PROLOGUE
Aflicker of weak light skittered over the stone floor, followed by the soft scrape of steps and the whisperedwhoosh, whooshof mist-dampened wool. Quickening his pace, a lone man moved down the nave’s aisle, the shoulder capes of his greatcoat fluttering darkly against the shroud of shadows.
At the transept, he paused and angled the iron lantern at a row of close-set granite pillars guarding the apse.
A figure slipped out from the slivered gloom. “You’re bloody late.”
“What I have to show you will be worth the wait. You asked me for proof—well, prepare yourself, my dear Golden One.” In deference to the sepulchral silence of the deserted church, the man pitched his words to a low murmur. Which was, he mused, a pity, for his mellifluous voice could set the surrounding stone to resonating with a magnificent echo.
And if ever a pronouncement deserved a choir of angels . . .
“Yes, prepare yourself for a most wondrous revelation.” A ghostly puff of vapor hung for an instant in the chill air as he withdrew a small leather-bound book from his coat pocket and held it out.
His companion hesitated. The slits in his black-as-Hades mask betrayed a flutter of movement as a wink of light gilded the downturned lashes.
Dear heavens, such silly histrionics, when here they stood on the brink of immortality.
Golden One eyed the frayed edges, age-blackened calfskin, and faint remains of the gilt-stamped title a moment longer before looking up. “You promised the manuscript—”
“This codex is the first key to unlocking the manuscript’s secret. Call it apetit goût,if you will,” explained the man smoothly. “A small taste to tease the appetite, to delight the mouth, as the French would say.” He curled a small smile. “Though this is from the mountains of Bavaria. The Germans don’t appreciate the art of living well, but they are awfully good at puzzling out conundrums.”
With a muttered oath, Golden One shifted his stance and loosened the fastenings of his voluminous cloak.
It was, noted the man, of far finer quality and cut than the fellow’s usual garments. Perhaps the prospect of coming riches—
“Save your little snippets of sophistication to impress your fancy friends,” growled Golden One as he took the book and slowly cracked open the spine. “I know naught and care naught of France and the German principalities. My province is the natural world, which knows no borders, no boundaries.”
Dust motes flew up, dancing like whirling dervishes through the narrow beam of lantern light. In contrast, the cavernous darkness looming all around was still as a crypt.
“Careful,” chided the man, though he noted that for someone who toiled with his hands, the fellow had surprisingly smooth and well-tended fingers. “You are holding delicate parchment and pen strokes that will soon change the world.”
“Assuming what you have read is . . . true.”
“I have compelling reason to believe it is,” replied the man. “Sir Isaac Newton’s manuscript—”
“Newton was wrong. About a great many things.”
“That is because he lacked the key documents that would have given him the knowledge he was missing. I have them, and the transformative secret is at our fingertips! It needs only a man of your unique talents to bring it to fruition.”
Golden One turned through the pages, stopping occasionally to study the hand-drawn illustrations and scrutinize the spidery text.
“Satisfied?”
“No.” The covers snapped shut. “This tells me nothing. I need to see Newton’s manuscript and the other books before I fully commit to being part of your fanciful scheme.”
The man felt a stab of anger at the unexpected reply. “I’ve already paid you a great deal of money.”
A shrug. “And I’ve already done a great deal of work. Whether I do more is up to you.”
“How can you hesitate? This opportunity is a gift from God!”
“So you say. But I am a pragmatist, who takes a more earthly, empirical view of things. You promised proof of your claim, and I have yet to see it.”
“The other books are too precious to carry around,” he protested. “I have them hidden where they are safe.”
“I’m not about to risk my present chances of advancement without more than your heavenly promises of fortune and fame,” countered Golden One.
A strained silence stretched out for several heartbeats.
