Kingdom of the Golden Dragon (33 page)

“I don't feel prepared to govern, father,” moaned the prince, head bowed.

“You have no choice, son. You have been trained, and you are brave and pure of heart. You can seek counsel from the Golden Dragon.”

“It has been destroyed!”

“Lean closer, I must tell you a secret.”

The others stepped back to leave them alone as Dil Bahadur put his ear to the king's lips. The prince listened intently to the most vital secret of the kingdom, the secret that for eighteen centuries only the crowned monarchs had known.

“Perhaps it is the hour for you to say good-bye, Dil Bahadur,” Tensing suggested.

“May I stay with my father to the end?”

“No, my son, you must leave now,” the sovereign whispered.

Dil Bahadur kissed his father on the forehead, and got to his feet. Tensing clasped his disciple in a strong embrace. They were saying good-bye for a long time, possibly forever. Before the prince lay the test of his initiation, and it might be that he would not survive it. For his part, the lama had to fulfill the promise made to Grr-ympr to take her place for six years in the Valley of the Yetis. For the first time in his life, Tensing felt overwhelmed by emotion. He loved that young man like a son, more than himself; the pain of being separated from him burned like fire. The lama tried to distance himself and calm his anxiety. He observed the process of his own mind and breathed deeply, taking note of his unleashed emotions and of the fact that he still had a long road to travel before he achieved absolute detachment from earthly matters, including affection. He knew that separation does not exist on the spiritual plane. He remembered that he himself had taught the prince that every being is a part of a single whole, that all things are connected. Dil Bahadur and he would weave through this and other incarnations eternally. Why then was he feeling such anguish?

“Will I be able to reach the Sacred Chamber, honorable master?” asked the prince, interrupting his thoughts.

“Remember that you must be like the tiger: Listen to the voice of intuition and instinct. Trust
in the virtues of your heart,” the monk replied.

The prince, Nadia, and Alexander began their return journey to the capital. Since they now knew the route, they were prepared for the obstacles. They used the shortcut through the Valley of the Yetis, so they didn't happen upon any of the detachments of General Myar Kunglung, who at that moment was climbing the steep mountain trail accompanied by Kate and Pema.

The Blue Warriors, on the other hand, ran straight into Kunglung's party. They had scrambled down the mountainside as fast as the rough terrain allowed, fleeing from the horrific demons chasing them. The Yetis did not catch up with them, because they dared go no lower than their habitual range. These creatures had one fundamental rule engraved in genetic memory: not to go near beings of a different kind. Only rarely did they abandon their secret valley, and when they did, it was only to look for food in the most inaccessible peaks, far from any humans. That was the salvation of the Sect of the Scorpion: the Yetis' self-preservation instinct was stronger than their desire to catch their enemies, and the moment came when they simply stopped. They did not do so willingly, because giving up a juicy battle, perhaps the only one that would come along in years, was an enormous sacrifice. For a long time they stood howling with frustration, but then they gave one another a few wallops in consolation, and, heads hanging, began the trek back to their own haunts.

The Blue Warriors didn't know why the devils in the bloody helmets had quit pursuing them, but they gave thanks to the goddess Kali that they had. The men were so frightened that the thought of going back to claim the statue, as they had planned, never crossed their minds. They
continued down the one usable trail, where, inevitably, they met Kunglung's soldiers.

“There they are! It's the Blue Warriors!” Pema shouted as soon as she sighted them from a distance.

General Myar Kunglung had no difficulty capturing the men; they had no way of escaping. They gave up without a fight. One officer was assigned to take them back to the capital, guarded by most of the soldiers, and Pema, Kate, the general, and a few of his best men continued toward Chenthan Dzong.

“What will they do to those bandits?” Kate asked the general.

“Is possible their case will be studied by lamas. Then judges will consider. In end, the king will decide punishment. At least always it has been done before. Though is fact that we have so little practice to punish criminals.”

“In the United States they would spend the rest of their lives in prison.”

