by Cherry Adair
The man opened the case, and the satin gleam of gold had everyone in the room riveted. Peri sucked in a breath and forgot to release it seeing the three tablets, side by side.
“Please, continue. Tell my friends what you know.”
Vadini pushed his glasses up with a gloved finger. “I must tell the story to keep things in context, sí?”
For a moment Peri thought the old man was specifically addressing her, but it was at Finn that he was looking, and to Finn, he spoke.
“Five hundred and seven years ago, a young seer, living here, in what is now known as Patagonia, had a vision. He was a boy, just fourteen years old, but he’d been having visions since he was old enough to speak. All the boy’s prophecies proved to be true.
“In our small country of Merrezo,” he continued to his fascinated audience, “we, too, had a profeta- seer. His name was Foscari. He was, by then an old man, but like the child, Foscari correctly saw the future, and his prophecies were very famous. He was known all over Europe, and people-both high and low born-revered him. He was one of a kind, you understand?” Signore Vadini’s black eyes twinkled.
Everyone was riveted to his words. “He heard of the boy’s most profound predictions. Foscari had similar thoughts himself, but not as detailed as the boy’s, not as certain. Foscari called for the young seer to be brought to him on one of the treasure ships so that he could validate his prediction.”
The old man smiled. “I suspect, too, to convince his followers that the boy was, as you say, a charlatan.”
“So, the tablets did originate here in Patagonia?” Finn asked, resting his arm on the back cushions of the sofa, and absently picking up the loose strand of Peri's hair.
“Oh, yes. According to legend, the boy’s father, and those who venerated him, refused to allow the child to cross the ocean, even accompanied by a Protector. The boy had seen his own death, and knew he’d never reach Merrezo- "
“Please, tell us more, Signore Vadini,” Bria urged.
“The prophecy was carved onto separate marble tablets. Then, because they were gifts to Foscari, they were coated in gold, before making their voyage across the sea. The tablet that became la tavoletta d'oro Merrezo was accompanied on the long voyage by my namesake, Ale Vadini, el Ehnos. The Protector, yes? It was the only ship to reach Italy.”
“A protector?” Peri asked. “As in singular? Did a protector accompany the other ships?” She didn’t add that, considering the other ships sank, they weren’t very good at their jobs. A quick tug on her hair told her Finn was thinking the same thing.
“There has always been only one Protector. Perhaps the importance and value of the tablets required more than one at that time. We will never know. For over five hundred years the Protector, my ancestors in a direct line, have cared for la tavoletta d'oro Merrezo. My daughter will follow me, and her son will follow her as Protector. This is how we care for the legacy of the seer. The honor has been passed down from father to son or daughter through the generations.”
“And you are this Protector, Signore Vadini?” Theo asked.
“It has been my great honor in life to care for la tavoletta d'oro Merrezo. And now these two tablets, as well.”
“I do not wish to be rude,” Theo continued with deference. “But how are we to know that you are this. . .protector, Signore? Is it an official title for the curator of a small museum?”
“Theo!” He might not think himself rude, but his words were confrontational.
Undaunted, Theo continued, “Are you thinking to remove the new tablets and keep them “under your protection”? No one here would permit such a thing. And I, as Minister of Antiquities, will not condone such a removal of what are three of Patagonia’s national treasures. The tablets must stay here, where they all belong. Together.”
“Of course, the tablets must remain here.” The curator looked mildly affronted. “There is no dispute. It was prophesied by Stellanera tha-”
“Stellanera?” Finn sat up straight.
Clearly confused by the question, the curator frowned. “Sí. The seer, the child, his name was Blackstar.”
Finn raised a brow, “Blackstar? Really?” He couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his tone at the curator’s purported "facts". He should just send Vadini on his way. But then he wasn't acting alone.
What kind of gullible idiot did they think he was? The more money Finn goddamn acquired, the more people presented complicated and parochial scams to him. All were meant to bilk him of his hard-earned money. It was fucking insulting, damn annoying, predictably boring, and a waste of his time.
