"Secular affairs?"

"Business manager," the first lama interjected, pouring a cup of tea for the abbot and gesturing for him to sit.

"Why would you speak of our Dilgo?" The abbot asked the question the way a child might, with wide, innocent eyes.

"He was found guilty of killing a man by stuffing his throat with pebbles. The man happened to be the Director of the Religious Affairs Bureau."

The chandzoe frowned. The abbot looked into his teacup.

"In the old days it was the traditional method for killing members of the imperial family," Shan said. "Even in battle they could only be taken and later suffocated."

"Forgive me," the chandzoe said. "I do not understand your point." He seemed to be expressing not confusion, but disappointment with Shan.

"Only that it was a very traditional sort of murder for a senior government official."

"And as they said at trial," the chandzoe said with a hint of impatience. "Khartok is a very traditional gompa. You cannot execute Dilgo twice." A murmur among the monks in the courtyard caught Shan's attention. He followed their stares toward Feng and Yeshe, in the shadow near the edge of the garden.

"If I were going to murder someone I would be sure not to use a method that would be associated with me or my beliefs."

Suddenly the chandzoe stood. "Yeshe?" he called out. "Is it Yeshe Retang?"

Yeshe cowered a moment at the corner of the garden, then saw the enthusiasm in the chandzoe's face and stepped closer. "It is, Rinpoche. I am honored you remember."

The chandzoe threw out his arms again, in the expression Shan had seen when he first appeared on the stairs, and moved to pull Yeshe out of the shadow. Yeshe stood stiffly, glancing uneasily at Shan.

The chandzoe shifted his eyes from Shan to Yeshe, obviously confused.

"My detention has recently concluded, Rinpoche. I am on this assignment now. Temporarily."

Yeshe cast a pleading glance at Shan, which the chandzoe seemed to follow with great interest. The chandzoe watched Shan now, waiting for Shan to speak. The Chinese in charge.

"His commitment to reform was exemplary," Shan heard himself say. "He has unusual qualities of-" he searched for a word-"dedication."

The chandzoe nodded with satisfaction.

"I can get a job in Sichuan, I think," Yeshe said uneasily.

"Why not return here?" the chandzoe asked.

"My record. I cannot be licensed."

"Your reeducation is completed. I could talk to Director Wen." He spoke as though he were somehow obligated to Yeshe.

Yeshe's eyes grew round with surprise. "But the quota."

The chandzoe shrugged. "Even if it's a problem, we have no quota on workers for the reconstruction." He pulled Yeshe's hands open and squeezed one. "Please come see the new works," he said, and pulled Yeshe toward the assembly hall. Slowly, with tiny steps that made it seem he was fighting an invisible force, Yeshe moved toward the hall. As he did so, Shan saw another monk on the steps, facing Yeshe. His hands formed a mudra that seemed aimed at Yeshe.

Yeshe looked to Shan in confusion. Shan nodded, and the two men moved across the courtyard.

The abbot watched the chandzoe without expression, then sighed and turned to Shan. "You assume that murderers lie," he said, as if he had not noticed the interruption. "Dilgo would not lie. It would violate his vows."

"Did he do the killing, then?" Shan asked.

The abbot would not answer.

"Taking a life would have been a far more severe violation of his rules," Shan pointed out.

The abbot finished his tea and dabbed his mouth with the sleeve of his robe. "They are both prohibited by the 235 rules," he said, referring to the rules of conduct prescribed for an ordained priest.

"I am confused," Shan said. "Those who break their vows are reincarnated as lower life forms. You have already said you believe him to have returned as a human."

"I, too, am confused. What exactly do you want of us?"

"A simple answer. Do you believe that Dilgo killed the Director of Religious Affairs?"

"The government exercised its authority. Dilgo did not protest. The case was closed."

Why did it surprise him, Shan thought, to find that the head of a thriving gompa was also a politician? "Did he do it?"

"Everyone has a different path to Buddhahood."

"Did he do it?"

The abbot sighed and looked into a passing cloud. "It would have been more likely for Mt. Kailas to collapse into the earth from the weight of one bird than for Dilgo to commit such an act."

Shan nodded heavily. "Another such bird has been set into flight."

The abbot looked with a new sadness into Shan's eyes.

"Do you ever think about it, about where the sin lies?" Shan asked.

"I do not understand."

"It is easy for them; it is the way they stay in power. Danger is part of power, like shadow is part of light. Sometimes, if no one threatens it, it must invent threats. It is just as easy for you, to justify what happened to Dilgo. You probably decided that it is as much the nature of things as the tidal wave of soldiers that washed over the gompas in 1959. It was his destiny, you can say, and besides, Dilgo is reincarnated in a better life. But it is not so easy for those in between."

The abbot no longer looked into Shan's eyes.

"Did you expel Dilgo?"

"He was not expelled."

"He was convicted of murder but you did not expel him. Instead you performed the rites of Bardo for him."

The abbot looked into his hands.

Shan consulted his notebook. "They found his rosary at the murder scene. A very special rosary. Beads carved like tiny pine cones, made out of pink coral, with lapis marker beads. Very old. Must have been brought from India. The file said it was unique, the only one of its kind."

"It was his rosary," the abbot confirmed. His voice grew very still. "It was the proof against him."

"Did he explain how it got there?"

"He could not explain it."

"Had he lost it?"

"No. He did not miss it. In fact, he said he had it when he was arrested, when he was taken from his pallet, still sleeping. It was a miracle perhaps, that it could have been transported somewhere and returned that way. Dilgo said maybe it was a message."

"Why did he not protest?" Shan said. "Why did he not argue his defense? If you knew he was innocent, why did you not defend him?"

"We did everything we could."

"Everything?" Shan slowly pulled the case file from the canvas bag he was carrying and dropped it on the bench between them. Shan had read the statement prepared for the abbot. The abbot had condemned the act of violence and apologized on behalf of the gompa and the church.

The abbot stared at the file, then looked up without blinking. "Everything."

He was wrong to expect any of them to feel guilty, Shan realized. Everyone in the drama of Dilgo, from the abbot to Prosecutor Jao, even to the accused, had played his role correctly.

The abbot rose and began to move back to his weeds.

"Then tell me this," Shan said to his back. "Have you heard that a Buddhist demon was at the site of the murder?"

The abbot turned with a frown. "Traditions die hard."

"So you did hear such a rumor?"