Plots and Plans

[B'kay]

A dark, short-cropped head was bent over an array of skins, most of which had been used and scraped and reused again till the ink practically refused to join them. He wondered briefly if this was the best the holders could provide, or if the drudges had only provided him with scraps, when there was better stock stored elsewhere. A large mug of klah on its third refill was on the table before him, and the kitchen staff kept casting him confused glances.

B'kay had settled in to a high weyr, and then had to wait for his dragon to finish feeding before he was able to get back to the dining caverns. He was still breaking into odd shadows of smiles at the show he must have put on when he discovered that Sitareh had directed him to a conclave of weyrs whose primary back stair entrance had yet to be constructed.

Good one, he repeated silently no one one, but of course someone was listening.

Will you stop saying that? Syth complained, and shifted and stretched on his new weyr ledge, where he was resting comfortably in the warm late-afternoon sunglow, his belly stuffed with excellent wherry flesh.

She got one on me, the rider said, and grinned visibly, aware that he was causing several nearby drudges to cast him puzzled glances. Of course it was no accident that he hadn't bothered to introduce himself. I have to respect that, I never saw it coming.

He reached for a chunk of hot buttered bread, the remnant of a passable meal, and stuffed it into his mouth. Wiping fingers on his tunic, he grabbed the quill again, and put the finishing touches on the clearly-labeled sketches.

Stretching, arms overhead and hands folded together, till his shoulders and elbows popped, the dark bronzerider gave a yawn and shook himself. He'd been bent over the drawings for what seemed like ages, and when he glanced toward the outer entrance of the dining cavern, he was startled to see how late it had become.

He picked up the hides, blowing on them to finish the drying of the inks, and examined them thoughtfully. A well-crafted design, done from memory, of a contraption made of thin, lightweight, metal sheets, double thickness with a layer of air between. Strips that overlapped like tunnelsnake scales created a flexible metal "skin" that could be rolled, folded, and transported easily. It would mold to any roof shape, and could be withdrawn to let air flow easily through the structure when no Thread was immenent.

B'kay let his mind drift to those ancient memories ... far more ancient now than he'd ever dreamed they'd be. He'd been apprenticed for a full turn to a smithy that made these "rollable Thread covers" for caravan wagons, and had always been fascinated by them. Functional, easy to transport and manipulate, excellent at keeping out Thread, and intriguing enough a design that even the most hidebound holder couldn't resist giving them a try.

Syth, old man, think you can touch in with Aviciath and find out if her rider will be coming down to dinner any time soon?

[bleedtearsofshame]

Syth's rider is wondering if you were planning on eating your dinner any time soon, came Aviciath's soft rumble into Sitareh's ears.

The young woman frowned, looking up from her hides. Only now did she realize how late the hour had grown, evening having fully set upon the Weyr. She had spent the last candlemark making plans for what needed to be done within the next few days. She wanted to arrange a meeting with the Lord of Celos Hold to discuss the shoddy tithes that had been arriving to support the dragonriders. Perhaps a good talking to would be enough to convince the man where his loyalties would lie. She was losing much precious time by sending dragonriders out to forage for edibles.

Then she needed to find some contracters to finish the back entrance of the weyrs to the south (she gave a smirk when she remembered assigning B'kay to such an area). She needed to find a harper or a seacrafter who was skilled in making maps. Now that the dragonriders had swept most of their surrouding area, she needed maps put together of the completed territory. Then, they could seriously begin planning for the return of Thread. She needed Healers to begin building a store of herbs and salves for an Infirmary, the Lower Caverns needed more caves hollowed for the families that they hoped to bring...

You need dinner, Aviciath said firmly when she saw that Sitareh's mind was already wandering back to her work. If it makes you feel any better, Syth's rider wants to speak with you about the metal plates.

This did provide enough motivation for Sitareh to push away her hides and rise to her feet. Luckily, the Weyrwoman's weyr DID have a back entrance - and thus she easily found herself on the Weyrbowl floor. It took only a moment to reach the Dining Caverns. There was still enough left-over food to supply a decent meal, and when a drudge recognized the Weyrwoman, a cup of steaming klah and a plate of fresh bread were placed in her hands.

Her eyes scanned the dining caverns. It took only a moment to recognize the swarthy figure of the one she seeked, hunched over a handful of hides with an intense expression upon his face. He seemed enveloped in his project, which pleased her. Perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult to turn his loyalties towards Araelen after all.... A smirk curved her lovely lips and her hips swayed in that particularly inviting saunter as she made her way towards B'kay.

"Tell me that you have good news for me," she said pleasantly as she took a seat besdie him.

[B'kay]

"Mm, hmmm," B'kay murmured, pushing the hides over to Sitareh, and pretending hadn't noticed the suppleness of her approach. He'd gotten this far in life by keeping his powers of observation to himself, by not meddling in affairs that didn't immediately concern him.

