Rigel 2

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

A car pulled into the long drive of Triberg Haus. It was a hired car, and the doorman met it as it rolled to a stop. There had been no notices of expected guests, but now that word had spread that the Marchioness was in residence, it was not going to be long before the Ton would be seeking her presence in the public events.

An elderly man alighted from the vehicle and made his way toward the entrance, informing the doorman that Baron Stefano of Deneb requests a few moments of the Marchioness’ time, if such were convenient. The time was bordering on being too late in the day for an unannounced visitor, but he had made it just before it would be gauche in the extreme.

The Baron’s card was laid onto a silver tray and carried to the Library, where Fulco’s man knocked before opening the door.

Azjah’s already pale appearance went completely white as she read the name on the calling card. She handed it to Wil without a word, but her hand trembled as she held it out to him. At length she said, “Would you see him in my stead?” Her voice was barely audible, even to Wil and held a pleading note that was most unusual for Azjah to invoke.

Meanwhile, the Baron remained in the foyer, awaiting his summons. He was certain the Marchioness could gain him access to the Colonel.

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

Dominik remained deep within the labyrinthine network of passages. Well protected from the twin suns of Rigel, and virtually undetectable for the time being. Hunger had been growing while he had been here on Rigel. It was something he had not expected to feel simply by moving out of RhyDin and here to Rigel. Planetary travel had never affected him like this in the past. Down here, he was well away from too close a proximity to the incessant heartbeats of the humanoids in the house.

He listened though; to words spoken, and thoughts unspoken as he waited for the next hint of trouble to come. He knew without question that one failed attempt on the Colonel was not the end of the story. It was only a matter of time before another replaced the woman.

The staff was abuzz regarding the annulment. Apparently such a thing was so rare among the nobility here that it garnered a huge portion of today's talk. Mostly he ignored the chatter as immaterial, until a whisper caught his attention. 'the Kaiser, rot his soul, granted the annulment, but promised her to the Colonel who arrived with her, but the Volans prince isn't going to take that laying down, I promise you that.'

Dominik focused intently on that voice. Was it supposition, or did she know something concrete? He knew where his first feeding of the evening was coming from tonight.

[Wil Savage]

It should have been a time of celebration. Instead, the ride back to Triberg Haus was solemn, with both Azjah and Wil deep in thought. She wanted to leave Rigel, but he wasn’t convinced that was the best idea – not yet. If she left now she’d be a fugitive of her own homeland and have to give up DWI and everything else she has loved and has given her life meaning and pleasure. Sure, they could easily get out of reach of the Kaiser, but she would be starting all over with nothing. He could see that as only a last resort. So he told her that they would stay.

When Azjah whispered, “I don’t know if this helps, but I love you. What you did in there saved my life, but what has it done to yours?” he just looked into her eyes and smiled. It helped more than she knew. “All will be fine,” he replied as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “The largest obstacle is past; now we just have a few little bumps in the road to navigate.” He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss, and then they went back to their thoughts for the remainder of the ride. At this point those “little bumps” were literally mountains. He chose not to tell her about the I.I.S.C., at least not yet. That revelation would be best at another time.

Upon entering Triberg Haus Wil immediately went to the Marquess’ suite, took out his digi-pad and lit up a cigarette. He had fifteen minutes to delete the scheduled transmission – close, but still plenty of time. He deleted the message but scheduled another; one that would be automatically sent in thirty days this time. If he should suddenly turn up dead, his promise to the Kaiser would still be kept. Azjah would not be marrying Prince Sheldon. There would be a major change in the ruling families – on all three planets. He still had to contact I.I.S.C. Headquarters, but that message would require considerable thought, and right now he was tired of politics.

Savage then changed into more comfortable clothing and fully equipped himself with his weapons. He would not underestimate his enemies, and they had better not underestimate him. He left his room, locked it behind him, and then went down to the library where he expected the Marchioness to be. Wil opened the library door and stood there a few moments, seeing Baumann and Azjah in conversation. He stepped in further and Baumann bowed as he passed the colonel to exit the library and leave Wil and Azjah alone.

