During his third tour Rongqi, newly promoted to general, institutionalized his campaign by developing a catalog of all reincarnate lamas surviving in his military zone and all the identification artifacts, the signs— the favorite gau, the special robe, the ancient rosary— so that seeds could be sterilized not just in his immediate command district but in a region of hundreds of square miles in central Tibet. Where identification could not be blocked, Rongqi seized the incarnate child and dispatched him to special party schools in eastern China. In the process the general had turned the Bureau of Religious Affairs in his district into a paramilitary organization, staffed with his own soldiers. The few local lamas who escaped sterilization were neutralized with riches: he offered military doctors to peasants, military equipment for working nearby fields, and an increase in the licenses granted to monks so long as the lama agreed to leave and to attend special Chinese schools for four or five years. Party bosses enthusiastically embraced the idea. A special institute for Tibetan studies had been opened in Beijing for this sole purpose.
Finally, the general had convinced Beijing of a new tactic for special cases, especially when lamas had a potentially important role in influencing economic activity: preempt the designation by declaring a new lama, one of the state's own choosing. By the end of his tour twelve years earlier, only four lamas had held out, keeping their independence— and of those, only one, a lama of a very old school with only a handful of gompas in all of Tibet, had passed on and was undergoing reincarnation. The Yakde Lama. The Ninth Yakde had died just before Rongqi had been reassigned to Xinjiang. His request to stay to finish his work, to stay and capitalize on the death of the Yakde, had been denied because his special skills in economic development had been needed in Xinjiang. But he had not given up. A copy of a memorandum sent by Rongqi in Xinjiang had been taken from a knob office in Lhasa five years earlier, asking Public Security to watch for evidence of a new Yakde Lama, for old informers had reported to him that a Tibetan nun was secretly nurturing a new incarnation.
Shan lay back on his pallet, feeling a strange numbness. What agony she must have felt, being thrown by happenstance in front of Rongqi, unprepared, knowing that Rongqi's involvement would mean the beginning of the end. Who would be able to hide their reaction on recognizing such a butcher? It would not have taken much to make the general suspicious. Rongqi might not even have known with certainty about Lau's connection to Khitai, might have simply suspected she was a disguised Tibetan. But a disguised Tibetan woman could be a secret nun, and a nun would be the link he sought to the new Yakde Lama. She had not been surprised when Wangtu had informed her that she was being replaced, just quietly made her arrangements to protect the Yakde Lama. But Rongqi had reacted much faster than she had expected, faster than Shan would have expected. Because, Shan realized, the Brigade was a much more efficient resource for Rongqi than the army. Lau's secret had been penetrated and the Yakde Lama finally had been killed, only weeks after she had met the only man in the world pledged to destroy the Yakde.
But Rongqi wasn't just after revenge. He was implementing his policies. Eliminate the line by eliminating all the indicators of the new incarnation, which meant the boys would still be stalked, for Khitai had given one of them the Jade Basket. Another piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Now he had to discover who was serving as Rongqi's instrument in Yoktian. Ko was a businessman, too young to feel the enmity for Tibetans the killer must possess. Was it Xu, or did she just hate Tibetans for all the usual reasons? Or had it only been Bao all along? No. Bao was a knob, driven by knob ambitions and knob arrogance, unlikely to take orders from the Brigade, even its second-highest manager. Bao was following the trail of boys to find the Americans, a trail he had detected before Lau had been killed. Rongqi's agent was following the boys to find the Yakde Lama. Another piece of Shan's puzzle had fallen into place. But all the others were as obscure as ever. The only thing Shan knew for certain was that the killers still stalked the boys. And if Gendun and Lokesh got in their way, the two old Tibetans had no hope of surviving.
Suddenly he looked up and searched the faces of Jowa and Fat Mao. "Micah," he gasped with sudden realization. "The American." The boys were still being stalked, and the dropka woman said Micah may have been at the lama field with Khitai. Xu herself had confirmed that a second clan had been at the lama field. Micah had been given the Jade Basket. Bao and the boot squads were searching for the Americans. Another killer, sent by Rongqi for the Jade Basket, roamed the mountains. The paths of the killers had converged. And the American boy was their target.
