A large wagon, bigger then any of the others in the train. This is where the people of the wagon eat, sleep, cook and play. In there corners, there are litle spots, such as places to put cots, a small, kitchen and a little play area. In the center of the room, there is a large, round table, with chairs all around it and a basket of flowers in the center.

The careless glitter of rose quartz reflects and refracts the light from within its bed of granite, each beam bringing a new shifting, a new subtlty of sight. Rows of long trestle table are seated in orderly awareness under the carven vault of the ceiling, centered around a great dais upon which sits the best-made one; this, too, shows the roughness of the others, but a roughness smoothed by time, and accented by the complexity of beams that show Turns-taken tesselation in their upward arch. Neither tapestries nor coverings mar the marbling of wild beauty, leaving unadorned grandeur that in naturalistic simplicity provides comfort to the occupants of the cavern.

One archway, the only covered by a drape of black and gold, shields the entrance to the bowl from the blow of sand; another, almost unobtrusive, marks the entrance to the lower caverns through a short, winding and uncarefully-carved tunnel.

Gamma reaches over and scoops up child lump from Eilish's shoulders, snapping her fingers and motioning to a drudge to bring it quickly. Setting the brat into a chair with straps for just such an occassion, she winks over at Ella. "You sure you want to have to deal with one of these yoursef? Between yyour complaints of yelena and my May and that band of cohorts she tags around behind her, one might think motherhood isn't for you." a glance Rhomward refocusses her attention to that situation. "Rhom here is applying for a position in the Guard, Eilish." The drudge appears and Gamma steps back. "Do you know what you are getting yourself into, Rhom?"

Eilish appears somewhat grateful as the drudge plops a steaming bowl of a lumpy, pasty food before her. Casting a smile of genuine thankfulness at Gamma for taking the child, she warily begins to spoon out some of the food. "My drudge usually does this," she begins. "I need to foster."

"Hello," Eilish returns in surprise as she aims that spoon for a tightly-closed mouth. "Do I know you?" It is the question du jour, really. Eyes flicker from the young woman to the babe set before her. "Open /up/, Kaeos," the Weyrsecond pleads with her daughter. "It's yummy! See?" Of course, the lumpy mixture is eyed with distaste.

Almost six feet tall, Gamma's lithe form hints at agile muscles, pliancy and grace, though her thin eyebrows define her: steady gaze unyielding and direct, wizened jade eyes crinkle mirthfully at the edges, and beneath a tiny nose rests a rich alto voice of trained timbre and delicate laughter. Sun-streaked honey locks loop above the almond tan of her oval face and slender neck, swirl in a bun to be fastened by a weyrhide thong that frizzles down her back. Her deft hands reveal the most, however: calloused on the fingertips only, they are nonetheless pink and soft as a Keroon night.

Whisper-thin sisal wraps shoulderless around and around her torso, the colors shifting subtly from one layer to the next -- orange here, tangerine there, goldenrod over there -- and with each move she makes. The narrow skirt, also of diaphanous drifts of delicate weave, continues the shimmering dance of hues down to her ankles. Bright golden dragons encircle top and bottom, flying embroidered formations at both hems, while a few stragglers dot the length of sarong, keeping the layers from slipping apart. Bright orange slippers, likewise embroidered with golden dragons, cushion her feet against the harsh ground. A deep gold hairclip clasps Gamma's hair. Gamma is wearing Black Diamond and Mother-of-Pearl Anklet. A heavy pendant hangs around Gamma's neck.

Cymri chuckles softly, shaking her head, "No, I can't say we've met. But I'd be pleased to do so." With another smile, she introduces, "I'm Cymri, a trader hereabouts." Eyeing the youngling, she raises one brow and asks, "Wouldn't happen to need any toys, would you?" Heh, always trying, at any rate...

"Toy? Ah, she's got plenty, even if she's never happy with them-- /no/!" Eilish gives a surprised squeak as a pudgy little hand knocks the spoon the the side, sending sticky stuff flying. "Kaeos, /no/! Bad girl, no no." Frowning, she scoops up another bit of the porridge. "You were hungry. Now eat."

