"E.Voiskunsky, I.Lukodyanov. The Crew Of The Mekong (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Lal Chandra stepped out of the wagon and Fedor sprang down after him.
They pushed their way through thickets until they reached the high bluff.
There, squeezed between rocky banks, the stream was very narrow and formed a
swift waterfall. Below the waterfall the stream was placid.
"Would this be a good place for a water-wheel?" Lal Chandra asked.
"Yes, a very good one," Fedor replied. "But does the stream flow all
the year round?"
"No, it dries up in summer. Anyway, we won't need it long, only during
the rains. Take the measurements you'll need to build a large wheel here."
Fedor looked round. On the other side of the stream, not far away,
stood a temple-like building with two towers.
"Will we be able to approach that temple later?" he asked. "I'll have
to if I'm going to take measurements."
"Of course. That temple is where the will of the gods is going to
manifest itself."
"Very well," said Fedor. "I'll get my sight-vane."
He went back to the wagon for his instrument, a shallow wooden bowl
with two tiny notches on the edges, diametrically opposite one another.
Picking up a clay pitcher and the sight-vane, Fedor approached the spot
where the water cascaded over the lip of the rocks. He placed the bowl on a
flat stone, filled the pitcher with water, and poured water into the bowl
until it was almost full. Then he lay down on the ground and turned the bowl
in front of his eyes so that both notches were in line with one of the
towers of the temple. By pouring more water from the pitcher into the bowl,
and carefully propping up the sides of the bowl with stones, he forced the
water to swell above the edges of the bowl. Then, closing one eye, he
concentrated on getting the nearest and farthest edges of the bowl to
coincide in height. Holding his breath lest he get out of line, he counted:
the water level was six rows of stones below the windows of the second
storey of the temple.
Then Fedor rose, rubbed his numb elbows, scrambled up the rocks to the
top of the waterfall, and repeated his observations there, after which he
descended to where Lal Chandra was waiting.
Next the two men waded across the stream and entered the abandoned
temple. Ahead of them strode the coachman, Ram Das, carrying a torch.
Bats flitted about under the vaulted ceiling. The flapping of their
wings nearly extinguished the torch. The air was damp and had a musty smell.
"Any snakes here?" Fedor asked. "You won't find cobras in damp, dark
places," said Lal Chandra. "But we are in the hands of Shiva and Kali."
The passage led into a room whose ceiling was so high that the light
from the torch did not reach the top. The sides of the room faded into
terrifying darkness.
On a three-tiered pedestal stood Fedor's old acquaintance, the goddess
Kali, with her six arms, three faces and six breasts, wrathful, inscrutable
and ready to act. The face that was turned to Fedor gazed across the room
with a strange expression in which an inviting smile was combined with a
threatening frown. The gaze was fixed on an equally enormous statue, with
four arms, standing on one leg, the other being bent at the knee, in a
dancing posture. This was the god Shiva, Kali's spouse.
Lal Chandra prostrated himself before the menacing goddess.