Wil walked up to Azjah, stood beside her and laid his hand on her shoulder. He wished they could just go back to simpler times. He had come to love Azjah deeply, and it hurt to have to witness the humiliation she had endured this morning. He would not forget what was done or who did it. At that point a knock came on the door and Fulco’s man came in with a card on a silver tray. Wil looked at the card and saw that it was Baron Stefano who was calling.

“Would you see him in my stead?” Azjah asked.

Wil nodded, “Of course.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and left the library to meet with the Baron.

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

When Wil had walked through the doors, Azjah had the distinct impression that nothing in the world could be wrong. She wasn’t used to the sweeping sensation of relief, for that is what it felt like, just because someone came through the doors. But Wil engendered an aura of calm confidence that offset her badly jangled nerves. He gave her a heart melting smile before walking across the library and stepping up behind her, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder. It was not an intimate sort of caress, but it sent a wave of warmth through Azjah’s blood. She hadn’t realized just how cold she had been during the ordeal that still hadn’t completely become real to her.

She was no fool, Wil’s assurance on the ride home that the largest obstacle was past and that they only face a few little bumps was grossly understated. She needed to know more about the I.I.S.C. and so far, Wil had been disinclined to speak about them in any substantive manner. It would be up to her to research as much as she could, until he chose to tell her more. She knew that he’d vanished with several billion platinums of company prototype space craft, and they were going to want it back. The question was, what else would they demand once he contacted them?

Azjah was relieved that Wil had agreed to go deal with the Baron from Deneb. She did not think she would ever be able to deal in a rational manner with the place or anyone from there, ever again. “Damn Raavich!” She gave a wry half laugh; he was dead, and in all likelihood, indeed in some kind of hell. Yet still he haunted her. Probably always would, and for that, she wished him eternal torment.

She had not returned to her work as she pondered what the Baron could possibly want, and why would he come here? Her skin literally crawled at the idea of going to find out. Wil would tell her.

She focused once more on the screen in front of her. She keyed in her secure systems ID. “I.I.S.C., Interplanetary Intelligence and Security Commission,” she told the interface.

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

There was nearly instantaneously a flood of information that scrolled into view. Where to start? She selected an overview link to start with in the flood of data files available to her. Granted, most of this was simply public knowledge files, but it was a good place to start.

She activated the file on the history of the I.I.S.C. The synthesized voice began…The Interplanetary Intelligence and Security Commission, also known as I.I.S.C., was the logical outcome of trans-galactic trading once civilizations were able to go beyond ordinary light speed travel. Until light speed limitations were overcome, the trade zones were limited to neighboring planets and close star systems. Such trade was useful for its time.

Once it became possible to expand into the more distant reaches of space, the trade zones grew exponentially. Giant trade organizations, like S.E.C.T.O.R. and Space Freight grew very powerful, and ultimately very unruly. The dangers of folding space and time created the need for established space lanes. Before the initiation of the I.I.S.C., these lanes often collided with small objects right up to rather large solar entities. A need became clear for an organization that could establish safe trade routes, and monitor those routes and the organizations using them to assure fluid and stable flow of goods, services, and people.

The establishment of the trade lanes led to collisions between the interests of the growing trader organizations, and the inhabitants of some of the proposed trade route requirements. The I.I.S.C. was established as the governing organization to keep the trade organizations in check, and to establish trade routes, sometimes through inhabited systems and against the effected planet’s inhabitants wishes. Relocation of civilizations in the way of the trade lanes was at the discretion of the I.I.S.C. after investigation and evaluation.

