Текст книги "Water Touching Stone"

Автор книги: Eliot Pattison

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"Who was it?" Jowa asked urgently.

Instead of replying, Fat Mao inserted a disc into the computer and tapped a key. A screen appeared, with a heading that read Yoktian People's Clinic. He shifted the cursor and a list of recent patients appeared. "See for yourself. Last night, three hours after the attack, admitted for a minor gunshot wound to the forearm."

Shan and Jowa leaned forward and read the screen. Major Bao Kangmei.

"I thought," Jowa said heavily, "that I would feel better when we knew for certain."

Shan nodded silently. The knobs were untouchable. The Ministry of Justice would never prosecute the knobs. It would be suicide for the purbas or the Maos to act against Bao. Jowa was right. It did not feel like closure. It felt like they had crept into the beast's lair and glimpsed it, only to see how huge it was. Moreover, Shan was convinced more than ever that Bao was only part of the answer. He gestured toward the map. "There is one more," he said in a taut voice, and pointed near the edge of the desert, where he believed Karachuk lay. "Lau. The ani. She was the first to be killed."

The boy hesitated, then drew a number on the spot. A zero.

"It's been too easy for Bao. Most of the boys lived with known economic units," Jowa said. "The herding enterprises. Each enterprise has a registered set of pastures, a known set of camps."

"Known to the knobs," Fat Mao said.

"And to the Brigade, and to the prosecutor, and to anyone who can access the software reports," Shan added with a look at the Uighur.

"You mean you think it is not only Bao," Fat Mao said.

"Sure," Jowa interjected. "It's not. There's lots of knobs. A barracks full of helpers in Yoktian."

Shan shrugged. "Seeing him attack a boy last night still doesn't tell us his goal. But it means he's not stopping with Khitai. It means," he said in a hushed voice, expressing the thought as it entered his mind, "that he did not get the Jade Basket. Khitai gave it to someone else. It's still out there with the boys. And the key is still the death of Lau. The boys could be found, once Lau was exposed. Once the killer knew that Lau was Tibetan, that she was an ani, then he knew that the boy he wanted was one of the zheli. After that, finding the boys was easy."

"But after all these years," Jowa said. "Why now, why would they suddenly suspect Lau?"

"Because there was a meeting with a general in Urumqi," Shan said. "Everything happened after that meeting. Kaju was assigned to Yoktian, Lau's political reliability was questioned. Ko began his campaign to buy out the clans."

Fat Mao looked up. "The Poverty Eradication Scheme?" He spat the words like a curse. "Surely it's not connected."

"I think it is. The memo you took back from Xu. Did you read it?"

The Uighur nodded.

The oldest of the Tibetans, a man with the hard-bitten features of a khampa, stood and poured himself some tea. "You know his name?" he asked. "This general in Urumqi?"

"Rongqi," Shan said. "That's all I know. From the army. Now vice chairman of the Brigade. But they still call him general."

The man glanced at the youth, who quickly rose and left the room. Moments later he reappeared carrying a thick, oversized ledger. He laid it on the table and began leafing through its pages, Jowa looking over his shoulder as he read.

Shan had seen such books before. The Lotus Book, the purbas called it, the unofficial compilation of crimes against the people of Tibet, the expanding chronicle of the people and places and treasures lost since the Chinese invasion. It was compiled and copied by the purbas primarily from interviews with survivors as information became available and thus was in no particular order.

As the young purba and Jowa scanned the pages, Shan spoke of Gendun and Lokesh with the others. People would watch, they pledged, on both sides of the border. It was too risky to send more Tibetans into Xinjiang but Fat Mao promised he would take word when he left in the morning. There were places that were always watched by the lung ma. Glory Camp. Knob barracks. And hospitals.

"How will you go?" Shan asked.

The khampa answered the question. No one was allowed to leave a vehicle anywhere near the silo sanctuary. Two hours away, by foot, was a road, or what passed for a road, that connected to the road through Kerriya Pass. Sometime between six and seven in the morning a truck would go by carrying six wooden barrels and three sheep in the back. It would stop if three rocks were placed in a line at a certain spot in the road.

"I will go too," Shan said.

As the khampa silently nodded, there was a rap on the door and a man and a woman, wearing the fleece vests of dropka, carried in food on a plank of wood. A large bowl of tsampa and pickled vegetables. Shan ate quickly, then lay on one of the pallets along the wall. He sat up for a moment and looked for Fat Mao. The Uighur was missing, and a door at the rear of the room was slightly open. Shan stood and stepped into the doorway.