Chapter Seventeen
Fat Mao and Shan had been walking for an hour in the dim predawn light when Mao threw up his hand in warning. He pushed Shan toward a boulder and crouched behind another as a solitary figure came up the trail behind them. It was Jowa, running hard, his head raised high as though he struggled to see something, or someone, in the distance. Fat Mao stood after Jowa passed, and a moment later Jowa slowed, his hand going reflexively to his belt. But his dagger was gone.
"I thought you were staying in Tibet," the Uighur called out to his back. "Too dangerous for purbas."
Jowa stopped and spun about. "I told them," he said, panting hard as he looked at Shan, "this is different." His gaze shifted toward the mountains. "I have to find the lamas."
Shan did not ask him why he had removed his knife. This is different, he had said. Did he somehow mean this was a different Jowa?
Fat Mao nodded, glanced at his watch, and walked past Jowa to lead them down the trail. He walked faster and faster. Then, as the sun cast its first rays over the mountains, he broke into a jog. The men moved hard and fast, over the open plain now, in the face of the cold wind, back toward the Kunlun. Not because they were late, but because boys were being killed, the spirit of the young Tenth Yakde was wandering, lost, and Gendun and Lokesh were missing. If they couldn't do anything else for the moment, they could run.
On they went, three small men in the vastness of the changtang, the wind sweeping the grass in long waves around them, the snow-capped peaks shimmering in the brilliant light of dawn. As they appeared over a small knoll they surprised a herd of antelope, which fled across the long plain. Except one, a small animal with a broken horn, which stared as if it recognized them, then ran beside them, alone, until they reached the road.
* * *
By late morning Jowa and Shan had been dropped at the side of the road to Yoktian, and an hour of walking brought Lau's cabin into view. Shan had decided the night before that he had to see the waterkeeper's chamber once more.
But Jowa held him back as they approached the clearing. Something was different. There were voices. A dog barked, then another, and they saw a big Tibetan mastiff charging toward them. Shan sensed Jowa's body tensing as it braced for an attack, then he threw his arm in front of the purba, pointing toward a figure walking up from the stream with a water pot. Jakli.
They emerged into the clearing. Someone shouted and the dog halted. Shan turned to see Akzu, and behind the headman, two yurts. Red Stone clan had moved camp.
Malik stood by a string of horses tied between the tents, with two young boys who had not been with the clan on Shan's first visit. He surveyed the camp. A pot of mutton stew hung over the fire, tended by Akzu's wife and another boy, who called out as Shan approached. It was Batu.
"They were coming back down," Batu explained as he ran to meet them. "They had fled at first, but they were coming back down."
"I don't understand," Shan said as he surveyed the clearing. He counted six boys, including Batu, all nearly the same age.
"They all had the same idea. Like an omen."
"Same idea?"
"That the only one who can really protect us now is Auntie Lau. We had to come back."
The zheli had returned to Lau. Of the eight survivors, six were in the camp.
A movement in the tree by the cabin caught Shan's eye. He looked up to see one of Akzu's sons sitting on a limb with a pair of binoculars, keeping watch. One of the man's hands was heavily bandaged.
"We're not leaving," Batu declared. "Not until her killer is caught. Not until we know she is in peace."
Jakli arrived at Shan's side. "It's too dangerous, I know," she said with a worried frown. "I found two of them walking on a path to come here. I told them stay away from the valleys. But then Azku arrived with the other boys. He said Red Stone had an obligation, because they had lost Khitai. And Marco agreed to stay." She gestured Shan back, out of earshot of the others. "The boys told me something else," she said in a hushed tone. "Lau was here, the day she died. With two boys and one of the girls. Riding horses. Then she sent them to sit alone, one of her reverence classes."