This mandate that saw the birth of the I.I.S.C. included the removal of planets, and sometimes civilizations, that were in the routes the trade lanes needed. To remove entire planets and stars required massive energy expenditures, and the destruction of an inhabited planet was not to be taken lightly. The I.I.S.C. developed and constructed the Descimator Class ships to accomplish this need for clear space lanes to permit the manipulation of space and time safely. The Descimator is actually built around a neutron star, and uses mass/energy conversion to garner the power required to turn a planet into harmless space dust.

Descimator class ships are huge, and convert the mass of the neutron star into incredible power, but the cost of this research and development was very high. The I.I.S.C. needed revenues to do the work, and found that resource in being the governing body that stands between the Trade companies and the planets. Nearly all established trade lanes had some form of obstruction in the proposed path that required the use of Descimators. In addition to clearing the trade lanes, the I.I.S.C. was made responsible for approving or denying establishment of trade routes.

Greed became a serious impediment to life on favored routes and resulted in the deaths of several civilizations. There are many accounts of large trade companies destroying inhabited systems because it was the cheapest and easiest route available to the trade organizations. It is unknown how many civilians died in these early planetary demolition activities.

The I.I.S.C. recruits the finest talents from all regions of space. The organization is very difficult to gain admission to as an employee, and employees are carefully screened for their ability to maintain a code of silence about I.I.S.C. activities and projects. Due to the very sensitive nature of the I.I.S.C. work, informational leaks cannot be tolerated. Failure to conform to the silence codes carries harsh penalty. However, great burden rests on these agents as well. Their decisions can affect the lives, and deaths of entire planets. This makes them both highly sought after on planets and systems seeking entry into the trade system, as well as garners death threats and assassinations from others. I.I.S.C. agents are notoriously difficult to call friends, and they do not generally remain long in one place.

I.I.S.C. agents and operatives roam the universe in far flung regions of space. The distances between outposts are so great that special space craft are required to make these journeys. The shipping guilds have the only craft capable of covering these distances, and are charged with the transportation of everything from goods to space craft to people.

Azjah stopped the recitation on the I.I.S.C. history. Wil still had not returned from meeting with Baron Stefano, and she was beginning to wonder what was keeping him. She opened several other links with generic information on the Security Commission. None of this was going to tell her what she wanted to know. She needed access to their computer systems and informational files. That would be more difficult, but every system has weaknesses.

Azjah went suddenly very still as realization dawned. She sent the search back to the historiography about agents and hiring requirements. The synthesized voice repeated: Due to the very sensitive nature of the I.I.S.C. work, informational leaks cannot be tolerated.” Azjah stopped the information playback there.

“Dominik,” she breathed the name more that actually saying it.

The Dragonseeker materialized in the library almost as soon as she’d completed his name. “It would be better for your Colonel were it never common knowledge that we make up a part of your household.” Dominik’s words were Spartan at best, and even now, he did not waste time on niceties before stating that which Azjah had also concluded.

“The fact that he has strong psionic shields suggests that they try to keep out those with my skills. But it is probable that they also realize there are races out there quite capable of tearing down those shields and accessing the information he has. Whether they know that Carpathians are capable of such action, I cannot say at this time. However, given the nature of their work, if they do not know it immediately, they would probably contain those details in their databanks.”

It was clear that Dominik was reading Azjah’s thoughts.

The door to the library opened once more, and Wil returned from his meeting with the Baron from Deneb.

Dominik gave Wil a formal bow before fading from view.

[Silent Sources]

The trick would be gaining entry into the house. Without that kind of access, using the poison would be nearly impossible. ‘The Merchant’ made his way through the capital city. His mind on the task at hand as he mentally made a list of things that would need to be in place to assure an escape from this realm and not an execution.

He grinned slightly, well, at least not an execution of himself.

The public shuttles were too risky, and would deposit him on other Rigelian holdings. It would have to be private transport. With what the Volan’s prince was paying him, even that seemed like small change. He paused outside an employment firm. The Prince had said there would be a shortage in the valet department, perhaps……..