"No!" Fat Mao called as he saw Shan, putting his hands up as though to push him back. Shan quickly retreated as the Uighur emerged through the door and shut it.

"One more thing," Shan said. "The silver bridle from Nikki. Someone gave it to a Mao, to get it to Jakli and Marco. Can you find out who it was?"

Fat Mao shrugged, as if not understanding the significance, then nodded and turned to the maps.

Shan returned to the pallet. He closed his eyes but did not sleep at first, for he was replaying the scene he had glimpsed in the adjacent room. Four figures at a long bench, in front of a large chalkboard filled with translated words and alphabets. Two of those inside, a man and a woman, were carving slabs of wood into wedges. The other two were inscribing them with black ink. He had inadvertently discovered at least one of the ways the Maos and purbas communicated to their networks, using the ancient Kharoshthi text on simulated tablets. Ingenious, he thought. The knobs would not be able to translate the extinct tongue and they were so full of resentment for the tablets that they would simply destroy any they found.

He had finally drifted into slumber when the young purba cried out. Shan shot up and stood at the Tibetan's back as he read out loud. "The first entry says Colonel Rongqi, but that was twenty-five years ago." The purba read quickly at first, then more slowly, pausing more and more frequently as the words sank in. Rongqi had three tours of duty in Tibet, the last two especially requested due to what one file glimpsed in Lhasa said was his extraordinary patriotism and, perhaps, the fact that his father had been killed in 1961 by khampa guerrillas. He had become renowned in the People's Liberation Army for subjugation techniques, even to the extent of becoming a special lecturer on the topic at one of the PLA's training academies. During his first tour he had been notorious for forcing public copulation between monks and nuns, typically in the courtyards of gompas before they were leveled by his explosives experts. By forcing them to break their vows of celibacy, he forced them out of the church. Thirty-six gompas in central Tibet, north of Lhasa, had been looted and leveled on his orders, usually under his personal supervision. Pieces of two huge bronze Buddhas from one of the gompas had been seen by witnesses at a foundry in Tientsen, near Beijing. During his cleansing program, six hundred ninety-six monks and nuns had disappeared. Shan asked if Lau's nunnery, built beside the small gompa of the Yakde Lama near Shigatse, was on the list of those destroyed by Rongqi. The purba read silently, then looked up with a slow nod.

"She recognized him that day in Urumqi," Shan said with a chill in his voice. "The butcher had come back from her past." He shuddered, thinking of the horror that must have shaken the sturdy Lau, the momentary reaction that had given everything away.

The purba read on. During his second tour Rongqi had been commended by the Chairman himself for an initiative he called Sterilize the Seed, based on the principle that the Tibetan religious establishment was held together by its reincarnate lamas and that the death of every such lama represented a political opportunity for the people's government. Ideally, the government should assure the extinction of the reincarnate line by preventing the identification of the new incarnation. Rongqi accomplished this in over thirty documented cases, by destroying the tokens used to identify the new incarnation, imprisoning the lamas who traditionally were charged with the process of identifying new lamas, and, in one case, dynamiting and permanently draining the oracle lake consulted for the new lama.

During his third tour Rongqi, newly promoted to general, institutionalized his campaign by developing a catalog of all reincarnate lamas surviving in his military zone and all the identification artifacts, the signs– the favorite gau, the special robe, the ancient rosary– so that seeds could be sterilized not just in his immediate command district but in a region of hundreds of square miles in central Tibet. Where identification could not be blocked, Rongqi seized the incarnate child and dispatched him to special party schools in eastern China. In the process the general had turned the Bureau of Religious Affairs in his district into a paramilitary organization, staffed with his own soldiers. The few local lamas who escaped sterilization were neutralized with riches: he offered military doctors to peasants, military equipment for working nearby fields, and an increase in the licenses granted to monks so long as the lama agreed to leave and to attend special Chinese schools for four or five years. Party bosses enthusiastically embraced the idea. A special institute for Tibetan studies had been opened in Beijing for this sole purpose.

