A moment later he saw Chen approaching, striding across the open ground.
‘Your orders, sir?
‘Set up camp in the lower fields away from this place,’ he said, eyes taking in the rest of the houses where a few of the villagers sat languidly on the steps. ‘The Westerners were here and somebody saw something. Line up the women by the stream for questioning. And, Lieutenant, don’t stop until you find out exactly what they know.’
‘Yes, sir. And the rest of the village?’
Zhu paused for a moment in thought, his hands clasped lightly behind his back. He was about to speak when he felt something behind him brush against his right hand. He flinched, spinning round on his heel in alarm.
Lying on the wooden doorstep of the house was a small boy in an oversized shirt that was bleached by dirt and age. He had been tucked behind a decrepit bench by the door and Zhu hadn’t even noticed him when he had first come in under the shade. While they had been speaking, he had crawled forward and stretched up to touch the nail-less fingers of Zhu’s right hand in an effort to get his attention. The boy looked up at him with pleading eyes, his scrawny body ravaged by cholera.
‘Help us,’ he breathed, his chest working up and down from the effort, making his collar bones stand out under his sunken skin. From the look on his face, it was all too obvious what he was saying. Zhu didn’t need a translation.
Zhu stared down at him, frozen by the physical contact. His eyes ran over the boy’s small hands, dirtied and grasping as they pulled on his fingers once again, touching the stretched skin on the tips where his nails had once been.
Wrenching his arm free, Zhu strode back into the harsh sunlight, his lips curled in revulsion. He frantically wiped his right hand on the side of his trousers, retreating from the child another pace.
‘Burn the village,’ he hissed, wiping his hand one last time and placing it deep in his trouser pocket. He looked across at Chen who stood bewildered by the front step of the house.
‘Burn it to the ground.’
Chapter 36
Luca opened his eyes to see the afternoon sun slanting through the open window. For a moment he lay flat on the narrow bunk, staring out vacantly across the small, bare room. Then he exhaled slowly and dragged himself to his feet. Every muscle in his body felt stretched and bruised and there was a dull thumping in his head.
Moving over to a porcelain bowl by the bed, he wet a small cloth and ran it over his face and hands. The palms of his hands were still stained black with dried blood. By the time he wrung out the cloth, the water had turned the colour of rust.
Last night’s ordeal was coming back to him in flashes now: Bill’s piercing scream by the cave, the burning sensation in his own arms and legs as he’d clambered after Shara. It had taken every ounce of his strength to get them to the monastery, and despite what he sensed must have been a long, deep sleep, he still felt weak and depleted.
Leaving the cloth by the basin, Luca stepped up to the window and took in the view. The monastery seemed just as unreal in the daylight. As he peered straight down from the ledge he saw that the building stretched away beneath him, level after level, to the mountain’s base. It looked to be at least two hundred metres high, as if two large cathedrals had been stacked one on top of the other.
On the horizon was a series of interlocking valleys. Each had layers of green terraced fields running round the side of the mountains in narrow bands, like the contours on a map. Luca could just make out the silhouettes of people, planting long rows of crops, their backs hunched as they worked the earth.
‘Geltang Monastery.’ Luca said the words out loud, as if they would make more sense that way. What was this place? A secret sect of monks, hidden away in the mountains? But if so, what were they all doing here, and how had Shara known about them in the first place?
A knock on the door made him swing round in surprise, causing his back to spasm. Reaching behind him to lean on the bed, he was still cursing softly as the door was unbolted from the outside.
From the shadows of the corridor, a monk appeared in the doorway.
‘Tashi delek, Mr Matthews. I trust you have slept well?’
The man must have been somewhere between forty and fifty, but it was hard to tell given the perfectly smooth texture of his skin. His head was shaved in the traditional monastic style above gently upward-slanting eyes, and he wore the same cornflower blue robes as Luca had seen on the monks who had taken Bill away. The man extended a hand in greeting, his lips curving into a faint smile.