"Someone could come," Jowa pressed. "They have helicopters."
Shan followed Jowa's gaze toward the man in the tree with the bandaged hand, and suddenly remembered Xu's story of a Brigade truck that had been stolen and burned. He had almost forgotten their first encounter with Akzu and Fat Mao, when they had been interested only in speaking to Jowa about evading knob patrols. Red Stone clan might want a Brigade truck, not to sabotage, but to evade the Poverty Scheme.
"No one will come," Batu said defiantly. He reached into his shirt. "Not if we have this." He produced a piece of paper, which he unfolded into a large square. "A charm againt demons and killers."
With a surge of excitement Shan recognized it. Over twenty lines of Tibetan text in the elegant script used for religious writing covered the bulk of the paper, with renderings of the eight sacred symbols drawn along the edges. It was not exactly a charm but was called a Victorious Banner, an expanded form of prayer flag that invoked a special blessing on the virtuous souls who flew it.
"Who gave this to you?" he asked, suddenly looking over the boy's heads, anxiously surveying the meadow behind the cabin.
"The holy men," Batu said. "They came yesterday. They went to the meadow, speaking with the deities. They wrote these magic words for us. They said it would protect us if we held Lau in our hearts."
Lokesh and Gendun had been there. He remembered Lokesh's words when they had first seen the beautful meadow behind the cabin. It was the kind of place where a boy's soul might linger. They had been seeking traces of the Yakde's wandering soul.
The man in the tree whistled, and moments later the mastiff barked again. Someone was approaching the camp, a tall man in a red Brigade jacket, a small backpack hanging from one shoulder. It was Kaju Drogme, wearing a nervous, uncertain expression, as if at any moment he might turn and run back down the trail.
Jowa seemed to growl almost as loud as the dog at the sight of the Tibetan. He ran to Kaju's side and grabbed the backpack off his back. Kaju held up his hands and let it go without protest as he surveyed the compound with a relieved smile.
"One of the teachers said she came to this place with the zheli in the summer," Kaju said awkwardly, apparently deciding to speak to Jakli. "I thought the children might remember." He pulled a paper from his pocket as he surveyed the boys. The list of the zheli. "I need to assure them, make sure they know we have class at Stone Lake tomorrow."
Jakli asked Jowa what he was looking for. "A radio," Jowa said, staring sourly at Kaju. "A weapon. A beacon. He works for Ko."
Kaju took a step closer to Jakli. "I work for the Brigade. I work for the people of Yoktian County," he said, pain obvious on his face. "All the people."
There was only food in the pack— a bottle of water, fruit, and a bag of chocolate bars. Batu spied the chocolate and called out excitedly. The zheli boys descended on Jowa as he knelt on the ground and held out their hands. Kaju smiled. "Go ahead," he offered to Jowa. But the purba grimaced and tossed the bag to Kaju.
When the candy was distributed Kaju held out his list and studied it, then looked up at Jakli. "I still don't know all their names," he said awkwardly. She stared at the list and shook her head. Kaju appeared hurt by the gesture and walked away from them.
"They took him from the camp," Jakli announced to Shan suddenly. "The waterkeeper. The instructors said he was too disruptive, but they didn't want to report it since they might be criticized. So they said he was sick and took him to the clinic near town."
"Is he— has someone seen him?" Shan asked anxiously.
"A Kazakh nurse who knows us. The doctors mostly give him medication to keep him asleep. He's in a secure ward, where they put injured prisoners sometimes. Not always a guard, but they keep the door locked."
But he was out of the camp, Shan thought. It meant there was a chance of rescue, a chance for him to at last speak with the lama. "Does he know about Khitai?"
Jakli sighed. "No one knows how, but he must. The Kazakh nurse speaks some Tibetan. He seems to trust her. He asked her in what direction the lama field was, because he had to pray toward the place now."
"Tell her not to speak anymore Tibetan. It could make others—" He stopped when he saw Jakli was not listening. He followed her gaze toward Kaju.
