The Silk Map (59 page)

“Why is there a volcano in the center?” Haytham asked.

“That is a representation of the Mother Mountain of the World,” said Rabten, “or so we consider it to be. It happens to be volcanic in this age.”

“I see.”

“I will attempt to meditate upon this mandala,” Steelfox said.

Haytham said, “I hadn't noticed you to be the meditative type, princess.”

“I am inspired, inventor.”

“Feh,” said Northwing. “I don't trust any religion that happens indoors.”

I agree, Steelfox said silently, and as she regarded the mandala, she reached out to Qurca.

She found the falcon winging above the lamasery, enjoying the complex thermals of the plateau and hunting for mice and rats. Her bond-animal welcomed her presence behind his eyes.

After the effects of the green dust and the journey here, Steelfox was disoriented more than usual by the gyrating sweep of the landscape. She tried not to show it, and observing the mandala helped in this regard. Soon she was able to take stock of the land.

“I am satisfied,” she told the others within the lamasery. “Let us continue walking. Rabten, perhaps you can explain the ultimate goal of your order.”

That got him talking, which allowed her to take a bird's-eye view of the territory.

First, she noted that the lamasery had a different aspect to Qurca's eyes than to her own. Where she perceived a well-maintained stronghold, the falcon saw many places that were abandoned and overgrown with grass. (It was there the bird saw the most prey.)

“. . . yet it is difficult to explain all in words, and of course I am speaking a language native to none of us . . .”

Second, she saw that there was a path—rugged, but clear—leading to the volcano. It started with a sheer staircase zigzagging down the eastern face of the plateau, became a track marked with stone plinths and flag-draped ropes, and at last transformed into a tortuous path winding among the fallen boulders at the valley's far end.

“. . . should not imagine nirvana as destruction. Nirvana is an end to the brokenness and selfishness that characterizes our existence. To win through to it is to become something that words cannot touch . . .”

Third, two of the balloons that her sister had taken command of lurked in the forests on the northern side of the valley, beyond the flow of the Aleph. (She'd thought there was a third, but Qurca could see it nowhere.)

“. . . we are fortunate that so many enlightened ones even now stand at the threshold of nirvana and yet do not claim their reward, instead helping us to follow them. It is through their inspiration that we have so many wondrous methods of seeking enlightenment. One does not need to meditate one's way to the goal all alone. We have prayer, art, music, mantras, disputations, pilgrimages . . .”

“Pilgrimages,” Steelfox said. “Might we join one?”

Rabten's calm was not disturbed, but he seemed confused by the transition. “I must apologize for not clarifying your situation. You are the guests of the high lama.”

“I wonder if we're having more trouble with language,” Northwing said. “Maybe you meant ‘prisoners'?”

“I can understand your confusion,” said the monk. “It is safer for you and us if you acclimate to Xembala within the lamasery. You are not being allowed to leave, for now, in much the way that an honorable physician would not, in good conscience, allow a feverish patient to wander freely.”

Haytham cleared his throat. “That implies that the fever will break.”

“Indeed. And in the same way, you will acclimate and can explore Xembala without danger.”

“What is the nature of this danger?” Steelfox said, scanning the valley with Qurca's senses.

“You have surely noticed that reality is more malleable here than elsewhere,” the monk said. “The goddess of this land is herself on the path to enlightenment, though it may take her millions of years to reach it. She sifts through the illusions that underlie reality. This sifting produces multiple aspects of the valley. Even as we walk here, a multitude of unseen others may walk beside us.”

“Like mice in the walls?” Steelfox asked, with a look to Northwing.

“There are indeed mice in the walls,” Rabten said, a quizzical look passing over his face. “We dislike the killing of beings, even those who may be pests. I have heard them now and then.”

“Interesting,” said Northwing, and Steelfox hoped the shaman would be willing to spirit-bond indoors for once.

“I suppose,” Rabten said thoughtfully, “one might compare those in the nearby realms to such mice. An important difference, however, is that those not acclimated may find themselves becoming such mice. And our valley is not without its cats. Ah, a disputation! You may perceive more.”

They'd turned a corner and encountered an open balcony upon which a gathering of nuns and monks witnessed two nuns, a young one garbed in red and a middle-aged one wearing yellow, engaged in what body language suggested was a contest.

The nuns bowed to each other, and the yellow-clad one sat down cross-legged beside a musical instrument.

This was a stringed device, like the long-necked shanz of the steppes. However, it was much bulkier, with a gourd-shaped resonating chamber and a smaller resonating bulb on the neck. A musician would surely sit with it, rather than raise it up. Steelfox had a wistful moment remembering the plucking of the shanz, in the places where the sky was blue and the horizon not bound by stone.

Zheng stood beside her own minder, eyes fixed upon the combatants. She looked at Steelfox. “Are the children done arguing?”

Steelfox bristled, but Zheng was an elder. Even if she was from Qiangguo. “Yes.”

“Good,” Zheng said. “Now we will see how the adults do it.”

Steelfox did not know the language of the disputation. She suspected that even if she did she would not follow the intricacies of the argument. The red-clad nun began a diatribe that was half-spoken, half-sung. At last the red nun clapped and stomped her left foot. She raised her left arm as though holding shut a door while lifting a right arm draped with beads.

The yellow-clad nun followed with a deep-voiced chant. The tones sounded calm and matter-of-fact, as opposed to strident and aggressive.

Steelfox, using Qurca's eyes, noted Jewelwolf's balloons beginning to rise. They were still far off, but it was a worry. Using her own eyes, she noted that Northwing was staring at a nearby wall.

Haytham said, “What is the topic of disputation?”

Zheng said, “I'm told the red nun's arguing that music inhibits progress to enlightenment.”

