CHAPTER SIX
Valldemossa, Mallorca
November 26
Evan sat on the narrow balcony off her bedroom in the charming stucco finca she shared with her advisor, Dr. Omar Emberton, and the two other graduate students working at the dig site. She and the students each had a bedroom on the second floor, while Doctor Emberton occupied a small apartment on the main level. The rain had abated, leaving a dark sky and heavy air in its wake. An olive grove slept at her feet. Beyond, a meadow led to low hills. Evan knew, in just a few short months, this same view would burst with electric orange poppy blossoms and vibrant green olive branches. The current landscape was muted but no less spectacular in her eyes, the browns and darker greens far more complex and foreboding.
The view took her back to her childhood home in northern California. Her father was a vintner of some renown, and they had lived on the family vineyard in Santa Rosa. The view from her bedroom window, rows and rows of tangled grapevines lapping onto low rolling hills, was different in both topography and vegetation. Still, it held the same juxtaposition of magic and disquiet.
In the spring, Mallorca was a fairytale. In November, it was a Gothic novel.
A bottle of sparkling water sat next to her tablet and attached keyboard on the small round table, the blank document, a white void, beckoning her to transcribe something: a thought, a theory, a conclusion, a course of action. Thus far, she could only contemplate the things that had bothered her about the excursion: the markers from the wrong era, those strange chain links, and of course, the frightening man.
In her mind, Evan had named him Diablo; it seemed to fit his demeanor, his subtle but malevolent accent, his threatening stance. He certainly wasn’t law enforcement, which begged the question: what was he doing in that remote cove dressed very much like her in cargo pants, military boots, and a slicker?
She dutifully noted her observations on the document then paused as she considered her next steps, the cursor blinking impatiently while she thought. What had caused that loud clanking noise? What were the tidal restrictions? How would she gain access to the sealed-off cave? When and with whom should she share her discovery?
First things first.
She needed to return to the caverns with the proper equipment to break through the last cave's sealed opening. She typed as she formed a plan of action. She had to extract the gold chain links from the limestone marker for testing. Her skin prickled as she imagined a great discovery. Not a cache of treasure or an ancient tomb, she pictured just the slightest clue: another breadcrumb on the trail of her search to prove the ancient peoples she was there to study were seafarers. On a dig in Djibouti, her doctoral advisor at Stanford discovered a bone that proved a prehistoric mammal species had a vestigial gizzard, changing an entire evolutionary chart. Her job was all about tiny needles in very large haystacks.
Evan wasn’t discouraged by the more recent objects she had found. If anything, they proved that this cave system had been accessible centuries earlier. And who knew? Perhaps those small piles of rock would lead her to something extraordinary.
“Anybody home?”
She recognized the voice of her mentor and pulled back the curtain to reveal her location. “On the balcony, Doctor E.”
Dr. Omar Emberton parted the sheers and squeezed around Evan to take the other seat at the table.
He pulled his glasses to the end of his nose and assessed her over the rim. “You don’t appear ill.”
She chuckled. “Not ill. Some kids pulled me aside the other day and explained they had found markers, similar to those at our excavation site, in a cave on the coast. I went to check it out.”
“And?” Emberton pressed.
Evan wanted to put this conversation off until she had something more noteworthy to report.
“The markers the boys found are interesting. Definitely not Talaiotic. I’m guessing Moorish, probably Fifteenth Century. I’d like to follow up, but it's not related to our project.”
Doctor Emberton circled his fingers on the glass surface of the table, paused in thought. “Take another day or two. See if you can determine if the markers lead somewhere. You’ll have a devil of a time in those caves. The limestone practically dissolves.”
She agreed. “The markers have badly deteriorated. I’m dating them based on a stalagmite that had formed on one of them.”
“I see. Well, it's a fascinating period on Mallorca—the Moors fleeing crusaders, hiding treasure. Did you know there are supposedly over a hundred shipwrecks in these waters?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the Mediterranean. “And just a few years ago, some farmers found a stash of gold coins in a cave near their property.”
“I read something about that,” Evan replied.
“My point is we have a rather exciting excavation we’re exploring, but if I’ve learned anything in my years, it's to follow the clues history puts out. I’d be very interested in knowing what you discover. I’m descended from the Moors after all.” He rose from his seat.
“I’ll spend a day or two poking around. I don’t want to leave you shorthanded, and I need the Talaiotic research for my dissertation.” Evan stood with her mentor.
“Very good. I’d like to see you hooded this year.” He patted her shoulder, referencing the ceremony in which Ph.D. candidates were conferred their doctorates and received a hood for their gowns.
“So would I.” She smiled up at the man she respected beyond measure.
Omar Emberton parted the drapes and made his exit, leaving Evan to plan for another adventure in the caves.