"By failing to engage in the socialist dialectic," Shan persisted, explaining the likely mindset of the prosecutor, "the border clans have cut themselves off from the moral nourishment of the state. They breed animosity and social irresponsibility." As he spoke Shan continued to look at Xu. "She must hope Lau is dead. Proof that the clans are destructive of society and must be eliminated."
Jakli said nothing. He looked at her. She was biting her lip, her eyes moist, still staring at Xu.
Ko also wanted the clans gone. The Poverty Eradication Scheme was accomplishing that goal. But somehow the prosecutor and Ko seemed to have little in common, as if they wanted the clans gone for entirely different reasons, or perhaps in entirely different ways. The Prosecutor's way, Shan suspected, was much more absolute than Ko's. Ko might be little more than a good soldier in the former army brigade. But the prosecutor had more authority. Ko answered to a corporate office in Urumqi. Xu Li answered to Beijing.
Suddenly there was a tap on the driver's door. Jakli turned and gasped. Lieutenant Sui glared at her through the glass, his face as thin and hard as an ax. As her arm shot forward to lock the door, Shan reached out to restrain her. She resisted a moment, then relented and opened the door as Sui pointed toward the front of the truck.
Moments later Lokesh, Shan, Jowa, and Jakli had been herded into a line before the knob lieutenant. He didn't ask for papers but simply wrote in a tablet, wearing a victorious expression, looking up to study each of them in turn, as if meticulously recording their descriptions. Shan turned his head to see Akzu with his horse, standing by the end of the garage, his face drained of color. The mechanic sat nearby, shaking his head grimly.
"Public Security has amended the Poverty Scheme," Sui suddenly announced. His voice had a hollow, metallic quality to it. "The wild herds are to be rounded up. The horses represent a security threat." He swept them with the cool, slow stare that seemed to be a trademark of every Public Security official Shan had ever known. "They are to be rounded up and brought to Yoktian with the remainder of the livestock." His gaze settled on Shan for a moment, examining him in pieces, settling for a moment on Shan's close-cropped black and grey hair, then the loose end of the frayed belt, several sizes too big, that protruded from his narrow waistband, then finally his cheap vinyl shoes, cracked and caked with dust.
"They're not yours," Jakli said in a brittle tone, looking at Sui's chest, as if she were trying to detect a heart. "The horses belong to the Kazakh tribes; they always have since the time of the great khans."
"Exactly," Sui said with a lightless smile, as if Jakli had proven his point. "We know what the khans did to China."
Shan stared at the man in disbelief. It had been a thousand years since the khans, progenitors of the modern Mongols and Kazakhs, had invaded China, displacing the Sung dynasty and establishing the Yuan court. He saw movement from the edge of his eye and turned to see Akzu edging forward, leading his horse toward the knob with fire in his eyes now, as if the leathery old Kazakh was going to attack Sui.
"You'll never find all our horses," Akzu said in a venomous tone from ten feet away.
"Not so hard to round them up with helicopters," Sui answered with a sneer that exposed a row of yellow teeth.
"Chinese don't know horses," Akzu protested. The reins slipped from his hand to the ground and he stepped closer, his fists clenched.
"Harvesting of unutilized agricultural resources," came an icy voice from behind Akzu, "is a longstanding policy of the people's government." As the prosecutor spoke she stepped toward them, her driver towering just behind her.
Akzu's shoulders slumped and his chest sagged forward, as if he had been stabbed in the back. He didn't turn to face the woman, but simply stood, staring at the ground.
Shan's heart raced as he sensed Jowa tense, as though ready to spring at the knob. Then suddenly Ko Yonghong passed Xu Li and stood beside Akzu as though to protect him. "These people are enrolled in the Poverty Scheme, Comrade Prosecutor," he declared in a frustrated tone.
Xu seemed not to hear him. She touched her forehead and Sui stepped forward and with two quick motions knocked off the hats that Lokesh and Shan wore, then moved back for Xu to see.
