The Oracle's Message. Alex Archer
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“And what brings you all to the Philippines?” Annja asked. “Just a vacation, perhaps?”
Spier lowered his voice and shook his head. “We have come here for a much more grand purpose than mere relaxation.”
“Really?”
He drew closer to Annja. She could see the depth of his eyes and found herself almost hypnotized by them as he drew her into his conspiratorial attitude. “We seek a treasure rumored to be in this very area.”
Annja perked up. “Treasure?”
“They call it the Pearl of Palawan.”
5
A balmy ocean breeze blew across the pavilion as Spier regarded Annja. “Have you ever heard of the Pearl of Palawan?”
Annja shook her head, listening to the crashing waves on the beach. “I have not. But to be honest with you, I’m not very interested in treasure. From what I’ve experienced, things of such value have a way of destroying people.”
Spier smiled. “But imagine what good this could do if it were recovered. We could educate people about the origins of it.”
Annja frowned. “And just what are its origins?”
Spier ordered himself a glass of peppermint schnapps and waited until it arrived. He sipped it once and then leaned back in his chair. Clearly, Annja thought, he was a captivating storyteller used to commanding attention.
“Years and years ago,” Spier began, “the Pearl of Palawan—a solid black pearl of such opulence and size that it made men weep in desire to possess it—first appeared in the annals of Filipino history.”
“I’m not as familiar with this country’s history as perhaps I should be,” Annja said. “But I know some.”
“So you know of the Moros.”
Annja winced, remembering her last trip to the Philippines. “I know a little bit about them.”
“They were the first to document the pearl. But legend has it that it has existed for even longer than the period of greatness of the Moros empire. According to several documents I have unearthed, the pearl dates back many thousands of years, back to a time when fact and fiction were often entwined with each other.”
“And what do the legends say?” Annja asked.
“They say that those who possess the pearl have at their disposal an object that can grant the owner incredible vitality and power.”
“Is that so?”
“Indeed.”
Annja leaned forward as Spier helped himself to more schnapps. “Pardon me for saying so, Herr Spier, but you seem to already possess a great deal of vitality. And I’m fairly adept at knowing when I’m in the presence of a powerful person. You fit that bill easily.”
Spier smiled. “Thank you, my dear. I appreciate the sentiment, but I assure you the pearl’s powers would dwarf my own.”
Annja leaned back. “Do you know where the pearl is supposed to come from?”
Spier chuckled. “I must confess I’m a bit reluctant to tell you. I sense that you view the legend of the pearl with a bit more skepticism than I expected.”
“Forgive me if I am being rude,” Annja said. “It’s just that over the years I’ve found a lot of supposedly powerful legends have turned out to be nothing but fantasy, usually perpetrated by someone seeking to manipulate events for their own well-being.”
Spier said nothing for a moment but then looked at her. “But tell me something. You’ve probably found that just as many things live up to their legends…don’t they?”
Annja smiled. “Well, you’ve got me there. I have indeed.”
Spier nodded. “And that’s why you should keep an open mind about this, as well.”
“Tell me more.”
“I have heard,” Spier said, “that the pearl was reportedly created by an ancient civilization long since lost to the earth. These people inhabited a wide swath of land in the Pacific that was subsequently destroyed by volcanoes and earthquakes. They brought the pearl into being for the express purpose of using its power to rule their kingdom.”
“And what happened?”
“It ended up destroying them.”
Annja nodded. “Another powerful lesson, I suppose.”
“It would seem,” Spier said. “But one never knows exactly what may have transpired to destroy their civilization.” He grabbed at his glass and downed the remainder of the schnapps. “The pearl next shows up in the Moros history as belonging to a certain Queen Esmeralda. It was a gift given to her by one of her subjects who was enamored of the woman. Driven to prove his love and worth, he reportedly dove into the sea, swam underwater for seven days and, on the seventh day, emerged from the surf bearing the pearl.”
“Well, that would, of course, be impossible,” Annja said.
“Unless he grew gills,” Spier said with a laugh. “And I certainly don’t think he really did that. But the story is interesting.”
“Did he get his woman?” Annja asked.
Spier shrugged. “Actually, the queen, upon receiving the pearl, is said to have undergone some sort of transformation. Instead of rewarding her suitor, she had him executed.”
“Tough love,” Annja said.
“Indeed.” Spier sighed. “But the pearl did not stay in possession of Queen Esmeralda for very long. It seems that bad luck was destined for the Moros as the Spanish soon started visiting the Philippines.”
Annja nodded. “I’ve read something of their conquests here.”
“Then you know they battled the Moros and had a tough time of it in the thick jungles.”
“Yes.”
“But not being ones to give up, such as they were, the Spaniards eventually succeeded in wresting control of the region from the Moros. And Queen Esmeralda was taken hostage by the invaders.”
“I assume she was meant to be a slave?”
“Perhaps, or a bride for some lucky Spaniard,” Spier said. “Whatever the case, she bought back her freedom.”
“With the pearl?”
“Of course. When the leader of the Spanish heard her pleas for freedom and learned how she intended to buy her way out of captivity, he could scarcely conceal his greed at the thought of possessing the pearl.”
“She gave it to him?”
“Queen Esmeralda ordered her subjects to bring the pearl to the Spanish. In exchange, she