two men reached a clearing. Before him was a sight that even the
worldly wise and rarely surprised Julian Mantle could never have
imagined—a small village made solely out of what appeared to be
roses. At the center of the village was a tiny temple, the kind
Julian had seen on his trips to Thailand and Nepal, but this temple
was made of red, white and pink flowers, held together with long
strands of multi-colored string and twigs. The little huts which
dotted the remaining space appeared to be the austere homes of
the sages. These were also made of roses. Julian was speechless.
As for the monks who inhabited the village, those he could see
looked like Julian's travelling companion, who now revealed that
his name was Yogi Raman. He explained that he was the eldest
sage of Sivana and the leader of this group. The citizens of this
dreamlike colony looked astonishingly youthful and moved with
poise and purpose. None of them spoke, choosing instead to
respect the tranquility of this place by performing their tasks in
silence.
The men, who appeared to number o