“And they would achieve wisdom there?” the general asked.

Kate laughed so hard that she almost fell off her horse.

“I doubt it, General,” she replied, drying her tears, when finally she regained control.

Myar Kunglung had no idea what had seemed so hilarious to the writer. He concluded that foreigners are such strange people, with such incomprehensible ways, that it wasn't worth the energy to try to analyze them. One just had to accept them.

By then night was approaching, and they had to stop and set up a small camp on one of the terraces cut into the mountain. They were eager to get to the monastery, but they knew that to go on with only their flashlights would be foolish.

Kate was exhausted. In addition to the demands of the trail, there was the altitude, to
which she was not acclimated, and her cough, which left her no peace. Only her iron will and the hope that she would find Alexander and Nadia kept her going.

“Perhaps you should not worry, Little Grand-mother,” Pema said soothingly. “Your grandson and Nadia are safe. Nothing can happen to them when they are with the prince and Tensing.”

“Something very bad must have happened up there to make those thugs run away like that,” Kate replied.

“They mentioned something about the curse of the Golden Dragon and being chased by devils. Do you believe there are demons in these mountains, Little Grandmother?” the girl asked.

“I don't believe any of that nonsense, child,” Kate replied, resigned now to being called “grandmother” by everyone in this country.

The night was very long, and no one got much sleep. The soldiers prepared a simple breakfast of salted tea with butter, rice, and some dried vegetables that looked and tasted like shoe leather, then they continued their march. Kate kept up, despite her sixty-five years and lungs wracked by tobacco. General Myar Kunglung said nothing; he did not even glance toward her, for fear of meeting her penetrating blue eyes. Even so, admiration was beginning to grow in his warrior's heart. At first he had detested her and had counted the hours until he would be rid of her, but as the days passed, he ceased to think of her as an impossible old woman and began to respect her.

The rest of the trip passed without incident. When at last they could see the fortified monastery in the distance, they thought there was no one there. Absolute silence lay over the ancient ruins. Alert, with weapons at the ready, the general and his soldiers advanced, followed
closely by the two women. They went through room after room until they came to the last, where they were intercepted by a gigantic monk armed with two sticks joined with a chain. He raised his weapon, moved his feet in a series of complicated steps, and, before the group could react, looped the chain around the general's neck. The soldiers stopped where they were, unsure of what to do as their chief kicked his feet in the air, suspended between the monk's monumental arms.

“Honorable Master Tensing!” Pema exclaimed, thrilled to see him.

“Pema?” he asked.

“Yes, it's me, Honorable Master!” she said, and added, pointing to the humiliated general, “perhaps it would be wise to release the honorable General Myar Kunglung.”

Tensing set the man down delicately, removed the chain from his neck, and bowed respectfully with hands joined at the level of his forehead.

“
Tampo kachi
, Honorable General,” he greeted him.

“
Tampo kachi
. And where is king?” the general replied, trying to mask his indignation as he straightened the jacket of his uniform.

Tensing stepped aside, and the group went inside the large chamber. Half of the roof had caved in years before, and the rest was dangerously close to collapsing entirely; there was a large hole in one of the outside walls where the pale light of day was filtering in. A cloud trapped at the peak of the mountain had created a misty ambience in which everything seemed faded, like images in a dream. A threadbare tapestry hung on one ruined wall, and an elegant statue of a reclining Buddha, miraculously intact, lay on the ground as if just roused from a nap.

The body of the king lay upon an improvised table, surrounded with a half dozen lighted
yak-butter candles. A draft of air cold as crystal made the candles dance in the golden snow. The heroic Nepalese pilot, keeping watch near the corpse, did not move as the military contingent burst in.

It seemed to Kate that she was witnessing an unbelievable drama. The scene was unreal: the ruined chamber wrapped in thick white fog; the scattered remains of centuries-old statues and broken columns; the patches of snow and frost in the rough spots of the floor. The people were as theatrical as the setting: the enormous monk with a Mongol warrior's body and face of a saint, with the tiny Borobá teetering on his shoulder; the stern General Myar Kunglung, several soldiers, and the pilot, all in uniform, as if they had dropped in by accident; and finally the king, whose serene and dignified presence was imposing even in death.

