Igen and Renalde. It usually isn't a particularly pleasant combination. But apparently Prineline hasn't caught Renalde's smell, and thus nothing has come crashing down. Whatever business has brought the Headman to the desert weyr must be over for the man, dressed in a smart suit (complete with little triangle handkerchief) strides into the galleries. Has he come to view eggs? Or is his business NOT done? Either way, Renalde is HERE, and his eyes are casting about for the goldrider who must be around with those eggs.

The sands are bare but for eggs and dragons. Instead, tucked away in some corner is a young woman with a mess of dark hair tied back. She's got a mess of something in her lap - it's… yarn? Yes, Mayte is clicking needles together gently, a string of ribbon woven around them. Nothing elegant emerges, but Mayte is intent on it. On the Sands, Rhiscorath looks up which leads Mayte to doing so as well: eyes squint to focus on the figure and after a moment, her expression clears and Mayte rises to her feet: "Headman Renalde. Nice to see you so far north." Is she teasing? Maybe a little, but she smiles too.

"I am here to pay my respects before going back." Not that Mayte required an explanation of why Renalde is here in the first place, but proper Renalde gives one ANYWAY. His eyes cast out over the sands, and he nods to Rhiscorath, before turning his gaze back onto Mayte and…. what is she doing with that yarn? An eyebrow arches upwards. "My dear, if you wish to keep it from curling up you need to vary your stitch."

Mayte's eyes smile and one hand, with needles and yarn, waves towards the eggs and Rhiscorath, whose eyes whirl contented greens. Now THIS is a respectable man. Mayte looks at her own efforts and grins baldly, "It's just to pass the time." So, don't quit your day job, Mayte. "I only learned the one stitch before going into Vintner," she shrugs again. For the eggs, Mayte grins, "Thirty one. On her first try, too."

"I am sure she is proud," but Renalde says that oh-so-distracted. He's looking at that knitting and will not be denied. It's not perfect and he is on a KICK for perfection. "May I?" And Renalde twitches out his fingers for those needles.

Of course Rhiscorath is proud. Mayte is beaming a bit too: "We've been pretty lucky in here," again, a wave of the needles eggs-ward: "The earthquakes have hit almost everything else BUT in here." The very mention of them has Rhiscorath bristling, her wings spreading over the eggs a little. Renalde's request has Mayte eyeing the man cautiously: "This? It's just some fiddling. Passes the time a little." Still, almost unconsciously, Mayte holds the knitting to the taller man. See? See?

Renalde lifts his eyes away from that very distracting piece of knitting to glance over at the gold. "The earthquakes have done wonders for your lower caverns. I noticed that they have begun to clean spaces that have not seen a broom in turns." Renalde can't help but get his sideways jab in at Prineline, before he refocuses. The kitting is removed from Mayte's hands and lifted up for a very careful inspection. "If something is to be done, it ought to be done right my dear. I am sure a weaver would be willing to instruct you further." More than one stitch and such.

If Mayte gives a little snort of agreement, her face straightens out quickly: "I look forward to returning," she replies formally, "and seeing if my instructions for the Administrative Corridor have been followed up on." But Renalde's reprimand gets nowhere; Mayte's still pressing her lips to avoid a full-out rebellious smile, "I do pretty much everything right," dark eyes glint mischievously, "Like relaxing."

Only the fact that Mayte is a GOLD RIDER keeps Renalde from commenting further on the state of the weyr. It wouldn't be proper. (Now if Prineline were in ears reach….) "Yes, I can see you have put a great deal of effort into this." That's sarcasm folks, but is delivered in Renalde's brisk no-nonsense tone and thus it's hard to tell he is being sarcastic. He holds back out the knitting to the woman.

Mayte is no stranger to the various strains of sarcasm, but she mistakes it: "Hey. I've been running exhausted after ordering and then, I've been stuck in here. So don't," one finger waggles warningly despite her grin, "scold me about the cleanliness and decor there. I just got started on it when…" Retrieving her knitting, Mayte waves it again towards the eggs, "Well, I got distracted."

"I would not dream of doing so." Renalde's voice is very, very dry. "However, I have offered several individuals to your headwoman if she wishes to have more support in her continuing endeavors to clean up ages of neglect." Renalde doesn't think very much of those endeavors, but it seems to mean SO MUCH to Mayte. "I assume that she," a glance at Rhiscorath, "has been less than pleased by the shaking?"