He stepped inside, pausing to read the openings available. The ultimate employer was not listed, but he did find several openings for valets. He approached the woman at the terminal. Before long, she was singing like a bird. Some skills were very useful. They did have an opening, four in fact. It didn’t take him long to ‘persuade’ the girl to include him in the list of hopefuls. He gave her an alias and promised to check in with her in the morning. Explaining that he’d not had a chance yet to find lodgings.

He disappeared into the flow of traffic and made his way back to his current abode.

[Silent Sources]

Wolfgang sat in his private study. Glee was mixed with trepidation as he considered the proposal made by the I.I.S.C. Colonel. An HTS would do more for Rigelian interests than anything else he could imagine. This was simply too good to be true. He dug into some of the other known systems that had such stations, studied their histories and how the placement of these trade centers had altered those worlds. It was ubiquitous. Every system had skyrocketed in terms of status, economy, and power.

And now, that potential had been offered to him! The only concern was whether or not they would ratify the recommendations of Colonel Savage. He frowned as he reviewed the economic indicators of other systems. What if they denied his recommendation? He couldn’t think of a valid reason to deny it, but what if?

Perhaps it was time to play host to the Colonel. ‘Invite’ him to stay in the Imperial Palace. Besides, it would not look good to have him living at Triberg Haus in 43 days. At least if his offer became a reality. He sent a message to his Seneschal to have an Imperial invitation sent to the Colonel. Better to keep him close for now.

He could send Baron Stefano off with the daughter of Count Briganti. She had just had her coming out, and she was not painful to look at. She was young enough to be malleable and had a modest dowry. That should appease the Baron. Besides, if the Baron did not want her for a wife, she would be a fine treat to dangle before some of his vassals.

Now, Volans, what to do with Sheldon?

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

Die Büße

‘Buße für Sünde.’ Azjah fairly choked on those words. The cleric who stood before her now would never marry, would never know the reality of what he so diligently lectured her about now. Penalty for Sin, just what ‘sin’ was she supposed to be guilty of anyway?

“Eine Frauenaufgabe ist erste zu ihrem Ehemann.“ He paused to look at her with suspicion at that point.

She bit down on her tongue. Of course a woman’s first responsibility was to her husband, but what about a husband’s responsibility to his wife? She schooled her features and nodded dutifully. The sooner they were convinced she understood her role, the sooner they would let her go. Women’s rights were not her purpose for being here right now.

„Diese Annullierung ist ein Beispiel Ihres Versagens.” The cleric gave her a cold look, as though it was through her failing that this marriage had been destroyed.

She clenched her jaws together tightly. Somehow it seemed fitting that The Religion would find a way to blame the woman, no matter the circumstances. Her failing bedamned!

“Erfahren Sie von Ihrer Ausfallen, dass Sie eine bessere Frau zukünftig sind.“ He closed the sacred book that he had been dutifully reading from before looking at Azjah.

It took a great deal of effort for Azjah to conclude her meeting with the cleric, but at length she said, “Ich tue mein Bestes, um Erfolg zuzusichern.” What she really wanted to say would have shocked the cleric beyond redemption. She left the chapel and returned to Triberg Haus.

As she stalked through the door, Baumann suppressed a smile as he heard her muttering. They would do their very best to break Tornach’s daughter, but they were all in for a very big surprise.

“Wo sagte Gott überhaupt, dass Männer verantwortlich waren?“ She tossed the light silk wrap in the direction of one of the household maids, “Großspurig Idioten.” She made her way up the stairs still fuming. She had 29 more days of this insanity, and a part of her was uncertain whether she would be able to remain obedient and obsequious enough to make that arrogant fool think she had done proper penance. Proper penance, the very notion grated on her nerves.

[Wil Savage]

It was a crossroads. No, worse than that. More like a juncture. It was one of those points in time when you could chose only one of several courses of action, and you knew that any choice you made would set your life forever on a completely different path. The worst part was that a few of those “forever paths” had very short “forevers”.