"You mean the Kazakhs, Comrade Director," she said to Ko as she strutted forward, her escort still hovering a step behind. Her small black eyes glanced at Jakli, who seemed unable to raise her face toward the prosecutor, then studied Jowa and Lokesh with a sour expression. Xu hated Tibetans, Malik had said. She considered them all traitors. Her gaze finally settled on Shan.
Ko retreated, yelling orders at the men conducting the inventory, kicking a stone into the air that landed near the mechanic, who sat with a disinterested glaze on his face, smoking another cigarette. Akzu remained frozen in place, silently watching the prosecutor.
Xu paced along the gravel in front of them, still watching Shan, then gestured her escort toward the limousine. She followed him there and conferred with him in low tones, then the man jogged to Sui and spoke into his ear. The knob frowned, then moved backward, watching their small party warily, as if expecting an ambush. "The People's government appreciates your contributions," Xu's escort said in an oily tone and gestured them toward the turtle truck. Jakli grabbed the hats from the ground and pushed Lokesh toward the cab as Jowa and Shan climbed into the rear.
As the engine roared to life Ko approached Akzu, put his arm over the headman's shoulders, and guided him back to his horse. Jakli waited until Akzu disappeared around the building, then put the truck into gear and sped past the poplar trees that marked the entrance to the garage. Shan watched in the side mirror as the compound disappeared in the distance, then felt Jakli's glance. No one followed. The Prosecutor and Public Security were zealously filling up Glory Camp but still had let them go.
They drove for over an hour, twice detouring along dry stream beds in order to avoid checkpoints. As they passed a sign announcing five more miles to Yoktian, Jakli slowed, studying the willow trees that lined the road. She nearly stopped, then, checking to see that no other vehicle was in sight, abruptly turned into an opening in the trees. The route was more of a broad trail than a road, and the sturdy little truck bounced and heaved as they crossed ruts and holes that would have stopped lesser vehicles. After a few minutes the track reached a small stream flowing from the south and followed it toward the mountains. The Kunlun were in full view now, and Shan could see the high peaks that marked the Tibetan border.
Suddenly Jakli stopped the truck. "It's your lama, isn't it?" she asked as she followed his gaze. She was silent a moment. "I could take a different road if you wish. If you wish, I will take you as close to Tibet as I can. He is your friend. Your lama. Lau will wait."
Shan offered a grateful smile and shook his head. "I will go to meet Lau. It is why he asked me to come."
But now Jakli was studying the snow-capped peaks. "When I was young, people stayed away from the high mountains. They called them the edge of beyond, as if there was a totally different world on the far side, or maybe the world just ended there. Then I learned it was my mother's world, on the other side. Now—" She shook her head slowly. "The high plateau up there, where the dropka live, it's one of the last free places, beyond the reach of evil. Like
beyond
means
safe.
Many days, it's the only place I want to be." She was silent a moment, then put the truck back in gear and drove on.
"The edge of beyond." Shan repeated the words like a prayer. It was true. Gendun, as always, was at the edge of beyond.
After a quarter hour, Jakli pointed to a grove of trees at a bend in the stream and leaned forward in anticipation, then eased the truck to a stop under the shade of a grove of poplar trees. There was a small log building near the water, a tiny cabin with a porch, a single plank door and no window.
"It used to be a herder's hut, for the summer when the high pastures are green," Jakli explained as they climbed out. "One of Auntie Lau's favorite places."
"She lived here?"
"Sometimes. She had a room in Yoktian for many years, in the unmarried teachers' quarters. Officially, she lived there. But she stayed here in the warm weather, after the herds got so small the pastures here weren't needed. This was like a— I don't know. A retreat. A sanctuary, in a way. She came here years ago to help a flock of sick sheep. She kept coming back. Not so far from the highway to be inaccessible by car or truck, but far enough to be quiet, to be a world apart."
