The White Mirror (36 page)

“Where I will be put into the custody of officials who serve the Kangxi, or those who serve Lhazang Khan?”

“Whichever we come to first. You have betrayed them both.”

“And you will tell them the truth?”

“I will tell them what I know.”

“Which, I think, is a great deal. I am surprised the Kangxi allowed you to go after he pardoned you. I would think he would find your services invaluable. A servant who speaks the truth is as valuable as—” Rinzen paused. Amusement glinted in his eyes like a golden fish deep beneath dark water. “As a mirror.”

Li Du did not respond. Rinzen continued. “The Kangxi Emperor is powerful. He had a worthy opponent in the Great Fifth. He has not found one in Lhazang Khan.”

In spite of himself, Li Du was curious. “And you believe the Dzungars are a threat to him?”

“The Dzungars,” said Rinzen, “are the enemy of his secret nightmares. It is from the north that the next great army will come, as it always does. The cycles of history can be predicted. The villages go on, unchanged. The capital cities shift with the whims of emperors. The foreigners come and, like the one who is here now, they scurry away, cold and hungry. So it continues until power grows in the north. Genghis Khan survived what should have killed him, and with ease took more land than all the emperors in their palaces can imagine. It will happen again. I side with the power that makes even the Emperor of China afraid.”

Li Du had heard enough. “Your alliances are of no concern to me.”

“No. You want justice for Dhamo, a mad painter whose mind was half in another world already. And for Sonam, a coarse and greedy man who probably cut more throats than I ever could.”

“You could have traveled north to the Dzungar lands. You did not have to kill Dhamo.”

“I needed time. I could not risk the thangka arriving at its destination before I was far enough away to escape detection. The system I built was an efficient one. The paintings traveled quickly.”

Li Du nodded. “As did Sonam. He threatened you through me, but I did not see it at the time. When he asked me to tell you that he could bring your correspondence to Lhasa faster than any caravan, he was communicating to you the speed with which he could bring about your destruction.”

“Yes.” Rinzen's tone was sour, but Li Du read satisfaction in his expression as he continued. “I told Sonam I would give him the silver he wanted. I told him to find a place where we could not be overheard. It seemed to be my good fortune that he brought me to a hidden cave, the abandoned fancy of a dead man. I had no idea the painter's apprentice cared so much for the art.”

Several moments passed in silence, Li Du in his patchwork coat, Rinzen seated in his frayed silks, the room still except for the smoke that rose in thin spirals from the brazier and incense sticks.

When Rinzen spoke, the suddenness of his words startled Li Du from his thoughts.

“I asked for you because there is a matter I wish to discuss, one that relates to your own situation as much as it does to mine.”

Li Du felt a change in the room. They were alone. Rinzen had not moved. But Li Du had the sense that he was being circled. The back of his head prickled with apprehension, but he kept his eyes on Rinzen, resisting the urge to look behind him.

“Why didn't you accept the Emperor's invitation to return to the Forbidden City?”

For the second time that day, the question caught Li Du off guard. “I wished to travel,” he said.

Rinzen's gaze did not waver. “You wanted to go somewhere? Or was it that you did not want to go home?”

“What is your purpose in asking me this question?”

“I will tell you my purpose soon. But allow me to suggest that your reasons for not returning to your home have something to do with the death of your friend and mentor, head librarian and scholar at the imperial library, who was executed for conspiring to assassinate the Emperor six years ago.”

Li Du stared.

Rinzen gave a small, bitter smile, and Li Du perceived the anger behind the other man's eyes, the rage and frustration of failure. “You have a talent for deduction,” Rinzen said. “But you have overlooked several points that, to me, seem obvious. I admitted to you that I was in the service of the Kangxi. I spoke to you in the attic room of my high rank in Lhasa. And now you know that my loyalty is to the Dzungars. Do you really think that I, who hold the secrets of
three
rulers, do not know about you? I know about Shu. I know that he was your teacher. I know that he confessed his crimes. And I know that you were exiled because you were his friend.”