This did, however, for he was determined to be a part of this venture.

He tapped a caloused finger against the hides. "We -- well, the smith I was apprenticed to -- made these to cover caravan wagons, and I see no reason they can't be mass-produced for larger purposes. The links, with a few minor modifications for corners and edges, are all assembled the same way, and they can be put together to form any shape or size shield. From the little I've seen around the Weyr," he raised the thin eating knife that had been provided with his dinner, "Pern's metalworkers still have the means to extrude sheets thin enough and stamp out the pieces."

He used the knife to point out one of the drawings he'd done of a close-up view of an individual metal link. "You can see how they're constructed of two thin sheets, with an air cushion between them. Plenty resistant to Thread, but light weight enough to be easily assembled, applied, and transported." The knife tip slid to another drawing, "And they can be folded and rolled back when not needed."

Refilling his klah mug once again from the pitcher on the table, he took a sip and added, "And by the way, nice move this afternoon," his dark eyes glittered with shaded mirth as he speared her with his gaze, and let the knowing expression linger. "I'll have to remember it."

[bleedtearsofshame]

Sitareh responded with a smirk to his last comment, tossing her head back in a gesture of preening. Placing him in such an inconvenient area was an obvious reminder to his place, and a reminder of her position of authority, and she knew that he recognized it. Still, she was pleased that he had appreciated the manuever. "You said that you wanted privacy and solitude," she said sweetly, eyes dancing as they met his, unabashed. "You have that entire cliffwall to yourself - for now."

The queenrider took a sip of klah, letting the warmth flow from her lips to her stomach. It was just the jolt of energy that she needed to get her head back into the game to return to business. Her hand stretched out across the table to brush over the hides, drawing them closer to her body with the tips of her fingers. She looked down at them for a long silent moment, eyes scanning the hides and the images that they contained.

When she looked up, her gaze had been replaced with excitement - mingled with a grudging respect. "These are perfect!" she said, and her enthusiasm was genuine. "Exactly what I've been hoping for! Convenient enough for the Holders to accept, lightweight and aesthetically pleasing enough for the fools. They look simple enough to create- and I know where we can get the ore required."

There was a mining camp not too far from the Weyr. The miners had refused to part with all except a tiny sliver of their discoveries (for which they charged a ridiculous sum). But the dragonriders could easily acquire their wares. It was for their own good, of course.

Sitareh drummed her fingers against the hide, nodding her head at the inner plan. "Yes, I can get the ore. By tomorrow evening, I can have smiths begin churning out as many of these sheets as possible. We have a lot of Holds to cover before Thread begins to fall. And we need to start as soon as possible."

[B'kay]

Something about the look in Sitareh's eyes when she mentioned the ore warned B'kay that the 'getting thereof' might not exactly be above board. He couldn't resist a brief smile.

"If that ore's going to be collected after dark, you may wish someone in the ... acquisition party ... who has experience telling the clean ore from the useless rubble in less than ideal circumstances," he said quietly, "Not to mention a dragon whose hide is dark enough to go unnoticed without having to have himself daubed with lake mud."

He picked the steaming cup of klah up and sipped slowly at it, watching her over the rim. Her features rippled in the steam, as he examined her expression for hints of the reaction within.

[bleedtearsofshame]

The smile on Sitareh's face curved into another smirk, her brown eyes sparking with a dangerous glitter. She was pleased that B'kay was quite to catch on - and better yet, did not try to disuade her as she would have expected him to. As a Wingsecond at Artemis, he had to be responsible and play by the rules - but it was good to see that he was not completely hide bound. He didn't mind breaking the rules when it was necessary.

She dropped her voice, not wanting any of the drudges nearby to hear. They might be happy to warn the mines with the promise of a coin. "I think you might be perfect for that job," she said. A large part of her wanted to take the mission for herself, though she recognized the sense of using the darker Syth. Still, maybe she could cover Aviciath in that dark mud and accompany B'kay and perhaps one or two of the other bronzes. Still, too many dragons would capture unwanted attention.

The Weyrwoman was intelligent enough not to vocalize those thoughts aloud at this time. "There is a mine that is not too far away from the Weyr. Just about a fifteen minute straight-flight on dragon-back. I know that they've got plenty of ore. I've seen it with my own eyes. The miners refuse to hand over more than what could be used for door hinges and nails. They say that we are using Thread as an excuse to take their wares without a fair price - while they are charging an arm and a tail for what they are willing to part with. We'll need a lot more if we want to start this project. I want this to happen as soon as possible, you understand. Like, tonight."

[B'kay]

B'kay listened quietly, watching the expression on the woman's face, the gleam of calculated power in her eyes. Beautiful, and dangerous ... a potentially disasterous combination. He'd keep his guard up for certain.

