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Diedre frowned at Euclid weyrhold as they entered. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting from the new establishment, this hybrid of Hold and Weyr that held to the traditions of neither. Definitely something more anarchic, though. Not this... normalcy.

Diedre had been in many holds in her time as a Trader. Outside them too, and in Weyrs as well. This place was... different. But it was also familiar.

“Father, I will go on ahead and secure a place for our caravans to set up shop.” she said, turning to the older man.

“You do that, Didi.” he said, grinning lasciviously at an attractive woman as he helped to unload one of the carts, “Its what you're good at.”

Yes. It is. thought Diedre. She was sure that the man had many positive traits and he was clearly a solid leader of this caravan. She just had no idea what his good traits were and where he was hiding them. She had never liked the man, with the trail of half siblings he left in his wake. He wasn't her style of person. She did like the life, though, which was why she had come with him two turns ago after the hatching that had stolen her brother away... not stolen, she corrected, called. To a higher line of duty

Didn't matter. She'd left the weyr alone, and she'd had to deal with life without the bright, shining light that was her brother. She'd managed. It helped that he was alive and well, though his letters were infrequent.

She was managing. The town square was ahead – she made her way to it...

Diedre surveyed it, her mind plotting out where to put the members of her caravan – and their wares – for the best effect and easiest convenience to the customer. It was an art, one that her father – hedonist though he was – and his men had down, and which she and Shenja... Sh'en... had picked up as they went. It was automatic for her now to start arranging things in her mind, piecing together the marketplace they would bloom like an ephemeral flower in this strange town.

She was looking for the next step – finding whoever it was she needed to find to secure permission – when a man with a black dragon came up to her. She looked him over.

A dragon rider, which instantly set him above the others in her mind, and likely to know things about this weyr... hold... thing. Good.

She gave him a professional, cool, but honest smile – a slight one, more than she had had two years ago, but still slightly stilted and awkward. Shenja was the smiling one.

“Hello.” she said, inclining her head in greeting, “I am Diedre, coordinator for my father's caravan. Do you live here?”

“Ah. Well it is nice to meet you, Mi'ca and Turoth.” she paused, “And, actually it was: I need to make sure that my caravan can use this space unhindered.” She looked over the square, “It looks fairly empty. We shouldn't have a problem.”

At first, when she'd first had to talk officially and professionally without her brother, it had been difficult. People came easy to Shenja and the boy had had a way with words. Diedre, however, liked numbers and inventory, but in the two turns that she had had to make do without her brother, she had discovered that she could talk to people.

It was, however, still awkward.

“This place...” she gestured to the buildings and the square, implying the whole of Euclid weyrhold, “It's fairly new, isn't it?”

No objections? Good. Honestly, Diedre could think of only a few reasons why a hold would not want traders about, especially one as out of the way and new as this one. Besides, they'd sent ahead a scout, and theoretically that should have settled things.

Not that it always did, which was why she had to check. “You're sure?” she asked, surveying the spot.

Didi, just take him at his word said the imagined voice that sounded a lot like Shenja sometimes, the little voice that laughed at her and goaded her in his stead. Relax and talk with someone for a change.

She compromised.

“You've been here since it's beginning.” she said, partially to herself, “So I suppose that what you say is probably true.”

Loosen up. Its not good for you to be so stiff. chided her imaginary voice.

“Would you mind coming with me then and making sure for yourself?” she asked. It was a compromise. “I just like to be sure.”

“You probably won't have to worry.” she said, walking towards the caravan. Her flit, Markscout, looked up from where her father was feeding him and called out a greeting. She almost smiled.

“So. Didi.” her father called out. He was a handsome man, in a dark-haired way, smooth of jaw with a carefully trimmed beard and moustache. “How goes?”

“Seems all right.” she called back.

He nodded, gesturing to the rest of the caravan, who began to file to the square to set up their wares. “Whos this, Didi?” he asked as she came closer, inclining his head to Mi'ca. “New friend?” it was sarcastic: Diedre did not make friends easily.

“This is Mi'ca of Black Turoth. He is a rider here, and he's going to check our wares.” said Diedre.

Her father shook his head and shrugged. “Our wares are all legal and of good condition.... Sorry about my girl.” he said, “She's a little pedantic... takes after her mother.”

Diedre glared at him. “I simply like to make sure of things, father...”

The man smirked at Diedre's scowl. “Anyway, rider. What can we do for you?” he looked Mi'ca over, “We've got clothes, good cloth. Treated against water and great at keeping the heat in... perfect for flying in the weather here.”

Diedre and her father exchanged a brief look. No marks did limit things, but...

“Information will do for something.” said her father, “At least for a cape or... have you eaten today?” he smiled, “Who is the leader here?” he asked, “What are they like?”

Markscout hopped onto Diedre's shoulder and gave her a croon.

Cheer up! I'm fed!

She pet the little creature and glared at her father. Yes, information went a long way, and was as valuable a commodity as the good they carried, but a cape?! One of their capes? That was going too far. Sometimes she could see where her brother got his attitude towards life, and she personally felt that Sh'en pulled it off better.

She missed him.

“Father...” She'd asked those questions already. But of course, he kept going because why would he listen to his successor? He never had before. “Father, don't bother him so...”