Finally, the general had convinced Beijing of a new tactic for special cases, especially when lamas had a potentially important role in influencing economic activity: preempt the designation by declaring a new lama, one of the state's own choosing. By the end of his tour twelve years earlier, only four lamas had held out, keeping their independence– and of those, only one, a lama of a very old school with only a handful of gompas in all of Tibet, had passed on and was undergoing reincarnation. The Yakde Lama. The Ninth Yakde had died just before Rongqi had been reassigned to Xinjiang. His request to stay to finish his work, to stay and capitalize on the death of the Yakde, had been denied because his special skills in economic development had been needed in Xinjiang. But he had not given up. A copy of a memorandum sent by Rongqi in Xinjiang had been taken from a knob office in Lhasa five years earlier, asking Public Security to watch for evidence of a new Yakde Lama, for old informers had reported to him that a Tibetan nun was secretly nurturing a new incarnation.

Shan lay back on his pallet, feeling a strange numbness. What agony she must have felt, being thrown by happenstance in front of Rongqi, unprepared, knowing that Rongqi's involvement would mean the beginning of the end. Who would be able to hide their reaction on recognizing such a butcher? It would not have taken much to make the general suspicious. Rongqi might not even have known with certainty about Lau's connection to Khitai, might have simply suspected she was a disguised Tibetan. But a disguised Tibetan woman could be a secret nun, and a nun would be the link he sought to the new Yakde Lama. She had not been surprised when Wangtu had informed her that she was being replaced, just quietly made her arrangements to protect the Yakde Lama. But Rongqi had reacted much faster than she had expected, faster than Shan would have expected. Because, Shan realized, the Brigade was a much more efficient resource for Rongqi than the army. Lau's secret had been penetrated and the Yakde Lama finally had been killed, only weeks after she had met the only man in the world pledged to destroy the Yakde.

But Rongqi wasn't just after revenge. He was implementing his policies. Eliminate the line by eliminating all the indicators of the new incarnation, which meant the boys would still be stalked, for Khitai had given one of them the Jade Basket. Another piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Now he had to discover who was serving as Rongqi's instrument in Yoktian. Ko was a businessman, too young to feel the enmity for Tibetans the killer must possess. Was it Xu, or did she just hate Tibetans for all the usual reasons? Or had it only been Bao all along? No. Bao was a knob, driven by knob ambitions and knob arrogance, unlikely to take orders from the Brigade, even its second-highest manager. Bao was following the trail of boys to find the Americans, a trail he had detected before Lau had been killed. Rongqi's agent was following the boys to find the Yakde Lama. Another piece of Shan's puzzle had fallen into place. But all the others were as obscure as ever. The only thing Shan knew for certain was that the killers still stalked the boys. And if Gendun and Lokesh got in their way, the two old Tibetans had no hope of surviving.

Suddenly he looked up and searched the faces of Jowa and Fat Mao. "Micah," he gasped with sudden realization. "The American." The boys were still being stalked, and the dropka woman said Micah may have been at the lama field with Khitai. Xu herself had confirmed that a second clan had been at the lama field. Micah had been given the Jade Basket. Bao and the boot squads were searching for the Americans. Another killer, sent by Rongqi for the Jade Basket, roamed the mountains. The paths of the killers had converged. And the American boy was their target.

Chapter Seventeen

Fat Mao and Shan had been walking for an hour in the dim predawn light when Mao threw up his hand in warning. He pushed Shan toward a boulder and crouched behind another as a solitary figure came up the trail behind them. It was Jowa, running hard, his head raised high as though he struggled to see something, or someone, in the distance. Fat Mao stood after Jowa passed, and a moment later Jowa slowed, his hand going reflexively to his belt. But his dagger was gone.

"I thought you were staying in Tibet," the Uighur called out to his back. "Too dangerous for purbas."

Jowa stopped and spun about. "I told them," he said, panting hard as he looked at Shan, "this is different." His gaze shifted toward the mountains. "I have to find the lamas."

Shan did not ask him why he had removed his knife. This is different, he had said. Did he somehow mean this was a different Jowa?

Fat Mao nodded, glanced at his watch, and walked past Jowa to lead them down the trail. He walked faster and faster. Then, as the sun cast its first rays over the mountains, he broke into a jog. The men moved hard and fast, over the open plain now, in the face of the cold wind, back toward the Kunlun. Not because they were late, but because boys were being killed, the spirit of the young Tenth Yakde was wandering, lost, and Gendun and Lokesh were missing. If they couldn't do anything else for the moment, they could run.