Wil sat in the Marquess’ suite which was feeling no more like home to him than when he had first entered it several days before. It was too large a room to think properly in. Thinking should be done in small spaces with little distractions. This was a huge space with continuous distractions. Wil had locked the door to keep all the well-meaning servants out. The secret passage door (which evidently every servant knew about) was locked. Even the damned windows were locked. Wil paced the room and tried to play out every scenario in his mind.

His ship was now within the Rigel star system, cloaked and ready to be used. He and Azjah could be off this planet in an hour, but she would be giving up everything of her past and he didn’t like that scenario. He could forget about his deal with the Kaiser, let ol’ Prince Sheldon marry Azjah, and then kill the prince. That had a certain appeal, but the thought of seeing Azjah stand at the altar with 'Shelly boy' was just too damned repulsive. On the other hand, if he went through with the deal and contacted I.I.S.C. headquarters to try to swing an HTS Rigel, it would open up an entirely new set of equally disturbing alternatives.

At worst, they’d deny his request, kill him, and Azjah would have to spend the rest of her days in Sheldon’s monkey land. Wil decided that was a pretty bad “worst” and probably should try to be avoided. Only slightly better was the same scenario but with him incarcerated in an I.I.S.C. prison for the rest of his life. A third scenario would be that he would be permitted to return to I.I.S.C. employ, but they would deny his request and Azjah would still be marrying 'Mr. Volans'. The fourth scenario, and by far the least likely, was that the I.I.S.C. would be so happy to have their agent and their ship back (not necessarily in that order), that they would grant the HTS request and he would get to marry Azjah in a month. “Why is the probability of success always disproportional to the desire of the outcome?” Wil wondered as he lit the last cigarette in the pack of cigarettes he had opened only that morning.

His negotiating skills were about to be put to the test as never before. So much depended on his explanation to his superiors. This had to be worded just right.

There was a knock on the door.

“Go away!” he shouted.

“Sir, you’re presence is required,” came a voice from the other side of the door that was so weak you almost had to strain to hear it.

“I’m not home!”

“Sir, it’s a message from the Kaiser.”

“Kaiser who? Dammit!”

“Kaiser Wolfgang, sir,” came the incredulous and barely audible reply.

Wil mutter a curse and went to the door and unlocked it. “Where’s the message?”

“Here, sir. The emissary is in the lobby waiting for you.”

A silver tray was held out. On it was an envelope with the Kaiser’s seal. Wil snatched the envelope, broke the seal and read the Kaiser’s message. “Son-of-a . . .” Wil dropped his hands to his side and turned his head back to his room in disbelief. The Kaiser was inviting him to reside in the royal palace until all matters were resolved. “Come in and take a message,” he said to the servant. He set a paper and pen on the desk and had the servant write down his words.

“To Your Majesty, the Most Nobel and Gracious Kaiser Wolfgang, Emperor of Rigel. I am humbled that you would invite a mere I.I.S.C. representative into your royal residence. It is an honor bestowed upon me which I could have never imagined receiving.” Mostly because my mind isn’t nearly as damned bloody devious as yours. “Therefore you can imagine the immense regret that I feel to have to turn down such a gracious invitation.” In other words, take your invite and shove it up your butt. “If my I.I.S.C. superiors were to discover that I was residing in your palace, they would see it as a conflict of interest and immediately disqualify Rigel for consideration to host the new trade route. It is best that I remain here at Triberg Haus and conduct the negotiations from a place much more modest and removed from what could be considered, however wrongly, to be royal influence; and what could be more mundane than the home of a mere woman. In Your Service, Colonel William S. Savage.”

When the servant finished writing, Wil folded the reply and sealed it with wax from the desk. “Please give this to the Kaiser’s emissary.” The servant looked white as bleached sheets in the noonday sun, but he did as was asked. Wil locked the door once more and returned to the desk and pulled out the digi-pad that linked him with I.I.S.C. communications.

“Now for the matters that are important.”