Eyebrows arch in some facetious reply, and Mayte's own voice is as dry as Igen: "I bet she was just thrilled by the very offer." She's worked with Prineline and knows the Headwoman's views. The topic switch has Mayte letting a breath out through her nose sharply: "You can put it that way." Which means there are stronger ways to phrase it, some of which the goldrider has evidently thought of: "Rhis was careful enough before, but now, I can barely get away. Shells, I send the clutchfather out on silly errands just to get some peace and quiet sometimes." Funny face. "If the Weyrleader hadn't ordered it…" but if wishes were horses, beggars would ride, so Mayte stops wishing, shaking her head, "Anyways. The shells are hardening and hopefully it won't be much longer." Oh pls oh pls oh pls.

"This is your first, correct?" Of course Renalde knows he is right, that's called being polite. "I hope that the father is someone with whom you enjoy spending your moments." It would be a shame if he was someone more stiff and made life a pain.

Mayte nods slowly: "Yes, Headman," is the polite reply, but her own grin is awkward: "He's… good for running errands." Speak a little more highly, why don't you. "Rhiscorath does like the attention care the bronze has given," so stiff and formal herself, ruined knitting in hand, "in a scary time." One last huff as Mayte smiles again, perhaps a little less brittle, "Anyway, next time can't be much worse, right?" Thanks, Mayte. Let's just invite Igen to fall in on our heads in a Turn's time or so. "Are you still at Southern Barrier Hold?" she asks, changing the subject quickly: "I was telling a friend that he should go visit it sometime, that the place looked like sheets of diamonds in some places!" Knitting is tucked into a back pocket to be forgotten and Mayte crosses her arms even if she's still grinning.

"You should always have someone trusted to run errands. Someone who will not spill the klah bringing it back." The clutchfather is dismissed in Renalde's mind as a glorified waterboy. Instead he folds his arms behind his back and looks out across the sands. "Yes, the hold is coming along nicely. We have discovered firestone, and thus one more reason for the hold to flourish. As more skilled workers come we gain staff to support them. Perhaps once your duty here is done you may come see it. Discuss a spot of business that may open soon."

Oh yay, actual WORK talk! "Firestone!" Mayte's eyebrows rise with interest, "Igen Weyr would love to discuss the possibilities with you," she says as Igen Weyr representative here-and-now. "Perhaps we could finance a trade of sorts when," dark hair tips towards the sands, "I am out and flying again." This idea pleases Mayte greatly. Rhiscoath's head rises as well, and her rider huffs: "Do you have records of this? Rhiscorath is interested in all of this. She'd love to know more." Of course she would, so Mayte amends, "And receive copies of the details. Should we reach an agreement in trades."

"The firestone mining is under the control of the weyr proper. You will want to take your discussions up with Weyrleader Cha'el." Renalde replies smoothly. "However, I believe I can arrange for copies of the records of other developments in the hold to be delivered." It's probably a good thing that Renalde doesn't know about Rhis' tendency to EAT records.

This is slightly surprising news, but Mayte accepts it as well: "I would love to arrange a discussion with Southern's Weyrleader to such ends." Rhiscorath makes note. She also makes note of the promise of records, eyes whirling more quickly in pleasure. That gets a warning look from Mayte, but Rhis, like honey badger, don't give a sh…chnapp! "And I would love to come and visit Southern when I can." Rhis, however, is not so enamoured. Huff, and back to the eggs.

"I will inform Cha'el that you are interested in such correspondence." See, Renalde makes an excellent messenger boy. Cha'el'll have the fattest report of a five minute conversation EVER. "You have an open invitation, as do all riders. We are entering Spring at the moment." Not that you could tell as everything is still Iced Over.

A quick nod and even quickersilver grin before Mayte replies, "I look forward to hearing from him." And top page of that fat report? She can't knit for spit, but she's interested in trade. However, whatever spring means for the icy Hold has Mayte ahhing blandly: "I imagine," she says cautiously, "that it's nothing like spring here? You're not battening down for sandstorms or anything like that." Given that that far south has no sand, it's easy to figure. "I'll be sure to find you when I come visiting, right?" This idea has Mayte beaming contentedly: Field trip!

"Our budding ice scuplters have no lack for room to work their craft." Renalde's tone is slightly dry, but then again… is that a tiny smile on the edges of his lips? No way. Renalde turns slightly, away from Mayte. "I must go and meet the rider. It was pleasant speaking with you madam." Now doesn't Mayte feel old?

Mayte oohs at the very idea of ice sculptures, but as Renalde turns to depart, she quiets briefly. A brief nod to the taller man, "Fair skies, Headman," she replies formally as she turns to head towards the Sands where Rhiscorath awaits. Age is a state of mind: if Mayte feels old, she quickly sheds it in light of viewing her dragon and the eggs that pick up new facets and glimmers each time they are moved.