The Cloud Maker

Only Bill’s rucksack made it out of the cave and there’s not much: an MRS stove, fifty metres of rope, some hardware.’

‘I’ve spoken to Dorje about it. He’s already organised supplies and extra clothing.’

‘OK,’ said Luca, his mind racing. ‘I’ll have to sort through them. When do we leave?’

‘Tomorrow morning at first light,’ Shara said, suddenly feeling caught up by Luca’s enthusiasm. Maybe the Abbot had been right all along. Maybe they really could depend on these men.

‘Wait a second,’ Luca said. ‘You haven’t even told me where we’re going.’

Shara didn’t answer for a moment, then a smile seemed to play across her lips.

‘You’re finally getting what you wished for,’ she said. ‘We’re heading for the pyramid mountain.’

Chapter 48

Four figures moved silently along the corridors of the monastery. They brushed past the countless doors, occasionally cutting through a faint beam of light from an outside window as the late-afternoon sun spilled in from the far mountain ridge.

It was dusk and time for personal reflection. All the monks were in their cells, deep in meditation, leaving every corridor deserted, every door closed. It was the perfect time to act.

Rega moved fast, his left hand dragging against the wall, guided by every contour and imperfection. He turned sharply down a flight of stairs, then into a corridor which tunnelled directly back into the mountain. As the natural light began to fade, one of the three figures following in his wake paused to pull a nearby torch from the wall. The flame leaped up as he held it high, illuminating Drang’s scarred face.

Eventually they came to the entrance to the Abbot’s quarters and paused. Despite the urgency of their mission, everyone but Rega stared up in wonder at the mighty pillars flanking the door, amazed by the golden swastikas dancing in the firelight.

‘Hide yourselves,’ he whispered, grabbing the torch from Drang’s hand. The others retreated a few paces, fading out of the circle of light.

Rega swung the base of the torch against the heavy door. A moment later a small wooden shutter was pulled back to reveal a pair of large brown eyes set in a young face.

‘Venerable Father,’ Norbu said in greeting, his voice high and wispy, ‘the meeting of the full moon is not for another three days.’

‘I have urgent information for His Holiness. Make way.’

Norbu blinked several times in quick succession.

‘But, Father,’ he stuttered, ‘the law decrees that information must be passed in writing unless His Holiness ordains otherwise.’ Norbu’s eyes stared through the hatch, studying Rega’s wizened face. ‘I have been instructed to allow no visitors.’

Rega moved closer still so that Norbu could smell the sour aroma of his breath. ‘How dare you quote the law to me, boy?’

‘I apologise, Father, but I am only passing on…’

‘Silence,’ Rega hissed. ‘Open the door.’

Norbu looked imploringly at him, the strain of this conversation making his cheeks flush red.

‘But, Father, please understand, I am not allowed… I was expressly told so.’

Rega inhaled deeply, stepping back from the door. His voice softened. ‘Well, in that case, I will have to trust you with what needs to be said. After all, the Abbot does speak most highly of you, young Norbu.’

The boy smiled nervously, tilting his head to one side so that his ear was pressed against the opening.

‘But what I tell you is of the utmost secrecy,’ Rega continued, breathing the words. ‘Our Abbot is in grave danger. We must warn him together.’

Norbu’s eyes widened in alarm. It took several seconds for him to fight his stammer.

‘Danger? But… who… who would harm His Holiness?’

‘There have been many murmurs of discontent while the Abbot follows the last stage of his path and many have become disenchanted with his rule. You must let me in so that I can warn him of the danger he faces.’

Norbu blinked, hesitating once again.

‘But if there is danger, I shouldn’t let anyone in… and His Holiness specifically said… said… that…’

Rega smiled, bringing the torch higher towards his own face.

‘Look at me,’ he said gently. ‘I am just an old, blind man. What possible danger could I be? Now open the door, young Norbu, and let us warn him together.’

There was a moment’s pause before Rega heard the heavy metal runners grating. The door opened an inch and Norbu’s head peered out cautiously.

‘Please, Father, come in quickly,’ he whispered. ‘I shall inform His Holiness you are here.’

As Rega stepped across the threshold he lashed out, shoving Norbu back with surprising strength. At the same moment three figures came crashing in behind him, Drang at their head. His sinewy right arm grabbed Norbu by the throat and wheeled him round, dragging him back into the main chamber. Norbu’s arms flailed pathetically as he squirmed in the iron grip, eyes bulging from the pressure on his windpipe. A few paces farther in and Drang flung him down on to the stone floor.

‘Simple fool,’ he whispered, his lips curled in disdain.

Rega now stood beneath a vast screen illustrated with a picture of the Buddha and illuminated by a small row of lamps at its base. The crystal-blue eyes shone in the candlelight, staring out into the room with an otherworldly calm. With a sweep of his hand, he signalled for two of his aides to begin searching the maze of rooms at the opposite end of the central chamber.

Rega’s head turned towards Drang.

‘Tear it down,’ he said.

Drang gave the fabric of the screen a mighty wrench, pulling the entire thing from its fixings. The great cloth buckled, slowly collapsing in on itself, before dropping to the floor, snuffing out the lamps at its base.

Behind it, a figure was seated in the lotus position. Its eyes remained closed as Rega stepped over the fallen screen.

‘Your rule is finished,’ he whispered. ‘I am taking over the monastery.’

The eyes flickered open, staring at Rega as if he were a figment of his imagination. The Abbot had a broad oval face, etched with lines of old age. From the warm light of the room a gentleness seemed to radiate from his entire body, making it seem as if he were about to break into a broad smile at any moment.

His hair was cropped short, fading into baldness towards the crown, while his eyes stared out from beneath heavy black eyebrows. Ornate gold robes were wrapped around his body in tight folds, while his hands lay clasped on his lap.

‘You have left me no choice,’ Rega continued. ‘Hand over the boy. It is time for him to become known.’

The Abbot slowly raised his right hand, signalling to a large metal rod placed on a stand just before him. Its stem was made from unpolished gold with a string of jade beads hanging from one end. The seal of Geltang was etched into the other.

‘Then take the Dharmachakra,’ the Abbot said. ‘If it is what you most truly desire, take our Wheel of Law, and take my place as Abbot. But do not ask me for the boy. Show compassion for his innocence.’

‘His innocence is immaterial!’ Rega snapped. ‘He must take his place as rightful leader of Tibet. I cannot stand by any longer while you hide him from the outside world. I will do what you should have done and install him in Shigatse, his rightful place.’