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

Azjah had checked the library, and the gardens, but hadn’t seen Wil anywhere since her return from the Chapel. She’d moved some of her personal assets off world, just in case things went badly. She’d checked on DWI, and as usual, it was moving along. She finally headed for her father’s rooms, maybe he was there?

She paused before the door. There was silence on the other side of the door. She knocked lightly with one hand as the other held onto a small sphere in the pocket of her trousers. There were three there, somehow comforting in their simplicity.

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

Wil had settled in at the desk and had made up his mind what to say to General Lloyd Morningstar at I.I.S.C. Headquarters. He had a feeling that no matter what he said it wasn't going to make a difference. He didn’t have the heart to tell Azjah what was going to happen. She would oppose all that he was going to do if she knew, but he would make sure she won’t know until all is taken care of. He was going to make sure that she’d be free to live the kind of life that she deserved. Once contact was made, he’d have enough time to clean up loose ends.

There was no use delaying the inevitable. Wil Savage pulled out his digi-pad and began the identification sequence. It hummed to life.

[Computer on. Input code]

"Wil Savage. Agent 541. Interplanetary Intelligence and Security, Sector H-42, Code 44-98358-2209." His words were picked up by the digi-pad, coded, scrambled, and sent via interplanetary relay.

[Voice match.....confirmed.]

[Waiting]
"Open communications channel to I.I.S.C. General . . . "

A small knock came at the door.

Wil closed his eyes, laid his head back, and muttered a curse. “Never any damned peace in this place.” He shut down his digi-pad and slipped it into the desk draw.

“Coming!” he shouted out, not hiding the annoyance in his voice.

He unlocked the door and opened it, expecting to see another servant with another request to help him with something else he doesn’t want in the first place.

The woman he loved stood there before him.

“Azjah,” he said softly, pleasantly surprised.

The tone Wil used at her light knock was clearly one of severe annoyance. Something had him vexed and for a moment, she contemplated vanishing from the corridor to allow him to return to whatever he was doing since it was clear he did not appreciate the interruption.

The door opened and his expression was initially one of annoyance, but quickly softened when he saw her standing there. “I am sorry if I have intruded at an inopportune moment? I can come back later.” She didn’t want to come back later, she wanted a few minutes of peace and quiet with Wil.

He shook his head and she stepped closer, wrapping both arms about his waist, being careful not to crush the three spheres in her pocket between them. Her voice dropped to a soft whisper, “come away with me for a while.”

[Wil Savage]

The feel of Azjah’s arms around his waist seemed to draw off all the tension of the night and put everything in its proper perspective. The message to the I.I.S.C. headquarters could wait. Everything could wait. None of it was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

Wil wrapped his arms around Azjah at her shoulders and laid his cheek against her hair, and they stayed that way for several long moments. Then “Let’s go,” was all he said. Savage pulled the door closed behind him and locked it. He didn’t need to go back for his weapons for they were now always on him. There was nothing he needed but the touch of the woman whom he had come to love so deeply.

He didn’t ask where they were going, and it really didn’t matter. All he knew was that he needed this time with her, and that he didn’t expect to have many more of these opportunities.

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

Azjah smiled as he took her into his arms. The long minutes they stood there reassured her, but she could sense a dark weight on his mind. One that they would soon have to deal with she suspected, but not tonight.

He pulled the door closed and she kissed hs cheek, "Allow me to change? We are going outside, and I need a moment. I'll come to the library for you in a minute."

She shooed him down the stairs and made for her room. Baumann had sent staff ahead, the path was laid, all she needed to do was get there before Wil could.

She gave him about 10 minutes and then slipped down the hidden passages and hurried across the grounds toward the pine forest, hoping that Wil was not looking out the windows of the library.

Baumann would send him after her soon enough.

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

Baumann knocked solidly on the library door, and when Wil answered, he handed Wil a folded sheet of fine velum.

"My dearest Wil,

I have gone on ahead, and eagerly await your arrival.

