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CHAPTER ONE
Even a new graduate with one expedition under her belt knew better than to get improperly involved with the artifacts the Archaeology Service was removing from the site on Belmane Three. But when the ancient alien puzzle box yielded to Dianora’s coaxing and opened with an alarming creaking sound and the amazing ring rolled onto her desk, she was captivated. The ring lay on her desk under the worklight, gleaming golden, the gemstones sparkling, untouched by time. Dianora set aside the box, carefully, and leaned over the ring. Her hand literally itched to pick it up and admire it more closely…to put it on and see how the diamonds would flash on her finger. The central stone, a gigantic and brilliant opalescent pink gem glowed with internal fires.
Glancing around to make sure she was alone, which she was of course because she was the only one still working at the dig this late in the day, Dianora picked up the ring, enjoying the feel of the cool gold against her skin. The others on her team laughed at her all the time for her newbie enthusiasm and willingness to work extra hours trying to solve all the many puzzles left behind by the long-vanished alien civilization on this world. For her part, she didn’t understand how they could knock off promptly at quitting time and go drink feelgoods and socialize with each other and leave the riddles behind. She also wanted to impress her direct supervisor and the expedition director so maybe they’d give her better assignments soon.
This was her reward tonight—a find unlike anything else seen so far on this dig. The ring was stunning and all hers, for now. The others would be so jealous. She ought to be documenting it and the box from which it had fallen but she was reluctant to surrender ownership of the jewelry just yet. Until she recorded the find it was hers and no one else’s. A tiny part of her mind, the scholarly, rules-following woman who’d graduated top of her class, was whispering this was all wrong and she was acting totally out of character. There’d be consequences if any of the team members wandered into the hut and found her with this artifact unrecorded.
She’d sound the alarm herself if she’d seen a colleague behaving this way in the field. The days when interstellar archaeology had been a thinly veiled treasure hunt were long over. Their finds here on Belmane Three would be properly catalogued and the best of the items would go to the Sector Twenty-Four museum world for study and display.
But Dianora didn’t care right now, in the grip of the ring’s allure and the excitement of a stunning find. She’d be famous, once the Service publicized the find, and absolutely the envy of all her former classmates. Six weeks on her first job and she’d made the Big Find everyone longed for. The signature item by which an entire extinct civilization would be known.
With a chuckle she calmed her rising ego. If Dr. Soren makes the big find he’s expecting in the chamber he’s excavating this month, mine will pale in comparison. The team had barely scratched the surface of the treasures potentially waiting in this long dead city.
Picking the ring up, Dianora held it this way and that, to watch the lights catch on the facets of the stones and the fires blazing within the central stone. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try it on once…before she reported it of course. This incredible ring was meant for a woman’s hand and here she was. The Belmane people had been humanoid, as with so many of the races scattered throughout the galaxy.
With no further argument, she slid the ring onto her hand and sighed. A perfect fit.
There was a violet flash of light from the huge stone and pain struck in her temples. She doubled over as if she’d been struck in the gut by a sword. Head on the table, she tried to catch her breath and call for help but couldn’t form words. Closing her eyes, she saw a vision of desperately battling warriors, one group valiantly attempting to defend a woman wearing the same ring, while another equally determined squad of nightmarish soldiers tried to break through the circle of her defenders. One man in particular caught Dianora’s eye—he was clearly the leader of the ones making a last stand. The woman in her vision never took her eyes off him as he fought, slashing and parrying and mowing down the enemy beside his men, trying to protect her.
Dianora blacked out and when she came to, the vision was gone as was the pain. Desperately she tried to remove the ring but it refused to budge from her finger until she’d tugged so much the skin was raw and her finger was swelling around the band. In tears, she tried to think what to do. Calling for help would gain her assistance in removing the ring but then she’d be in terrible trouble, her career over before it really began, she was sure.
She decided to go to her quarters, calm down and then try again later to remove the ring. If she could sneak it back into the box in the morning before the rest of her colleagues came onto the site, then she could ‘discover’ it again in public and matters would be fine. Flicking off her work lights she rose and left the tent.
One of her co-workers hailed her from across the way. “We’re having a special trideo night in the mess hall—come join us. You work too hard.”
Sticking her hand with the ring deep into the pocket of her cargo pants, Dianora waved with the other. “I’ll be there later. I’ve got a headache.”