Fools. If they'd done their homework, they’d know that everything he’d ever laid a dollar on-with the exception of his hobby of treasure hunting-was backed by cold, hard, scientific study.
Clearly thrown by the question, Vadini cast a puzzled glance at Bria, before addressing Finn again. “Sí. Is something wrong?”
Yeah, I’ll play along another minute. Let everyone see the curator for the fraud he was. “You must be aware that Blackstar is the name of my ships,” he kept his tone even. “It’s also the name of my company.”
Goddamnit, he was not only pissed at this turn of events, Finn was fucking disappointed. The opportunity to learn more about the tablet had been exciting. Now he couldn’t trust a word this guy said.
“Sí.” The curator gave him a slightly puzzled look. “I am aware of this. It is not a coincidence.”
Finn waited a beat for the curator to say more, to make his case for the scam. He didn’t.
“Not a coincidence? Come now, Dr. Vadini. Don’t you think it seems farfetched in the extreme that a prophet from five hundred years ago just happens to have the same name as my ship and company?”
The old man smiled. “You do not believe in destiny, signore? There are many things beyond our understanding. We must take such things on faith, yes?”
“My faith is earned, Doctor, when there’s logical reason. I’ve never heard of a prophet named Blackstar. I chose the name because I have business interests in space travel and the stars. Nothing more mystical.”
Catching a glimpse of Bria’s flushed cheeks, Finn softened his tone. “That said, although the romanticism of the tablets isn’t lost on me, I need more. Do I believe this ancient story is really what happened? I suspect that, like the Bible, whatever story was written here, was a parable. Or passed down through time and distorted. A way to make whatever was happening at the time more palatable. We have to consider that the ancients were limited to the scope of legends and myths of their time, and were not necessarily a true account of the day. It’s quite possible the tablets are works of fiction. Either as just that- fiction, or to explain away unexplainable phenomenon beyond their comprehension.”
He loved the way Ariel nipped the corner of her full lower lip as she listened, the way her eyes lit up when she was fully engaging. Face alight, she said,. “A parable. Makes sense.”
Or it was complete bullshit, and God only knew how much money this scammer had made off the Princess and her family over the years. Finn went with the latter. This old guy was trying to tie him to a so-called ancient prophecy in order to con him. Why, and what his long game was, he didn’t know. Yet. But he wasn’t willing to insult the Cutters by calling the guy out here and now.
He spared a glance at the others to see if they were buying any of this. The Cutters did ‘poker face’ extremely well.
Only Ariel seemed calm as she glanced at him with shining jade eyes. She was enjoying this. “Be nice,” she whispered.
It wasn’t as though he was being asked to write a check – yet. This was all a load of crap, and it annoyed the hell out of him that this fairytale of theirs was taking away from the very real historical significance of the tablet.
As a courtesy to Bria, Finn said, “Perhaps you confused the legacy with the name of my ship in some way?”
“No, signore. I did not,” Vadini said, clearly affronted by the very suggestion. “Blackstar was the seer
who wrote these prophecies on the tablets. His name has never been in dispute. Perhaps I should ask; -Why did you name your company after him?”
“I’ve never heard his name, and my company most definitely is not named after him. We have a room full of historians here, who spend their lives looking at ancient artifacts. Has anyone heard of an ancient prophet being identified as Blackstar? Anyone?”
“Can’t say that I have,” Logan said. “However, Doctor Vadini is a noted historian. The study of the legend, and the tablet, has been his life's work. If anyone would know, he’s the one. It’s worth considering.”
Finn’s bullshit barometer rose. He’d hold off accusing the Cutters of some sort of collusion until he knew more. Fuck. He liked them. Trusted them. Had called them friends for years. This was a turn of events he’d stopped considering many years ago. Now distrust was back on the fucking table, just as it had to be with almost everyone who crossed his path.
Vadini was their man, brought here by them.
Far-reaching conspiracy?
“I have indeed heard of this Blackstar. Estrellanegra, to Patagonians,” Dr. Núñez said. “He was a prophet in ancient lore. It is said he was protected, not by a so-called Protector, but by a secret group named el Elegidos.”