Cymri laughs again, not seeming to mind -- she's in a good mood today, so it would seem. Kaeos is given a wary regard, which soon breaks into a little smile at her apparent stubbornness. Then, looking back at Eilish, she nods briefly and offers a polite, "Well met."

Oh the trials of juggling. Gamma finally sits and peers over at Eilish, and as fate would have it, manages to get Cymri right in her line of sight on the other side of the Weyrsecond. She tilts her head and smiles genuinely, "Hello, there. Igen's greetings to you, dear. Are you just arrived?" She glances over at Eilish. The others just arrived in the room are waved at as well.

"Open, or I'll leave you to live with the mean D'nara," Eilish informs her daughter, tone hinting at a threat. Suddenly -- obligingly -- Kaeos opens her rosebud mouth and takes a taste of the mush. "See, it's not that bad, is it?" The child smacks in return.

Cymri glances across at the other woman, keen eyes noticing /something/ different. Ah, must be someone important. Head cocked momentarily to the side, she asks, "Just arrived?" With a frown, she wonders aloud, "From where?" And then, brown eyes widening, "Oh, at the Weyr? Well... I live here, sort of -- in the trader wagon train, you see..." She smiles as well, though, and seems glad to hear the friendly greetings. Another quick glance is thrown towards Kaeos, amused.

Gamma holds her hand out toward a chair. "Please, trader. Join us here at the head table? I've been meaning to put in a courier message to the caravan, actually." She glances over at Eilish. "Have there been any incidents across my desk lately regarding threadfall coverage for the Wagon Train of late, eilish?" The corner of her mouth curls in humor. "Kaeos is not half the sloppy eater that May was at that age. Really, Eilish. You /must/ train her better, dear."

Smiling still, Cymri heads towards gestured chair, dropping down in it with a not-so-gracefull air. Her brown eyes seem to perk at mention of a message, and she leans forward at the question, awaiting the response with interest. Again, a faint grin crosses her face at the mention of Kaeos and quirks, though the look seems as if it hasn't been used in some time.

"I don't have time," Eilish half-grumbles to the Weyrwoman's latter comment as she aims another successful bite toward Kaeos. "None of us do, really, but D'nara and she's rather... dumb." Seems the matriarch of the overcrowded weyr is displeased with part of the harem. "But, incidents? Barring that burrow the other day, things have been going well. Only a minor injury last sevenday -- old B'moof and Furith."

Gamma raises a brow humor-filled eyes glancing away from the rider to land on Cymri before she says. "Dear, do you mean B'foot? B'foot is Furith'brown Furith's rider." Must be the screaming kids that kill the memory like that. and Gamma's already ordered that overcrawded weyr expanded three times to accommodate F'as' expanding feminine entourage. "Cymri? Has your caravan been getting adequate coverage from Igen Weyr lately? Since the new leadership took over?"

Cymri blinks serenely and seems to consider, then nods. "Seems like it. Of course, knowing for sure that someone's looking out is nice, but," she smiles, shrugging, "We trust you guys to your business. Just so long as you let us keep up ours." An uncharacteristic wink is given at that, as she's teasing. Mostly. Then, gazing evenly at Gamma, she adds, "We've no complaints."

Her hip-length hair is an auburn as dark as a fire's last embers, a deeply burning, lowlit red. It frames a face of milky translucence, defined by fine, even features and expressive, pale grey eyes. She's of no more than average height, sylph in movement and mannerism alike, with a certain brilliant snap to her demeanor and a timbre to her rich alto voice that bespeaks a passionate nature as intense as the very hue of her hair.

The cool, clear jade of her kirtle sweeps snug along her figure from shoulder to ankle, the light fabric draping with a subtle sheen. Over it, an overtunic is done in a muted tapestry, the dagged sleeves falling out of her way, and it's caught about her waist with a simple gold chain.

Usually messy masses of nutshell brown curls frame Eilish's round face, falling in twisted spirals and haphazard sproings just past her shoulders where they bounce ever so slightly with each movement made. Dark eyes that seem almost black gaze out from beneath arches brows. Face fine boned, yet not beautiful, she remains quirkily cute in her own way. The rider's spritely stature does not take away from her femininity, however. Generous curves to hip and chest mark her as most definitely woman, though most striking are her lips, oft times arranged into the oddest of smiles.