Li Du's fingers, hidden in his sleeves, were curled so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. But he kept his voice calm. “You speak to me of what I also know. Why?”

“Because I have something that you want.”

“What is that?”

“The truth.”

Li Du's silence seemed to please Rinzen. He gathered the heavy fur more securely around his shoulders. “While you have studied the inhabitants of this manor in your search for a murderer, I have studied you. I see that you walk with despair as a companion. Your exile clings to you like that patched coat you will not mend or replace. I wonder, do you enjoy the pain that the cold brings?” Without waiting for an answer, Rinzen continued. “You are tormented by confusion. How did you fail to see a lie that was so close to you for so many years? If you had seen it, could you have turned him from his path? Could you have saved him?”

Li Du tried to clear his vision. Rinzen's white beard was bone yellow in the light. His eyes were black stones. Li Du blinked. “I should not have come,” he said. “I am very tired, and we have no more to say to one another.”

Rinzen smiled. “But we do. I will tell you something now—something known to very few who are alive. Your friend Shu was loyal to the Kangxi. He knew nothing of a plot to assassinate the Emperor.” Wearing an expression that reminded Li Du of a merchant in a market, Rinzen said, “If you can arrange for me to be taken safely to my allies, I will give you what you need to understand what occurred six years ago. If you do not, then I will take the secret with me to my death.”

Li Du looked for the lie in Rinzen's face, but he did not find it. “Even if I believe you—” Li Du heard his own voice as if it belonged to someone else. The repercussions of Rinzen's words expanded painfully through his thoughts. “How could I protect you? I do not know the path north beyond the plateau to Dzungar lands. I have no authority.”

Rinzen waved a hand. “Authority in these mountains comes from the words you speak and the language in which you speak them. Surely you still carry a seal that can stamp a document with a look of importance. You are associated with power—you can do what I ask. Do it, and I will tell you what happened to your friend. Fail, and you will never know.”

 

Chapter 28

Li Du did not sleep. When he felt the air becoming light he went outside to watch the dawn. With his belt pulled tight around his coat and his hat pulled down over his ears, he watched the sky pale and the stars disappear. There was already smoke coming from the Khampa caravan, smudging the blue air.

He caught movement to his right, and turned to see Kamala come from the stream, two of her children round and bundled beside her. They were carrying buckets of water. The smaller child—the younger boy—held just one bucket in front of him with both his hands, determined to succeed on his own. As he walked, his knees knocked its base and water sloshed over the sides.

When they reached Li Du, Kamala greeted him. The pink scarf around her head glowed, a prelude to the sunrise, and her eyes were bright. She touched the children's shoulders lightly. “Go bring water to Yeshe,” she said.

She set her buckets down, watching them as she spoke to Li Du. “I did not understand the danger that surrounded Dhamo, but those pilgrims always frightened me. Now I understand why.”

“This valley will never be used for such a purpose again,” Li Du said. “The circumstances that cohered were too fragile. The painter, the hidden valley, the manor with two small sons…”

Kamala looked pleased. “In that case,” she said, “you have my gratitude.” She smiled and picked up the buckets of water. “Come in by the fire,” she said. “We are making a good breakfast to prepare you for your journey.”

*   *   *

Paolo Campo was fretting over the difficulty of organizing and packing his possessions. Li Du entered the room to find equipment, journals, clothes, and trinkets scattered across the floor like autumn leaves on the surface of a pond. Campo raised his eyes to Li Du with the look of someone exhausted by the cumulative effort of inconsequential decisions.

“What I do not know is how best to distribute the weight,” Campo said, “and how to protect the equipment that is most fragile. I cannot wrap it in my heaviest blankets. I will need them on cold nights when we must scrape away the snow to sleep.” He sat down on the edge of the bed with a weary sigh. “I tried to organize it all yesterday,” he said. “But the task overwhelms me.”

Li Du picked up a book from the top of a pile and opened it.
Given three angles, the use of the sector in drawing the perspective representations of objects …

Paolo Campo's voice drew him away. “How do you punish your criminals in this land?” he asked. He was looking in the direction of Rinzen's room.