“Strange,” Haytham said. “Our guide just said that music is one of the means to enlightenment.”

Rabten broke in, “The thesis is specifically that ‘music is a transitory entity because it is a result.' By extension, all results are transitory. It's an old argument, but worth hashing out now and again. If the elder nun wins, she will keep her veena. If the younger one wins, she will destroy the veena.”

“I will never understand the devout,” Haytham said. “Still, the fingers on the same hand are all different.”

Rabten said, “There is a larger purpose here, which is to teach rhetoric. On a deeper level the nuns are in agreement that phenomena are impermanent. Indeed, the loss of the veena, if it occurs, may help the elder remain detached from possessions. Yet, she may go on to compose a song about the matter.”

“Madness,” muttered Northwing.

The sky darkened.

“I take it back,” said Northwing.

“At times reality distortions accompany disputations. It is nothing.”

Wind gusted into the lamasery from the balcony. Steelfox blinked and felt Qurca adjust to the freak change in the weather. A storm cloud was descending from the golden mists above, like a god's foot.

Yet none of the Xembalans seemed to mind. The opposed singing and chanting continued. As the red nun clapped and stomped, lightning flashed in the valley, and soon after there came a crackle of thunder. The yellow nun's counterargument was accompanied by golden light and a contrary wind, pushing the dark cloud mass away.

Qurca spiraled down, unable to cope with the changes to the atmosphere; all at once, mid-descent, the link with Steelfox failed.

Steelfox shivered, for the air was still cold, and she feared for her falcon. She risked speaking to Northwing, using Karvak. “I've lost Qurca. Did you find a rat?”

“I did,” hissed Northwing. “I've still got her, but she's skittish. She senses the world warping around her. Princess, this place is unnatural.”

Light and darkness and more contested outside the lamasery. Now and then the sky appeared rent, and beyond it Steelfox could see first stars, and then comets, and now twisted and jagged red objects glowing like hot ingots.

Strange changes came and went in the valley. Steelfox beheld rivers of lava flowing amid the fields, and walls of obsidian rising from the ground, and crystal ships crisscrossing the grass.

“This is fascinating,” Haytham said. “Also, I am terrified.”

“I confess,” said Rabten, “this distortion is stronger than most . . .”

Zheng was rapt. As if not hearing what she was saying, she spoke as the red nun argued:

“‘Can you bring me music? You cannot. The veena may bring music because of the interactions of its body, skin, neck, tuning pegs, strings, bridge, and the player's skill. Thus music is a result, determinate.'”

Then after clapping and thunder, Zheng spoke as the yellow nun chanted:

“‘You leave out too much. For the gourd resonator is the sun, wisdom, and the female. And the strings are the moon, compassion, and the male. And the neck is the channel that brings together these energies. The Undetermined himself plucks the strings of compassion, resonating with wisdom. If you reject music as determinate, you must reject the message of compassion and wisdom as well.'”

The transformations of the land increased in tempo.

“It occurs to me, Northwing,” said Steelfox in Karvak, “that this disputation may provide an opportunity to escape.”

“I have seen that possibility also, princess. Yet I would say the weather is poor.”

“Dawn comes with or without the rooster. I think our moment is coming. Be prepared.”

Snow Pine and Flint found the journey down the hallway of mandalas and statues somewhat harder going than expected. First, there were the gusts of wind emerging through the unbarred windows. Second, there was the shaking of the lamasery. Third, there were the strange apparitional figures flickering into and out of existence, mostly ghostly monks and nuns, but occasionally odder things—yellow-hatted pilgrims from the Plateau of Geam, hooded caravaners from Qushkent, even cousins of the Karvaks riding ponies from shadow to shadow and fading away.

“I don't like this place,” Snow Pine said. Lady Monkey's staff tingled, much as it had during the dragon storm.

“I agree,” Flint said. “It might be time to take our leave.”

“We find Zheng first. And Bone if we can. Gaunt . . .”

The fluctuations in reality increased in tempo. Sometimes the ghost-things they glimpsed were from farther afield. She saw human beings with skin of ashen gray, their clothing muted, their steps shuffling. She saw ferocious yellow-furred sapient beasts with four eyes. She saw anthropoid otters dressed in immaculate blue uniforms, with the manners of courtiers and the eyes of killers. The staff was becoming hot.

“I think we're approaching the heart of it,” Snow Pine said. “Whatever it is.”

“I can believe it,” Flint said. “Maybe we'll find them here.”

But what they found when they reached the balcony, open to the winds, was a crowd of ghosts, with only two real people within.

“Flint!” said Quilldrake.

“You lunatic,” said Flint with delight, clapping his friend on the back. “Where have you been?”

“I'm not sure I have any idea,” Quilldrake said, turning to his companion. “Nor am I sure where we are now. Do you, my dear?”

“I am not your dear,” said the Karvak beside him. “I am Jewelwolf, wife of the Grand Khan.”

“I suppose you're not my dear at that,” Quilldrake said. “Ah, your utter terrifying imperiousness, this is my friend Snow Pine.”

Snow Pine bowed exactly the amount appropriate when meeting a prosperous businesswoman in Qiangguo. It was a calculated insult, but it seemed lost on the Karvak.

Jewelwolf said, “You two have been traveling with my sister Steelfox. Can you explain this?”

She gestured at one of the ghost-figures. It was Steelfox. Near her were all Snow Pine's other companions, save for Gaunt and Bone.

“I can't explain it,” Snow Pine said. “On our journey we found that Bone was also a kind of ghost to us. Your sister's shaman said that Xembala exists on many different levels of reality simultaneously.”

Jewelwolf nodded. “I cannot claim to understand this land, but I see the effects. Something is disturbing the stability of this arrangement, I conclude.”