TARN & BECK Read Online Free PDF Page A

Tarn was already being watched from afar by a shamanic wizard dressed in voluminous robes, currently observing Tarn from the mouth of an alleyway close-by. The wizard had tracked Tarn down after hearing about the Vampiric attack and followed him from his flat to the museum without Tarn knowing.
    Meanwhile, Tarn knocked on the museum’s front door, currently locked. The sound echoed through the small, cramped museum lobby with not even a guard in sight at this early morning hour.
    However, a light did shine out from underneath an office door as Nutmeg, a studious, firm woman in her late twenties, hunched over her work inside the office. She mumbled to herself as she translated a difficult passage in an old book and didn’t pay any attention to the knocking.
    “Hello! Is anyone in there? Nutmeg! Are you there?” Tarn shouted through the museum’s front door as he persisted in knocking.
    His faint shout drew Nutmeg’s attention at last as she glared at her office door.
    Tarn was pressed up against the front door now, banging on and shouting at it. “I know you’re in there, Nutmeg! You never leave the museum! Not when there’s an exhibition of your work!”
    Meanwhile, Nutmeg furiously crossed the museum lobby, feet pounding on the floor until she finally unlocked and flung open the museum’s front door. Tarn sagged forward a bit, but caught himself as he nervously looked up at her.
    “That’s not to say you should leave. You can do whatever you want. I’m a great admirer of your work.” Tarn said.
    Nutmeg blew aside a loose strand of hair and leaned against the doorway. “What do you want, Tarn? I’m busy.”
    Tarn reached into his pocket and held up the gold coin that Beck gave him. “I want you to take a look at this. I think it’s from Bretha.”
    Nutmeg rolled her eyes, annoyed. “If this is another counterfeit--”
    Tarn shook his head. “I swear to you, this is genuine. Or at least as genuine as I know it to be. I need you to confirm this for me, please.”
    Nutmeg snatched the coin from Tarn and casually examined it, then leaned in closer for another look. Finally, they wound up back in Nutmeg’s office with Nutmeg using a large magnifying glass for a close-up view of the coin.
    She now had various books spread out over her desk, some of which contained symbols similar to the ones on the coin, and others of which had maps of the lost civilization of Bretha. She also had a small tray with several chemical reagent mixtures set up to analyze flakes or chips from the coin for its mineral and magical content.
    Tarn sat in a chair off to the side, watching Nutmeg work as she wrote down notes and checked reference and results. “So what’s the verdict?” Tarn asked after about an hour.
    Nutmeg looked up from her inspection. “This coin is definitely old, at least a couple thousand years old, according to chemical analysis. Yet in surprisingly mint condition.”
    “So it could be from Bretha?” Tarn sat up a little straighter, staring.
    Nutmeg nodded and handed an opened book to Tarn. “It’s from the right time period. And the coin’s design does match the technique and aesthetic used by that culture.”
    Tarn examined the book page, which showed illustrations of various coins from ancient cultures and civilizations and a minter making one. “Carroll used to be obsessed with these Brethan artifacts. He would stop at nothing to hunt them down.” Tarn said.
    Nutmeg grimaced. “I know. He’s gotten pretty infamous these last four years pilfering archeological sites. He killed an assistant that got in the way. That’s why we had to hire my brother to become a guard.”
    Tarn looked down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it had gotten that bad. On top of his highway robberies--”
    Nutmeg reached over and gripped Tarn’s arm. “You got out of there, safely, before he and his men could harm you. Or you became a murderer and thief like them.”
    Tarn brushed her hand away and she let go, turning back