‘My name is Dorje,’ he said, his voice gentle and deliberate. ‘I am one of the few at Geltang who speak English, and have been instructed to be your guide.’
‘Hello,’ Luca said, offering his hand. Dorje shook it while studying Luca openly, his expression one of unhurried calm. Luca felt he should say something more to break the silence.
‘Your English is very good,’ he said finally.
‘Thank you, Mr Matthews,’ Dorje replied, his smile widening a little. ‘Now, if you would please follow me, Miss Shara would like to see you. On the way, perhaps I will have a chance to acquaint you with a little more of our humble monastery.’
With that he set off sedately down the corridor, hands clasped behind his back like a college professor. Luca followed and, despite his aching legs, had to measure his stride to stop himself from stepping on the hem of Dorje’s robe. They made their way down the tight corridor, passing flaming yak-butter lamps that had been lit in small alcoves cut into the stone walls.
‘Is there any news of Bill?’ Luca asked after a while, when it became obvious that Dorje’s guided tour was going to be conducted in silence.
‘Regrettably, it is too early to tell,’ Dorje answered, speaking over his shoulder. ‘Your companion was in very poor health when he arrived, but I understand that our physicians have been working on his legs all through the day.’
‘But he is going to be OK, isn’t he?’
‘We must wait, Mr Matthews. We cannot do more than that.’
‘Is he at least conscious?’ said Luca, his voice rising a little. ‘I’d really like to go and see how he’s doing.’
Dorje paused by a wooden staircase.
‘Perhaps Miss Shara will be able to give you more information. For my part, I have been told that your companion needs complete rest and that it is impossible for you to see him at this time.’
The way he spoke suggested the matter was gently, but firmly, closed. He continued walking again. After a second Luca shrugged and followed, staring down at the back of his shaved head. A few hundred yards further they passed a wider section of hallway where two young monks were standing, speaking in low whispers. As Luca and Dorje passed, both gave low, respectful bows, but their eyes studied every movement Luca made.
‘Can you tell me more about this place, Dorje? What is Geltang exactly?’
Dorje raised one arm, as if gesturing to the entire monastery.
‘Geltang is a place of preservation. It is a repository of culture, wisdom and enlightenment.’
Luca nodded, waiting for him to elaborate, but Dorje lapsed into silence again.
‘But why has it been built out here in the middle of nowhere?’
‘Indeed, I must congratulate you on completing a most arduous journey. It is no small matter to reach our walls. But I am quite certain your training as a mountaineer stood you in good stead.’
‘Yeah, it helped,’ said Luca impatiently. ‘But what about the monastery? Why’s it been built so far up in the mountains?’
Dorje smiled apologetically.
‘I’m afraid my English is not good enough to answer such questions adequately,’ he said. ‘Ah, but here we are already — the eastern balcony.’
They rounded a corner and the corridor opened up into a vast terraced area made of huge white marble flagstones and surrounded by gleaming walls. The only splashes of colour on the terrace came from an array of miniature trees and plants, similar to Japanese bonsai, whic
h studded the walls in small, individual alcoves.
At the centre, a stone fountain poured water into a shallow receptacle below. The overflow of water then travelled through an open channel in the ground until it reached the balcony’s edge where it fell hundreds of feet down, past the foundations of the monastery and on to the cliffs below.
Spectacular as the balcony was, it was not designed to be introspective. As the water tumbled down like a moving sheet of glass, it drew the eye to the view above it.
Luca’s gaze was directed upwards, coming to a halt halfway up the perfect lines of a familiar mountain.
‘I don’t believe it,’ he said, forgetting the stiffness in his legs as he stepped eagerly forward. ‘It’s actually here.’
Framed by two larger peaks in the foreground, he could see the chiselled outline of the pyramid mountain. There could be no mistake — this was the same mountain he had seen all those weeks ago on Makalu. Despite the summit being concealed by a thick layer of cloud and the lower flanks lost to surrounding foothills, it still looked absolutely magnificent.