Baumann will set you on the path, but I ask you to savor the journey.

All of my love, I shall see you at the end of the path.

ATD"


Baumann motioned for Wil to follow, and led him out a side door. The sun was long since set, and in the tree line, candles flickered.

"Follow the path lit by the candles, the Marchioness will be at the end.'

[Azjah von Drachen Walde]

Sardanapalian Seduction

Summer has arrived, and with it, the night warms to just slightly too balmy. Humidity rises with the advent of sweltering days and ever warmer nights as late afternoon rains bring needed water to thirsty plants. The lofty magnolia trees are at last bringing forth their extravagant creamy white ‘blossoms’ to perfume the moist, warm, night air just after the Summer’s solstice. And the air, in the absence of night breezes holds their scent as a lingering experience. The concealed life of the forest slowly crescendos into its nightly song as Darkness silently wraps her arms around the landscape, drawing all into a mysterious place quite separate from the daylight hours. Their arrival accompanies the appearance of the first stars in the blackened sky above.

The Song of the Night is ever changing as voices of crickets and cicadas open the evening’s performance. They are soon joined by the intermittent bass of the frogs, and ultimately overlain by the soft hoot of an owl as it sets off on the night’s hunt. Bats chirp in higher frequencies, tickling the edges of human hearing. Mice rustle the undergrowth of the forest, growing still and silent when the melodious hoot sounds above them. But overhead, the stars pay no heed to the song below them.

Gradually more stars join their early cousins, turning the velvet blackness into a glittering display of unparalleled magnificence. The giant splash of stars develops rapidly as the Milky Way. Venus stakes her claim in the obsidian sky. The moons, in waning crescent allow the dimmer stars to shine this night. The summer has arrived, and so the Hunter no longer dominates this sky. He is vanquished for now and waits his season on the sidelines of the stellar display. It is the time for Scorpius to dominate, and according to ancient legend, it was Scorpius who vanquished The Hunter in the pantheon of the gods, even as the constellation Scorpius now above has vanquished Orion to the edges of the horizon. Antares glitters brightly in subtle shades of yellow and orange, proclaiming the dominion of Scorpius for this moment, but his proclamation is ephemeral.




Drawing Wil’s gaze away from the splendor of the endless vault over head glimmer the smaller yellow, and orange star-fires, closer, more approachable, though no less numinous for their diminutive size. Candle flames flicker and dance in their sheltered glass lanterns. They dot the evergreen enclosed space, and form a path twinkling amidst the stately pine trees. When followed, the small bits of starlight lead’s Wil along a curving trail amidst the ancient pines, then past the enormous magnolia tree that lends its dulcet aroma to this night.

Wil’s passage disturbs momentarily the Song of the Night, but ahead of him as well as behind him, it resumes as though never interrupted by his passing. Only the space around him briefly grows still to remind him that this is not his world. He is a foreigner here; this world belongs to a wilder, less ‘civilized’ realm. Here life is meant to be lived in its immediacy, for it can oft be a fleeting adventure, and there is no time to waste on foolish actions or wasted moments. The Song of the Night is also the song of life.

‘Breathe in the gifts of the night’ soothingly coaxes the Darkness around him. ‘Wrap the scents of pine and magnolia around you as you make your way deeper into the flickering darkness.’ The night is redolent with sound and textures that at once tantalize and satiate the human senses. Overhead the tightly entwined tree branches slowly block out the glittering magnificence of infinity, and this world narrows to a more manageable realm as it embraces Wil’s entry here. This suddenly becomes a more intimate place as he is wrapped into the cocoon of the forest kingdom.

Pine needles accumulated for ages now soften the tread of footfalls as the lantern lights lead deeper into the trees, far away from ‘civilized’ things. No superfluous or dissonant sounds of humanity disturb the chorus of the night here. Hushed rustling of unseen creatures augments the cicadas’ songs. Life in all of its unseen complexity, and diverse abundance surrounds this secreted path. They all watch Wil’s progress toward his as yet unseen destination. The lure of anticipation has brought him into this world of tantalizing darkness that is punctuated only by the profulgent pin points of fire light.

