of Secrets.”
“Vanzagara.” Emma frowned. “I have heard of it.”
“I’m impressed. Not many people have.”
“My grandmother was very fond of the study of geography.”
“Yes, well, I am conducting my inquiries on behalf of the man who discovered Vanzagara several years ago. He is a very good friend of mine.”
“I see.”
“His name is Lorring. Ignatius Lorring. And he is dying.”
She searched his face and he knew that she sensed the quiet sorrow in him. The knowledge made him uneasy. He would have to be on guard against Emma’s unusually perceptive nature, he thought.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Lorring’s last wish is to recover the stolen book and return it to the monks of Vanzagara.” Edison hesitated. “He feels guilty, you see.”
“Why?”
“Because he is the one who discovered the isle and made it known in Europe. It is because of him that outsiders have traveled to Vanzagara. He feels that if it had not been for him, the isle might have remained isolated for many years. No thief would have gone there to steal its greatest treasure.”
“Does he know who stole the book?”
“No. But there are rumors that the thief took the
Book of Secrets
to Italy and sold it to a man named Farrell Blue. The tales make sense because Blue was one of very few scholars who would have had even a remote chance of deciphering the old language in which the recipes are written.”
“I notice that you refer to this Mr. Blue in the past tense,” Emma said warily. “I assume there is a reason for that?”
“He died in a fire that consumed his villa in Rome.”
“Not exactly an auspicious event. About this business of the occult, sir—”
“As I said, utter rubbish. But according to the legend, the brew is supposed to enable one to predict the turn of a card. It is said it works by enhancing a woman’s natural intuition.”
“A
woman’s
intuition?”
He nodded. “According to the monks, it is effective only on women, and not on all women, at that. Only a very few females, those who already possess a high degree of natural intuition, are susceptible to its effects.”
Emma grimaced. “Hence the need for experiments?”
“Yes.” Edison clasped his hands behind his back. “Apparently Miranda herself is not susceptible to the brew. Hardly surprising, since it is unlikely to work on anyone. Nevertheless, she obviously believes it will be effective on someone, so it appears that she is conducting tests. Perhaps she seeks an accomplice.”
“Accomplice.” Emma considered the word. “That has a rather nasty ring to it.”
He raised his brows. “You do see the problem, do you not? If she believes that she possesses a potion that would allow her to cheat at cards, the possibilities are unlimited.”
“Fortunes are won and lost in the games played in the homes of the ton,” Emma whispered. “Thousands and thousands of pounds are dropped in the card rooms at balls every week.”
“Indeed.”
“This is amazing.” She shot him a quick, assessing look. “But you said that the elixir is only a single legend from that ancient book you mentioned. Why are you searching for it?”
“If I can find the person who possesses the recipe for the elixir, I may well have found the thief who stole the book.”
“Yes, I see. But if the elixir does not work—”
“Understand me well. I have no doubt but that the brew itself is useless. Nevertheless, people have been known to risk a great deal in order to obtain somethingthat they believe to be valuable. Men have died because of this damned recipe. The last one was an apothecary in London.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “Did he die because he drank the brew?”
He shook his head. “I believe that he was murdered by his client, the person to whom he sold some of the special herbs required to make the stuff.”
She frowned. “You know the ingredients of the recipe?”
“No. But I do know that it originated on the Isle of Vanzagara.
“Vanzagara.” Emma frowned. “I have heard of it.”
“I’m impressed. Not many people have.”
“My grandmother was very fond of the study of geography.”
“Yes, well, I am conducting my inquiries on behalf of the man who discovered Vanzagara several years ago. He is a very good friend of mine.”
“I see.”
“His name is Lorring. Ignatius Lorring. And he is dying.”
She searched his face and he knew that she sensed the quiet sorrow in him. The knowledge made him uneasy. He would have to be on guard against Emma’s unusually perceptive nature, he thought.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Lorring’s last wish is to recover the stolen book and return it to the monks of Vanzagara.” Edison hesitated. “He feels guilty, you see.”
“Why?”
“Because he is the one who discovered the isle and made it known in Europe. It is because of him that outsiders have traveled to Vanzagara. He feels that if it had not been for him, the isle might have remained isolated for many years. No thief would have gone there to steal its greatest treasure.”
“Does he know who stole the book?”
“No. But there are rumors that the thief took the
Book of Secrets
to Italy and sold it to a man named Farrell Blue. The tales make sense because Blue was one of very few scholars who would have had even a remote chance of deciphering the old language in which the recipes are written.”
“I notice that you refer to this Mr. Blue in the past tense,” Emma said warily. “I assume there is a reason for that?”
“He died in a fire that consumed his villa in Rome.”
“Not exactly an auspicious event. About this business of the occult, sir—”
“As I said, utter rubbish. But according to the legend, the brew is supposed to enable one to predict the turn of a card. It is said it works by enhancing a woman’s natural intuition.”
“A
woman’s
intuition?”
He nodded. “According to the monks, it is effective only on women, and not on all women, at that. Only a very few females, those who already possess a high degree of natural intuition, are susceptible to its effects.”
Emma grimaced. “Hence the need for experiments?”
“Yes.” Edison clasped his hands behind his back. “Apparently Miranda herself is not susceptible to the brew. Hardly surprising, since it is unlikely to work on anyone. Nevertheless, she obviously believes it will be effective on someone, so it appears that she is conducting tests. Perhaps she seeks an accomplice.”
“Accomplice.” Emma considered the word. “That has a rather nasty ring to it.”
He raised his brows. “You do see the problem, do you not? If she believes that she possesses a potion that would allow her to cheat at cards, the possibilities are unlimited.”
“Fortunes are won and lost in the games played in the homes of the ton,” Emma whispered. “Thousands and thousands of pounds are dropped in the card rooms at balls every week.”
“Indeed.”
“This is amazing.” She shot him a quick, assessing look. “But you said that the elixir is only a single legend from that ancient book you mentioned. Why are you searching for it?”
“If I can find the person who possesses the recipe for the elixir, I may well have found the thief who stole the book.”
“Yes, I see. But if the elixir does not work—”
“Understand me well. I have no doubt but that the brew itself is useless. Nevertheless, people have been known to risk a great deal in order to obtain somethingthat they believe to be valuable. Men have died because of this damned recipe. The last one was an apothecary in London.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “Did he die because he drank the brew?”
He shook his head. “I believe that he was murdered by his client, the person to whom he sold some of the special herbs required to make the stuff.”
She frowned. “You know the ingredients of the recipe?”
“No. But I do know that it originated on the Isle of Vanzagara.
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