The White Mirror (24 page)

“For a long time,” Li Du said, “I traveled alone. I was in the border regions of the empire where I could not speak or comprehend the languages around me, and where I did not know the customs. Sometimes, during those years, my home seemed so distant that it was as if clouds had closed around the memory of it. I knew that it was there, but I thought that I would never see it again, even in my imagination. I thought I had lost my own past.”

He saw that Campo was listening, and continued. “I say this to you because I want you to know that I understand. Sometimes I, too, came close to despair. But I urge you not to allow your fears to control you.”

Campo had been picking at his chapped knuckles. Now he separated his hands and placed them on his knees, and Li Du saw tiny drops of blood where the skin had broken. He made a last effort. “Is there anything you wish to tell me? Something to which you have not been allowed to give voice? Has someone threatened you?”

Campo's gaze flew up. “What do you mean?”

Li Du kept his tone gentle. “Andruk mentioned to me that he found you very upset.”

Recovering himself slightly, Campo nodded. “Of course I was upset. The death of the painter, and my own accident…”

“No,” Li Du said firmly. “I am referring to the morning two days ago. It was before Dhamo's body was discovered. Something had distressed you. What was it?”

A pink color suffused Campo's face. “It was nothing,” he said, stammering slightly. “I was aggravated, perhaps, by the children's mockery of the book of the Lord, and the cripple's rudeness. That was all. Once again, Andruk misunderstands me.”

Li Du was about to speak, but Campo did not let him. “You do not believe me. You ignore my warnings. But listen to me now.” Campo drew in an unsteady breath. “Some believe that Christ bound the devil. But they are incorrect. Christ did not imprison the devil in a sphere to prevent him from working his will upon the world. That is not how he protects us. Christ teaches us to build fortifications against the devil's onslaught.
In my name they shall cast out demons.
”

Campo's eyes were feverish. “But the demons are not contained. They are free, and we must be vigilant against them. There is evil here. Can you not perceive it? You ask what distressed me. Did you not look at the table?”

Li Du was startled. “The table?”

“Andruk told me of the pagan symbol that marked the body of the dead man. Now it spreads. The configuration of stones. Black turning to white. The snow that fills the valley. Do you not see it? It is the white mirror, and it has cursed us.”

*   *   *

Li Du put all his effort into calming Campo, and eventually convinced him to return to the heat of the kitchen fire, where the others were gathering for dinner. Li Du walked with him through the barn to the stairs, but did not go up. He remained in the barn, uncertain of where to go. Feeling stifled by the incense and barley dust and enclosed smell of animals, he stepped into the courtyard and left the manor through the dark corridor of painted animals.

Outside the manor walls, Li Du drew in a deep breath and looked at the sky, which rather than flushing with sunset color was simply becoming a darker gray. A low, snapping sound made him turn. He was not alone. To his right, a little way farther along the manor wall, Rinzen stood looking down the pasture toward the black trees. The wind caught at his bright, voluminous robes, blowing them into uneven waves that rippled around him.

A gust blew the stiff red hat from Rinzen's head and whipped his long gray hair into tangles. Li Du picked up the hat where it had fallen at his feet. Its brim was made of sleek, long fur, its crown of bright red wool. Li Du brushed the snow from it, then walked to where Rinzen stood and offered it to him. Rinzen took it with thanks and settled it back on his head.

“There are mountains there in the clouds,” Rinzen said, looking into the blank gray void above the trees. He pointed. “That way lies Beijing.” He turned around, tracing a line across space with his finger. “And that way is Lhasa.”

“And we stand between them,” said Li Du.

Rinzen nodded. “How many hundreds of valleys like this one separate the two great cities? Or thousands? It is a vast distance.”

Li Du did not answer immediately. They stood, a comfortable silence between them. It seemed to Li Du that Rinzen shared his enjoyment of the wind striking his cheeks and ears, sweeping away dusty thoughts and half-remembered worries.

Li Du put his hand on his hat to keep it from blowing away. “You have reminded me—the trader, Sonam, asked me to tell you that he can deliver your letters to Lhasa, and it will take him only a single month.”

