Neon Lotus (14 page)

“Trust me.”

“Don’t worry
about that.”

“Good. Now
finish your lunch. I want to look around.”

Marianne
swallowed the last of her soup and mopped the bowl with a piece of bread. The
cheese was hard as a brick; there was no chewing it, so she chipped off a piece
and tucked it in her lip to crumble slowly.

Dr. Norbu
knelt by the shrine while Dhondub showed him something of its workings. She
stepped outside without a word, wincing as the sun touched her eyes. It seemed
impossibly bright, like a gold coin hanging above the western horizon.

She saw that
she stood among a dozen tents that occupied a small part of the vast plain.
Horses and yaks grazed nearby, and there were figures riding along the horizon.
A jeep was parked behind Dhondub’s tent.

The tents
themselves were traditional, embroidered with lucky symbols such as bats, fish
and conch shells. Solar absorption disks, decorated like the eyes of
bodhisattvas, were ranged around the tent roofs to drink in energy.

“So you’re
awake,” said a voice.

She turned
and saw Jetsun Dorje striding toward her. He carried a long bow in one hand and
wore a quiver of arrows strapped over his shoulder. His hair was woven with
colored yarn, braided with beads of amber and turquoise. He looked completely
at home among the nomadic tents.

“How long
have you been awake?” she asked.

“I didn’t
sleep long. Dhondub gave me a tonic to help me recover, and I’ve been getting to
know our hosts.”

“Are you an
archer?”

“I was
once.” He grinned and squeezed his bicep. “I can hardly pull the bow now. Too
much poetry writing.”

Marianne
found herself staring at him wordlessly, subjecting him to frank scrutiny, as
if seeing him for the first time. He was younger than she had thought at first,
his face merely weatherworn.

She felt
another pair of eyes looking out through her own.

Tara said,
“I think he’s cute, don’t you?”

Marianne
looked away before Jetsun could see her expression.

At that
moment, Dhondub rushed out of his tent. “A Chinese patrol is approaching. You
will need identification cards. I’ve had them made up, but we haven’t yet
managed to inject the information into the central authorization computer.
We’ll be safe unless they run a full check on any of you, in which case the
forgeries will certainly be discovered.”

He turned to
Marianne. “Green-eyes, you must wear sunglasses for now, until we can get you
dark-tinted contact lenses. It will make you look less suspect.”

He handed
her and Jetsun small metallic cards, and after a moment a tall woman approached
with a pair of mirrored sunglasses. Dhondub introduced her as his wife, Pema.

Marianne
bowed and took the sunglasses.

“I am
Marianne,” she told Pema.

“Not any
longer,” Dhondub said. “You must take a new name, to match vour identity.
‘Sonam Gampo’ is the name that goes with your card.”

“Sonam
Gampo,” she repeated, tucking the card into a pouch at her waist. She slipped
the sunglasses over her eyes, experiencing a moment of disorientation when she
caught a glimpse of her reflection in the twin lenses. It was not herself she
saw, but a dark-faced woman with black hair: Sonam Gampo.

“I think you
fit in well enough,” Dhondub told Jetsun Dorje, subjecting him to a stern
scrutiny. “Just don’t let them see you shoot that bow, or they will know for
certain that you’re an imposter.”

“I’m out of
practice,” Jetsun said. “But you’ll see—soon enough I’ll have my old arm back.”

“The one you
have now seems quite old already. My grandmother can shoot an arrow farther
than you.”

Jetsun
grinned. “Your grandmother hasn’t had to sit in a border station for eight
months out of the year with no heavier burden than a cup of hot tea.”

“True
enough. And my grandmother can’t fly a plane, either, although she fixes
engines readily enough. That’s where she is now, in fact.”

Jetsun’s
face brightened. “The jet! You still have it?”

Dhondub
nodded sharply. “We evaded the searchers on the night you arrived. The plane is
safely hidden—underground. We don’t dare move it yet, but soon I hope we can
put it to good use.”

Pema said.
“You shouldn’t carry your bow in any case, not when the Chinese come.”

She held out
her hands to take it from him, then carried it into the tent. Marianne followed
her inside, removing the sunglasses. She found Dr. Norbu kneeling at the
holographic shrine. He handled the bell, the vajra, and a small Dharma wheel
like a lama invoking the elemental powers of the mandala. Kneeling beside him,
she saw what he saw: an overhead map with a small red star moving swiftly
across the screen.

“They’re
almost here,” he said. “And still searching the region after our landing the
other night. It will be hard to get through this inspection.”

“Doctor,”
Pema said, “allow me, please. I must continue trying to enter your identities
into the authorization computer.”

He stood up
and let Dhondub’s wife take the cushion before the altar. She was tall and
graceful, her dark hair flecked with gray. Marianne admired her as she went
about what looked like ordinary devotions. A rosary of black beads lay coiled
at the side of the shrine; Pema wound it around her fingers and began twisting
the beads and murmuring in a monotone under her breath, the words inaudible to
Marianne.

For a moment
she was reminded of her mother. The two women were of about the same age. There
was something familiar in the steady certainty with which Pema worked.

Outside, the
sound of rotors rose above the constant sighing of the wind. Marianne peeked
through the tent flap and saw a white plane dropping from the sky, the propellers
on its slender wings tipped straight up. It came to rest on the green expanse
of land where she’d seen the horsemen riding not long before.

