Dinsayde, Isa, Lasha, Timiny (NPCs - puppeted by Onari)


Dinsayde comes to Igen for supplies and news and gets more than he expected!


It is noon of the first day of the eleventh month of the first Turn of the 12th Pass.


Caravan Grounds, Igen Weyr

OOC Date


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Caravan Grounds

Deep grooves in the hard packed earth criss-cross a large patch of denuded ground, bearing mute testament to the caravans that frequent this area. Despite the midden holes set back a ways from the main center of traffic, the air is sweet, redolent with the sagebrush that forms a loose perimeter around the flattened expanse. In what is as close to its center as the vague boundaries suggest, a stone ringed fire pit has been dug and surrounded with the odd log or two, ash overflowing from its darkly blackened core.

It is the thirty-first day of Autumn and 75 degrees. All throughout the day, the air is strangely still and unmoving. Overhead, the skies blaze a brilliant, cloudless blue.

Timor: moon4.jpg
Belior: moon4.jpg

The throng and cheer of the bazaar can be heard this afternoon, from everywhere. The bazaar empties as people finish their lunches and go about the day. Dinsayde slips from the bazaar, his supplies gathering done for the day. He's already sent the cart and runner back to the camp with one of the caravan teens. Now, dressed in black and suspiciously absent of his knot, Din slips into the shadows near the Reika caravan and lies in wait, listening. Rumors had been circling, and he is here to find the validity of them. He settles in for a long wait, eyes and ears sharp for action.

While the Reika wagons sit on a loose circle around a large central fire pit, it's notable that one cluster of four wagons always sits tightly together on the northern cusp of the circle - a square that never seems to break. Those who reside on the grounds at large know that it's one particular family within the caravan - the Varas - that keeps their setup this way. It's simply assumed that they're tightly knit and want a bit more privacy than the others in their clan, but in truth…Isa, the family's patriarch, keeps it that way in order to be more discreet about what he does outside the public eye. Explanations are sound and confident when he's questioned about it, so…he simply isn't most of the time. A lanky man with a gaunt face and blonde hair only just now visibly thinning and losing its color, Isa emerges into the little square of his family's wagons from the small one shared with his wife, scratching at the stubble on his chin irritably. Tentatively trailing him is a petite woman with dusky skin and dark curls, her own age showing only in the few wisps of grey invading otherwise rich color. They speak in low tones, tense, heard only to one another…until another man comes along, younger and brown-haired and looking a bit on edge.

Sounds, sounds alert Dinsayde to activity within the ranks. He is a ghost as he skirts his way around the Reika caravans. He slips under one of the tightly knit wagons and hides in the under carriage so as not to be seen. He'd seen a few feet when going under, mayhaps he'll hear something of value. He falls into stillness, senses going into hyper-drive as he picks and sorts through sounds, tuning in on the circle within. His breathing slows and he isn't here, just another piece of the wagon, out of sight and out of mind.

Isa is a shrewd man, generally very aware of his surroundings…but he's perturbed at the moment, in his own deceptively calm fashion. The sense of being watched is one he knows all too well, and about the time Dinsayde slips under the wagon is when sharp hazel eyes dart toward the wagon on his right, then slowly 'round the group and into the shaded places beyond, narrowing in search… But the brown-haired man is trying to get his attention, and Lasha is also trying to get his attention because the other man is, and Isa rolls his eyes and rounds on the two of them, the sense of being watched abandoned for now. "I heard ye, I heard ye!" the Varas patriarch grates out, pinning them both with a glare. "So ye leave off for a spell, aye? And I have a talk with that nephew o' mine."

The brown-haired man heaves a steeling sigh. "He said there'd be a new one coming, so we aren't to call it off for tonight. Can't argue with 'im."

Isa gives a small shake of his head. "Then don't. Not for tonight." He places his hands on the man's shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "Ye've got away with worse than this in the past, Timiny. Don't go doubtin' yourself now, aye?"