“Not very secret if you know about it, Theo,” Ariel said with a smile.. “So, we have the Chosen and the Protectors?” she continued, shifting so that her soft breasts brushed his arm. “It sounds like a superhero action movie.”
“The Chosen were a small, dangerous, radical sect,” the curator informed them. “It is said that they twisted Blackstar’s predictions to suit their own nefarious purposes. Blackstar warned that the wheat harvest was tainted, and should not be eaten. These Chosen told the people of the village exactly the opposite, encouraging them to keep producing bread. They were told ‘good people’ would not suffer the afflictions. Because they were hungry, and gullible, they believed the interpretation of the self-proclaimed Chosen, and perished. Historians believe ergotism was the cause. Blackstar saw and predicted this.”
“Ergot poisoning?” Nick asked.
Teal leaned forward to look around Zane. “What’s ergot?”
“A fungus that infects cereals like rye and wheat. It’s believed that long-term ergot poisoning occurred in Europe in the Middle Ages,” Nick added. “Historians now believe ergot was responsible for the behavior of the so-called witches put to death in the Salem witch trials.”
“I don’t get it,” Teal frowned. “If it was a poison, didn’t they just die?”
“Not right away, unfortunately. It was also called Saint Anthony’s Fire,” Finn said. “I’ve heard of it. Pretty damn unpleasant way to die. An outbreak much more recently than the middle ages happened in the 50’s. The French village of Pont-Saint-Esprit had half a dozen deaths from ergot poisoning, some claimed from eating bread made with infected rye.”
“Blackstar predicted the people of his village would die from painful seizures, spasm, mania, psychosis. It affected people’s nervous systems in these ways. Or the toxin caused dry gangrene. Black, dying skin, falling from the body.” Vadini’s fingers tightened on the arm of his chair as if he’d been there to witness such atrocities.
He was a good storyteller, Finn gave him that. He had everyone in the room riveted. Finn excluded. What was the end game to this elaborate hoax? Because there was one, he could practically smell it.
“He predicted another symptom of the ergot poisoning would be hallucinations followed by severe convulsions. . . It is said people went mad until they dropped dead in the streets.”
Ariel shuddered. “Pretty graphic. Sounds like the plot to a particularly gruesome movie.”
“Horrific,” the curator said. “Because people refused to believe the predictions of a child, they died grotesque deaths. It wiped out three-quarters of the village. It was this fully realized prophesy that attracted the notice of our profeta, Foscari.”
“Well, that’s certainly an interesting story,” Finn said. This was becoming more and more preposterous. An ancient prophecy. Two opposing factions. A child prophet. A slew of gruesome deaths? Ariel was right – it had the makings of a movie. But for him to believe any part of the high drama tale, there needed to be an explanation of the convenient coincidence of the seer’s name being Blackstar.
“And you read all this on the Merrezo tablet? It’s in Italian then?” It was hard to keep the skepticism from his voice.
“No, this is history passed down through many generations. The complete tablet has not yet been interpreted. It is in an ancient text long forgotten. Blackstar’s people no longer exist. The group died out soon after the advent of the plague. A few men remained, protecting the seer. The story was lost after that. No one to carry it forward. The language died with them. I knew a few words only. I’m hoping that there are words or phrases on the other tablets that will help me interpret the first.”
The old man looked up. The deep lines on his face more pronounced, his black eyes more deep-set and shadowed. “You do not have to believe for it to be a fact. It just is.” Vadini seemed unconcerned by Finn’s disbelief.
“It is indeed intriguing that you have named both your ships and your business by the seer’s name.” He leaned back in his seat and stared into Finn’s eyes, much like he had stared at the tablet. “Perhaps you are part of the prophecy?”
Yeah, right. Here comes the crux of the scam. “I very much doubt that.”
Vadini looked unperturbed. “I would like to rest before resuming this conversation, if I may? I would like to take these with me to study.” He addressed the room in general, then looked at Finn for approval.
