"I don't think I could ever become immune to it."
"Can I get you folks anything? A cup of coffee? A beer?"
"I'm fine," answered Pat. "I would like to see your discovery as soon as it's convenient."
"No problem," said Marquez. "We still have five hours of daylight left. More than enough time for you to see the chamber and get back before dark."
"I'll have dinner waiting," said Lisa. "I thought you might like barbecued elk."
"Sounds wonderful," Pat said, already feeling the pangs of hunger.
Marquez nodded his head at the old truck. "You folks will have a more comfortable ride up to the mine if we take your jeep, Doc."
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in the ore cart, making the descent from the portal into the old Paradise Mine. It was a new experience for Pat. She had never entered a mine shaft.
"It feels warmer," she observed, "the deeper we go."
"As a rule of thumb," explained Marquez, "the temperature increases by five degrees every hundred feet you descend into the earth. In the lower levels of the mine that are now flooded, the heat used to be over a hundred degrees."
The ore cart came to a stop. Marquez climbed out and dug into a large wooden toolbox. He handed Pat and Ambrose each a hard hat.
"For falling rock?" asked Pat.
Marquez laughed. "Mostly to keep your scalp from knocking against low timbers."
The dim yellow lights attached to the overhead timbers flickered overhead as they made their way through the damp tunnel with Marquez in the lead. When one of them spoke, the voice sounded hollow against the surrounding rock walls of the tunnel. Pat stumbled more than once on the ties holding the old rusting ore cart rails, but caught herself before falling. She hadn't realized when she'd dressed earlier in the morning, before flying to Telluride, what a wise decision it was to wear a pair of comfortable hiking shoes. After what seemed an hour but was actually only ten minutes, they reached the cleft leading to the chamber and followed Marquez through the narrow passage.
He stopped at the ladder and motioned upward to where a bright light spilled through the opening in the rock ceiling. "I strung lights inside since you visited yesterday, Dr. Ambrose. The sheer walls act as reflectors, so you shouldn't have a problem studying the writing." Then he stood aside and helped Pat up the ladder.
Not having been told what to expect, she was stunned. She felt like Howard Carter when he first viewed King Tuts tomb. Her eyes immediately locked on the black skull, and she reverently approached its pedestal and stared at the smooth surface gleaming under the lights.
"It's exquisite," she murmured admiringly, as Ambrose squeezed through the opening and stood beside her.
"A masterwork," he agreed. "Carved out of obsidian."
"I've seen the Mayan crystal skull that was found in Belize. This one is far more inspiring. The other is crude in comparison."
"They say the crystal skull emits an aura of light, and strange sounds are heard to come from it."
"It must have been lethargic the time I studied it," said Pat, smiling. "It only sat there and stared."
"I can't imagine how many years-- generations most likely, without modern tools-- it took to polish such an object of beauty from a mineral so brittle. One tap of a hammer and it would shatter into a thousand pieces."
"The surface is so smooth, it's flawless," Pat said softly.
Ambrose swept one hand around the chamber. "This entire chamber is a wonder. The inscriptions on the walls and ceiling must easily have taken five men a lifetime to engrave in the rock, but not before an immense effort was spent polishing the interior surfaces. This chamber alone had to have taken years to carve out of solid granite at this depth. I've measured the dimensions. The four walls, floor, and ceiling enclose a perfect cube. If the interior surfaces are out of alignment or plumb, it's less than one millimeter.
Like the classic old mystery novel, we have a drama that took place in a room with no windows or doors."
"The opening in the floor?" Pat asked.
"Blasted by Luis Marquez while excavating for gemstones," replied Ambrose.
"Then how was this chamber created without an entrance and exit?"
Ambrose pointed to the ceilin
g. "The only hint I could find of an infinitesimal crack around the borders was in the ceiling. I can only assume that whoever constructed this cubicle burrowed down from above and placed a precisely carved slab atop the cubicle."