Dhondub Ling
ran into the field, waving at the plane as if he were delighted to see it. As
he approached, a hatch swung down and steps unfolded to touch the grass. Four
figures in green uniforms came down the steps, two of them carrying rifles.
Such bulky weapons couldn’t have been necessary, except for intimidation. The
Chinese undoubtedly had smaller and more powerful weapons hidden upon
them-—especially the two who appeared unarmed.

They walked
past Dhondub, heading straight toward the tents. The chieftain fell in
alongside them, talking animatedly.

The Chinese
ignored Dhondub at first, then one of them began to point out tents. By now
Marianne could hear their words.

“Those solar
disks—you have a license, of course?”

“Of course,”
Dhondub said. He unfastened a box at his waist and produced a small card, but
the chief inspector did not even glance at it. “They power our lanterns and
shrines, and of course charge batteries.”

“How many
are in your camp? Any recent transfers?”

“Thirty-six.
We’ve had no transfers for over a year.”

“I would
like to inspect your community roster.”

“Certainly.
It is in my tent.”

The Chinese
halted near the entrance of Dhondub’s tent. Jetsun walked past them and pushed
through the flap. Seeing Marianne, he winked and said, “Hello, Sonam.”

“How long
have you been encamped in this area?” the inspector asked Dhondub.

“Nearly a
week. We plan to move on tomorrow—eastward.”

The
inspector nodded, bowed slightly, and waved a hand at the horizon. “Yet there
is plenty of grass. Your beasts hardly seem to have touched it.” Now he was
smiling.

Dhondub
nodded. “We have few animals, as you might have noticed from the air. Those we
do have will not eat the vegetation here. There may be contamination in the
area. I believe this was a test range for chemical weapons a century ago.”

The
inspector looked at the ground under his feet and made a face in disgust, as if
he would have liked to step off the earth completely. He pointed at the tent.
“We shall go inside now.”

“As you
wish,” said Dhondub. “My wife is at prayer. Your presence will not disturb her,
but please do not speak to her directly.”

“Prayer,”
the inspector said, with a glance at his aide,
a
thin woman
with her hair shaved to the scalp. She had a small console on her belt,
Marianne noticed.

“You have a
license for prayer?” the inspector asked.

“Would we
have a shrine, otherwise?” asked Dhondub. “Please come inside. I will show you
all our licenses, if you have enough time.”

Marianne
moved back into the tent with Jetsun, as Dhondub held open the tent flap for
the inspector and his aide. One of the two armed men entered also, while the
other took up a position outside the door.

As the
inspector passed Marianne, he glanced at her and stopped short.

She could
feel herself blanch beneath the skin tints. The sunglasses were off!

He stared at
her for a moment, then took a slow look around the rest of the tent. Dhondub
blinked at her but his eyes were calm and he kept a diplomatic smile. Dr.
Norbu, however, sank down in the shadows beside the shrine with a helpless
expression. Marianne was acutely aware of Pema’s continual murmuring. It
sounded as if she were shouting out code words. Surely the inspector would
uncover the ruse.

After a
moment, he said to his aide, “Take their cards. I want a full check run on
everyone in the camp.”

The woman
held out her hand and Dhondub hurried to put his metallic card into it; he
quickly dipped into Pema’s pocket and brought out her card. Marianne swallowed,
reached for her own card, and then saw Dhondub’s eyes warning her to hold back
as long as she could.

Pema’s
muttering sounded desperate. She was really praying now.

The
inspector took a few steps toward Marianne, squinting in the dim light.

“Green,” he
said after a moment, as if pleased to discover that his eyes had not tricked
him. “How unusual.”

“My mother’s
eyes were quite green,” Dhondub said.

The
inspector straightened a fraction of an inch. “This is your daughter?”

“Sonam,”
Marianne said, sticking out her tongue.

The
inspector held out his hand. “Your card, please.”

She fumbled
for it. As she gave it to him, the aide finished running her check on Dhondub’s
and Pema’s cards.

Silence
filled the tent, complete except for the clicking of rosary beads.

The aide
pressed Marianne’s card into her belt console.

“Tara,” she
thought, “help me. Help us all.”

“Who do you
think I am?” came the child’s reply.

The console
beeped and fed back the card.

“Sonam
Gampo,” the aide said, and added something in Chinese. The inspector returned
Marianne’s card and turned away from her, apparently disappointed.

Pema was
silent for a moment. Marianne could see her slumped over the altar, exhausted
but relieved. It was something like what she felt.

“You,
grandfather,” the inspector said, speaking now to Dr. Norbu. “Let me have your
card.”

“How dare
you speak to me that way!” said Reting. “I’m not your grandfather. Have you no
respect for an old man’s peace? Have you lost all your family values, that you
would speak to me that way? If I were truly your grandfather, I would pull the
tongue out of your head for such insolence.”

The
inspector sighed and let out his breath noisily. He turned his attention back
to Dhondub.

“What do you
know of the night mandalas?”

“I’ve seen
them from the hills,” Dhondub said. “We’ve been invited to participate at one
time or another, but I must say I doubt their efficacy. Only a simpleton believes
that the gods need our lights to find their way to earth.”