Rinzen bent sideways toward Li Du and cupped his hand to his ear. Li Du raised his voice over the wind and repeated the message. Rinzen straightened up, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “That seems very fast. I am not sure it is possible to make the journey so quickly.”

Li Du nodded. “I think you would be wise not to take him at his word.”

Understanding settled into the deep lines that framed Rinzen's mouth and eyes like cracks through stone. “I share your opinion. In my position, it is essential to know who is trustworthy, and who is not.”

The wind gusted again. Rinzen pulled his hands from his long sleeves to lift his fur collar higher around his neck. “I can smell the smoke of the kitchen fire. Shall we go inside?”

He turned his shoulder toward the manor entrance, but Li Du stood transfixed. “Your ring,” he said.

Rinzen had just tucked his hands back into his long sleeves. He drew them out again and followed Li Du's gaze to the ring finger of his left hand. Bands of gold and cut gems shone even in the dim light. But among the fine rings, symbols of his distinction, was one that did not shine.

“The silver ring on your left hand is black,” said Li Du. He caught the look of surprise on Rinzen's face before Rinzen could hide it.

Rinzen held up the hand. “It is an old ring,” he said.

Li Du met the other man's eyes. “And if I ask the Chhöshe, who has traveled with you for some months, whether the ring was black a week ago, what will he say?”

Rinzen was silent.

“You touched the water of the hot springs,” Li Du said. He searched the wizened features for the thoughts behind them, but Rinzen's eyes mirrored Li Du's own. They moved infinitesimally in wary inquiry over Li Du's face.

Rinzen tucked his hand slowly back into his sleeve. He looked behind him at the open gate of the manor, then down to Yeshe's cabin and beyond to the Khampa hut that was beginning to glow through the cracks in its beams like a lantern in the twilight. “Yes,” he said, in a voice just loud enough for Li Du to hear. “I was there.”

“Did you kill Dhamo?”

“Dhamo killed himself.”

Li Du gave a brief shake of his head. To Rinzen's credit, he did not attempt another denial. His shoulders lifted in a sigh Li Du could not hear. “I did not kill him.”

“But someone did?”

“I do not know the answer to that question.” The creak of a shutter above them made Rinzen pause and look behind him at the outer wall of the manor. His eyes lifted to the overhanging second story and its painted rills and layers, but there was no sign or sound of movement there. Rinzen turned back to Li Du. “It is not safe to talk here.”

“Why is it not safe?”

There was another creak, this one from the heavy door to the manor. They both turned to see Kamala, the wind pulling her skirt into whirling dark shapes around her ankles. She cupped her hands around her mouth and spoke, but they could not hear her words over the wind.

“She is calling us to dinner,” Li Du said. “Why were you at the hot springs? What do you know of Dhamo's death?”

“I cannot tell you here. We cannot be seen speaking in this furtive way. Even that is not safe. Come to my room after dinner. I will tell you what I know.” Observing Li Du's wariness, Rinzen came closer to him and spoke in an urgent, low voice. “We are both men of empires,” he said. “You know the danger of secrets, secrets that are kept, and secrets that are not kept. You must understand my hesitation in speaking to you at all. But I will confide in you because I sense that you are a man to be trusted.”

Li Du turned around. Kamala still stood at the door, waiting for them. He turned back to Rinzen. “I want to understand what happened.”

“You have my word,” said Rinzen. “I will tell you all that I know.”

 

Chapter 19

“I can tell you the names of my forefathers from the time of King Trisong Detsen, who made my family noble.” Doso raised himself up off his seat and refilled cups around the hearth. The manor's guests were all there, with the exception of the Chhöshe, whose duties were to the mountain temple and the dead man inside it.

“The first patriarch of my family was called Kalsang Samten. He was a laborer without status or land. When he was a young man, the king traveled to the borderlands to visit the temples he had ordered to be built.” Doso looked at Li Du. “You know of Trisong Detsen? He was a very great king.”

