The Black Diamond (Black Diamond 2)

Julian frowned. "You've lost me."

"No, you've just yet to reach where I stand. You will." Mr. Scollard refilled the cups. "Now, back to what I can tell you. The book—it bears many messages, some I see, others I don't. What I do see is a man, an old man with wisps of memory stored in his mind and a wealth of resolution hovering at his feet."

"An old man?" Aurora's saucer clattered to the table. "What old man? Where can we find him? What does he know? Can he help us find the diamond? Have we ever met him? Is he a pirate? Has he sailed with Julian?"

Scollard gave her an indulgent smile. "Ah, Rory, if I am a wizard, it's to keep up with your questions. No mere mortal could do so." He cast a sympathetic glance at Julian. "Stay sharp as you are. Else you'll fall by the wayside."

Julian chuckled. "I'll remember that."

"Mr. Scollard, tell us!" Aurora persisted.

"Very well." The lighthouse keeper pursed his lips. "The one who has firsthand knowledge. In a Cornish pub—I'm not certain which one. More than anyone else. That you'll have to discover for yourself. No, you haven't. No, he's not. And, no, he never has." A pleased nod. "I believe I've answered them all in order."

"I have no idea what you just said," Aurora replied, frustration lacing her tone.

"Really, Rory, if I can provide the answers, you can at least keep track of the questions."

"Perhaps if you combined all the answers into one," Julian suggested, biting back laughter despite his rampaging curiosity.

"Fine." Mr. Scollard gave a tolerant sigh. "The elderly fellow of whom I speak was a sailor, not a pirate. He's far too old to have sailed with you, Julian; he retired from his trade before you were born. He spends most of his time reminiscing with other onetime sailors at a small pub not too far from your manor in Polperro—" A pensive lapse. "I cannot see precisely where, but I do know you've never met. Whether or not he leads you to the black diamond, he's necessary for the completion of the journey, for he'll draw forth ghosts of the past that must be silenced forever, else the future will remain out of reach. And he knows more of the truth than anyone else to whom you might speak, for he's the last person yet alive who sailed with Geoffrey on his final voyage to England."

Julian nearly bolted from his chair. "You're saying he was actually on the ship where my great-grandfather died?"

"I am."

"Mr. Scollard," Aurora inserted, her eyes huge, "how old is this sailor?"

A shrug. "Some years past eighty. Fairly lucid, though. And his memories of sixty years ago are vivid."

"How can we find him?"

"That I will leave to your husband, who is far more adept at these matters than I." Mr. Scollard tensed a bit, alerting them to the, magnitude of his next words. "Don't underestimate the dangers that await from sources expected and unknown. They lurk in numbers, and in numbers must be undone. Greed is a great propellant. Vengeance wields more power still. And desperation is the most menacing by far, for it offers reward with no risk. Take great care, for the path upon which you now embark is deep with shadows, dark with hatred. Go with vision, perception, wits, and purpose. Return with peace, safety—and by the grace of God." A surge of trepidation crossed Mr. Scollard's face. "My gifts are limited. I wish I had more with which to protect you. I have only flashes of insight, heartfelt prayers, and a profusion of faith. May they be enough." He stared off, his eyes veiled with concern. "The obstacles are vast, the treasures vaster still. But go you must. 'Tis necessary to attain resolution. May finding it not cost more than its worth." He blinked, returning from wherever he'd been. "Finish your tea, both of you. Then go. Share your insights with Courtney and Slayde. After which, do what you must. And most of all, return to tell me of your discovery."

Throughout Scollard's discourse, the color had drained from Aurora's cheeks. "Mr. Scollard, I've never heard you talk like this," she whispered. "Are we truly in such grave danger?" The tip of her tongue wet her lips. "Will we … prevail?"

Scollard rose, walked over to ruffle Aurora's hair. "I see only that which I've told you," he said quietly. "Hold fast to your strength and your husband." His solemn gaze met Julian's. "Take care of her. As she will of you."

* * *

"I don't like this." Slayde was pacing about the yellow salon. "Scollard never says such ominous things as the ones you've just relayed. Aurora, maybe Julian should seek out this sailor on his own."

"No." Aurora gave an adamant shake of her head. "That's out of the question—and not only because I'd be exploding with curiosity." She swallowed, staring at her lap. "I'd be sick with worry."

"Julian?" Slayde arched a questioning brow in his direction.

"I told you I'd take care of Aurora, and I will," Julian replied, studying his wife's bowed head. "But locking her away, squelching her spirit is not the answer. Like the falcon, she needs to soar; which, in this case, means accompanying me, seeking the same answers I do." He saw Aurora's head snap up, her expression a mixture of wonder and relief. "I haven't forgotten the vows I made when I asked for her hand," he added pointedly, addressing Slayde but speaking to Aurora. "Not to my wife or to you—" His jaw set, he met Slayde's gaze head-on. "Aurora will go with me. However, she will also be safe."

Slayde scowled.

"Slayde," Courtney interceded, "there was a time not long ago when I was in a similar position to Aurora, a time you let me accompany you to the seediest section of Dartmouth to resolve our pasts."

"I did that against my will."

A smile. "I know. And I suspect Julian is doing this against his. But don't try to deter him. Certainly don't try to deter Aurora. Lest you've forgotten, 'twould be easier to upend a dozen limestone cliffs."

"Fine." Slayde shot Julian a look. "You'd best keep your vows."

"I always do."