Page 92 of The Burning Mountain
The oddly shaped stone structures at the bottom of the waterfall, too, sort of resembled the main resonating chambers of a stringed instrument. What if that was the purpose of those stone pillars?
Chandra shaded her eyes with one hand and imagined how those pillars would appear if a string were to be wound around them. She envisioned a rough shape like that of two Indian lutes, lying in opposition.
With mounting excitement, Chandra explained her theory to Billadev, who looked skeptical.
“That sounds far-fetched, Princess. Who would be crazy enough to build musical instruments into rocks and then turn them into hiding places for magical artifacts?”
“Exactly. If we think back on where King Amarendra had hidden these key pieces so far, you’ll know this is precisely the sort of thing he would do.” And when Billadev continued to display doubt, she said, “How can anyone be sure of such things? But you must admit, it is a better option to try than destroying one of those pillars to see what’s inside.”
“It means a lot of labor to build a dam on such short notice. And that is, after anyone would believe your theory,” said Billadev, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“What’s going on? Have you discovered something?” The captain was back, mistrust wreathing his face.
Chandra put aside her intense dislike of the man. They needed to convince him to help, otherwise they were never going to get ahead.
As succinctly as possible, she explained her idea.
To their surprise, the captain didn’t argue, but said he would relay the idea to the learned men to see what they thought.
44
THE SECRET OF THE MUSICAL PILLARS
Things moved fast once Chandra put forth her theory. A day or two was wasted in deliberation, but once the scholars decided to go ahead, there were no delays. A dam was built upstream from the waterfall in a matter of days. Orders for thick, tensile brass strings were placed, so the pillars could be wound with them. Fortunately, the nearby village of Swara was the premier manufacturer of musical instruments. It was able to readily supply most of the raw materials.
What began as an impulsive idea became more plausible as days went by, as work advanced on the strange pillars that stood sentry over the rocks of the waterfall.
Chandra watched from a distance the day the project was completed.
A group of learned men gathered at the foot of the waterfall. Awe and excitement were drawn on their faces as they stared at the falls, and the strings that wound across the pillars, which looked more and more like a marvel of nature.
The head of the group signaled a man stationed at the top to open the dam.
“Bastards, shouldn’t it be you who ought to do the honors, Princess?” said Billadev, who offered cotton ear plugs to her.
“Let’s not sweat the small stuff, Billadev,” said Chandra, taking them and thinking of a day in the past when she had tried to break a dam as well. “I don’t mind, and nor should you. The important thing is to see if this works. I have a bad feeling that if this turns out to be nothing but a big failure, I’d be blamed.”
Chandra didn’t voice her suspicion that things would change regardless of what happened today. She eyed Billadev and silently asked for forgiveness for keeping that from him, but she didn’t want him fighting the entire might of Vivismati. Instead, she prayed that her hunch didn’t prove true, but knew she was lying to herself.
An axe fell on the wooden boards holding back the water, and with a great wrenching crack, it split open, allowing the reservoir of water to rush down the falls.
The initial flow merely set the strings vibrating. But the sound soon came. Hesitant and soft, like someone was just tuning an instrument.
Chandra sighed a breath of relief that her crazy idea seemed to be working.
Earlier, one of the musical scholars had told her that although the structure looked like a giant stringedveena, the design was more aligned with atambura, another type of stringed instrument used to provide background harmony while singing songs.
And because the strings passed over so few frets, and they could only control the water flow in short bursts, it would produce only single, drone-like notes, unlike the complicated pattern of music produced by a full-fledgedveena.
Chandra watched, on tenterhooks, as the scholar instructed the men stationed near the pillars to tighten the pegs that increased the tension in the strings.
The sound changed, becoming clearer.
The musical scholar was right. It did produce only single notes. But so pure was that single note, so pleasing and harmonious with the ambient sounds of nature, Chandra closed her eyes in bliss.
Everyone went quiet as the sound swelled, reverberated and amplified in the gorge. The birds went silent, even the air itself seemed to stand still.
The various sounds were disjointed at first, but then the more concentrated rush of water set more of those strings to vibrate, and under the skillful hand of the conductor became a divine burst of melody.
