Rigel 2

[Silent Sources]

Sheldon dressed for the dinner at the Arch Duke’s with some care. The reason for his care was that he’d been told the object of his need would be in attendance. There had to be a way to get her to see him in a positive light, especially since he would be all she had once the Colonel was dead.

Sheldon stood before the mirror giving critical study to his image. He cuffed S’Djaar for a bit of lint he found on his jacket. “I thought you said this was ready for tonight?”

S’Djaar blinked and picked up the clothes brush, working quickly to remove the lint, and any number of other unseen fibers before Sheldon could spot them. The way the man treated his clothing, it was a miracle the jacket didn’t have a tear in it somewhere.

Finally the Prince swept from the room leaving S’Djaar to clean up before his return. S’Djaar was however not alone and the woman who’d been the day servant to the Prince peered from behind a door, “Has he gone?”

S’Djaar nodded, and motioned for her to come out. They would have the evening together before the Prince returned, and undoubtedly the man would be deeply in his cups, if he was able to walk at all.

The maid giggled as she moved into the circle of S’Djaar’s arms. She had promised to garner as much information on the Prince’s activities as she could, but there was nothing in the contract that said she couldn’t enjoy the task.

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

They entered the car just as the suns were setting, and Azjah’s pale blue gaze studied the brilliant display out over the sea at the moment. The star that served as the Rigelian world’s primary sun has several names, the most common ones being Beta Ori, Beta Orionis, and Rigel. It gives its name to the fourth planet in the solar system that is home to the people of the Rigelian Empire. From RhyDin, the star is found at Right Ascension 05h 14m 32.272s, declination −08° 12′ 05.91″. This blue supergiant is 17 times the size of the RhyDinian sun, and it shines with approximately 40,000 times the luminosity of the RhyDinian sun. It is an impressive star from nearly any vantage point in the sector that produced the Rigelian people. Impressive star, impressive accomplishments were two things that played in Azjah’s thoughts during the ride. She reached for Wil’s hand without looking at him.

This star climbs into the Rigelian skies accompanied by its binary counterpart, giving the two sun look that most Rigelians see when they chance to look skyward. Both stars forever entwined in an optical double, though one star significantly outshines the other. It was then that Azjah glanced at Wil who sat beside her with a confidence and ease that she could not summon. He was her Beta Orionis, without a doubt, and she half smiled, wondering what he would think of such a comparison.

Like the sun that gives the Rigelian people life, the people themselves have some impressive statistics. Azjah rode in silence toward Grand Duke Asher’s home; she was contemplating the events that even now were conspiring to shape her life. The events before them could be impressive, but impressive in which direction? Impressively good for Rigel and for Wil? Or impressively bad for one or both? She glanced at Beta Orionis as it slipped finally below the horizon of the sea.

She considered that the only other star nearby that was more powerful was Deneb. A cold shudder slithered down her spine. Deneb, also known as Alpha Cygni is the 19th brightest star in the Rhydinian night sky. This white super giant is about 60,000 times brighter than the RhyDin sun, and 200 times the diameter of their sun. It shines very brightly, but very wastefully too.

Deneb as a star was however a variable sun, which showed as well in the people who called it home. Variable, cyclic, and even slightly unpredictable; just like the Baron who had come to bid for her. Just the place someone like Raavich would call home. An unsteady place, filled with shifting starlight and even shiftier people. An involuntary shiver slithered down her spine as she thought about that world.

Azjah frowned as she considered the constellation of Volans……it was a shortened term for flying fish, or flying thing, and it certainly fit the Prince. A cold, slimy fish that flew in to bid for her titles and resources before slithering back into a world known for its lack of society or its place in a wider cosmos. Distant, barbaric, a place she had absolutely no interest in going under any circumstances. But, if events conspired against them, a place she might one day be forced to call home.

The car pulled into the drive leading to Grand Duke Asher’s home and Azjah glanced once more up at the brilliant star known as Alpha Cygni. She pulled the cloak close about herself and whispered, “Neither one, not now, not ever.” Then she glanced at Wil and forced a smile to her features, “Shall we?”

