The Foundations of Paradise - Arthur C. Clarke [27]
The elevator clicked to a halt, and he stepped onto the small steel platform built out from the face of the cliff. Below and behind was a hundred meters of empty space, but the strong wire mesh gave ample security. Not even the most determined suicide could escape from the cage, large enough to hold a dozen people, that was clinging to the underside of the eternally breaking wave of stone.
Here in this accidental indentation, where the rock face formed a shallow cave, and so protected them from the elements, were the survivors of King Kalidasa’s heavenly court. Rajasinghe greeted them silently as he sank gratefully into the chair that was offered by the official guide.
“I would like,” he said quietly, “to be left alone for ten minutes. Jaya—Dravindra—see if you can head off the tourists.”
His companions looked at him doubtfully; so did the guide, who was supposed never to leave the frescoes unguarded. But, as usual, Ambassador Rajasinghe had his way, without even raising his voice.
“Ayu bowan,” he greeted the silent figures when he was alone at last. “I’m sorry to have neglected you for so long.”
He waited politely for an answer, but they paid no more attention to him than to all their other admirers for the last twenty centuries. Rajasinghe was not discouraged; he was used to their indifference. Indeed, it added to their charm.
“I have a problem, my dears,” he continued. “You have watched all the invaders of Taprobane come and go, since Kalidasa’s time. You have seen the jungle flow like a tide around Yakkagala, and then retreat before the ax and the plow. But nothing has really changed in all those years. Nature has been kind to little Taprobane, and so has History; it has left her alone. . . .
“Now the centuries of quiet may be drawing to a close. Our land may become the center of the world . . . of many worlds. The great mountain you have watched so long, there in the south, may be the key to the universe. If that is so, the Taprobane we knew and loved will cease to exist.
“Perhaps there is not much that I can do. But I have some power to help, or to hinder. I still have many friends. If I wish, I can delay this dream—or nightmare—at least beyond my lifetime. Should I do so? Or should I give aid to this man, whatever his real motives may be?”
He turned to his favorite, the only one who did not avert her eyes when he gazed upon her. All the other maidens stared into the distance, or examined the flowers in their hands; but the one he had loved since his youth seemed, from a certain angle, to catch his glance.
“Ah, Karuna! It’s not fair to ask such questions. What could you possibly know of the real worlds beyond the sky, or of men’s need to reach them? Even though you were once a goddess, Kalidasa’s heaven was only an illusion.
“Well, whatever strange futures you may see, I shall not share them. We have known each other a long time—by my standards, if not by yours. While I can, I shall watch you from the villa; but I do not think that we will meet again. Farewell—and thank you, beautiful ones, for all the pleasure you have brought me down the years. Give my greetings to those who come after me.”
Yet as he descended the spiral stairs—ignoring the elevator—Rajasinghe did not feel at all in a valedictory mood. On the contrary, it seemed to him that he had shed quite a few of his years (and, after all, seventy-two was not really old). He could tell that Dravindra and Jaya had noticed the spring in his step, by the way their faces lit up.
Perhaps his retirement had been getting a little dull. Perhaps both he and Taprobane needed a breath of fresh air to blow away the cobwebs—just as the monsoon brought renewed life after the months of torpid, heavy skies.
Whether Morgan succeeded or not, his was an enterprise to fire the imagination and stir the soul. Kalidasa would have envied—and approved.
II
The Temple
“While the different religions wrangle with one another as