“Prophecy?” Sam prompted.

“Yes. I’ll spare you the particulars, most of which involve Buddhist legend and numerology, but the prophecy stated that a time would come when the Kingdom of Mustang would fall, and the only way it would ever rise again was if the Theurang was returned to its birthplace.”

“Here?” Remi said. “That’s what Sushant told us.”

“My dear friend is mistaken. Not his fault, really. The popular history of Mustang and the Theurang is spotty at best. First, you must understand something: the people of Mustang never considered themselves owners of the Golden Man but rather its caretakers. How exactly did Sushant describe the nature of the Theurang?”

“Its appearance?”

“No, its . . . nature.”

“I think the term he used was ‘birth giver.’”

Karna considered this for a moment, then shrugged. “As a metaphor, perhaps. Mrs. Fargo, you’re an anthropologist by training, are you not?”

“That’s right.”

“Good, good. Give me just a moment.” Karna stood up and disappeared down the side hall. They heard what sounded like books being shuffled on a shelf, then Karna returned carrying two leather-bound tomes and an inch-thick manila folder. He sat back down, leafed through the books until he found the pages he was looking for, then set them aside, facedown, on the floor.

He said, “The Kingdom of Mustang was never a grand place. The architecture is more functional, more modest-like its people-but long ago they were quite learned, far ahead of the Western world in many ways.”

Karna turned to Remi. He asked, “You’re an anthropologist, what do you know about Ardi?”

“The archaeological find?”

“Indeed.”

Remi thought for a moment. “It’s been a while since I read the reports, but this is what I remember: Ardi’s the nickname given to a four-and-a-half-million-year-old fossil found in Ethiopia. As I recall, the scientific name is Ardipithecus ramidus.

“Though there’s a lot of debate surrounding the find, the consensus is that Ardi is something of a missing link in human evolution-a bridge between higher primates, like monkeys, apes, and humans, and their more distant relatives, like lemurs.”

“Very good. And its characteristics?”

“Skeleton similar to a lemur’s but with primate attributes: grasping hands, opposable thumbs, clawless digits with nails, and short limbs. Did I miss anything?”

“Top marks,” replied Karna. He opened his manila envelope, pulled out an eight-by-ten color photograph, and handed it to Sam and Remi. “This is Ardi.”

As Remi had described, the fossilized creature, lying on its side in the dirt, looked like a cross between a monkey and a lemur.

“Now,” Karna said, “here’s a popular artist’s rendering of the Theurang.”

He withdrew a piece of paper from his folder and handed it across. The color printout showed a drawing of a gorilla-like creature with massive arms and a squat head dominated by a wide fang-filled mouth and an enormous jutting tongue. Instead of having legs, it was supported by a column of muscle that ended in a single webbed foot.

“Notice any similarities to Ardi?” Karna asked.

“None,” Sam replied. “This looks like a cartoon.”

“Indeed. It comes from a legend involving Tibet’s first King, Nyatri Tsenpo, who was said to have descended from the Theurang. In Tibet, over the millennia, the Theurang became something of a boogeyman. The Mustang version, however, is quite different.” Karna picked up one of the books and handed it to Sam and Remi.

The page was open to a crude but highly stylized drawing. The tone was decidedly Buddhist in nature, but there was no mistaking the subject of the rendering.

Remi murmured. “Ardi?”

“Yes,” Karna answered. “As if suddenly animated. This, I believe, is the most accurate portrayal of the Theurang. What you’re looking at, Mr. and Mrs. Fargo, is the Golden Man.”

Sam and Remi were silent for a full minute as they stared at the drawing and tried to absorb Karna’s words. Finally Sam said, “You’re not suggesting this creature was-”

“Alive in contemporary Mustang? No, of course not. I suspect the Theurang is a distant cousin of Ardi’s, probably a much later missing link, but certainly millions of years old. I have other drawings that show the Theurang with all of Ardi’s attributes: the grasping hands, the opposable thumbs. Other drawings show it with more primate-like facial features.”

“Why is it called the Golden Man?” asked Sam.

“Legend has it that when on display in Lo Monthang’s Royal Palace, the Theurang was fully assembled and articulated in such a way that it appeared human. In 1315, shortly after Lo Monthang was founded, the first King of Mustang-Ame Pal-decided the Theurang’s aspect wasn’t sufficiently glorious. He had the bones gilded with gold and the eye sockets adorned with gems, along with the fingertips. The teeth, which were said to have been mostly intact, were covered in gold leaf.

“He must have been quite a sight,” Remi said.

“‘Gaudy’ is the word I use,” Karna replied, “but who am I to argue with the Ame Pal?”

Remi said, “Are you suggesting the people here developed a theory of evolution before Darwin did?”

“Theory? No. A firm belief? Absolutely. In the nearly thirty years I’ve spent here, I’ve found texts and artwork that make it clear the people of Mustang firmly believed man sprang from earlier creatures-primates in particular. I can show you cave murals that depict a distinct line of progression from lower forms to modern man. More important, despite popular belief, the Theurang was revered not in a religious sense but rather an historical one.”

“Where did the legend originate?” Sam asked. “Where and when did they find the Theurang?”

“No one knows-or, at least, no one I’ve found. It’s my hope that before I die, I can answer that exact question. Maybe your discovery will be the lost puzzle piece.”

“Do you think the Theurang is in the box we found?”

“Not unless a terrible mistake had been made. One of the skills the Sentinels had to master was celestial navigation. No, I’m quite certain you found the Sentinel where you did because that’s where he was ordered to go.”

“Then what do you think is inside?”

“Either nothing or a clue to the Theurang’s birthplace-the location to which it was allegedly taken in 1421.”

“What kind of clue?” asked Remi.

“A disk, roughly four inches in diameter, hewn from gold and engraved with symbols of some kind. The disk, when used in conjunction with two other disks and a special map, would pinpoint the Theurang’s final resting place.”

“You know nothing else about it?” Sam said.

“I know the name of the place.”

“Which is?”

“The ancient translation is a bit complicated, but you would it know it by its popular moniker: Shangri-La.”

LO MONTHANG,

MUSTANG, NEPAL

Karna said, “I can see by your expressions you think I’m winding you up.”

“You don’t strike us as a winding-up kind of guy,” Sam said, “but you have to admit that Shangri-La is a bit of a fairy tale.”

“Is it? What do you know about it?”

“It’s a fictional utopia, a valley located somewhere in the Himalayas, filled with ridiculously happy and worry-free people.”

“You forgot immortal,” Remi said.

“Right, sorry. Immortal.”

“That’s Shangri-La as depicted in the novel: James Hilton’s 1933 Lost Horizon. Another example of popular culture shanghaiing and adulterating a fascinating-and possibly true-tale.”

“You have our attention,” Remi said.

“Mention of Shangri-La, and its analogues, can be found in many cultures in Asia. Tibetans refer to it as Nghe-Beyul Khimpalung. They believe it is in the Makalu-Barun region or the Kunlun Mountains or, the most recent candidate, the ancient city of Tsaparang in western Tibet. Several places in India have also been proposed as the true location, as well as dozens in China, including Yunnan, Sichuan, Zhongdian . . . Add to the list Bhutan and the Hunza Valley in northern Pakistan.