"How long has it been?"

"That bastard Xong De. Director of Mines. He refused to let my nephew work in the American mine."

"Luntok," Shan said with sudden understanding. "Your nephew is Luntok? The one who climbs mountains."

"Yes," Merak said with obvious pride. "He is going to climb Chomolungma, you know."

"But how did he get his job if he was rejected?"

"Xong died. People say Tamdin did it. I believed it, because afterward Tibetans were given jobs at the mine. Permission for Luntok was quickly granted. I wanted to offer tribute to Tamdin. I knew he lived in the high mountains. I kept watching. Then, when Luntok found his hand I knew where to look. I know our vultures. They seek their food on the high ridges. That bird dropped the hand near the Americans. After he picked it up he would quickly realize it was not his usual food. He would have dropped it soon after finding it."

"Which meant Tamdin was in a high cave near the Americans."

Merak nodded vigorously. "At first I was afraid I had disturbed him. I touched his golden skin. But when I felt his power I realized what I had done, and ran away."

"But you went back with charms of forgiveness. And you have been helping ever since."

"He was hurt bad, I could see that. Lost his hand fighting that last devil. So many battles he has had. I returned his hand, and brought the charms, but I knew he needed rest. I brought them there, to protect him while he recovered from his wounds. I have been taking food and water ever since."

"Food and water?"

"I know the difference between demons and creatures of flesh and blood."

"Why would you need prayers to protect you from them, if they are yours?"

"Not mine. I bought them from a herder. Now they belong to Tamdin."

Shan studied him with a vague but rising sense of dread. "Do you wish to come with me?"

Merak picked up his bag and shook his head heavily. "I know you have to do this, Chinese. People tell about how you did the summoning. You cannot turn back."

Pointing down the path Merak explained to Shan how the entrance was hidden from view, half a mile away inside a small gorge, then shook his head again before leaving. "I don't want to be there when a Chinese tries to enter. You should wish to come with me. I liked you."

When they found the gorge Shan studied his companions. "Sergeant," he said, with a gesture toward Jigme. "His leg is bleeding again. You need to bandage it." Shan ripped off the tail of his shirt and handed it to Feng.

Sergeant Feng, staring nervously into the gorge, seemed not to hear at first. Then he turned and frowned. "You think I'm scared of the demon?"

"No. I think his leg is bleeding."

Feng grunted, and guided Jigme to a flat rock at the mouth of the gorge. Shan and Yeshe followed the gorge as it narrowed into a small passage, then abruptly opened into a clearing.

The instant Shan stepped into it, the beasts attacked.

The creatures were eating the food left by Merak, but instantly sprang up at the sight of Shan, teeth bared, growling viciously. They were the biggest dogs he had ever seen, black Tibetan mastiffs, bred to defend the herds against wolves and leopards, but much larger than the dogs Shan had seen in Kham. If they had not been tied they would have torn him apart. When Rebecca Fowler had conducted the ceremony at the foot of the mountain, something had howled in the night.

Beyond the dogs was the cave.

Suddenly, like a cold whisper over his shoulder, he remembered the words of Khorda's fortuneteller. Bow before black dogs, she had warned. He dropped to his knees, then prostrated himself. The dogs quieted, curious. There was movement beside him. Yeshe was there, speaking in a low, comforting tone, holding his rosary for the animals to see. Incredibly, the dogs lowered their heads and slowly moved forward. Yeshe began to stroke them, reciting a prayer. Shan thought of Khartok gompa again. The dogs were the incarnations of failed priests.

Inside, there were torches leaning against a rock. Shan lit one and followed the tunnel as it curved to the right and opened into a large chamber. He froze, for an instant seized with panic. His heart stopped beating. It was looking at him. It was coming toward him, baring its red fangs. He had violated its holy ground and it would take his head, too.

"No!" he called out and shook his head violently, as though to release himself from the spell. He told himself it was a trick of the light and, battling his fear, moved forward. The headdress and costume had been deliberately arranged on a wooden frame to frighten intruders. Its finely worked gold gleamed, and the necklace of skulls danced in the flickering flame. Khorda's summoning spell had worked, he mused darkly. But who was summoning whom? Tamdin seemed to be waiting for him.

There were words Choje would want him to say, but he could not recall them. There were mudras he could make in offering, but his fingers seemed paralyzed.

He did not know how long he stood, hypnotized by the creature he had hunted. Finally he jammed the torch between two rocks and moved slowly around the costume, in awe of its power and beauty. On the front, rows of disk-shaped emblems had been sewn. He pulled the disk found by Jilin from his pocket. Just below the waist there was a gap where the disk fit perfectly.

A shudder came from behind him. Yeshe had entered, and was feeling the power of the demon. He dropped to his knees and offered a prayer.

Behind the costume was a flat, tablelike rock which held Tamdin's ritual instruments. The nearest was a large, curved flaying blade with a handle on top. He touched the blade; it was razor-sharp, certainly sharp enough to sever a human head. Special boots over which were mounted gold-plated shin plates stood under the rock. The arms were arrayed on another rock near the wall, one mangled and missing a hand. Merak had reverently placed the broken hand below it.

Shan touched his gau. Oddly, it seemed hot. He slipped a trembling hand into the worn leather sleeve of the functioning arm. It was fitted with elaborate levers and pulleys. He pushed a lever near the wrist and a line of tiny skulls along the upper arm turned. He pushed another and claws extended from the fingers. Another set of arms, small false limbs mounted near the shoulder of the real ones, could be manipulated with rings that fit over the fingers of the dancer. It was a wondrous machine, a vast technical feat even in modern times. Certainly it would take hours to learn to use it. But not weeks, not months. The months of training for the Tamdin dancers, Shan realized, must have been for the ceremonial motions, for the coordination of the machine with the complex rituals for which it had been designed.

Shan pulled Tamdin's arm snugly to his shoulder. It felt surprisingly comfortable, almost natural. The silk lining allowed almost unfettered movement. He extended the claws and found himself staring at them with a feeling of immense power. He worked them in and out. This was Tamdin. This was the way one became Tamdin.

A feeling of great satisfaction began to swell within him. With this arm, with these claws, with this power, accounts could be settled.

A startled gasp from behind him pushed the spell back. Yeshe leapt forward and began to pull the thing from Shan's arm. Then suddenly Shan, too, felt the darkness and ripped it from his body. The two men stood over it, then in unison looked up. The two black dogs were sitting at the mouth of the cave, staring at Shan with a silent but chilling intensity.

His hand shaking, Shan pointed to three large rosewood boxes in the shadows. They quickly discovered that the boxes had been designed to transport the costume, one fitted with a post for the headdress. There was an envelope fastened inside the chest with yellowed tape. From it Yeshe pulled several pages of paper, some brittle with age.