Toba said, "I can tell you this: You did not undergo the first change willingly."

"Why would someone force me to become another

man?" "There is only one way for you to learn this. What

do you say?"

Timyin Tin crossed the cell to the urn and poured himself a cup of tea. He seated himself upon a mat and stared into the cup. He took a sip. After a time, Sundoc and Toba also settled to the floor.

"Yes, it is frightening," Toba said finally, groping for words and shaping them slowly. "It is the— uncertainty. You seem to have adjusted well to life here. Now we come along and offer to change it all, without really telling you what the alternative will be. This is not perversity on our part. In your present state of mind, you simply would not understand what we have to say. We are asking you to accept a strange gift—your own past—because we wish to talk with the man you used to be. It may be that, when you have remembered, you will not choose to deal with us. Then, of course, you would be free to go your own way, to return here if you wish. But the gift we will have given you is not a thing we can recall."

"Self-knowledge is a thing I desire," Timyin Tin stated, "and the recollection of past lives is an important step along that road. For this reason, I should say yes immediately. But I have meditated upon just this in the past. Supposing I were to achieve recall of a previous existence—not just a few memories, but all of it? Supposing I not only did not like that individual, but discovered that he was stronger than I—and instead of assimilating him into my existence, he were to assimilate me? What then? Would it not be a turning

backward of the Great Wheel? By accepting knowledge from a source I do not understand, may I not be laying myself open to such possession by an earlier self?"

Neither man answered him, and he took another sip of tea.

"But why should I ask you?" he said then. "No man can answer such a question for another."

"Yet," said Toba, "it is a fair question. Of course, I cannot answer it for you. I can only suggest that, in terms of your beliefs, one of your future selves may one day be wondering that same thing about you. What would your feelings be about that?"

Abruptly, Timyin Tin laughed.

"Very good," he said. "The self always wants to be at the center of things, does it not?"

"You've got me."

Timyin Tin finished his tea, and when he looked up, there was a new expression on his face. It was difficult to understand how that slight squint with the small rising of the cheeks above a half-smile could convey the sense of recklessness, boldness and defiance that it did.

"I am ready for this enlightenment," he announced. "Let it begin."

"It will probably take many days," Toba said cautiously. "There must be a number of treatments."

"Then there must be a first one," Timyin Tin said. "What am I to do?"

Sundoc glanced at Toba. Toba nodded.

"All right, we will begin the treatments now," Sundoc stated. He rose and moved to the corner of the cell where his gear was stacked. "How soon can you be ready to travel?" he asked.

"My possessions are few," the monk replied. "As soon as this business is concluded, I will fetch my things and we can depart."

"Good," said the tall man, opening a small case containing a syringe and a number of ampules. "Good."

That night they camped in the mountains high above the monastery. They had sought a rocky declivity which broke the howling winds. Fine grains of snow swirled about their small campfire—like souls rushing to be melted, vaporized, returned to the heavens—recast, thought Timyin Tin—and he regarded them for a long while after the others had retired.

In the morning, he said to Toba, "I had a strange

dream."

"What was it?"

"I dreamed there were some men in a vehicle of a sort with which I am not familiar. I was in a building, watching as it came to a halt. When the men emerged from it, I pointed a weapon at them—a tube with a handle and a small lever. I directed it toward them and drew back on the lever. They were destroyed. Could this dream be a part of my other life?"

"I do not know for certain," Toba said, gathering and packing his gear. "It could be. At this time, it is better not to regard any such things too critically. It is best simply to let them fall into place by themselves." Timyin Tin received an injection before they decamped and another that evening, following many leagues' travel along mountain trails.

"I feel that something is happening," he said. "There were peculiar—intrusions—into my thoughts today."

"What sort of intrusions?"

"Images, words..."

Sundoc drew nearer.

"What images?" he asked.

Timyin Tin shook his head.

"Too brief, too fleeting. I can no longer recall them."

"And the words?..."

"They were foreign, though they seemed familiar. I no longer recall any of them, either."

"You may take it as a good sign," Sundoc said. "The treatments are beginning to work. You may have more

strange dreams tonight. Do not let them trouble you. It is best simply to observe and to learn."

That night Timyin Tin did not sit up meditating.

On the second morning, there was something different in his manner. When questioned by Toba concerning dreams, he simply replied, "Fragments."

"Fragments? What were they like?"

"I cannot remember. Nothing important. Let's have the morning's shot, huh?"

"Do you realize that the last thing you said was not spoken in Chinese?"

Timyin Tin's eyes widened. He looked away. He looked down at his feet. He looked back at Toba.

"No," he said. "It just came out that way."

His eyes filled with tears.

"What is happening to me? Who will win?"

"You will be the ultimate winner, by regaining what you had lost."

"But perhaps—" Then his expression changed. His eyes narrowed, the lines of his cheeks softened, a faint smile curved the corner of his lips. "Of course," he said, "and I thank you for it.

"How far must we journey?" he asked then.

"It is difficult to explain," Toba said, "but we should be out of these mountains in three days. Then perhaps a week's travel will take us to a major trail we must follow. It will be much easier after that, but the exact destination will depend on word we receive at a rest stop along the way. Let us give you your treatment now and begin."

"Very well."

That evening and the following day, Timyin Tin did not speak of whatever recollections might have come to him. When asked, he was vague. Sundoc and Toba did not press the matter. The treatments continued. The next afternoon, however, as they were making their way down through a pass toward the foothills, Timyin Tin pulled upon their sleeves to gain their attention.

"We are being followed," he whispered. "Continue on as if all is well. I will join you later."

"Wait!" said Toba. "I do not want you to take any risks. You see, we have weapons of a sort you do not understand. We—"

He stopped, for the smaller man was smiling.

"Really?" Timyin Tin said. "Are you quite certain about that? No, I fear that your firearms would not help you against a storm of arrows from above. As I said, I will join you shortly."

He turned and vanished among the rocks to their

right.

"What shall we do?" Toba asked.

"What he told us: continue on," Sundoc replied. "The man is no fool."

"But he is not in a normal state of mind."

"It is obvious that he remembers more than he has said. We must trust him now. Actually, we haven't much of a choice."

They continued on.

Almost an hour passed. The wind fled about them and the echoes of their mounts' hoofs sounded against the rocky walls. Twice, Sundoc had dissuaded Toba from returning to search for their charge. Now his face, too, was tight, and his eyes shifted often toward the heights. Both men were more than normally hunched as they rode.