“The Himalayas here, the Uygur Desert here—”
“But the
mandala—like a lens—is focused on Tibet alone,” said Dhondub.
Moving
closer to the map, Marianne could see that the topography was continuous with
the interior of the mandala; mountains and watercourses had been subtly woven
into the decorative patterns, making the land itself look like the work of an
artist.
Jetsun Dorje
used his own flashlight to pick out locations on the mandala map. “That places
the lotus near Pakistan, the vase in the Tsaidam basin, the vajra in Kham, the
gem near Lhasa, and the wheel . . . in the middle of the
Changthang. Nowhere.”
“And that’s
all we know? ” Marianne asked.
When Dhondub
smiled, his stern, heavyset face was transformed into that of a proud boy.
“That’s what we knew. Remember, we have been searching for some time now. The wheel,
which seemed most lost, most hopeless, we are now quite close to recovering. We
discovered ruins of a temple buried by an earthquake many centuries ago. A
secret excavation is underway, but there have been frequent interruptions. We
cannot assemble enough people in one place to do the job quickly. So nomads
come and go, staying long enough to contribute to the work, but never lingering
so long that they arouse suspicion. ”
“And what of
the other ornaments?”
He regained
his former gravity, replacing it like a mask that duty required him to wear.
“The search goes on.”
Marianne
felt a moment of lightness. She heard Tara say, “The ornaments will not be
found until the proper time comes. ”
“You know
that? ” Marianne asked.
Dhondub gave
her a puzzled look. “Of course I do.”
“I’m sorry,”
she said. “I was talking to— ”
Tara’s
laughter interrupted her: “I hear your thoughts, you know. You don’t have to
make yourself sound like a fool. ”
Thanks for telling me, Marianne
thought . When will the ornaments be found?
“They must
reveal themselves.”
Marianne
repeated this message aloud for the benefit of her companions. They looked at
her with strange expressions until Dr. Norbu explained the yidam’s methods.
“Then all we
can do is what we’ve been doing,” said Dhondub, once he understood that
Marianne was not simply speaking her own mind.
“Having me
along will help,” Tara told them. Marianne was startled to find herself
speaking in a gentler, higher-pitched voice. No one else seemed to notice the
change. They must have thought Marianne had spoken only for herself.
“I’ve made
exact copies of the map,” Dhondub said. “But I thought you should see the
original at least this once.”
As they
walked back along the shore toward camp, Marianne caught ahold of Dr. Norbu’s
elbow.
“Reting, I
have a funny feeling.”
He nodded,
raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
“It’s
Tara—I’ve never known anything like this. It’s as if my mind has split into two
pieces. What if it makes me schizophrenic?”
“Do you feel
that disoriented?”
She
shrugged. “No. But if the change were subtle enough, I might not notice a
thing. Will you tell me if I begin to act strange?”
He squeezed
her hand. “Of course.”
“You’re the
only one here who knows me well enough to notice such a change.”
“I promise,
Marianne. But I assure you, this is not madness you’re experiencing. The mind
can take many natural forms. You’re like two petals of the same flower, you and
Tara.”
She nodded
and felt herself relax. “Yes, that is what it’s like. Thank you, Reting. I
won’t worry.”
***
They emerged
from the tunnel just after sunset. A red glow lay along the western mountains,
quickly darkening to violet; the sky to the east was black, already full of
stars. The wind met no obstructions as it crossed the valley floor. It was
bitterly cold, laden with sand and grit that stung like pinpricks. She could
almost taste snow in the air.
The hatch on
the tunnel was disguised as part of the rocky inner wall of a dry gully.
“But the
mandala—like a lens—is focused on Tibet alone,” said Dhondub.
Moving
closer to the map, Marianne could see that the topography was continuous with
the interior of the mandala; mountains and watercourses had been subtly woven
into the decorative patterns, making the land itself look like the work of an
artist.
Jetsun Dorje
used his own flashlight to pick out locations on the mandala map. “That places
the lotus near Pakistan, the vase in the Tsaidam basin, the vajra in Kham, the
gem near Lhasa, and the wheel . . . in the middle of the
Changthang. Nowhere.”
“And that’s
all we know? ” Marianne asked.
When Dhondub
smiled, his stern, heavyset face was transformed into that of a proud boy.
“That’s what we knew. Remember, we have been searching for some time now. The wheel,
which seemed most lost, most hopeless, we are now quite close to recovering. We
discovered ruins of a temple buried by an earthquake many centuries ago. A
secret excavation is underway, but there have been frequent interruptions. We
cannot assemble enough people in one place to do the job quickly. So nomads
come and go, staying long enough to contribute to the work, but never lingering
so long that they arouse suspicion. ”
“And what of
the other ornaments?”
He regained
his former gravity, replacing it like a mask that duty required him to wear.
“The search goes on.”
Marianne
felt a moment of lightness. She heard Tara say, “The ornaments will not be
found until the proper time comes. ”
“You know
that? ” Marianne asked.
Dhondub gave
her a puzzled look. “Of course I do.”
“I’m sorry,”
she said. “I was talking to— ”
Tara’s
laughter interrupted her: “I hear your thoughts, you know. You don’t have to
make yourself sound like a fool. ”
Thanks for telling me, Marianne
thought . When will the ornaments be found?
“They must
reveal themselves.”
Marianne
repeated this message aloud for the benefit of her companions. They looked at
her with strange expressions until Dr. Norbu explained the yidam’s methods.
“Then all we
can do is what we’ve been doing,” said Dhondub, once he understood that
Marianne was not simply speaking her own mind.
“Having me
along will help,” Tara told them. Marianne was startled to find herself
speaking in a gentler, higher-pitched voice. No one else seemed to notice the
change. They must have thought Marianne had spoken only for herself.
“I’ve made
exact copies of the map,” Dhondub said. “But I thought you should see the
original at least this once.”
As they
walked back along the shore toward camp, Marianne caught ahold of Dr. Norbu’s
elbow.
“Reting, I
have a funny feeling.”
He nodded,
raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
“It’s
Tara—I’ve never known anything like this. It’s as if my mind has split into two
pieces. What if it makes me schizophrenic?”
“Do you feel
that disoriented?”
She
shrugged. “No. But if the change were subtle enough, I might not notice a
thing. Will you tell me if I begin to act strange?”
He squeezed
her hand. “Of course.”
“You’re the
only one here who knows me well enough to notice such a change.”
“I promise,
Marianne. But I assure you, this is not madness you’re experiencing. The mind
can take many natural forms. You’re like two petals of the same flower, you and
Tara.”
She nodded
and felt herself relax. “Yes, that is what it’s like. Thank you, Reting. I
won’t worry.”
***
They emerged
from the tunnel just after sunset. A red glow lay along the western mountains,
quickly darkening to violet; the sky to the east was black, already full of
stars. The wind met no obstructions as it crossed the valley floor. It was
bitterly cold, laden with sand and grit that stung like pinpricks. She could
almost taste snow in the air.
The hatch on
the tunnel was disguised as part of the rocky inner wall of a dry gully.
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