"Syth and I can bring in enough, tonight, to start, and if you'll ... introduce me ... " he bowed his head slightly and the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smile "... to the smiths I'll demonstrate the process. I'm sure we can get enough links made to produce some sample sheets, with what we can carry in ourselves. I've you've another bronze, or even a brown, who's willing to go along, twice enough is even better. Have you any holders, preferably ones of prominence, who're intelligent enough to recognize the shift of power, and who might be willing to demonstrate these samples to others?"

His expression darkened slightly. From what she'd said, the holders didn't put any stock at all into either the truth of the return of Thread, or the usefulness of dragons and their riders. He was afraid it would take an initial Fall, and considerable tragedy, before they came running for help. It was regrettable ... loss of life was never desirable, even if that life belonged to fools.

"If Aviciath is willing to relay coordinates to Syth...?"

Griz appeared then, yawning sleepily, and waddled to the plate of scraps that had been his human's dinner, to help himself to an after-nap snack.

"You're a little bottomless pit," B'kay said, and tickled the brown neck teasingly, "You haven't even washed off all the wherry blood from your last meal, and you're already looking for another."

He raised a brow inquringly at Sitareh. "Haven't seen many flitts around so far ... in fact, I don't think I've seen any ... not in the lower caverns population nor among the riders, and from the expression of those drudges over there, they're not a common sight," He indicated some kitchen workers who stopped in refilling the large stewpot on the hearth to stare at the firelizard. " They haven't died out too, have they? Griz will be most upset if there are no little greens around to impress! Or are they simply 'reserved' for the upper crust?"

[bleedtearsofshame]

Sitareh paused for a moment to relay the request to Aviciath. Can you give Syth the coordinates to the mining camp, my dearest love? she asked with the affection reserved only for the queen.

Of course, came the gold's answer.

The Weyrwoman turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, letting the dragons converse. "I can promise you that I can find you one trusted dragonrider to help with the load tonight. Just tell me when you wish to leave and I shall ensure that they meet you in the proper place."

Her fingers laced into a careful steeple that she held in front of her lips, a gesture of calmness that helped to smooth the irritation that rose at the very mention of holders. "We have had few who are truly enthusiastic about the dragonriders' presence, and they have all been minor holders or cotholders. There are another few handfuls who have been bribed to give us their help. But for every holder that is willing to help, there is another who is stubborn and refuses. In the next few days, I plan on making a trip to the Lord Holder of Celos Hold, the largest Hold in the area. He does not seem to be too willing either, but I am hoping that we shall be able to negotiate a truce that will satisfy both parties. With him on our side, I think that we shall find the other Holders more willing to join our cause."

Her face grew troubled when she truly thought about the situation that they were in. But she kept the anxiety from her face, letting her thoughts tumble from her lips in a rare show of openness. "I am not sure what we shall do for candidates," she admitted honestly. "None of the holds seem willing to part with their youngsters. But when Aviciath lays her clutch, we shall need them. I refuse to let any dragons die from lack of candidates." She was worried that the dragonriders would have to resort to force to ensure that the hatchlings were safe. "But I am counting dragons before they hatch."

Her eyes swept up from the table to regard B'kay carefully, her expression lightening at the new topic. Speaking of dragons... "There are still firelizards in this day and age, but they are rarities. I have seen only a handful of people who have impressed, a remarkable difference from our time, when firelizards were as common as canines. We have firelizards that were impressed to several of the riders who made the jump forward, and on off days, there are many who scour the beaches in search for a clutch. I hope to see the tamed firelizard population increase before Thread falls."

[B'kay]

At the mention of flitts, Griz turned and swaggered toward Sitareh's plate, where he sat back on his haunches and stared unashamedly at her food.

B'kay sighed. "As numerous as canines and twice as lacking in tact, it seems," he said, shaking his head. "You are the most shameless little beast, Griz. But despite their drawbacks, I'll keep my eyes pealed for nests. It wouldn't be the first time a Weyr used flitt eggs to bribe holders over to the side of reason."

His dark gaze unfocused as Syth's thoughts touched his mind, relaying the precise location of the mine Sitareh had been talking about. He nodded appreciatively. "Aviciath gives good direction, Syth says he'll have no trouble at all finding the place. As to time? Mining camps work hard from dawn till well past dark, then usually hit the ale holds till they can barely stand up to drag each other home. At least, if mining camps today are anything like they were in our time. I wouldn't venture in till well after the drinking starts, and try to be out of there with several big nets of ore before they leave the pubs. When they do, they'll be too ... content ... to even notice the loss before morning."

He reached out nonchalantly and took Griz, who was inching himself closer to the Weyrwoman's food while she listened, by the tail and gently slid him backward.

"Totally shameless," he muttered.