She hurried to her tent, big enough to be a cottage, with its own bathroom, and thanked the Lords of Space this was a rich Archaeology Service dig, not like the ones she’d been on when she was in school. Those were funded by grants and the team slept six to a ratty tent. Here she had no roommate, which had seemed lonely in the beginning but now she was grateful. Sinking onto her bed, she studied the ring again. Still as beautiful.
“Why did I have the terrible vision?” she whispered. The ring made her uneasy now. She shook her hand, hoping her circulation was okay and the ring flew off her finger as if she’d applied grease to it. Frantically Dianora searched the floor of her tent, not sure where the ring had ended up.
“Lose something?” It was Dr. Soren’s assistant, Derek, leaning insouciantly in her doorway. “Need help?”
Heart pounding, Dianora sat on her heels, hand over her chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry. I wanted to make sure you were planning to come to trideo night.” He gestured at the door. “This was ajar but I probably should have knocked anyway—apologies. Hey, we could walk over to the mess hall together.”
“I—I’ve lost my stylus,” Dianora said shakily, hoping the implement wasn’t in plain sight on the desk. “Never mind, it isn’t going anywhere, right? I’ll find it later. We don’t want to miss the start of the trideo.” She rose and hurried to where Derek stood, a puzzled expression on his face. Putting her arm through his, she tugged him out of the tent and slammed the door behind her to be sure the lock engaged.
Hours later she said goodnight to him outside the tent so he wouldn’t get any wrong impressions. He seemed like a nice guy and had been helpful to her in getting her feet wet on this dig, but Dianora didn’t feel any spark of attraction in his presence. She didn’t want any entanglements, especially not with the assistant to their director. As he walked away, she opened the door and ducked into the tent, flicking on the light and stopped in her tracks.
The ring sat dead center on her cot, winking at her in the sudden illumination.
Cautiously she approached it, as if the jewelry was a spider, ready to spring at her suddenly. How did it get onto the bed? Briefly she panicked, thinking one of her colleagues had entered her tent for an unknown reason and discovered the illicit artifact. Dianora ruled the idea out just as quickly. Anyone who found the ring in her quarters would have taken it, either to turn it in and get her in trouble, or to keep it for themselves.
Which left her with the uneasy idea the ring had moved itself from wherever it fell earlier in the evening. Had the inscriptions on the puzzle box said anything about a curse?
Gingerly she picked the ring up, caught again by the mystery of the beautiful central gemstone. “Stunning,” she said. “A queen’s ransom.”
Dianora looked around the tent, trying to decide where to hide the ring until tomorrow, when she could restore it to the puzzle box. Voices outside as two of her associates walked past, going to their tents, sent her adrenaline racing and she shoved the ring under her pillow. She undressed and put on her nightshirt, flicked the lights off and got under the blankets. “I’ll never be able to sleep tonight—why in the seven hells did I ever try on the damn ring?”
But contrary to her expectation, sleep was already overtaking her and she closed her eyes wearily. It had been a long day, full of highs and lows and a boring trideo. Tomorrow she’d straighten the mess out and then be much more careful for the rest of the dig. Lesson learned—do not try on the artifacts.
The dream unfurled inexorably. The men battled desperately to protect the woman in the center of their meager force. Swords clashed, men swore, blood flew as enemies and defenders alike fell. Dianora never took her eyes off Garrin, as if by force of will she could keep him safe. Time was running out—they had to make their escape from this spot before the greater enemy force arrived. She wished she could help him and the others but she had no weapon.
Dianora sat up with a horrified gasp, hand to her heart. “Why the seven hells did I put myself into the damn dream?” Afraid to go back to sleep, she slid one hand under the pillow to check for the ring, which was safely tucked away. I was wearing this in the dream. Without conscious thought she pulled the ring into the open and was about to slide it on her finger when she jerked back with a curse and shoved it under the pillow again.
She jumped from the bed and paced in her tent, trying to calm herself. Dianora tried to convince herself it was coincidence and an overactive imagination at work, giving her the weird vision earlier in the day and then the similar dream tonight. She was getting too immersed in this dig and the story of this long-vanished civilization, fitting what few facts she had into a flashback from a historical fantasy trideo. “Get a grip,” she said out loud, rubbing her arms. “The damn ring goes into its box tomorrow and then I ‘discover’ it and make the announcement of my find and everything will be fine.”
