What do you make of this? (Moo&D'gan/open)

[Kaya]

| 75.08.26 | Late Morning |

Indistinct chatter filled the twisting paths between rows and rows of vendors. Bird calls and ocean waves floated in on the breeze that carried the much closer sound of a drum and flute of buskers and light applause. A wind chime called out intermittently, amongst calls of wares and goods. Fresh fish, freshly baked foods ready for the hungry market goer. The push and pull of the crowd was not unlike the ocean itself. A canine ran through legs and irritated shouts followed it. Let it never be said the marketplace at Cliffside was without life.

"Not much further," Rilora said, leaning close to D'gan to let her voice be heard over the crowd. A man bumped into her as she slowed to try to talk to the TigerRider. She exhaled sharply, thanked the sky that her foot was no worse for the encounter (though it had been close), and continued on. She'd be happy to reach the shop and be out of this crowd. She would have sworn to anyone that the market at Golden Flight was no where near as bad.

After another good stretch of being jostled and solicited by all manner of people in the market, Rilora turned into a shop only to have a child sitting inside grab the pouch of marks from her hip and dash into the back room. "Give that back, you brat!" she shouted, rather unladylike, at the fleeing boy. A man stepped from the back and stopped the youth with a hand placed firmly on the boy's head. "Darrin, give the nice lady back her purse." the adult ordered.

The boy turned around, returned the bag and started to retreat before the older man said, "All of it." The boy left another two marks on the shop counter before darting into the back.

The older man smiled as he shrugged and offered the Weyrwoman her money back. "Sir, for your help, I'm sure you've earned at least that much." she said, looking around the shop and seeing no one else. "Is your flitt out?" she asked, knowing full well the man did not own a firelizard, unless that had changed in the last couple sevendays. "I believe so, m'lady," he replied, moving to close the door. The outside noise immediately quieted. "Who might your friend be?"

"Ah, Lorell, meet D'gan, Wingleader, of Tiger Mosiliath. D'gan, likewise." She gestured between the two men. "What news then, Lorell?"

"Something quite interesting, m'lady. I should hope you find it equally so, quite the rare find," Lorell said, hand idly on the counter indicating his information's value. Rilora fiddled with her purse to signal she understood and the man continued. "As you know, my contacts hear a lot in such a busy place where good ears are worth their weight in gems. There's been too many instances of the Lady's name for our comfort. We suspect a plot, though that's hardly news at all. However we keep hearing tell of a Rider. One H'tel, and...I believe they said Blue, or something like it. Have you a man by that name?" Rilora looked stumped and turned to D'gan to see if he knew any such person. In any case, she did not like Lorell's news, useful as it was.

[Moo]

D'gan took in a lungful of the sharp, salty air and exhaled slowly. Despite all his time at the Weyr, he had never actually been inside the Hold. He had heard stories from here, and had flown over once or twice, but had never walked through it. He pushed back his shaggy, silvering hair and looked around the market. So…this is Cliffside from the bottom. Hmm. Busier than I expected!

Well what did you expect of the biggest port in the Southern continent?
I knew that, silly clunch!
Of course you did.

"Not much further," came a loud voice at his side.

He cast a grateful smile to Rilora for a couple of reasons. Her company, for one. It had been far too long since they had spent any time together, and he had been meaning to catch up in any way he could. She was a difficult woman to get a hold of these days. And secondly, for the volume of her voice. Though she probably meant to be heard over the crowd, his ability to pick out a single person in that ear was only sub-par among such noise, and so it was just nice to hear without straining.

And just when she had turned into a shop, and it was much easier to hear, a boy ran by and snatched Rilora's purse clean off her. D'gan moved to chase after the whelp when suddenly, the shopkeeper stepped out from the back and did the retrieving for him. It was much more elegantly handled.

The gears in his head began to turn as soon as the Weyrwoman began to talk to the man. She had not come out here for a simple trip to the shore, and as much as he would've liked to relax, D'gan had his suspicions that this visit was far from it.

What was that about a flitt? He squinted and tried to pick up the quiet banter. Ahh, make no mistake, it was code. Not one to question the Weyrwoman's methods, D'gan moved closer to her side to hear the rest of the conversation better, and to size up the other man as he moved from the door and back. Then he eyed the young boy, Darrin, and he tried to keep from frowning. It wasn't just Yura he felt uncomfortable with - it was all children. Well, all children who weren't Weyrlings and couldn't take care of themselves.

Rilora began and introductions were made, as much as introductions could be made in secret.

"Lorell, pleasure," he nodded, settling into his spot beside the Weyrwoman as he listened. He hadn't quite caught on to the hand motions the two were making, but whatever it was it was code, and make no mistake of that. He made a mental note to ask the Weyrwoman if there were other code symbols he should be aware of.

The shopkeeper continued to talk, his voice hushed as he explained just what information he had unearthed. And while it seemed Rilora was enrapt with the story, D'gan didn't feel quite so comfortable. He could see the door out of the corner of his eye, but his bad ear was turned toward it - so there would be no hearing if anyone tried to sneak in. He wasn't sure why he was feeling tense, and only half-chalked it up to nerves. It wasn't often that he got to spend time with the Weyrwoman, but when he did it was always business. This was no different.

Then something threw him for a loop.

"The Lady? This Lady Harra, here at Cliffside, you mean?" he interrupted. "What's…what's been going on with her?"

He felt Mosiliath reach for his mind to listen in on the conversation. Headwoman Lindalyn was assassinated and everyone was up in arms, so why was THIS not big news? Next came the news of a Rider named H'tel, and he bit his lip in thought. Had he heard the name before?

I have not heard of him, D'gan, not from this Weyr or from our old lives in Fort. This would be a better question for the Weyrling Master, I'm sure - or a historian. Perhaps this H'tel comes from another Weyr?

Remember, that could be a false name, though. And why would this Rider be causing trouble at this Hold? This doesn't add up. We can't take this information at face value until we have more, so keep it to yourself.

I shall do so.

But at Rilora's requesting glance, he shook his head 'no', and decided to keep those thoughts to himself. At least while in mixed company. The Weyrwoman might have placed her trust in this man - and perhaps he was honest and trustworthy - but he was not about to relax. Not yet, at least.

"No," he replied, and selected his words with care. "I haven't heard of him. Do you think he's the one involved with your Lady Holder?"