Who

G'tan, N'cal, Kyara

What

After learning about Goran's ties to Erissa and the bandits, G'tan and N'cal decide to bring one more person into the know, and a plan is hatched.

When

The evening before Snaring the Snake.

Where

Danorath's Ledge, Igen Weyr

OOC Date

 

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Danorath's Ledge

Well-worn rock is textured from turns of talons and boots scraping across the surface, making for better footing. The lower setting of the ledge lends itself to a great, albeit noisy, view of the bazaar below - perfect for people watching. Thankfully, a turn in the short entrance tunnel helps mute the sounds once inside the weyr.


“We can’t just go after him ourselves. We’re too obvious.”

The grumbling comes from G’tan, pacing a small line in the low light of early evening on a ledge not his own above the Bazaar. Perched on another empty ledge above the one his rider walks, Zinakoth rumbles with quiet discontent, eyes whirling orange within the craggy lines of the gleaming head craned downward to watch.

Nearby, the sky blue form of Iolarth is reduced to twilight where he sits, wings rustling subtly every now and again as he watches the bustle far below. He isn’t speaking to Danorath - to whom this particular ledge belongs - for the moment; the other blue is far too occupied keeping watch over his struggling rider. But Iolarth makes it quite clear that he is there, should his stocky fellow need anything. N’cal, who has been crouched nearby, sitting on his heels, shakes his head emphatically. “Of course not,” his Fortian baritone counters, his tone burgeoning with an idea. “We need someone who can blend in and get close. You are…” He glances over the bronzerider from toe to top and gives a small chuckle. “Well. You.” Big, burly, completely unused to anything other than Weyr life and thinking. “And I, while able, am not very good at direct distraction. Or acting.”

G’tan stops, looking down at the crouched bluerider and arching a brow. “So who? A Harper?” It’s his turn to shake his head. “I wouldn’t trust any of them here with this-“

“Not any of the regular Harpers, no,” N’cal cuts in, coming easily to his feet with a dismissive gesture. “But there are a few riders with Harper training here, and one in particular who is closer to Erissa than any of the other possibilities. Kyara.”

Brows knitting as he considers this, G’tan scrubs at the stubble darkening his jaw. W’rin trusted the greenrider enough to give her a part in bringing up the Weyrlings; Erissa trusted her enough to ask for defense lessons. Others have spoken well of the woman; she has a lot to recommend her. Throughout this entire ordeal, G’tan has been nothing but dubious about bringing anyone else in closer to it…but this might be the best way to go. “How much do you think she’d need to know to agree to help us?” the bronzerider asks, folding his arms.

“You really must make an effort to get to know the woman better,” N’cal says with a smirk. “She wouldn’t need to know much - just that Goran is the one responsible for Erissa’s…illness. Given her background, she’d jump at the chance. But we could tell her more, and I’m sure she’d appreciate knowing what exactly has robbed her of her student and how everything ties together in terms of the bandits. Having Kyara’s rank with us, as well as her Harper training, would lend a lot of legitimacy to whatever may happen once Goran is apprehended. And afterward.” If the trader doesn’t end up dead before they bring him back to the Weyr.

G’tan is quiet for a long moment, rolling all this over in his head and resuming his pacing as he does so. “You sure she’ll keep her mouth shut?”

“Yes.” The answer comes without hesitation, and N’cal is quick to qualify his reasoning. “While she was on Arroyo, I made use of her skills a good few times. I had much the same question before she assured me of her ability. To hear her tell it, keeping quiet is a talent hard-won for her.” No particulars, but the expression on the greenrider’s face at the time had been quite telling as to the difficulty. “Kyara is a good woman, G’tan, as loyal a rider as you could ask. She’ll step to Erissa’s defense as quickly as any of us have, I’m certain of it.”

Nodding, G’tan capitulates, rubbing at his neck. “Erissa’s gonna kill us when she finds out we dragged Kyara into this,” he notes, nearly muttering as he glances back at the entrance to Erissa’s weyr.

Eyes just returning from vagueness as he asks Iolarth to bespeak Liareth, N’cal smiles thinly. “Yes, well, we’ll simply have to add it to the stack of offenses she’ll likely want to flame us for later, but let’s fight that Fall when we come to it, hm?” Clasping his hands at his back, he glances eastward in expectation.

Wingbeats both heavy and somehow gentle announce Liareth’s arrival, and the pretty green lights easily on Danorath’s ledge amid soft croons from the nearby blues and bronzes. Kyara slides lightly to the ground with a smile to the two men, returning salutes as they’re offered, though her expression betrays concern. “Evening N’cal, G’tan,” she greets, perplexed to find them both here, on Erissa’s ledge. She knows the Whirlwind bluerider is sick, but why these two happen to be visiting and summoning her here is a bit odd, to say the least. “What’s going on?”

A short while passes as N’cal and G’tan relate Erissa’s ordeal to Kyara, the greenrider doing a good amount of pacing of her own as she absorbs everything. Her anger and disgust over the entire matter, particularly where Goran is concerned, is quite evident by the time the telling is finished, as is the fact that the wheels of her mind are turning quite rapidly. “So,” G’tan asks, clearing his throat when she lapses into a moment of silence, “will you help us out?”

“Are you kidding?” Kyara counters immediately, amber eyes glinting with a handful of different emotions twining together at once. “Of course I will. What little I was able to teach her couldn’t have stopped this - not now, and I owe it to her to prove it works. She needs justice, the Weyr needs it, and if it boils down to needing one person in a mask to take down a single mastermind, I’ll gladly be the one to wear it.”

“The man is dangerous, Kyara,” N’cal warns, catching the hint of eagerness in the woman’s tone and becoming automatically wary of its direction. “I wouldn’t advise trying to take him on alone.”

“I’ll go with you,” G’tan interjects quickly, the look he gives Kyara silently asking that she not deny him this. Not that he wouldn’t try to be around anyway if she did… “Out of sight, or whatever you need me to do, but I want to be there.”

Kyara considers both men in another small stretch of silence, gaze flicking between them in thought as she stands with her arms folded and the thumb of her left hand idly stroking the knuckle of the finger beside it. “I understand the risks,” she assures them. “And I wouldn’t dream of trying to do something like this alone.” Day to day living is risky enough without exercising foolhardiness, after all! “Well then,” she says finally, nodding slowly, “let’s figure out the best way to snare this tunnelsnake, shall we?”

And for the next few candlemarks, that is precisely what the trio on the ledge set about doing amidst the deepening darkness, hoping to finally bring about a much-needed point of light.

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