‘It’s unbelievable.’
‘Indeed,’ Dorje replied softly.
Both men stood gazing at the view. As Luca’s eyes traced the sides of the mountain he imagined himself up there, slowly picking a route along the cracks in the rock, gradually working higher until he reached the very top.
‘Always cloud,’ he muttered to himself before swinging round to face Dorje. ‘I looked at so many satellite maps, trying to catch a glimpse of it, but the whole mountain was always covered by cloud.’
‘That is its nature,’ agreed Dorje. ‘Like us, it prefers to remain hidden from the world.’
Luca nodded, turning back to the view. ‘Has anyone climbed it?’
Dorje shrugged. ‘While collecting herbs or performing similar errands, members of our order have certainly walked across its foothills.’
‘And the summit? Has anyone been to the summit?’
Dorje sighed quietly.
‘No one has been there. I am afraid we do not share your Western predilection for “conquering” such wondrous feats of nature.’
‘Does it even have a name?’
‘Name? No. No, Mr Matthews,’ Dorje continued, his nose wrinkling a little, as if he had just noticed an unpleasant smell. ‘Our mountain does not have a name. Just as climbing it would be an act of quantifying it, or, to put it another way, of being able to measure oneself against it, we believe naming it would have a similar effect. It is enough for us that it is simply there.’
Luca nodded distractedly. He drew his gaze away from the mountain and over the intervening valleys to where they stood. Now that he was here, he could see how similar the landscape was to that shown on the thangka Jack had given him. He thought back to the professor at Cambridge too and the comments she had made about the ‘mountain beyul’. Dorje had said Geltang was a repository of enlightenment…
There had to be some kind of a connection.
Turning away from the mountain, Luca glanced over at Dorje.
‘Is there a relationship between the mountain and the monastery?’ he asked.
Dorje looked startled for an instant, then his expression assumed its habitual calm.
‘Mr Matthews, I am just a lowly monk here at Geltang and nothing more than a humble translator. I think it best you talk to someone else more qualified to discuss such matters. But what I can tell you is that the mountain creates moisture. Its sheer presence generates clouds and precipitation, which in turn feed the crops you see in the fields below our monastery. We grow all that is consumed here and it is the mountain that enables our existence. Rare indeed for a place as inhospitable as the Himalayas.’
‘I wasn’t meaning the crops so much… more the religious significance. You said Geltang was a repository, right? Well…’
Luca’s voice trailed off as Dorje turned away from him towards the entrance to the balcony.
‘Ah,’ he said, his expression clearing with relief. ‘Miss Shara has arrived.’
Despite his growing frustration, Luca felt his pulse quicken as he turned to see Shara crossing the balcony towards them. She had changed from her climbing clothes and now wore blue monastic robes similar to Dorje’s.
With uncharacteristic haste, Dorje moved off to greet her, walking round the side of the fountain and bowing low. As Luca watched, he clasped her hand in his and whispered something with an expression of utmost solemnity. After a moment Shara nodded and with a brief smile, came over to greet Luca, leaving Dorje by the fountain.
‘It’s good to see you,’ Luca said, realising how much he meant it. He went to take her hand but Shara hesitated, pulling back from him and crossing her hands in front of her. There was a sudden air of formality about her that made Luca’s smile quickly fade.
‘Is everything OK?’ he asked.
‘How is your head?’ she said, ignoring the question and studying his forehead where a cut ran back into his hairline.
‘Got a hell of a hangover, but I’ll be OK. More importantly, have you heard any more about Bill?’
‘He’s regained consciousness, but is still very weak. Now we have to wait to see how he copes with the secondary infections.’
Luca stared into her eyes. There was a distance there he had never seen in them before. Even when she had been angry with them in the village, she had at least been directing all her attention on them. Now there was a cool detachment in her manner that seemed so out of place given all they had been through together.