Through the black specters of primeval tree trunks appears a pale shimmer of color that is not an expected part of this place. It floats suspended on a low shrub, incongruent with the shades of black in this part of the forest. The diaphanous watered silk is a splash of salmon that draws Wil closer. ‘Touch its cool texture. Feel it slip through your fingers with the caress only silk can provide. Close your eyes and savor the new scent blending with the pine around you.’ The air whispered to him, coaxing him to reach for the display of color. Ginger adds its grace note to the still air as he picks up the silken scarf.

The incongruent length of silk floats tranquilly in Wil’s hand; as he stands a moment on the pathway lost in his own thoughts. Then it wraps itself gently around his arm as he moves forward once more into the beckoning dark. The flames entice him onward as he returns to the path through this foreign realm of myth or magic. The cricket and cicada songs have diminished, and a richer tone is taken by the Music of the Night. Somewhere in the darkness, a night heron’s call punctuates the rustle of footsteps in the thick layer of shed needles. The almost soundless passing of another owl whispers to him. Then, ahead of Wil develops a golden glow, as though many candle flames have come together to dance where no outsider would see.

The folly sits in the center of a very small break in the dense forest. Its purpose here, amidst the thick woodland is a mystery. No clear path or walkway led to it, but the curving trail of tiny bits of starlight has illuminated a path where none should be. The clearing is only just large enough for the structure made of stone and in that small space now dance myriad fireflies. Beyond their ballet in the air, pillars rise from the ground to reach heavenward, drawing Wil’s gaze once more to the infinity above. Starlight glimmers against obsidian velvet overhead, and around the folly the faint echoes of star-fire illuminate an entrance into a newly discovered realm.




‘Come inside,’ the cool interior beckons without words. Here the aroma of pine gives way to a complex mélange of scents. Ginger, vanilla, bayberry, something spicy but understated, lingers in the air around him. Celadon pillar candles grace the folly in groupings of eight to ten per cluster, casting not only light, but fragrance of woodlands as well. Standing motionless in the center is more of the salmon silk, only this time the gossamer material clings to Azjah’s form. It caresses her curves on one place, and floats gently away from her in others. Her smile is one of those meant only for Wil, and when her voice breaks the stillness of the night; it too is meant only for him. “You are here at last.”

A gust of wind beyond the folly pillars kisses across the land extinguishing the candle flames along the pathway; casting the forest once more into the Darkness to which it is accustomed. Removing the hint of trail the star-fires had once illuminated. The creatures of the night resume their natural order as the crystal sphere above slowly sends Scorpius toward the dawn.

The interior of the folly glows with the tawny golden light of multitudes of gleaming candles. The harsh stone holds touchable warmth uncharacteristic for such an unyielding material, garnered from the heated daylight hours before. It had beckoned Wil inside where he now stood. Yards of ivory tulle hang from the pillars of the folly, in softly curving swags, which gave the hard lines of the stone a softer, more yielding appearance. They sway and move in the gentle air currents that come and go between the pillars. And clustered at Azjah’s feet were brightly colored silk cushions, adding the jewel tones of a world not meant to be in the heart of the woodlands.

A small brazier gives off a thin scented curl of smoke as it consumes the fuel carefully laid within it. The spicy scent detected at the entrance is more intense here, perhaps it is eucalyptus? Beside the small lick of blue and yellow flames are twin snifters of cognac, ready to be warmed to perfection. Azjah has not moved other than to lock eyes with Wil as he stands just inside the shelter of the folly, out of the wildness of the night, but on the precipice of something new.

The realm beyond the folly entrance fades away. Time ceases to have meaning within the pillars of stone as the Song of the Night diminishes into the background, leaving only Wil and Azjah. And the stars pay no heed.