Li Du nodded distractedly.
The Testament of Ba,
he thought vaguely, picturing the room of histories in the Beijing library. Trisong Detsen had taken Chang-an, the capital of Tang China. But that was more than a thousand years ago. Li Du's fingers tensed around his bowl and he wondered if Doso intended to recount, for a second time, a thousand years of family history while his guests sat around the fire.

“Kalsang Samten was among those who were charged with building a hearth for the king's camp. This was no rough caravan camp, but a king's camp, you understand.”

Li Du looked across the fire at Rinzen, who was listening with apparent attentiveness. He started slightly as Sonam called out for the men in the room to empty their cups. Li Du turned and saw Sonam drain his full cup and set it down with a grunt of appreciation.

Doso drained his own cup and went on. “My ancestor searched the forest and came upon a stone that he recognized immediately as a stone that would bring good fortune and protection to the hearth. But that stone had rested for many years in its place. It was half buried in the earth, and as heavy as a full-grown man. But Kalsang Samten required no assistance to lift it. He carried it to the place where the hearth was to be built and set it down there. The king was watching. He said that he had never witnessed such a feat of strength before, and was so impressed that he granted my ancestor Kalsang Samten nobility at that moment. The sons of our house have always possessed superior physical strength.”

Li Du glanced at Pema. The young man was staring down at his bowl, his shoulders curved over it. The scar on his cheek reflected the firelight differently than the skin around it, its smooth surface emitting a waxy gleam.

Sonam leaned forward and filled the cups once again. He was smiling, seeming to enjoy the way the turquoise and silver beads in his hair clicked when he moved and drew annoyed glares from Doso. Sonam turned to Sera-tsering, but her attention was elsewhere. There was a crease between her eyebrows, and she drummed her fingers against her cup. Her own wild hair twisted and tangled like a mansion built for tiny spirits, the braids like hidden staircases twining along inky paths.

Doso began again, seemingly unaware of the rising sense of anxiety and impatience around the hearth. “There was a time,” he said, “when the family had troubles. That was three generations after Kalsang Samten. At that time, my ancestor Samten Lobsang was killed in a bandit raid, leaving only a widow and an infant son. The family was so weakened that the land was to be returned to the king. But my widow ancestor was a strong woman, and she cared for the land alone in her husband's name for many years until her son was old enough to become lord. My family has been very fortunate.”

Paolo Campo sat uncomfortably at the table where Sera and Hamza had set the game pieces earlier. He watched the fire. Several times he started up as if to take a place in the circle, but he seemed intimidated by the space crowded with outstretched boots and serving bowls. He dipped his bread morosely into his stew, only half attentive to Andruk's fluid translations of the conversations around them.

“But we have heard little of your history,” said Doso. Li Du looked up, startled. Doso was talking to him.

“I—I am also from an old family.”

Doso nodded. “I know you are a noble in the court of the Chinese Emperor. But how did you come to be a librarian? Have your fathers kept the books of the Emperor for many generations?”

“They have not,” Li Du said. He paused, hoping he would not be expected to offer more. But he was aware of the people around the fire shifting their focus to him.
Naturally,
he thought.
They attend to the one who does not wish to speak.

Doso, apparently unaware of Li Du's impatience, leaned forward and refilled Li Du's cup, then his own. He gestured for Li Du to continue.

“My father was a calligrapher,” Li Du said. “But my ancestors have traditionally been magistrates.”

“Magistrates?” Doso looked impressed. “The position of magistrate is a highly coveted one in your land.”

“Yes,” Li Du said. “But—” He hesitated. “But you were about to speak of this house. Which of your ancestors oversaw its construction?”

Doso raised his cup to Li Du and bowed his head, pleased. “I will tell you,” he said, “of how the location was chosen.”

Outside it was growing dark. As Doso's voice droned on, Li Du waited, restless and uneasy, for the meal to end.

*   *   *

Li Du and Hamza entered the tower and climbed the dark, narrow staircase to the second floor. The doors to Paolo Campo's and Andruk's rooms lay somewhere to their left amid the leaning, irregular stacks of Campo's possessions. From inside Campo's room came the sound of pacing footsteps.