‘But he is going to recover,’ Luca persisted, dragging his mind back to Bill. ‘We made it here in time, didn’t we?’
‘I don’t know, Luca. We’re just going to have to wait and see what happens.’
There was silence as her words sank in. Luca shut his eyes, thinking back to what had happened that night in the cave. The thoughts and images were still confused: the terrible silence, the fumbling in the dark, and then, right behind them, that almighty roar. He could remember the feeling of Shara’s soft skin as she had pressed her face against his, whispering that a bear was in the cave.
Luca halted, mid-thought, and rewound the images in his mind. There was something about this that wasn’t making sense.
‘When you woke me in the cave, you were already dressed,’ he said, slowly piecing it together. ‘You were getting ready to leave, weren’t you? You must have been planning to ditch us and head to Geltang on your own.’
Shara began to shake her head. ‘Luca…’
He glanced across to where Dorje was slowly inspecting the line of plants set into marble alcoves. He looked entirely absorbed in what he was doing, but was easily close enough to hear their conversation. Luca refocused on Shara’s face as if for the first time and lowered his voice. ‘Bill was right about you. You were hiding something all along.’
Shara sighed and stared down at her hands. When she looked up again, the detachment was gone and her face suddenly showed lines of anxiety and fatigue.
‘What I told you was mostly true. The guide due to take me here had fallen sick and I needed your help to get above the rock-face. After that, you’re right, I was going to head off alone into the Kooms and come all the way to Geltang. I didn’t want to lie to you, Luca, but there is so much more to this than you realise.’
‘So why were you coming here in the first place? I mean, what’s a woman doing here amongst a load of monks?’
Shara paused, pushing back a strand of hair from her face.
‘I was granted exceptional permission to come to Geltang because I was replacing my brother and delivering something.’
‘Your brother? What’s he got to do with all this? What was he delivering?’
‘I can’t tell you that. But please, Luca, don’t ask any more questions. It’s not…’ she paused again, choosing her words carefully ‘…it’s not wise for you to ask too many questions.’
‘Come on, Shara. We went through hell up there and now you’re telling me not to ask
questions!’
‘Keep your voice down,’ she hissed, casting an eye towards Dorje. She leaned closer. ‘Look, it doesn’t matter what I was delivering, but please, just do exactly as Dorje says. I beg you.’
Luca looked at her, bewildered by the obvious sincerity in her eyes. Why was she so reluctant to answer any of his questions? They were already at the monastery. Surely the secret was out?
‘Geltang is one of the hidden beyuls, isn’t it?’ he said suddenly. ‘That’s what you’re trying to protect.’
Shara’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Where did you hear that word?’
‘That’s what this place is, isn’t it? It’s one of those sanctuaries?’
‘Don’t talk about things you don’t understand. Never mention that word again.’
Shara was glowering at him, as she had before at the village, then she stepped back a pace and inhaled deeply. The tension seemed to drop from her shoulders as she stared directly at him, her green eyes pleading once again.
‘I know how determined you can be, Luca. But this is not something you should get involved with. Just let it go. All you have to do is wait until Bill gets better, then you two can leave and go back to England.’
‘I’m only asking you to tell me what the hell is going on. I think I have a right to know.’
Shara was about to speak again when Dorje materialised behind them. He was staring at her and as he stepped closer, she dropped her gaze to the floor.
‘It is time for evening prayers,’ he said, a terse edge to his voice. ‘Miss Shara, I am sure you will be wanting to get back to your quarters to prepare for the service.’
Shara nodded, her eyes catching Luca’s for a moment before she moved away around the side of the fountain.
‘Wait a second,’ he protested, attempting to follow her, but Dorje gently grasped him by the arm, preventing him. Luca looked down in surprise at the mild-looking monk who had managed to stop him in his tracks.
The Cloud Maker Page 20