Li Du closed the book and set it down. “His punishment will depend on who judges him for his crimes. If he is taken to Beijing, he will face a magistrate. If he is taken to Lhasa, I do not know what will happen.”

“And if he faces a magistrate in your city? What then? I have heard that several Jesuits have suffered cruel imprisonment in the Forbidden City.”

“He will be executed,” Li Du said, quietly.

Campo shook his head and sighed. “Unbaptized, he will go in the realm of fire.”

Li Du looked around the room at the carefully polished objects arranged with no clear purpose or use. His gaze lingered on a slumped heap of dark fur half covered by a toppled pile of books.

“The muleteers with whom I travel have a certain genius for packing,” Li Du said. “I have seen them secure packages of every shape to a mule's saddle using only a few scraps of rawhide. Since we are to travel some way together, why don't you ask them to carry these objects to the courtyard? The snow is gone, and it will be easier for you to arrange your saddlebags there.”

Campo looked uncertain. “But can they be trusted?”

“I assure you that they can. And while they work, there is something I wish to show you at the mountain temple.”

Campo surveyed the room wearily. “I do not want to be shown anything,” he said. “I am too tired of everything in this country. I want to go back to Zogong and find Achille. And then I want to go home.”

“What of your work?”

“My work?”

Li Du indicated the instruments arranged across the floor. “Your maps. Today is a rare day in the mountains. There are no clouds. If you come with me now, you will be able to see the relationships between the peaks with a clarity we may not experience again in our travels.”

“But I have seen the mountains,” said Campo.

Li Du smiled encouragingly. “A friend of mine once told me that an object exists in as many forms as there are perspectives from which to view it. This is our only chance to see them from this exact place on this exact day.”

Reluctantly, Campo agreed. With another look at his half-consolidated cargo, he followed Li Du.

*   *   *

The morning was a still, violet blue as Li Du climbed the stairs for the last time. Behind him, he could hear Campo wheezing slightly. When they paused, Campo said through gasps, “How is it that I have walked in these high places for so long and still am not accustomed to the air? It does not sustain my breath.”

Li Du ignored the other's complaints. They continued up. The sun rose higher, and the violet retreated from the sky, leaving it clear and blue. They came to the prayer flags, windows into worlds of different colors. Instead of leading Campo in the direction of the pyre and the temple, Li Du continued past them, following the route he had seen the Chhöshe traverse from the high shrine. Soon Li Du saw it ahead of them, waiting, a weathered sentinel on a crumbling summit.

A final, short ascent separated them from the shrine. Li Du could see that the angles of the mountain were about to change, to open into the expanse that was not visible from the manor or the temple. He lingered on the rocky path, allowing Campo to pass him.

Campo arrived at the shrine and stood for a moment facing the rough stone structure, which stood a little taller than he. The wind whipped his coat around his knees. As Li Du watched, Campo reached out a hand to touch the stone. Then he turned away and looked out at the sky. He uttered a soft cry, and sank to his knees.

Li Du hurried upward toward him, his feet sliding in loose scree. Campo remained where he was. He didn't seem to notice that Li Du had joined him. Breathing hard, Li Du turned to see what Campo saw.

A line of peaks extended from one end of the horizon to the other. Even across the vast distance, it seemed to Li Du that they filled the sky. He traced them with his eyes, trying to incorporate their enormity into his understanding of nature's dimensions. Then he stopped, his moving gaze arrested. The sky behind the peaks was not sky at all. It was a mountain.

Li Du felt his own knees weaken, and his mind trembled in its effort to comprehend that a body so immense could be encompassed by the world. He looked beside him to where Paolo Campo kneeled, his face shining with tears that spread across his cheeks and dripped from his chin like melting ice. Silent sobs racked his shoulders.

Li Du lifted his eyes again to the mountain. He knew that it had a Chinese name and a Tibetan name and perhaps a thousand others given to it by hidden villages filled with people who did not think often of empires.