He knew which piper paid for the tune, smart man. Vadini smiled when Finn nodded his permission.
With a pointed look at Finn, Bria rose to her feet, clearly not happy with his skepticism toward her curator. “Of course. You must be absolutely exhausted after that long trip. Finn has a cabin prepared for you. Rest if you need. Darling, take the tablets please.”
Nick waved over a couple of his T-FLAC buddies standing by the door. Two men broke off to take the tablets. The old man used Bria and Nick’s arms to steady himself as he rose shakily to his feet.
“Now, with the three tablets together, I believe more will be revealed.”
Yeah, I bet it will.
Finn was pleased he’d offered accommodation on board Blackstar to both the curator and the tablets. Here, he could keep them all under close scrutiny. The only reason he was permitting the removal of the tablets from the salon was because he had his own security on board. McCoy himself would be stationed outside the curator's cabin for the duration.
“I’ll escort my guest to his cabin.” Bria stroked a hand over her stomach as she got to her feet. “No, everyone stays here. These gentlemen will accompany us.”
“That was an eye-opener,” Logan said, after they took the tablets and left, escorted by the T-FLAC operatives.
“You think the seer’s name was really Blackstar?” Zane asked his oldest brother. He sounded as dubious as Finn felt.
Logan shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out tomorrow. We should put out word to see if any of the locals know this ancient language.”
“I have studied this language,” Dr. Núñez said. “There is not much written word about it, and of course it died out hundreds of years ago. But I have read what little there is. Many, many times,” he offered. “I would be more than happy to lend my expertise. Perhaps I might spend some time with the tablets while the curator rests?”
“You’re welcome to stay on board for a few days and work with Vadini,” Finn offered. He didn’t care for Núñez. Wasn’t sure if that was because it was clear he and Ariel had a history, or if his gut was giving him a warning. He figured both.
“Vadini has the tablets for the night. The two of you can confer in the morning?” Finn phrased it as a question. Núñez, too, would have scrutiny for the duration. Rather the devils you know, than the devils you don’t. R
ight now, Finn was calling bullshit on all of them.
“Sounds like a plan.” Logan pushed off the sofa. “I’ll put out a call for anyone familiar with this ancient language. See if we can find several people to work on the text with you, Dr. Núñez and with Dr. Vadini. Don’t know about the rest of you, but I have diving to do before dark. Reconvene here tomorrow?”
Dark wasn’t for at least another six hours. “Lunch. Noon.” Finn agreed, also getting to his feet, and holding his hand out for Ariel. In the meantime, he’d set his entire team on researching Vadini, Ariel Andersen, the Cutters, and la tavoletta d'oro Merrezo.
Something stank in Denmark.
His expression hard and unreadable, Finn took Peri by the hand. “We have a thing,” he addressed the room at large. “See you all tomorrow.”
Peri kept up with his longer strides as he exited the salon and headed for the stairs at a fast clip. She tugged her wrist free of the shackle of his fingers. She would not be led around like a tug toy. If anything, she'd participate. "What thing?"
His fingers tightened between hers, not too tightly. He was pissed, but luckily for him, not aggressive. If the situation changed, she’d kick him in the balls and make a run for it. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that because she still had things she wanted to do to those balls. And the rest of him for that matter.
"Many things."
They were heading to the interior of the ship, so she figured he wasn’t planning to throw her overboard. At least not today. The chemistry between them arced and sizzled, so there was a pretty good chance she’d have sex with him any minute now.
The highly polished wood floors on Blackstar were a deep, rich black, African walnut. The walls a soft gray paper, on which hung his priceless, original paintings.
She’d never seen this part of the ship, but unfortunately, they were moving at the speed of sound so she couldn’t appreciate it. She didn’t have time to admire the large, colorful canvases, or the stunning artifacts and objets d'art, along the way as they moved down a long corridor. She had to lengthen her stride to match his since he wasn’t allowing for her shorter legs. Apparently, he was on a mission and clearly wanted to get wherever they were going in a hurry.
