Jan Snedeker -- The Cadet

Faerie Diamonds

A suspenseful novel of love, intrigue, a bloody great diamond, and... fairies.

Everybody believes in fairies in early childhood. And although Marian Bennett is all grown up now, she still does – just as her great grandmother did. Her faith in them is unshakeable.

Spanning over a century, the fates of the two women are bound by the power of a great blue-white diamond found in a South African stream by Marian’s great grandmother when she was a child.

But others recognize the incredible monetary value of this great stone. Each of the two women believe their “magic rock” to be a touchstone for the fairies. Innocence (or is it the fairies?) gives protection from avarice, theft, and even murder that parallels the history of their “magic rock” and the historically famous “Excelsior”, another massive blue-white diamond found in South Africa at the same time.

Just like her great-grandmother, Marian asks the fairies for a favor – to learn the name of her future husband… and it is granted. She meets Jack Koenig, a severely logical out-of-work actor who is charmed by her gentle, quaint madness. But Jack’s logic is no match for Marian and the fairies...

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An Excerpt From Faerie Diamonds --

Jack's attention had been caught by their waitress. Her short hair was neatly set in over-the-ear curls which stayed closely in place as she bent over to hurriedly clean up the previous occupants' leftovers from their table. Marian dawdled with the unlikely menu, which featured such delectables as "Diamond Head Delite" and "Grand Volcano". Meanwhile, Jack had sat observing; enjoying his hobby of people-sleuthing. He had been so wrapped up in his observation, that he had jumped when Marian had playfully kicked his shin, remarking: "If you'll stop staring at the nice lady and order, we can have dinner."

Face aflame, Jack had asked what was a "Diamond Delite".

The waitress had not been at all offended by the blond hunk staring at her. She had answered with an uncharacteristic honesty:

"That's a hamburger with pineapple on it. Personally, I can't stand them. The Grand Volcano is the same hamburger with some pretty good hot sauce. I'd definitely go for that. Whatever you do, don't get the "Rupatupa Tube-Ahh" -- that's a hotdog."

All three got a chuckle out of the menu puffery. They had ordered the Volcanoes. Jack's study had continued after the waitress left. While waiting for the order to be filled, the waitress idly examined a souvenir cup by the cash register.

"What are you doing?" Marian was intrigued.

Jack had been human enough to want to impress his beloved, so he took a chance. As the waitress returned, he looked at her with his most earnest expression, and asked:

"Pardon me, Judy, but aren't you a potter? From Boise, Idaho?"

The waitress had been so startled that she dropped one of the flower-bedecked hamburgers on the floor. Both women had rounded on Jack at the same moment.

"Jack, what would make you think that?"

"How in the world did you know that? And how did you know my name?"

"You mean you are?" Marian had turned a surprised look on the woman.

"Well, I'm from Caldwell, that's twenty miles west of Boise. And I'm a potter. What the heck are you -- a mind reader or something?"

Jack had smugly sat there until he got another hamburger before he explained. Both women were intrigued almost beyond their ability to wait.

"Observation." Jack said around a bite of his hamburger. It was delicious. "I noticed when you were first cleaning up the table that you have very well developed neck muscles and biceps. Your fingernails are short, but not unkempt or bitten. You have that enchanting way of pronouncing words that is characteristic of folks from Boise. When you were over by the cash register, I noticed that you picked up a mug and drew your fingers upward inside with your thumb outside to the lip. Potters do that to feel the throw lines." Jack had turned aside to Marian, "Throw lines define a potter's technique, darling. If there are regular and steady lines, the object was thrown by an experienced potter. If the sides are smooth, that tends to indicate what they call a 'rigid' or inexperienced, new potter." He had turned back to the wide-eyed waitress and continued.

"I saw you examine the handle, which is a point of "honor" among potters. A finely joined handle is difficult to achieve, and any potter will look there to see if the join is fluid and well done, or if it is sloppy and not good work at all. Lastly, I noted that you turned the mug upside down. I assume -- I hate to use the word "deduced" -- that it was to see if there was a potter's signature or maker's mark, and to analyze the clay body itself."

Marian interrupted in spite of herself.

"How can you analyze a clay body by looking at the bottom of a mug? And what is a clay body anyway?"

Jack turned again to his bright-eyed inquisitor. "There is no glaze on the bottom of a piece of pottery. Therefore, you can look there to see the uncovered, or virgin, material from which the piece was made. It could be stoneware, porcelain, or even a low-fired medium."

Marian's look of wonder at her husband's encyclopedic knowledge only increased further when her next question was answered by the waitress.

"What's 'low-fired medium' mean?"

"That would be something like terra cotta." This from the waitress. "Incredible. Absolutely incredible. But how'd you know my name?"

"That was the easiest part." He'd pointed with the hamburger, "Your gold chain."

"Oh," she had fingered the little gold cursive nameplate on the chain around her neck. "I forget that I'm wearing this, sometimes. Still, you're pretty awesome."

Jack had munched his hamburger happily while the two women discussed him and the story of how Judy had gotten to where she was from twenty miles west of Boise. She explained that she traveled to Hawaii each year during the off-season to enjoy the surf and sun, defraying expenses by waitressing. "But I suppose this handsome devil-wizard here could probably have told you that if you had asked him. Heck, he probably could deduce my social security number by dividing my freckles by my wrinkles, or something. You've got quite a guy, here. Better hold on tight to him."

The Cadet -- A true-to-life novel of a very special historical figure: Jan Snedeker, the courageous and colorful 17th century adventurer who lived, loved, and fought through a tumultuous time.