“She seems so pleasant,” Asha said. “It’s hard to believe she would send people after me—even if she could.” “She is a wonderful woman,” her son said, “and she has the serenity of a river, but like the waterfalls that stream so beautifully from on high, they splash with great force when they reach bedrock.” They passed wildlife preserves in the night with only the ancestral trumpetings of elephants and the screams of panthers testifying to their existence along with the smells of forests and decay that wafted from their depths. Finally they descended into the valley that held the ancient city. The early-morning light in the valley revealed irrigated plantations of tea plants and rubber trees, although these days cultivation was performed by machines. Ratnapura, however, was named and best known for its gems, Latha’s son told her. The name meant “city of gems.” The plentiful rainfall and the streams that threaded through the surrounding fields brought gems down from the mountains, and generations of Sri Lankans had panned rubies, sapphires, and cat’s-eyes from the riverbeds, and merchants sold them in the street of gems.