On they went, three small men in the vastness of the changtang, the wind sweeping the grass in long waves around them, the snow-capped peaks shimmering in the brilliant light of dawn. As they appeared over a small knoll they surprised a herd of antelope, which fled across the long plain. Except one, a small animal with a broken horn, which stared as if it recognized them, then ran beside them, alone, until they reached the road.

***

By late morning Jowa and Shan had been dropped at the side of the road to Yoktian, and an hour of walking brought Lau's cabin into view. Shan had decided the night before that he had to see the waterkeeper's chamber once more.

But Jowa held him back as they approached the clearing. Something was different. There were voices. A dog barked, then another, and they saw a big Tibetan mastiff charging toward them. Shan sensed Jowa's body tensing as it braced for an attack, then he threw his arm in front of the purba, pointing toward a figure walking up from the stream with a water pot. Jakli.

They emerged into the clearing. Someone shouted and the dog halted. Shan turned to see Akzu, and behind the headman, two yurts. Red Stone clan had moved camp.

Malik stood by a string of horses tied between the tents, with two young boys who had not been with the clan on Shan's first visit. He surveyed the camp. A pot of mutton stew hung over the fire, tended by Akzu's wife and another boy, who called out as Shan approached. It was Batu.

"They were coming back down," Batu explained as he ran to meet them. "They had fled at first, but they were coming back down."

"I don't understand," Shan said as he surveyed the clearing. He counted six boys, including Batu, all nearly the same age.

"They all had the same idea. Like an omen."

"Same idea?"

"That the only one who can really protect us now is Auntie Lau. We had to come back."

The zheli had returned to Lau. Of the eight survivors, six were in the camp.

A movement in the tree by the cabin caught Shan's eye. He looked up to see one of Akzu's sons sitting on a limb with a pair of binoculars, keeping watch. One of the man's hands was heavily bandaged.

"We're not leaving," Batu declared. "Not until her killer is caught. Not until we know she is in peace."

Jakli arrived at Shan's side. "It's too dangerous, I know," she said with a worried frown. "I found two of them walking on a path to come here. I told them stay away from the valleys. But then Azku arrived with the other boys. He said Red Stone had an obligation, because they had lost Khitai. And Marco agreed to stay." She gestured Shan back, out of earshot of the others. "The boys told me something else," she said in a hushed tone. "Lau was here, the day she died. With two boys and one of the girls. Riding horses. Then she sent them to sit alone, one of her reverence classes."

"Someone could come," Jowa pressed. "They have helicopters."

Shan followed Jowa's gaze toward the man in the tree with the bandaged hand, and suddenly remembered Xu's story of a Brigade truck that had been stolen and burned. He had almost forgotten their first encounter with Akzu and Fat Mao, when they had been interested only in speaking to Jowa about evading knob patrols. Red Stone clan might want a Brigade truck, not to sabotage, but to evade the Poverty Scheme.

"No one will come," Batu said defiantly. He reached into his shirt. "Not if we have this." He produced a piece of paper, which he unfolded into a large square. "A charm againt demons and killers."

With a surge of excitement Shan recognized it. Over twenty lines of Tibetan text in the elegant script used for religious writing covered the bulk of the paper, with renderings of the eight sacred symbols drawn along the edges. It was not exactly a charm but was called a Victorious Banner, an expanded form of prayer flag that invoked a special blessing on the virtuous souls who flew it.

"Who gave this to you?" he asked, suddenly looking over the boy's heads, anxiously surveying the meadow behind the cabin.

"The holy men," Batu said. "They came yesterday. They went to the meadow, speaking with the deities. They wrote these magic words for us. They said it would protect us if we held Lau in our hearts."

Lokesh and Gendun had been there. He remembered Lokesh's words when they had first seen the beautful meadow behind the cabin. It was the kind of place where a boy's soul might linger. They had been seeking traces of the Yakde's wandering soul.

The man in the tree whistled, and moments later the mastiff barked again. Someone was approaching the camp, a tall man in a red Brigade jacket, a small backpack hanging from one shoulder. It was Kaju Drogme, wearing a nervous, uncertain expression, as if at any moment he might turn and run back down the trail.

Jowa seemed to growl almost as loud as the dog at the sight of the Tibetan. He ran to Kaju's side and grabbed the backpack off his back. Kaju held up his hands and let it go without protest as he surveyed the compound with a relieved smile.

