“I’ll show you.” He turned to his daughter. “May I borrow your phone?”
Moira handed it over.
Her father worked on it for a spell, then sighed, “Ah, here it is.”
He slid the phone next to the old book.
“If you compare what’s engraved into the book’s leather, you can see how it matchesthissymbol.”
They all gathered closer to look, studying the two side by side. The image on the phone showed a hand-drawn circle with radiating spokes, overwritten with words in Latin. Despite the differences, it was obvious Saint-Germain was inspired by this drawing to fabricate the signature atop his book.
Tag pointed to the phone. “What’s the symbol? Where did it come from?”
“It was drawn in the early eighteenth century by Gottfried Leibniz, a German polymath, who is credited, along with Isaac Newton, of inventing the field of calculus.” Kelly turned to Sharyn. “And later in life, he became a librarian.”
Sharyn straightened, intrigued despite the terrors of the past days. “And what does it mean?”
“It’s Leibniz’s representation of the universe, uniting together Aristotle’s four elements: Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. It became the heraldic symbol of alchemy and the sciences that grew from it.”
Naomi leaned forward. “That’s all well and good. But whether Saint-Germain called himself an alchemist or a scientist, what field did he study?”
“Most everything, to be truthful. Like many alchemists of this time, he dabbled with the transmutation of metal, of turning lead into gold. But he also introduced new dyeing techniques, invented novel paints and oils. Over his lifetime, he consulted with physicists, astronomers, and mathematicians, both gaining knowledge from them and adding to it. Still, his most astounding accomplishments were in geology and mineralogy. Skills he learned in Arabia during his time spent at the Court of the Shah of Persia. Some claimed the man could melt diamonds and remove their flaws. In fact, King Louis attested to this fact and eventually built Saint-Germain a private laboratory at Chambord Castle.”
Moira made a small scoffing noise, which earned a frown from her father. “Such tales of the man must be taken with a grain of salt,” she warned. “Over the centuries, his story has grown, bloated by mysticism, layered in infamy. Some say he had magical abilities. To teleport, to levitate, to control people telepathically. Many concluded he must be some Ascended Master birthed during the time of Christ and still influences the world today.”
Sir Kelly scowled. “As you can see, it has become hard to separate truth from fantasy. But we must try our best to remain grounded.”
Moira shook her head. “Like believing the man could remove flaws from diamonds?”
Sharyn looked at the orb shining atop the book. She remembered the astrological symbols embedded therein, a skill that defied comprehension, especially considering when it had been crafted.
Maybe such stories had a seed of truth to them.
Sir Kelly reached over and patted Moira’s arm. “My lovely daughter, always the skeptic. Like so many others in the past. During Saint-Germain’s lifetime, dozens of others tried to discredit the man—testing him, challenging him—but they all came away convinced otherwise.”
“But not the Marquise de Maurepas,” Moira added.
“No, not him,” her father agreed dourly. “Buthisstubbornness was steeled more by jealousy.”
“Who are you talking about?” Sharyn asked.
“Ah, of course, I’m getting ahead of myself. The Marquise de Maurepas was Louis XVI’s minister of state and hated how the king had grown enamored of Saint-Germain. Fearing he might be displaced, the man set about to discredit Saint-Germain.”
Sharyn frowned. “Why? Did he believe Saint-Germain was a charlatan who was fooling the king?”
“I can’t say for sure. But the Marquise was deeply religious. As boisterously as he sought to dismiss Saint-Germain, he also vilified the alchemist as a blasphemer and Satanist. Eventually, the Marquise discovered that his enemy was crafting a grimoire of great power.”
“You mean the book,” Tag said.
Sir Kelly nodded. “Hoping to prove Saint-Germain’s wickedness, the Marquise assembled a cabal of religious leaders, a crude start of theConfrérie des Illuminés, to hunt for the man and his grimoire.”
“Which clearly failed,” Naomi said.
“But they did set him on the run. Some believe he faked his death in 1784. Although, he was seen five years later in Paris and several times by others over the next decades.”
“It was perhaps such events,” Moira added, “that led to rumors of the Count’s ability to defy death, with many believing he had discovered the key to immortality.”
Sharyn remembered the phone conversation this morning. “Monsieur Laurent told us Saint-Germain claimed as much himself, writing it in the preface to his book.”
