Maybe he couldn't, Shan thought, not until he had heard that Jokar was a prisoner. Since coming to Yapchi Mountain Shan had begun to realize that there were many ways of healing.

"They were just old stories, about how the men in our family became dobdobs," Chemi said, wonder still in her voice. "But that was all so long ago, from before Rapjung was destroyed. Dzopa used to stand in his barley field and talk about Rapjung, but never about… I never knew. Dzopa was away when it happened, the destruction of the monastery. He had come to our village because my father was sick and never went back."

"He found Rinpoche," Lokesh said, sharing her awe. "In India he found the last lama from Rapjung."

Shan nodded. "They came all the way together, with Dzopa protecting him." He remembered Dzopa's frantic warning about lamas being burned. He had caught Padme trying to burn the Plain of Flowers. He had probably seen the smoldering ruins at Rapjung. "What did he mean when he asked how long Jokar was off the mountain? Why this mountain?"

Chemi stared vacantly toward the pallet where her uncle had lain. "The stories said they were supposed to go, the oldest boy of each family from the villages around Yapchi, to become monk policemen. Enforcers of virtue, my father always called them. He said it was a pledge we made to Rapjung a hundred years ago."

Shan studied the woman, then looked at Lokesh. The two searched each other's faces. It almost sounded as though the families had been told by the lamas of Rapjung to perform penance. But the families had been the victims of the Yapchi massacre a hundred years ago.

"Drakte," Lokesh whispered.

The dobdob had come that night not to kill Drakte but to do what he always did, to protect the only Rapjung lama still alive. Somehow Dzopa had seen Drakte as a threat. Shan remembered the dark bruise on Jokar's neck and the sling the purba had carried. Surely Drakte would not have attacked the lama. But the dropka with Jokar that night had said the lama had been attacked.

"It must have been some terrible mistake," Somo said, as if sharing the same thought. Her voice shook. "People had been following Jokar and Dzopa, and knobs were treating the lama like a criminal." She looked at Chemi, biting her lower lip. "Dzopa didn't kill him," she said as though to comfort the woman.

"He is going to fight those soldiers," Chemi said in a voice heavy with despair. "He is the last man living from my family."

Shan knelt by the unconscious thieves and dumped the small pouch onto the floor. The Tibetans who had been robbed quickly retrieved their belongings, then Shan studied what was left, an assortment of silver chains and other jewelry. He picked up a tiny leather pouch on a long hide thong that seemed familiar. He stared at it a moment, then sorted through the booty until he found a lapis bracelet, and an elegant pocketknife with a folding spoon. He studied Somo a moment, who knelt by Lokesh again, then rose, the knife, bracelet, small pouch in his hand, and retrieved his own sack of belongings.

"Lokesh walks slow with his cast," he said to Chemi, but looking at Lokesh, "Keep him off the steep slopes. And be sure he doesn't stop for tonde today. Make him safe." I will find him, Shan almost added, but knew it was unlikely he would leave the valley, except in manacles.

"You can't go," Somo protested.

Shan looked back at Lokesh with a sad smile. "There is a deity to patch."

Chemi stepped toward Lokesh and knelt at the old man's side as though to confirm she would respect Shan's request.

He saw Lhandro waiting by the entrance for him and nodded at the farmer, then knelt at Lokesh's side. "The rongpa have trucks. Stay with the others. They will find the purbas, and the purbas will get you back to Lhadrung."

His friend reached out and tightly grasped Shan's hand. "We started this together," Lokesh said in a tortured voice.

"And I would never have made it without you, old friend," Shan said, his voice cracking. He squeezed Lokesh's hand then quickly stepped to the cave entrance.

"Things will be better," Lokesh said to his back, "after I return from Beijing, you'll see."

Shan turned a last time and looked into his friend's eyes. "I will never see you again if you go to the capital," he said, fighting a torrent of emotion. He could not stop Lokesh from sacrificing himself in Beijing unless he stayed with him. But he had no hope of saving Jokar unless he went to the valley.

Lokesh grasped his gau with one hand and waved goodbye.

Somo and Nyma were close behind him as he reached the ledge over the water. "Lha gyal lo," he said quietly to them, and looked into Somo's eyes. "You can still get Tenzin north," he said, "still complete the plan. Avoid the oil venture. Go in secret. You must complete the plan," he said, seeing the grim determination on their faces. "Something must be completed," he added, trying hard to keep defeat out of his voice. He took a step toward the trail. The two women matched his step.

He stopped and threw his arms up in frustration. "I have to go," he pleaded. "It's over. Drakte would be pleased that you have saved Tenzin." But they continued to follow him up the trail. Suddenly a figure appeared in the mist ahead of him. Tenzin stood there, gazing at the swirling cloud seeds. A few feet above him stood Lhandro and Winslow, his backpack in his hand.

"North," Shan said, like a plea. "People are waiting outside for you," he said to Tenzin. "In America."

The lama kept gazing at the mist. "There is no path to the north today," he sighed.

"How could it be better for both you and Jokar to be lost?" Shan asked in his pleading tone.

"Going north and leaving Jokar with soldiers, when I had not tried to stop it, if that happened then I would surely be lost," Tenzin said with a small smile.

Shan looked into the swirling waters. Maybe any hidden world would be beautiful, and better, because this one was so painful. They had no chance against the soldiers and howlers. But for the Tibetans it would still be better, for their souls, to be prisoners in the gulag, or dead, than to walk away and abandon Jokar.

"How," Tenzin asked slowly, "can you insist on going while denying us the same opportunity?"

Because, Shan wanted to say, I am the only one with nothing to lose, the only one who will not be missed, the only one with such a huge debt to repay to the lamas. But then Somo grabbed the pouch off his shoulder and ran up the trail.

The purba had gone almost a mile before Shan and Nyma caught up with her. She was standing alone, on a ledge that looked north and west over the rolling, starkly beautiful ridges that led to Yapchi Valley. In one hand she clutched the turquoise stone given to her by Drakte. She was wearing a look he had not seen before, the look of a fierce warrior, the look of a protector demon. A chill went down his spine. Somo seemed to be saying goodbye to something. Was it to the mountains that would forever be changed when the oil started flowing? Or was it to life itself? She was descending to do battle with the Chinese soldiers. He looked at the stone in her hands. Drakte had wanted to be a monk, but Beijing had prevented it. She had wanted to be a teacher, but Beijing had prevented it. Then, because they had both been cast away by Beijing, they had met and fallen in love. But they could not stay together, not in this life, because Beijing had prevented it.

Somo turned with a forced smile, then glanced back up the trail where the figures of Lhandro, Winslow, and Tenzin could be seen in the distance.