Dinsayde zones in on the conversation, committing names and voices to memory. Timiny…Timiny. This may be one to listen for. A name to whisper in the shadows and see if anything returns. A cat like grin slides across Dinsayde's lips, but he still makes no sound, makes no movement. He is /not/ here.

Timiny just looks at Isa for a moment, grey eyes nervously flicking between the man's face and his knot, and he eventually nods. Muttered words pass his lips, indistinct to anyone save Isa, and the patriarch slowly lets his hands drop, considering the younger man. He nods, slowly. "Aye. Ye did. And it disappeared, and nothing's come of it." His tone drops to a menacing whisper, and he suddenly catches Timiny by the collar, causing the man to cringe and then glare with both fear and anger at Isa. "But by now ye know better than to let yourself get stripped of your sharding knife, I trust." The patriarch pins Timiny with a dagger gaze for another silent moment, then releases him with short, sharp shove. "Perhaps one of the gypsies found it, but they're not here anymore, are they? So get some steel in your spine again, aye?" Timiny bares his teeth in a scowl at Isa, but gives a short nod nevertheless and strides away. Lasha watches him go for a long moment before turning to her husband. "And what about the others?" she asks, taking half a step closer to him and drawing her woven shawl closer about her shoulders.

What would a lost knife have to do with he Zingari? Dinsayde wonders. It is a few seconds before his brain kick in to gear and he remember that Willa's dead husband had been murdered by knife. He listens harder. Others? This should get juicy. He focuses back at the task at hand. Even though his muscles burn from being stretched out over the undercarriage of the wagon. But it's too risky to listen from the ground.

"Less presence of mind than him," Isa replies to his wife, jerking his chin after Timiny's retreat. "We don't need to worry about them. They're under Goran's thumb, and can stay that way, for all I care, as long as they keep working." Silence reigns for a moment as Isa goes about inspecting a few pieces of metalwork, while Lasha seems to simply stand in thought. "Are you worried, my dear?" Isa questions, though there isn't much gentleness to his tone. "We're close. Very, very close."

Dinsayde tries to work out what he's hearing and listen at the same time. He wants to get closer but doesn't dare drop down now, he'd be caught for sure. His legs begin to tremble, but he steels them, knowing he can hang on awhile longer if need be. If only they'd stop beating around the bush and start talking straight, give him some credence to his thoughts.

"I'm concerned about carelessness," Lasha murmurs. "Not from you, husband, but from the younger ones. The Zingari man's death should never have happened; it still concerns me, though it's come to naught. Goran's venture still has its flaw, successful thought it may be…" Isa silences her with hands placed on her shoulders - firmly. "Worrying won't help us get where we need to be," he whispers, his voice gravelly and harsh in his conviction - and warning. "What's one death and a few scares along the way to our success?" Lasha stares hard at her husband, her lips pressed into a straight line. "Two deaths," she reminds him, subdued. "Two. One was ours, remember? And Holt is mad now. I don't doubt our plans, Isa, but…none of these were meant to be." With that, the woman turns and disappears back into her wagon, leaving Isa standing in narrow-eyed silence.

And sometimes wishes come true. The woman grants Dinsayde's wish and his breath catches as the news she speaks sinks home. Finally! Weeks and weeks of spying and snooping and dropping seeds of question had payed off. He must get this information back to Willa! He listens hard, one other person must leave before he can come out of hiding.

It's clear Isa's mind is churning with a number of things - anger and calculation reigning chiefly on his gaunt face as the muscles subtly work in his jaw. He says nothing more - what good would it do the air, anyway? - and sets about calmly tending the klah kettle at the small fire in the midst of the square of wagons. After a long moment and another glance around, as if he's just remembered that feeling of being watched from earlier but thinks only half as much of it now, he strides away toward the Bazaar, out of sight of the Reika wagons completely.

Dinsayde is trembling madly by the time the Reika man decides to wander off. He's glad there's no one around as he drops heavily to the ground. He sneaks his way out of the grounds and out of Igen. Making sure to not be seen. Then, after retrieving his runner, beats the sand back to the oasis….to Tell Willimina the news. And he can't help but shake the feeling that war is coming….

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