Indiana examined the little nook. It was empty, but an indentation at its base indicated the conical shape of the stone that had once lain there. The shape was familiar to him. "The stone, was it very smooth?"
"Yes," nodded the shaman.
"It was from the Sacred River?"
"Yes. Brought here long ago, before my father's father." With three lines across it. Indy could see it in his mind.
"Yes, that is right."
"Repesenting the three levels of the universe, "Indy went on; the illusion of all worldy matter, the reality of transcendental spirit, the oneness of all space, time, and substance. It was potent mythology; it vaunted potent talismans. "I've seen stones like the one you lost. But why would the Maharajah take this Sacred Stone from here?"