Shan saw the fond way Jakli looked at the cabin and the meadow beyond, filled with heather and asters in brilliant autumn hues, surrounded by rhododendron with leaves of crimson. It was like an oasis in the high dry mountains, the long slope above facing south so that it was protected, capturing more heat and water than the surrounding landscape. "It was that kind of place for you too," Shan suggested.
She nodded. "Auntie Lau taught me many things here."
"About animals?"
"About animals. About nature. About medicine. About people. About the stars. She was full of knowledge. Sort of overflowing with knowledge. I never knew anyone like her. Everyone, all the Kazakhs and Uighurs loved her. She was from nobody's family but everyone's aunt. It's why she got elected to the Agricultural Council."
"She brought the zheli here?"
Jakli nodded again. "Several times a year. Sometimes for what she called a reverence day."
"Reverence day?"
"Sort of meditation all day, whatever kind of quiet each of the orphans felt comfortable with. Some drew pictures. Some wrote letters. Some stared at flowers."
"What did Khitai do?"
Jakli considered the question for a moment. "I was there at the end of the day the last time. I think he climbed up the trail and sat near the top of the hill. Yes. I remember him. He was on a rock ledge," she said, pointing toward a slab of rock that jutted from the hillside. "Like an old goat, looking out over the mountains. Not with pride, just lost in the beauty."
Shan looked at the empty ledge. Was Khitai sitting on some other rock today, watching? Did he even know a killer was coming? Had Malik found him? With a shudder he realized that, by seeking out the zheli, Malik might be putting himself in the path of the killer.
Jakli stepped onto the narrow porch of the hut. "This place was like a shrine when she was here."
"A shrine?"
"A mosque. A temple. A religious place, is all I mean. You wanted to think big thoughts, just to please her." She opened a wooden latch on the door and led Shan into the cabin.
It was indeed as sparse as a temple inside. A small table, a chair, two benches, and a bedframe made of hand-hewn timbers comprised the only furnishings. Its walls were unfinished logs, many still holding their bark. A tin basin with two cups sat on the chair and a felt blanket lay folded on the bed. In the center of the table sat a single pine cone.
Shan stepped to read a sturdy piece of paper pinned to the log wall. It contained two flowing Chinese ideograms, one over the other, elegantly drawn with brush and ink. The liquid strokes combined the image of a bird flying away into the sky and the symbol of two hands struggling for a single object. It meant
do not contend
and was associated with the Eighth Chapter of the Tao te Ching, the greatest of the Tao teachings he had learned as a child. The characters brought a momentary aching to his heart, for the Eighth had been his father's favorite verse. Shan knew the passage well:
The greatest good is like water
Which benefits all things
And yet it does not contend
It stays in places that others disdain
And therefore is close to the way of truth
The verse was used to describe how enlightened individuals found contentment by not struggling, by staying in lonely, quiet places where truth, like water, was more likely to be found. Sometimes the final words of the passage were translated as the way of life. Truth or life. Perhaps, he thought, looking back at the ideograms, for Lau there was little difference.
He touched a corner of the paper with his fingertips, then pulled them quickly away, as if he were intruding on Lau.
"She was like that," Jakli explained from his back.
He turned and nodded. "I need to understand something," Shan said as she roamed about the small room, gazing upon its contents. "Yesterday when you came to us, Akzu said you didn't owe Lau anything, after what she had done to you."
Jakli turned from the opposite side of the table. "I never understood. A misunderstanding of some kind, I guess. I was in a camp, for reeducation. Lau wrote a letter to the prosecutor, saying I should not be released as scheduled, that I should serve extra time on probation at the factory in Yoktian they use for former prisoners. The hat factory. When they told me why I couldn't go back to the clan I didn't believe it. But they showed me Lau's letter." Jakli sat in the chair and cupped her hands around the pine cone. "It's okay," she said in a confused tone, toward the cone, as if somehow it were a vehicle for reaching Lau. "Just a mistake, I know. She had been nervous lately."