A generic pair of almost, but not quite, too tight leathers hug Eilish's slight frame. An unremarkable tan mostly, the only hint of color is the green stripe of satin that runs down the outsides of the legs from waist to ankle. Scuffed boots on her feet and a green band in her hair, this is just normal rider fare.

Porridge done, Eilish shoves the bowl and spoon across the table for some drudge to take care of. Quick fingers undo the straps that bind her daughter, and she takes the girl into her laps once again. The food has sated Kaeos; she sits rather serenely.

Gamma eyes focus on Cymri's for a moment, and then her eyebrow rises. Oh. So that's how the game is played, Hmm? The weyrwoman purses her lips, and nods at Idris there on the other side of Cymri. "Idris. Come join us, dear. " One hand lifts to take a bit of immaginary dust from her crosse knee. "She says Igen has bee..../adequate/."

A short young woman with firm shoulders, she has glossy, straight, black-brown hair to mid-shoulder, held back in a loose runner-tail; clear, golden skin; and straight, white teeth framed by a kind smile of brownny-coral lips with a thinner, arching upper and a full, rounded lower. A wide, flattish nose rests in the midst of softly pink-tinged cheeks. Wide-set, almond-shaped eyes in a warm mixture of amber and darkest klah calmly regard Pern beneath sable eyebrows that reach up slightly before thinning where they angle simply, elegantly, downwards.

Her hair french-braided behind her might look elegant were it not for the bright strip of blue pleated within. But, the blue matches the cobalt of the shirt she wears. Short sleeves, apparently tighter than comfortably (as she is constantly trying /not/ to pluck at them but fidgeting nonetheless) follow through to a plain, rounded neck. The entire shirt fits rather snugly and would make her appear quite slender were it not for the thick, black fabric of her fitted overalls. Two wide straps reach up from the top, just above the curve of her chest, to crisscross in the back and meet again about a hand's width below her shoulders. Gathered at the small of her back, midnight fabric dips smoothly along her outline, tracing a lean waist and gently curving hips. The legs are very loose, baggy really, before at last brushing over the base of simple wherhide boots, dyed a bold blue very nearly matching that of her tee (no doubt it took quite a trade to get that much dying powder!). The low heels raise Cymri to just past 5 feet tall.

Cymri peers about at the other people, tugging at her sleeves agitatedly while no one seems to be looking. Then, her eyes turn again to Gamma. /Is/ she the..? Oh, she must be... Hmm, another fact to keep in mind. Critical eyes try to gauge if she's upset.

Her child fed -- and quiet -- the Weyrsecond stands, smiling to those gathered. "Well, I'm going to make her go to sleep now, if you'll excuse me." She bobs her head at those present, tucks her daughter uder one arm, and slips out

Gamma's eyes sparkle, but whether genuinely amused or enmeshed in the facade of a harper master's whim, Gamma keeps to herself the purpose of her reseve. "Shiana? Idris? This is Cymri of the Trader Caravan. The one that refused to tithe a while back?" she turns her head to Cymri. "You /are/ of the Caravan that passed through here just a couple fortnights ago, aren't you?" She motions for Shiana to join the table as well. "We've been discussing our coverage of the threadfall over their heads."

Idris slides into her seat, fingers lacing and grey eyes settling onto the trader. "Indeed," she responds, voice soft. "Cymri, then." Repat the name; memorize. "I've not much say over threadfall, although I certainly can say what we /need/."

Gamma leans in toward Cymri and says, "This is Idris and Shiana, Igen Weyr's Headwoman and Assistant Headwoman, dear. If you've a mind to make a sell or ...." Her voice pauses slightly as she smilies warmly "..tithe..." she lets the word sit there for a moment before passing on. "then we've certainly caught you in a bit of luck, i'd say. they are the ones you need to speak to."

Cymri blanches slightly, having been a little too concerned with other affairs to even realize. She blankly repeats, "Refused to tithe?" and then /sits/, surprise casting an odd look over her features. After a moment, she regains her composure and nods, "Yes, the Caravan headed by trader Alanis." Hmm, pursing her lips, she leans back in her chair, thinking over this new bit of information. Then, brought out of her musings by Gamma's voice once more, she looks curiously at the two and offers a kind, if still fazed, "Heyla and well-met." Looks like she's been more distant lately than she realized.