"One of the teachers said she came to this place with the zheli in the summer," Kaju said awkwardly, apparently deciding to speak to Jakli. "I thought the children might remember." He pulled a paper from his pocket as he surveyed the boys. The list of the zheli. "I need to assure them, make sure they know we have class at Stone Lake tomorrow."

Jakli asked Jowa what he was looking for. "A radio," Jowa said, staring sourly at Kaju. "A weapon. A beacon. He works for Ko."

Kaju took a step closer to Jakli. "I work for the Brigade. I work for the people of Yoktian County," he said, pain obvious on his face. "All the people."

There was only food in the pack– a bottle of water, fruit, and a bag of chocolate bars. Batu spied the chocolate and called out excitedly. The zheli boys descended on Jowa as he knelt on the ground and held out their hands. Kaju smiled. "Go ahead," he offered to Jowa. But the purba grimaced and tossed the bag to Kaju.

When the candy was distributed Kaju held out his list and studied it, then looked up at Jakli. "I still don't know all their names," he said awkwardly. She stared at the list and shook her head. Kaju appeared hurt by the gesture and walked away from them.

"They took him from the camp," Jakli announced to Shan suddenly. "The waterkeeper. The instructors said he was too disruptive, but they didn't want to report it since they might be criticized. So they said he was sick and took him to the clinic near town."

"Is he– has someone seen him?" Shan asked anxiously.

"A Kazakh nurse who knows us. The doctors mostly give him medication to keep him asleep. He's in a secure ward, where they put injured prisoners sometimes. Not always a guard, but they keep the door locked."

But he was out of the camp, Shan thought. It meant there was a chance of rescue, a chance for him to at last speak with the lama. "Does he know about Khitai?"

Jakli sighed. "No one knows how, but he must. The Kazakh nurse speaks some Tibetan. He seems to trust her. He asked her in what direction the lama field was, because he had to pray toward the place now."

"Tell her not to speak anymore Tibetan. It could make others-" He stopped when he saw Jakli was not listening. He followed her gaze toward Kaju.

"There is something you have to do for Kaju," Shan said after a moment. "Only you can do it."

Jakli looked at him with uncertainty and sighed, as if preparing herself.

"It may be," Shan said slowly, studying Kaju as he wandered among the boys, discomfort still obvious on his face, "the most important thing any of us could do. But I won't do it. She was your friend, your teacher."

"No," Jakli said slowly, almost like a moan. There was no uncertainty in her eyes now when she looked up. Only sorrow. "I couldn't."

"He won't accept that she was killed. And everything else he has done is based on that delusion." Shan looked up the slope. "Maybe he will find that he has something to say to her."

"And if he runs to Yoktian and brings them back? With all the boys here? It would be just what Xu wants."

"I'm not sure what Xu wants anymore," Shan replied.

Jakli ignored him. "She would call it clear proof that the Kazakhs are conspiring. She will say we killed Lau and are covering up the evidence. She would take all the boys away, maybe all the zheli. Put them in a special school. Make them all Chinese."

"You can trust or you can distrust. Lau would choose to trust. It is up to you. I will not take him because to do so without your consent would be to dishonor you."

She looked at him with pain in her eyes, then walked slowly away, without reply, and Shan began to inch away from the group. Then, as he reached the shadow of the cabin, he moved quickly to the trail. In twenty minutes he was at the cavern. He lit one of the torches and stepped inside.

The waterkeeper's chamber appeared untouched. He walked around the room. By the tunnel he saw the words he had left for Gendun. The way that is told is not the constant way. With a spark of joy he saw that someone had written below it. It was Gendun's hand, unmistakably. But a constant can be found in the way of the telling, Gendun had written.

Shan turned and searched the room again. Under the sleeping pallet by the wall he found a large, soiled envelope, stuffed with papers. Government papers, routine paperwork for those paid to maintain streams. He scanned them quickly. They were separated in groups fastened with paper clips, dated at regular intervals. The waterkeeper apparently journeyed to town every other week, where he received his papers. All routine, except the very last paper. It was on special letterhead marked Poverty Eradication Scheme, Yoktian County, and sent by Ko Yonghong. The waterkeepers in the district were being privatized into the Brigade, it said. The Brigade would be presenting gifts in celebration of the event. And to facilitate the project, all keepers would be required to keep strict records of the movements of herders and others through their assigned watersheds. Because the Brigade felt special compassion for them, all orphans were to be especially noted and asked to report to Director Ko so they could be enrolled in a special benefit program. Continue to build socialism in pursuit of your duties, it said in closing.