“But where are Alexander and Nadia?” the grandmother asked.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Prince

A
LEXANDER WAS IN THE LEAD
, following the indications on the video and the GPS, because the prince did not understand how they worked and this was not the moment to give him a lesson. Alexander was by no means an expert, and these mechanisms were also the last word in technology, used only by the United States Army, but he was familiar with electronic devices and it had not been difficult for him to figure out how to operate them.

Dil Bahadur had spent twelve years of his life preparing for the moment he would walk
through the labyrinth of doors on the lowest floor of the palace, open the Magnificent Door, and one by one overcome the obstacles on the way to the Sacred Chamber. He had memorized the instructions, confident that if his recollections failed him, his father would be at his side until he was able to do it alone. Now he had to face the test with only the presence of his new friends, Nadia and Alexander. At first he stared, unconvinced, at the small screen Alexander carried in his hand, until he realized that it was guiding them directly to the proper door. Not once did they have to turn back, and they never opened the wrong door, so soon they found themselves in the room with the golden lamps. Now no one was guarding the Magnificent Door. All traces of blood had been cleaned from the floor. The guard who had been killed by the Blue Warriors, as well as the body of his wounded colleague, had been taken away and no one had replaced them.

“Wow!” Nadia and Alexander cried in unison when they saw the door.

“We must turn the correct jades; if we are mistaken, the system will lock and we will not be able to go in,” the prince warned.

“All we have to do is pay close attention to what the king did. It's all here on the video,” Alexander explained.

They watched the video twice, until they were absolutely sure, and then Dil Bahadur turned four jade pieces carved in the shape of a lotus flower. Nothing happened. The three young people waited breathlessly, counting the seconds. Slowly the two panels of the door began to move.

They found themselves in the circular room with nine identical doors and, as Tex Armadillo had done days before, Alexander stepped upon the eye painted on the floor, opened his arms, and turned at a forty-five-degree angle. His right
hand pointed to the door they should choose.

As it swung open, they heard a hair-raising chorus of laments, and were struck by the foul odor of the tomb. They saw nothing, only unrelieved blackness.

“I will go first, because my totemic animal, the jaguar, is supposed to be able to see in the dark,” Alexander offered, stepping inside, followed by his friends.

“Do you see anything?” Nadia asked.

“Nothing,” Alexander confessed.

“This is the time it would be helpful to have a totemic animal a little humbler than a jaguar. A cockroach, for example,” Nadia said, and laughed nervously.

“Possibly it would not be a bad idea to use your flashlight,” the prince suggested.

Alexander felt like a fool: He had completely forgotten that he was carrying his flashlight and his jackknife in the pockets of his parka. As he snapped on the light, they saw they were in a corridor, along which they moved with hesitation until they came to the door at the end. They opened it with extreme caution. The stench was much worse, but there was enough light to allow them to see. They were surrounded with human skeletons hanging from the ceiling and swinging in the air with a macabre clicking of bones; at their feet seethed a revolting living carpet of snakes. Alexander yelled and tried to back out, but Dil Bahadur seized his arm.

“The bones are ancient; they were put here centuries ago to discourage intruders,” he said.

“And the snakes?”

“The men of the scorpion sect went past them, Jaguar; that means that we can do it, too,” Nadia said encouragingly.

“Pema said that those men are immune to insect and snake poisons,” Alexander reminded her.

“Perhaps these snakes are not poisonous. According to what my honorable master Tensing taught me, the shape of the head of dangerous serpents is more triangular. We go ahead,” the prince ordered.

“Those snakes don't show up in the video,” Nadia noted.

“The camera was on the king's medallion, so it filmed only what was ahead of him, not what was at his feet,” Alexander explained.