really. And all the families of Pern are going to take the word of one kid and his mommy?" she wonders, cocking her head. "Oh please, don't go. However will we manage without you? --You should milk those guards for more, and the miners. Faranth knows the Reaches ought to take back some of what's rightly ours." Vinque doesn't seem riled at the comments, actually. He has more friends than just himself and his mother. But he has a feeling Tiriana will only give more snide comments. Obviously she's been a pain in the backside for a while, and probably knows all the angles to it. "Well...none of this was bought at Reaches," he states evenly. "So...begging your pardon, /ma'am Weyrwoman/. But I will take my wares elsewhere, since traders are so unwelcome here." He bows once more, with that flourish, and then places himself to push his cart once more. "Forgive my intrusion into /your Weyr/. I'll try to pass the word along, about how /utterly choked/ with traders High Reaches is, hopefully that will improve things some." Afraid of offending her? Nope. "And with that? I take my leave." He makes to move the cart towards the exit to the bowl, Weyrwoman still leaning on it or not. "I'll make a deal with you," Tiriana says, as Vinque turns to go, though she does step back to let him pass with his cart. She's still grinning, undaunted. "Those guards, the miners--they keep looking at us to supply them with extra stuff, even though that's not part of our arrangement. Stuff for them, stuff for their convicts, just because we have our stores and there might be a little extra," she suggests. "So, I'll sell you our surplus, if you'll sell it on to them. And then when they come bothering me for more crap, I can say we don't have any, why don't you try those traders?" Vinque pauses a moment, to think. He makes a show of really thinking about it -- really thinking hard. Just to annoy Tiriana, since she seems like the impatient type. Passive aggressive much? Maybe. Nonetheless he finally responds to Tiriana's proposal. "Hmm...that /is/ an interesting bargain," he admits. "A very saucy and delicious offer indeed." Well, maybe not /quite/ that good. But he's doing this to gently prod the Weyrwoman's nerves now. He gives a smile, and tilts his head. "That sounds like it would be a good opportunity for all involved -- you get rid of surplus items, the guards and miners get the items they need, and I make marks." And the Weyrwoman gets to continue to badmouth the traders with impugnity! See? Everybody wins! "All right, I'll take you up on that," he agrees. "Saucy," Tiriana turns this word over in her mouth, and by her smirk seems to decide she likes it. "No fleecing my people. Sell them your stuff, fine. But don't go milking them for marks on what they could have just got from stores for free," she adds in one caveat, with a stern look that's just a little too smug to be convincing. "The guards, though? Well. Take 'em for everything they've got, far as I'm concerned." Vinque raises a hand, shaking his head. "I wouldn't dream of fleecing anyone out of marks," he replies. "Turning a profit is one thing, but marks made through malicious means are not the kind of things I want lining my pockets." He winks. "But I will remember your instructions. All of them." He smirks in return. "Good. You do that," agrees Tiriana, quite pleased now. "I'll leave you to your trading then, Vinque," she says as she herself turns away, toward the caverns again. "Iovniath wants me. Again. Good night," as any words that follow trail into dark mutterings on the parentage of her own dragon. |
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