Lau had been at the cabin the day she died, Jakli had discovered. The zheli had been given their solitary assignments and Lau had gone to see the waterkeeper. He had shown her the memorandum from Ko, and she had known it was the final sign, the beginning of the end. She had ridden to Karachuk that night, ridden at a desperate pace, to tell Marco that the Yakde and his protectors had to escape with Jakli and Nikki.

As Shan was leaving the cavern, two figures appeared at the entrance. Jakli, holding a torch, with Kaju. She looked at Shan with a sad smile. "Okay. I told him a true teacher would want to know the truth," she said.

Shan nodded silently and stepped aside to let her lead the Tibetan through the ice cave to Auntie Lau. Shan followed at a distance. He was at the entrance to the burial chamber when he heard Kaju groan and saw him drop to his knees. Shan stood at the back, by the frozen handprints on the wall, as Jakli showed him the bullet hole.

Kaju held his belly as if he were going to be sick. And then he sobbed.

Jakli knelt beside him, and they studied Lau without speaking.

"She left me files," Kaju said at last, very quietly. "Three days before she disappeared, she updated all the files about each of the children." The words came slowly, as if he were struggling to find them. "This one had pneumonia once, so keep a hat on her. That one likes to watch birds. This one is supposed to see a dentist in three months. It was as if she were going away." He looked down into his hands. "Not locations. She didn't tell me where to find them."

"Why would you say that?" Jakli asked, suspicion heavy in her voice.

"Major Bao asked. Twice, himself. And three days ago at the school, Comrade Hu asked. Said records had to be completed."

The words hung like a dark cloud over them.

At last Shan stepped to the Tibetan's side. "You should consider carefully who it is who lied to you," he said.

Kaju looked at him in confusion. "No one," he said in a brittle voice. "This is just a terrible tragedy." He shifted his gaze to Jakli, then back to Shan. "Except you. She was missing, they said. But you had her body hid."

"It was all planned. Arrangements were made to bring you to replace her."

"Plans for her to retire, yes," the Tibetan said. "She was going to Urumqi." He fell back off his knees, sitting, as if he had lost his balance.

"Ko told you that she would definitely be leaving for Urumqi?"

Kaju nodded. "Ko said he was going to erect a plaque to her at the school. She will always be a hero in the Brigade." Kaju kept staring at Lau's face. "I will not let them stop me," he said. It sounded like a vow to the dead woman.

"Who?" Shan asked as he sat beside the Tibetan.

"The ones who did this. The reactionaries."

Jakli groaned.

"It's wasn't reactionaries," Shan said calmly. "It was someone looking for a boy. A very specific boy." He told them, as they sat in the chill burial room, about the Yakde Lama. He was careful not to let Kaju know about the Raven's Nest or the waterkeeper, but he spoke about General Rongqi and how one of the zheli had been the incarnation of the Yakde, and about the Jade Basket.

Jakli sighed heavily, then raised her hand slowly and rested it on Auntie Lau's shoulder. The Tibetan sat in silence, his eyes restlessly studying the corpse in front of him. "If I were to believe you, it would mean they all are lying, that they were all working together. Ko. General Rongqi and Major Bao. They aren't. I know that. That's not the kind of government we have now. Bao and Public Security, sometimes they don't understand. One of our assignments is to help them understand new techniques for-" His voice faded, as if he had lost his train of thought. "But the Brigade is different. I got a letter from vice chairman Rongqi congratulating me on my appointment. The people sent me to university," Kaju added, as if it explained much.

"To study integration of cultures," Shan observed. "Not annihilation of them."

"My training," Kaju said, as if in protest.

"Training for what?" Jakli interrupted. "To kill teachers? To murder boys?" She stopped, as if surprised by the venom in her own voice, and looked down, with pain in her eyes, at Lau.

"Of course not."

They were silent a long time. Jakli's head moved slowly up and down as she gazed at Lau, as if she were having a conversation with the dead woman.

Shan sighed. "It's a starting place. Just believe that. That someone has killed four boys, is still stalking them, and will not stop until he has the gau. Do you accept that the killer must be stopped? Whomever it may be?"