She left the last of the big boulders, and entered the terraced gardens at the base of the Sigirya rock. A series of terraces rose from the pathways of the boulder garden to the staircases on the rock. These were created by the construction of brick walls in a concentric mold that hugged the main stone. Just before the Lion’s Staircase, she passed through the Mirror Wall.
Commencing at the top of a flight of steep stairs at the terraced gardens, it traversed a distance of six hundred and fifty feet along a gallery once covered with frescoes to a small plateau on the northern side of the rock on which the Lion Staircase is located.
The Mirror Wall was a parapet wall with a seven-foot-wide inner passageway that inched its way precariously along the near-perpendicular western surface of Sigiriya Rock. The outermost section of this passageway was built up to create a protective wall. The walkway was then paved with polished marble slabs. Only about three hundred and thirty feet of the wall still existed, but brick debris and grooves on the rock face along the western side of the rock clearly show where the rest of the wall once stood.
Archeologists believed that its mirror-like sheen was once achieved by using a special plaster made of fine lime, egg whites, and honey. The surface of the wall was then buffed to a brilliant luster with beeswax. Elise stared at the Mirror Wall. It now appeared to be stained in hues of orange. It was lined with various inscriptions, written by visitors both old and new. A few security guards were protecting it, preventing any further damage. Two thirds of the way along the wall, two steel spiral steps led nearly forty feet up the main rock, so that tourists could get a better view of the remaining frescoes.
The frescoes were remarkable artistic feats for their time. They depicted the upper half of bare-breasted women, who were believed to be Sinhalese maidens in the posture of performing various tasks. Some archeologists believed it was possible they were the King’s wives or merely performing some sort of religious ritual. Elise stared at a couple of the frescoes. Despite depicting near naked women there was nothing lewd, indecent or seductive about their appearance.
She walked to the end of the Mirror Wall, where it opened up to the Lion’s Staircase. That stairway now held hundreds of people slowly making their way to the top. Elise eyed the rickety-looking structure with doubt. It looked as if it might collapse with just her weight. How was it holding so many people, and when would it break loose from its moorings and send them all to their deaths?
She shuddered. She’d been documenting dozens of earthquakes and volcanic eruptions around the globe for weeks. Even a minor tremblor in this location would dash everyone on that stairway to the rocks below. She would almost prefer the shallow stone steps carved into the side of the living rock itself.
As the crowd shifted, she moved to the next step and waited again. At this rate, it would take hours to reach the summit. Careful to avoid knocking over the tourist behind her, she removed her backpack and dug in it for a bottle of water. Although the day was overcast, the temperature was already approaching 80 degrees Fahrenheit, and with high humidity it would have been suffocatingly hot but for the wind.
A monk wearing the traditional orange Kashaya robe, about fifteen feet back from her, met her eye and smiled. It was a perfectly harmless and natural thing to do. A basic form of kind communication. But something about it stirred her most primitive self-defense mechanisms. What was it? He seemed to recognize her. The thought was absurd. Few people outside of Sam’s crew knew her. Even if the monk was connected to the people who’d attacked Sam at the Great Blue Grotto or Tom and Genevieve at Orvieto, it was impossible to think they would recognize her — let alone guess that she would be traveling to Sigiriya.
She smiled back, politely and continued up the steps. Elise was slim and athletic. She was lithe and moved with speed when there was a gap in the tourists ahead. Slowly, she outpaced the monk. The stranger seemed indifferent and made no attempt to catch up with her.
Perhaps she just was being paranoid?
Elise could hardly believe her watch when she reached the top. Granted, she’d bypassed areas where others stopped to take in the magnificent view or detoured to see the frescoes. But she’d made it to the top in only forty-five minutes, according to her watch. It had felt like two hours. Elise made her way to one end of the ruins and moved from side to side, looking for any way to enter the dig where she might access the passages she knew must be inside.
The top of Sigiriya were the remains of a unique masterpiece of architecture. A city based on a precise square module. The tiered layers reminded her of Machu Picchu, as she purposely climbed the series of graded levels toward the palace complex at the summit. From there, she could see that the layout extended outward from the coordinates at the center and the palace complex at the summit, with the eastern and western axis directly aligned to it. A combination of symmetry and asymmetry worked to interlock the man-made geometrical and natural formations.
To the west of Sigiriya rock was a park for the royals, laid out on a symmetrical plan. The park contained water-retaining structures, including sophisticated surface and subsurface hydraulic systems, some of which still worked today. To the south was a large rectangular reservoir. She turned toward the east, looking for any other spot where an opening to an underground area or tomb could have been hidden. There were none.
Instead, she spotted the same monk again. Out of a crowd of more than two hundred tourists, she immediately spied him. Her defensive nerves stirred again. The monk was staring right at her. His dark brown eyes, fixed in a mysterious and indeterminable gaze. He smiled at her again. This time she turned her head without smiling back.
She moved quickly, searching the rest of Sigiriya’s architectural remains. At the end of two hours, she’d exhausted every potential hiding place, with the exception of the large water reservoir to the south. There was always the possibility a hidden tunnel formed beneath the bottom of the murky water, but that would have to be Sam’s problem when he got there, not hers. Without dive equipment any attempt to reach the bottom would be futile.
Elise moved to the stairs. There were two sets running parallel. One for those going up and another for those going down. There was less traffic going down. About half the way down three older tourists slowed her pace to a very slow crawl. It didn’t bother her. There was no rush, she’d exhausted all locations she could think of to find the receptacle for the sacred stone and there was nothing she could do but wait until Sam and the rest of the team arrived.
She took the time to enjoy the view of the Sri Lankan landscape. She turned around, studying the upper reaches of the rock and then stopped. Her hart leapt into a gallop. Moving down the stairs above, was the monk she saw spying on her earlier. He wasn’t going fast and if it wasn’t for the older tourists who were slowing her down, she would have easily reached the bottom before him. She glanced at him and he smiled. She had never known that a smile could evoke such terror.
Elise jumped the railing between the up and the downward stairs and quickly passed the three tourists who were slowing her down. She moved quickly down a dozen or so steps, before stealing another glance at the monk, just to satiate her fears that he was going to catch up to her.