Gamma glances over at Idris and winks, having perpetuated just the sort of off-guard falter that she sought in Cymri. She smooths down teh lazy pleats of her sheer blouse. "Oh Cymri, dear. I'm certain you've better news for us this time, no?"

Cymri is all better now, shoulders straightened once more, and she glances squarely at Shiana, allowing a small nod of acknowledgement at that, "Yes, I... was involved in a rather sticky mess not long ago and was left completely unaware of our reluctancy to tithe -- I'm sorry." But, back to business, "So, you /are/ still protecting us, are you not?" Then, she frowns once more, "Actually," she takes a deep breath and admits, "I'm not sure. Alanis has mentioned none of this to me. I was, in fact, just taking a walk when I found you here." She tugs again at the annoyingly tight sleeves and nods with resolve, eyes serious, "I will, of course, speak to her when I return."

Cymri shakes her head, puzzled, "I'm not sure. I was... living in another wagon until...oh, a few sevendays ago, so I did not have frequent conversations with her, but..." Her speech drifts off, as if not sure what more is to be said.

Gamma glances from Idris to Shiana and raises a brow. "Are you, Shiana? I was asking your weyrsecond earlier just that. She mentioned B'foot was hurt and had Furith in all sorts of tithers. Frankly, I did not know it had been the Trader Sweeps that had caused it." she sighs heavily and shakes her head. "Tsk Tsk. the /things/ you have to put up with, dear. Riders giving their lives and those of their dragons for a group of people who refuse to acknowledge the fealty to the weyr." She glances back at Idris. "What sort of information, dear?"

Gamma raises a brow. "Is it?" Leaning back into her chair and tilting her head, she catches the eye of a drudge and motions her forward. "Some Benden White, please. Try the Gamelon 13." Her attention focuses back on Cymri. "Do you agree, Cymri?"

Cymri maintains her aplomb, even though it has been made clear she's been left out. Just the hint of fear enters proud eyes as she asks, "And just /how/ do you plan to even things up, hmm?" She would definitely like to hear this... "I would not want any trouble, on either side."

Idris lifts a shoulder. "You yourself suggested the lack of coverage," she points out. Idris is ruthless when it comes to Her Weyr. And it /is/ hers, in a manner of speaking. Turnign to Cymri again, though, she asks, "What sort of wares did you have for us today, anyway? Anything?"

Glancing up at the ceiling in thought -- and giving one more gentle tug on a sleeve -- Cymri thinks and then pitches, "Well, we've quite a selection at the moment, though it seems much of it, oddly enough," In fact, now that she considers, it seems quite odd, "Is geared towards children." She shrugs, "But we're capable of getting hold of a much wider selection, in a matter of ... oh, a sevenday. At this time," brown eyes seek out Idris's, "We are concerned with knowing just what the people of the weyr are in need of." Supply and demand, of course... "Oh, and we've also several scarves and earrings at the moment, I believe." She spreads one hand, palm up, before her, "What is it that you want right now?"

Gamma nods at the drudge who opens and offers the Benden White already poured. She holds out a finger to those present, glancing at first one and then the other. About to offer the wine, she stops mid-word and peers at Cymri. "Respect, perhaps? the Tithe due Igen Weyr when we ask it in return for our services?" the eyebrow rises and all humor leaves those eyes.

"Cloth is always welcome," the headwoman agrees. "I assume you have some good, lightweight wool that we could use? Baubles aren't much use for thr weyr, though. Food, and cloth. /Necessities/." And Idris' cool grey gaze flicks to Gamma, sober now. "Of course, Gamma. That's the key to tithe, isn't it? It's a mark of respect for the rick our riders take."

