Shan took a hesitant step toward the man. Dzopa blinked rapidly, then pushed his brow as though to stretch open his eyes. He had been cut badly on his arm and taken a concussion when the village was bombed. He had an infection, Chemi had said, and a high fever that made him delirious. Shan had felt sorrow for the man who had left his freedom in India only to return to his village just when it was being destroyed. The delirium had seized him again, and he was calling for a teacher he had left in India.

Chemi spoke rapidly to him, saying comforting words, and handed him a bowl of tea. The man stared at his niece as though he did not recognize her, then drained the bowl. With shaking hands he reached for a pan of tsampa on the floor and began shoving the food into his mouth with his fingers.

"I must find Rinpoche," Dzopa said between mouthfuls, his eyes growing steadier.

"We will get you down to the road today," Chemi said uncertainly.

The man hesitated and gazed at her with wide, hollow eyes. "He made me well again, my niece, all of me. He knows the working of miracles," Dzopa said. Then, more urgently, looking around the cavern he asked again, "Where is Rinpoche?"

Shan stepped to the man's side. "Jokar is below," he said tentatively. "In Yapchi."

"Jokar?" Nyma asked. "But this man-"

Dzopa fixed Shan with a penetrating gaze. His eyes were no longer cloudy. "Jokar Rinpoche is in Yapchi Valley?" The question leapt from his lips in a voice that was suddenly strong and angry. He sighed when Shan nodded. "He always said things were not finished at Yapchi. He said someday there will be great destruction there again, before things are settled." He looked absently toward the huge boots that sat beside his pallet, then slowly reached for them and began to ease them onto his feet.

"How long?" he asked Chemi when he had finished his task. "How long have I been unaware?"

"A week."

The man's face sagged, and he seemed to lose his strength for a moment. "The little blue flowers with the grey leaves that grow along the southern cliffs. Are they out yet?" he asked his niece in a voice that was suddenly small and anxious.

Chemi looked at her uncle in confusion. But Lokesh reached into his pocket and produced a tiny grey stem with a blue bloom.

Pain filled the big man's face as he stared at the flower. He looked as if he were about to cry. Then he sighed and studied the faces about him. "He would have gone with someone from Yapchi Village," he said, and settled his gaze on Lhandro, squinting, studying the rongpa. "You are Lepka's boy?" he asked. "Did he go with Lepka?" He nodded, answering his own question. "He would have gone with Lepka."

Chemi knelt and put her hand on his shoulder. "You cannot go to Rinpoche. Soldiers arrested him."

Dzopa's face froze. His eyes seemed to glaze again for a moment, then they grew bright as embers. He stared about the chamber with a challenging, almost threatening expression, then gazed at the cave wall, as though he could see beyond it, as though he were searching for Jokar far in the distance. He reached out for the brazier, only three feet away, and dipped his fingers in it. He began rubbing his cheeks with ashes.

The man's strange behavior was frightening, and Shan took a step toward him, to help the obviously delirious man back to his pallet. But suddenly one of the rongpa by the entrance cried out in warning. Two men charged into the cave, brandishing rifles. One of them slammed his rifle butt into the belly of the man who had shouted, leaving him writhing on the floor. Dzopa moaned and crawled toward the shadows at the rear of the cave. Somo crouched as if about to attack, then one of the men leveled his weapon at her and coolly touched his fleece hat in greeting. The second man, who wore a loose leather jerkin and a black felt hat, leaned his rifle against the table and began examining its contents.

They were not soldiers but nor were they purbas, Shan realized. Zhu. The Special Projects Director could still have men in the mountains. As the man with the lowered rifle herded them together against the wall of the cave, even forcing Lokesh to his feet, his companion began dumping the contents of the table into a drawstring bag. A pack of cigarettes, a metal mug, tea bags, a ruler, pencils. The men were not interested in arresting them, or asking questions.

"Golok!" one of the rongpa spat, and the man with the cap answered with a grin that showed an uneven row of brown teeth. The intruders were thieves.

The man at the table finished quickly, then turned to face his captives, removing his hat to reveal a bald scalp. His eyes flared, and he ran a finger along his thin moustache as he studied them. His gaze fell upon the metal stove Larkin had left behind and he lowered the rucksack on his back, rummaging through it until he produced a similar, smaller stove, into which a blue canister was fastened. He set the stoves on the table, unscrewed the canister, and with a satisfied grin screwed the canister into Larkin's stove. As he stuffed the two stoves into his sack Shan realized he had seen the smaller stove before. He exchanged a glance with Winslow, who also had recognized it.

The man with the moustache ordered them to line against the wall and began searching them, pulling off bracelets, necklaces, and even prayer amulets, dumping them into a smaller pouch he kept at his belt. When Nyma clamped her gau in both hands, refusing to give it up, the second man stepped forward, reaching for his knife.

"Go to hell," Winslow growled, and pulled Nyma behind him.

"No!" a voice boomed from behind the two men as the blade flashed out of its sheath. The Goloks spun about and stared into the deep, empty shadows behind them.

Shan's heart sank. It could only be Dzopa, in his delirium. He would only anger the thieves, and get hurt for doing so. In his weakened condition another injury could kill him.

The Golok with the rifle raised it as though to fire.

"It's only my-" Chemi began, her words choked to a gasp as a wrathful creature lunged out of the darkness. It was a huge man with a grey robe draped over his ox-like shoulders, his cheeks blackened, his eyes ablaze. In his hands was a stout pole, one of the poles used by the purbas for carrying their cargos.

"Ai yi!" Lokesh cried out, and pulled back against the wall, joined by several of the rongpa.

Shan, too, found himself retreating, his throat suddenly bone dry. They had seen the man before, that terrible night when Drakte had died. The dobdob had returned.

The Goloks did not retreat but stared in confusion, the tips of their weapons drifting toward the floor. In their moment of hesitation the dobdob sprang. The pole spun through the air and slammed into the head of the bald Golok, an instant later into the skull of his companion. The two men hit the floor together, slumped, unconscious.

His eyes no longer wild, the dobdob searched for Chemi. "Rinpoche," he said to his niece in a voice like quiet thunder, "sometimes he forgets he is mortal." He said it as if it explained something important.

"You were with him in India," Shan said in a faltering voice, and settled his gaze on Chemi. Her uncle was the dobdob, and the dobdob was the guard companion of the medicine lama. "You came with him from India."

The man did not respond, did not seem to hear Shan. He hefted his new staff in the air, as though to get its balance, pulled his tattered backpack from the floor, then marched out of the cave. His face had the glint of a feral beast.

"My uncle…" Chemi murmured in a strange blend of fear, awe, and even affection as she gazed at the opening of the cave. "I didn't know he could become a…" She looked at Shan. "I didn't even think he could stand."