Patrick Woodhead - The Cloud Maker (2010)

Rega had already convened the Council of Elders. They would meet in just a few hours to discuss the burning of Menkom and the approach of the Chinese. With such a threat on their doorstep, surely they would now understand the truth. They could not sit by and listen to the Abbot procrastinate while the very last of their sacred beyuls was under threat.

‘That’s it!’ Drang’s voice cut through Rega’s daydream. Scraping back his chair, he padded towards his master with the book open in his hands, his scarred face lit with triumph.

‘The clasp,’ Drang took the beads from Rega’s hands and examined the seal engraved on the silver, comparing it with the one on the page. ‘It’s the sign of Tashilhunpo. I knew I had seen it before.’

Rega’s old spine straightened in shock, his mind whirring. The meaning was unmistakeable.

From the night of his arrival, Rega had suspected something was amiss, but he had never suspected anything so incredible. Could it really be possible? Could it really have happened at the monastery without him knowing?

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Why else would a boy have been brought to Geltang in such haste and secrecy? Why else would he be the only one exempt from the initiations? There was only one possible explanation.

The new reincarnation of the Panchen Lama was within these walls. The rightful ruler of Tibet was here amongst them!

Rega stood up from the chair in a flurry of robes. Drang went to support his arm, but Rega brushed past him, sweeping out of his chambers and along the corridor. He had to convene the council immediately.

The boy was the key to it all. Everything hinged on him. If he found a way to control him, he would be armed with Geltang’s sacred treasure and the rightful leader of Tibet – the Panchen Lama himself.

Chapter 45

‘The Abbot will deliberate!’

Rega swept out of the council chamber and into the corridor, repeating the same sentence again in disgust. His head moved from side to side in a nervous twitch and he pulled the ornate prayer beads Drang had taken from Babu from the folds of his robe, rattling them over his knuckles as he walked.

‘ Deliberate! ’ he said again, his voice raised in frustration.

Two novices were about to shut the doors of the council chamber when Dorje suddenly bustled through them into the corridor.

‘ Wait! ’ he called, gathering his robes and hurrying forward. ‘ Please, Rega, you must listen. ’

Rega raised one hand in refusal, continuing at the same pace.

‘ I have heard enough, ’ he said, the words drifting back to Dorje across his shoulder. ‘ I inform the Council of the proximity of the Chinese and what does the Abbot decree? He asks for time to deliberate! ’

He spat out the last word as Dorje finally caught up with him, reaching forward to grab on to Rega’s arm.

‘ The Abbot needs time to make the right decision, ’ he explained, cheeks flushed. ‘ There still remain two formidable obstacles between us and the Chinese. There is time left. ’

Rega squeezed the beads in his fist, the knuckles whitening. For over two hours the arguments had been batted back and forth in the Council, with many of the elders inclining to his point of view. The enemy was at the gates. This was finally the time for a new beginning, for their defiance to be spread across the rest of Tibet.

Then, from behind the screen concealing the Abbot, a scroll had been passed forward. The Abbot had written that he wanted more time to consider what must be done.

Rega’s voice dropped to a hiss as he swivelled round to face Dorje.

‘Now is the time to act. Now! And if the Abbot has not got the courage to do what needs to be done, then . . .’

His voice trailed into silence as Dorje stared at him, at the jutting chin and pale skin that looked ghostly even in the daylight.

‘ You mustn’t even talk this way, ’ Dorje said, dropping his voice to a whisper. ‘ You may not agree with the Abbot’s path, but that does not give you the right to question him or to act without his permission. He is still our Abbot. ’

Rega nodded slowly. ‘ Yes. He is indeed. ’

A novice approached from the far end of the corridor, a large lantern held above his head. As he passed each of the yak-butter candles along the corridor, he reached inside the glass door of the lantern and fished out a flaming taper with which to light it. Seeing both Rega and Dorje ahead of him, he bowed low before moving silently forward. Both men waited until he was out of earshot before continuing.

‘ The Abbot values our counsel, ’ Dorje continued, his tone softening. ‘ He trusts your judgment but must be allowed time to decide our future, especially given the significance of such news. ’

‘ Trusts our judgment? ’ Rega repeated, the corners of his thin lips twisting cynically. ‘ If you think he trusts us so much, why has the identity of that boy remained such a secret? ’

‘ The boy? What has he to do with all of this? ’ Dorje asked. ‘ The Abbot’s aide was quite specific on the matter. He is the governor’s son. ’

‘ Is he? ’ Rega asked, still smiling.

Dorje thought back to the night the boy had arrived at the monastery and all that the mountain guide had said. He was the third son of Governor Depon and had been spirited away from Lhasa in the middle of the night.

Rega raised the prayer beads in his hands so they dangled an inch away from Dorje’s face.

‘ Do you really think a Governor’s son would possess such unique riches? The mark of Shigtase is on them. ’

‘ Shigatse? ’ Dorje repeated, eyes casting down to the delicate clasps of silver connecting the individual nuggets of worn jade. ‘ I don’t understand what Shigatse . . . ’

‘ Don’t be such a trusting fool, ’ Rega interrupted. ‘ Wake up to what is really happening. ’

With that he strode off down the corridor, leaving Dorje to stare after him in confusion.

Chapter 46

Chen put his hand up against the cold rock and stopped. He looked from side to side, taking in the mass of towering columns, twisted and broken in every direction, and sighed.

They were lost. And had been ever since they had first walked into this God-forsaken maze.

Adjusting his footing, he unclipped the waistband of his battered rucksack and swung it on to the ground. Still holding his rifle in his left hand, he reached up, pulling off his fleece hat and scratching the back of his neck. His fingers ran through his damp hair and he exhaled heavily, watching the moisture in his breath condense in the cold air like cigarette smoke. For the briefest of moments he shut his eyes, blotting out the frustration of the last few hours.

This was Zhu’s punishment of him for losing the satellite map, of that much he was sure. There was no other reason why they would have been sent off to find a route through the rocks so late in the day. Tilting his head up towards the leaden sky, Chen watched the light greying out as evening approached. He consoled himself with a single thought – it could have been worse. With Zhu it could always be worse.

Every time they crossed one obstacle another seemed to rise up from the ground, barring the way. Between the huge pillars of rock there were only brief patches of sky visible, making it impossible for him to catch his bearings or get a satellite signal on his GPS. As the afternoon dragged on, particles of snow drifted around them, eddying in the currents of air and settling on their camouflage jackets. The temperature was dropping fast. Night would soon be upon them.