"But that would be inconsistent," Je observed, still in his serene voice.

Shan envied his naivete. "The trial is conducted for the people, to instruct them." Or perhaps, Shan reflected, remembering Beijing stadiums packed with twenty thousand citizens to witness an execution, to entertain them.

"Ah. You mean like a parable."

"Yes," Shan said in a hollow voice. A vision streaked through his mind. The old woman with the mop and bucket, moving up the stairs behind Sungpo. "Except it is more absolute than a parable."

Yeshe was sitting on the steps to their quarters when Shan went to gather blankets for Je, who insisted on staying in the cell block. "I am going to request a return to duties at the 404th. I'll take another year with Zhong if I have to," Yeshe announced as he followed Shan through the door. "I do not wish to be a part of this. It is too confusing. What if Jigme is right, when he says Sungpo can easily throw off a face?"

"Meaning we should accept his sacrifice?"

"It is not just Sungpo. You said it yourself. It will not be enough to prove Sungpo innocent. We will have to provide them with an alternative. They could arrest four or five more monks. Even ten or twenty. Call it a conspiracy of the purbas. They would all be deemed equally guilty. And maybe they would not stop with just the purbas. There are many forms of resisters."

"You're saying the choice is to sacrifice Sungpo or sacrifice the resistance."

"The resistance in Lhadrung County, yes."

"You speak for the resistance now?"

"You saw my gompa. I could not be a purba without breaking my vows. I would be expelled forever. There would be no hope of returning."

"Is that your hope?" Shan asked.

"No," Yeshe said, in a voice filled with emotion. "I don't know. Two weeks ago I would have said no. Now all I know is how painful a return could be."

Shan remembered the dogs at Yeshe's gompa. The spirits of fallen priests, they said.

There was a shout from outside, and a hammering of boots on the parade ground. Jigme was struggling with the knobs, being dragged away from the brig. Shan looked back at Yeshe. "I need your help. More than ever."

By the time Shan reached him Jigme had been deposited a hundred yards from Sungpo's cell.

"Only one visitor allowed to stay with the prisoner," the closest knob snapped, and marched away.

"Not much you can do for him here," Shan observed as he sat beside Jigme.

"If he would eat, then I could fix his meals."

"There may be other ways," Shan suggested. "Depending on who it is you want to help."

"Sungpo."

"Sungpo the holy man? Or Sungpo the mortal?"

Jigme took a moment to answer. "It is confusing sometimes. I am supposed to say it is the same."

"You and I have Chinese blood. It is said that one of our curses is that we always compromise. Maybe it would take years to find the answer to that question. But in a few more days it will not matter."

They sat in silence. Jigme began idly drawing in the dirt with his finger.

"I want you to do something," Shan said. "Go to a place in the mountains. The Dragon Claws. We can get you food and water. There are blankets in the truck. Sergeant Feng can drive you there. He will check on you each day. But once you are out I do not know if the guards will let you through the gate again."

Jigme thought a long time. "They say there is a demon up there."

Shan nodded sympathetically. "I want you to find where the demon lives."

Jigme did not shrink back, but his face drained of color.

"He will not harm you."

"Why not?" Jigme asked in a forlorn voice.

"Because you are one of the few who are pure of heart."

Dr. Sung would not stand still when Shan arrived. "Get out," she said. "You spread danger like infection." He followed her as she moved down the corridor of the clinic.

"What is the Bei Da Union?" he asked, nearly running to match her pace.

"Bei Da is the university. A union is a union," she snapped.

"Are you a member?"

"I am a doctor employed by the people's government. The only doctor here, if you haven't noticed. I have work to do."

"Who was it, doctor?"

She stopped and looked at him quizzically.

"Who got to you?"

Her face flushed. At first Shan thought it was anger, but then he saw it could be shame. "They say it's a club for graduates of Beijing University," she said. "Of course, there're only a handful of graduates in all of Lhadrung. They asked me to a meeting once. Dinner at an old gompa outside of town. I thought perhaps they were going to ask me to join."

"But they didn't."

"Except for Beijing there's little we have in common."

"Who are they?" An orderly was mopping the floor, a Tibetan. He pushed the bucket toward them. Shan motioned for the doctor to move out of earshot.

"The rising stars. The young elite. You know. Backdoor blue jeans. Sunglasses that cost an average family's monthly wage."

"You don't like blue jeans and sunglasses?"

Dr. Sung seemed surprised by the question. She gazed down the corridor before answering. "I don't know. I remember once I did."

"How about Prosecutor Jao? Was he a member?" Shan said.

"No. Not Jao. A graduate, but too old I guess. Li's a member. Wen of Religious Affairs. The Director for Mines. Some soldiers."

"Soldiers? A major in the Bureau?"

The reference to the Bureau seemed to disturb Sung. She considered the question a moment. "Don't know. There was one. He was slick. Arrogant. A bullet scar on one cheek."

"Have you ever treated any of them?"

"Healthy as yaks, every one."

"Not even for a dogbite?"

"Dogbite?"

"Never mind." Shan had not forgotten that the secret charms being bought by the ragyapa had included charms against dogbite. There was no logic to it, but something about it continued to gnaw away at him. Someone wanted to be forgiven by Tamdin but protected from dogs.

"Did Jao ever tell you he expected to be moving away? A reassignment?"

"He dropped hints. About how good it would be, back in the real China."

"His words or yours?"

She flushed again. "He talked about going back. Everyone does. He said he would buy a color television when he got home. Said in Beijing they get stations from Hong Kong now. I guess he finally made it," she added, as an afterthought.

"He made it?"

"To Beijing. Miss Lihua sent a fax from Hong Kong. Requesting his body and effects be sent back."

Shan stared in disbelief. "Impossible. Not until the investigation is over."

Sung turned with a victorious glare. "A Public Security truck came this morning. Took it all. Had a coffin ready. Left on a military flight out of Gonggar."

"Obstruction of judicial process is a serious charge."

"Not when Public Security requests it. I asked for it in writing."

"Didn't it strike you as odd? Didn't you remember that this investigation is under the direct authority of Colonel Tan?"