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

Baumann simply shook his head. There wasn’t much he could say to Tornach’s daughter about her plans to sail. If she wanted to take that boat out, she would do just that, and he thought by now that Notheisen would recognize it. He sent word to the security chief to make the Calypso ready to sail. Lord Kendrick was nowhere near Festungsmauer, and a few days to themselves would be good for Azjah. Fulco would simply have to do whatever he deemed necessary to make that happen.

He then notified the sailboat’s captain to be ready to sail in the next day or so. Azjah had left him an itinerary for the trip. She would leave the harbor and make a course southwest toward the Curaçao atolls first, then come about and make west-northwest for Acheron, where they were scheduled to make anchor and spend an evening on the beach of the palm bearing private island. From there, the schedule had them sailing back to Festungsmauer. All in all, it should take them three days to complete the circuit. Four if they stayed longer on Acheron.

Baumann sent word to the chef to prepare for the trip, as well as advising the Captain that there would be two guests with the Marchioness, Fulco wouldn’t allow her to go without at least Dominik, and perhaps another. It would be a small crew, but they’d been in the family long enough that Baumann did not give them a second thought.

The Calypso was moored in the Festungsmauer harbor at the end of Pier 4. Danaan vessels had moored there for centuries. It was deep water, though the Calypso, at 34 meters was large for a personal sailing yacht, she was not like the vessel that had exploded and slain Ozeana and Tornach. She is an elegant craft designed and built for speed. She’d had her shake down sail after the replacement of her keel and the Marconi rigged ketch sat waiting for the first long distance outing of the year. There had been no further modifications after the outing; the crew had deemed her ready to sail in all seas. So for now, Calypso sat moored to the pier ready for the day run to Curaçao. The waters would be warm this time of year, and with any luck, the whales would be migrating through those waters as they headed for the northern seas with new calves.

The Mainsail and Jib were clearly marked as Triberg owned, as was the bow of the vessel. The family crest adorned both sails in full color with supporters. To approach such a marked vessel without proper authorization was to court serious trouble. At sea, such an approach could result in the use of deadly force with no recourse for the violators. Since the explosion of the Sea Caper nearly 15 years ago, Fulco had seen to it the Danaan vessels were capable of such self defense, and that the crew members were well trained in the use of such weapons. But, the kind of incident that caused the Sea Caper explosion wasn’t the kind of enemy that you could shoot out of the water. He frowned. Piracy had virtually been eliminated on Rigel. Kidnapping and assassination had not been eliminated.

Fulco stood on the main deck of the ketch as she rode the faint ripple of the surface from passing craft. He’d been over the sail boat three times and couldn’t find anything amiss. He posted watch before departing for the Haus. Baumann had interviews set up for the next day, and he needed one last look at the profiles of the candidates.

[Silent Sources]

The Merchant was checking the locks on his room when the electronic message arrived telling him to return to Triberg Haus in the morning for another interview. He turned off the lighting and headed for his bed with a smile. With any luck, tomorrow would see him made a member of the household. He was one step closer to accomplishing his task and getting off this rock.

It would be too risky to contact Margit while he was there. He would have a message delivered for her to meet him after his interview. That would be soon enough to collect the information he would need to get around the house unseen.

Then there was Othmar. The man had to die, the only question was when to do that job. The sooner the better to prevent him from talking to his other pharmacological friends, but if anything went wrong; it could jeopardize his primary objective. He frowned. Tomorrow was soon enough to decide.

[Silent Sources]

Margit sat in her room in utter confusion. Something ate at her, but she couldn’t identify what it was. It felt as though someone had just cut out a part of her memory, and it was that feeling that had her on edge. Could that really be done? Could someone just remove her thoughts like that??

She paced the confines of her rooms. “Something important ….. something important.” She chewed on her fingernails until they were down to nothing. That had been a habit of hers until she got to the city and was taught that chewing ones fingernails was a bad thing to do. She glanced at her now destroyed nails and threw both hands into the air. “I’ve forgotten something very important, I know it!”

She glanced at her surroundings. They were all familiar. Everything was as it should be except…… This was going to nag her to death. What was she forgetting?

She picked up a sheet of paper that lay on the floor nearly hidden by her dust ruffle. It was a print out of something, but every time she tried to read it, she had stabbing pain spear through her brain. At length, she tossed the paper into the trash. She would get some rest, maybe tomorrow she would remember.