Gendun sighed. "Khitai was found when he was three years old," he explained, "by elders of his sect." There were special procedures, Shan knew, used for the identification of reincarnate lamas, each different according to the traditions of the sect. "The boy identified things from the lama's prior incarnations. The oracle lake gave a sign in the shape of his initials. He bore the birthmark, on his left calf. It was decided immediately that he must be kept hidden until he could assume the full role of the Yakde."

A birthmark. The dead boys had all had their pant leg sliced open.

"Lau, a nun from his order, had already been sent to make a place for the reincarnation when he was identified, in the north, in the borderlands. Then when the time came, Bajys accompanied him, because he had been a novice and because he came from a dropka family and knew the ways of herders."

Lau's records, Shan recalled, had been in order for the past ten years. It had all been for the boy lama, her settling in Yoktian, her election to the Agricultural Council, her adoption of the zheli. Not a mere ploy, for he knew she had loved the zheli, but an elaborate way to create a hiding place while still remaining true. "But Lokesh said he played with-"

Gendun smiled at the old man. "As Lokesh said, they used to play together. The one called Khitai was in the boy age of the last incarnation then, and Lokesh knew him in the boy age, the last time. Khitai would recognize him and know a friend had arrived." Gendun looked out the portal. "Or, if the worst happened, we would collect his artifacts, his special possessions."

Shan remembered Lokesh with Khitai's possessions at the boy's grave, staring at them as if they spoke to him.

"If Beijing understood," Lokesh said in a pained voice, "it would try to seize them, to forestall the selection process."

A chill crept down Shan's spine. "But you didn't find everything," he said to Lokesh, "You didn't find the Jade Basket."

Lokesh sighed. "No. We have the silver cup that my friend the Ninth used to drink from the oracle lake at their oldest gompa. We have the pen case. But not the most important of all, his gau. We need the gau. It is very old. It has always belonged to the Yakde Lama."

"The killer has it now," Shan said in an agonized voice. "He found Khitai." He stared down into his hands. "So I will find the killer, and I will get the gau."

"You'll never beat the government," Jowa said.

Shan looked up at him. "Is that what you think, that it's all of them together?"

"Sure. That's the way they work. Always directed from Beijing."

"I don't know," Shan said. "Some things have changed."

Jowa frowned and slowly shook his head.

Lokesh stood and placed his hands over the brazier, breathing in the fragrant juniper smoke. "So we must go," he announced, with a strange determination in his voice.

"Yes," sighed Gendun, rising from the table. He swayed, unsteady on his feet. "Perhaps I will rest a few hours first."

Shan looked with new hope at his friends. "You can be back in Lhadrung in a few days."

Jowa nodded heavily. "I will get a truck."

The two Tibetans looked at Shan with obvious bemusement in their eyes. "Not Lhadrung," Gendun said. "Down there, in the world. That is where we are needed."

"No, Rinpoche," Shan said in sudden alarm. "Please."

"Khitai is dead," Gendun said calmly, "and there is a boy spirit, undeveloped, unprepared, still trying to understand what happened. He needs our help. No one read him the Bardo rites. He will be confused. Even for a tulku it can be difficult if he had not obtained full mindfulness in his last incarnation. We will help him. A spirit who is uncertain may look for familiar faces. We must try to help him into the next life. And you must find the Jade Basket."

"Please," Shan asked in a desperate, pleading voice and stood, stepping toward Gendun. "What could you do? Nothing. The knobs are down there. The Brigade is down there. The prosecutor is down there. I can only find the gau if you go to shelter."

"Shelter?" Gendun said slowly, as if unfamiliar with the word. "We can go to the grave of the boy. We can pray and meditate. Then we will follow the signs."

You investigate in your world, Gendun was saying, and we will investigate in ours.

"No," Shan pleaded, his voice heavy with dread. "The place of his grave is watched by the prosecutor. You have no protection. No papers. You could never survive."

Gendun offered a patient smile. "We have our faith. We have the Compassionate Buddha."

Shan looked at Gendun, the reclusive monk who led a fragile existence in the cave hermitage of Lhadrung, who had never been in a truck until two weeks earlier, who did not know guns and helicopters and the electric cattle prods favored by knob interrogators. He stepped to the brazier beside Lokesh. "I promise you. If you return to the safety of Lhadrung, I will find the killer. I will bring back the Jade Basket, if I have to go to Beijing to do it. Get rest tonight and then go back to the fragrant room until Jowa arranges a truck. You can go home."

"Get rest tonight," Lokesh agreed with a nod. "Home would be good," he added in a contemplative tone. Gendun took Shan's hand and squeezed it, then the two Tibetans let Shan lead them to pallets in the nearest meditation cell.

But when morning came Jowa sat at the table, his face desolate. Bajys was running up and down the tunnels desperately calling out their names, his woeful voice echoing into the chamber. But they were not to be found. Gendun and Lokesh had left in the night. They had gone down to the world.

Shan sat on the sentinel stone in a wind heavy with the scent of snow, letting it churn about him. Not just Gendun was lost this time but Lokesh too, wandering out into a world gone mad. He had left Jowa staring out of one of the portals with a blank expression. Bajys was walking about short of breath, as though constantly sobbing. Go back to the cell, Shan had told himself, sit with the ancient bow until you find a target again. But his mind had been too clouded, and he had climbed to the ancient sentinel post as the tide of sunlight swept over the vast open plain, sometimes watching for a glimpse of two figures in the distance, sometimes looking to the fast moving clouds for answers.

A snow squall burst upon him, suddenly engulfing him in a fury of whiteness. He did not move, ignoring the cold, ignoring the particles that bit into his face. Perhaps it wasn't a storm, he told himself, perhaps he was looking inside his mind. It was all that he felt now. Confusion. A swirl of conflicting thoughts. Adrift between worlds. The coldness of death. Even if Khitai were the Tenth Yakde, why did he have to be killed so urgently? Why would the knobs let one of their officers be killed without reprisals? What was the nameless American doing at Glory Camp? Why had Sui wanted to arrest Lokesh, but only once he was away from Director Ko? Had they discovered the old waterkeeper? Was the serene teacher of the boy lama being tortured at this very moment? A patch of sky appeared through the snow, then as suddenly as the squall had started, it stopped. And in the next moment he realized that he had at least one more piece of the puzzle and that he must act on it. He had been looking for clues in the world of Lau and the zheli boys. Now he had to look for clues in the world of the Yakde Lama.