Cymri ows and glances, for once rather set-aback, at her lap a moment in silence. Then, head snapping back up with the usual good posture, she restates, rather calmly, "As mentioned, I've no problem offering these myself. I really must speak to Alanis, I suppose, and see what can be arranged." Surely there is some reason for this confusion? Then, head tilted to the side, she continues, "Of course, I doubt we could tithe with marks, but I'm sure" A quick glance is cast to Shiana and then Idris, information processed, "we can work out a certain amount of cloth, dyes perhaps, and whatever else you may require, in exchange for your services." She assuages gently, "We really do appreciate the threat you risk out there." Then, with a sigh, she gives a genuine smile, "I know what it means. And -- that's another thing. Maybe not the others, but I think it would be nice to get to /know/ you better. Keep this less of a business deal and more of a ... mutual friendship, so to say? We've all got responsibilities, and we've all got something to offer." If we can just work together, that is...

Gamma turns her gaze on Idris. "Now now, Idris. You are used to dealing with the likes of thsoe misused by our former weyrwoman. As perhaps Cymri's caravan has been as well?" She glances over at Cymri and raises a brow in question, "Wine, dear?"

Cymri glances at Idris with a wry grin, "Yes, we are -- looking for the best." She shrugs, "It's human nature, to some degree." She takes no offense. Then, smiling Gamma's way, she seems about to decline before she shrugs, "Sure. Why not? Thanks."

Gamma smiles triumphantly, then glances at the drudge and nods her head, bobbing her chin Cymri-ward The drudge immediately pours the wine immediately, perhaps used to Gamma's gesturing. It's hard to know which has the other trained. Gamma takes the wine in hand and places it just in front of her on the table. "You know, dear, it's been said that anything of import can be sealed with the fruit of a good Benden white." she peers up at Cymri, the edges of her eyes crinkled gently. the wine is pushed toward the trader, but her hand doesn't leave it. "Are you equal to the task this next generation brings?"

Cymri continues to gaze placidly at Gamma, unruffled, and seems just a bit surprised or confused by the sudden gravity and the last question. Slowly, then, she nods, but offers only, "I am who I am, and can offer no more, no less. It is not my place to decide that worth, not in your eyes." This said, she begins to reach across the table and pauses, feeling the need to warn, "I've no authority from Alanis." Indeed, she knows her rank, "But I can ... /will/ speak to her, and -- if she refuses still (which I should certainly hope not) I, at least, will give my share of tithe." That, at least, she can promise. Brown eyes continue a steady regard, long-fingered hand neither reaching closer nor drawing back.

Gamma glances at Idris, then Shiana, barest hint of a smile slipping almost sensually over her lips before she rests her eyes on the trader again. "That is all Igen Weyr and /I/ can ask of you, Cymri" She releases the glass then raises her own. "Let us drink on it, then, with the finest Benden in our stores. As long as i am Weyrwoman, Cymri, you will be well met at Igen Weyr."

Gaze passing over the other two as well, Cymri nods almost imperceptibly at Gamma's title. By now, she'd certainly figured as much. A pleased smile reaches her eyes, and she takes the glass at last, tipping it carefully towards /Weyrwoman/ Gamma, "Certainly. And I would welcome trade or tithing with any of you at any time." Riders are certainly great to have on one's side, and they tend to be interesting people as well... "To the future then." She smiles, "And to clear skies."

Gamma grins now, a wide, comfortable thing of beauty and and warmth. "To a future of clear skies." She drinks, places the glass on the table and smiles, crassing her hand over her lap. "Now. I would like to inquire about an item we seem to be in short supply of and of another thing. Last cold season, we ran out of klah. It was unpleasant to say the least." She grimaces, remembering the irate riders she had to contend with.

Cymri takes a sip, enjoying the taste of what clearly is a good vintage. Then, she blinks, "Did you really?" Her voice is interested, "Something I could seldom imagine..." She frowns slightly, thinking, and then looks up with a smile, "Well, I'll check into things and see, but we should be able to set you up with plenty. How soon should you need more? And about how much?" She quickly figures their current stock and known suppliers... She may not drink much klah, but she certainly has seen it's effect (or rather, the lack-of-klah effect) on many a person...

Languidly strait, fine auburn locks veil superbly heart-shaped chin, cloaking rich garnet-almandine orbs placed neath so delicate a brow, so plain and average a face: golden tinted porcelain skin, offset by ruddy rose lipline, full and supple, masked by the shade of chestnut ruby with the streaks of vermilion fire. Youthfully frail physique, endowed with little or no muscle, made up for by the smooth, mature curve of bust to hip; though sickly slim, with extremities rounded to perfection, even plain face marks her as average, normal - neither hideous nor lovely. Simple, and in that ease comes hidden key of strength, however childish the lissome sinews may be - locked away behind the abrupt door of uneven development.

Scarlet melded betwixt affluent swirls of royal purple hangs from the small, skin-and-bones frame: garb accents the garnet stain of large sphereical eyes, hints at a healthier tone behind the ghostly pale ivory. Smoothly finished brown boots slant up curve of ankle to calf, sturdy yet pliable, sustaining yet delicate.

Outline of a young woman scampers after the pristine firelizard whose entrance preceeded Hesper's own; shifting scowl combined with a concentrating knot of brow traces the path left in the sand in the green's wake, then follows physically, with neither a smile nor a nod to indicate recognition of the others' presence.

Idris thinks about it. "Hmmm. I'd have to double-check to be certain, but I know that with the latest batxch of weyrlings we definitely need much more leather and hide. Soon? Well, we need them as soon as possible. Although some can come in monthly stages, I think. The stores are not /too/ bare. Yet."

Asa weaves through various forestlike clusters of table legs, avoiding her pet with ease and fluidity of a long experience with doing so. Hes darts among the miniature wood pillars in pursuit, though far behind the darting green form.

Gamma nods. "Shiani? Didn't we run out of bandages last threadfall we flew and had to go the distance to Crom for more? What of healer supplies? Numbweed?" She glances Hesper-ward, raising a brow, this one new to her of late. Still, the knot on her shoulder indicates a trader's vocatio but Igen Weyr residency. Leaning in toward Idris she bobs her head at the new arrival and and raises her brow. Does Idris know her?

Cymri nods quickly, keeping mental track, "Will do. And send a message if you think of something else." She smiles and tosses back offhandedly, "Or stop by." Then, clearing her throat, she murmurs, "Of course, one of you will need to seal the arrangements with Alanis as well, but I'll certainly relay what we've discussed." Now, she looks closer at Hesper and offers a bright, "Hello!" Yes, yes, she's still in a good mood today.

Cymri nods at Shiana, "Now that's a good question...I'm not sure, since I must speak to Alanis and I need your...estimates of quantity needed? But, I'd expect within a sevenday or so, should things go as smoothly as I hope. If all works well, we may certainly hope for sooner." Unfortunately, rank again calls, and that's the best she can offer. But, standing up suddenly, Cymri sets her still mostly-full glass of wine on the table and smiles apologetically, "I'm afraid I'd best head back, while I can still see the paths well. And, of course, we all should probably get to our dinners soon." Yes, ulterior motives -- she's hungry!

Gamma tilts a head and purses her lips, then glances at Cymri, "You know. You'd be a great asset to the weyr. Have you ever considered settling in a weyr? Perhaps trading from that standpoint?" she glances at Idris, then Shina, "A weyr like.. ooh.. igen, prhaps?"

Cymri blinks, looking completely surprised, "Well.. I never thought.." She cuts herself off, preventing babbling, and simply nods, flattered smile appearing. She could use a bit of a move anyway. Then, smarts kicking in, she asks, "Just what would my position be?"

Cymri looks quite happy, indeed. Good mood turns even brighter. With a hasty swallow and a nod to first Idris then Gamma, she 'calmly' accepts, "Oh, yes, certainly." Looking back and forth between everyone, she quickly adds, "Thanks!"

Gamma laughs, snapping her fingers at a drudge. "Please be sure to show Cymri where she can settle in when she returns. Thank you, dear." She nods at Cymri. "Fair skies and a safe return to you, dear. Welcome to Igen Weyr."

Smooth stone walls soar to create a natural cavern, pockets and niches in the rock providing ready-made spots for glowbaskets; when open, a cheery light illuminates the dorms. Cots abound, coupled with a small clothespress near the foot and quilts foled at the base of each bed in a myraid of colors. Modest draperies section off the room, and plush rugs cover the stone floor. Belongings of some residents scatter aimlessly: a child's playthings, a scarf, a partnerless boot, and other various items, all indications of an oft used dorm.