went up, the terrain became rough, with patches of rocky soil interrupting the sprawl of brownish yellow scrub that was the yak herds' main source of sustenance. A fox raced from a hole and away across the hill, a red streak against the brown land. They followed the stream for several miles, and it seemed to Anastasia they were getting nowhere. Looking back the way they'd come, she could still see Lake Tashi. But ahead were only the mountains, and the higher they climbed, the colder it became.
Then, just as she was about to question Tenzin's sense of direction, they topped a rise to see a flat stretch of grassland below them, covered in grazing yaks. Opposite the rise, in the shadow of the mountain, was a village.
Anastasia smiled at what passed for a modern village in the mountains of Tibet, so far from the nearest city. There were perhaps sixty or seventy dwellings clustered around the base of the mountain, half on either side of the stream--which seemed almost wide enough to be a river here. A wooden footbridge spanned the water. The homes were small, but elegant in design, and smoke rose from several chimneys, reminding her how much chillier it seemed than at the dig site. Farmers' fields spread out for many hundreds of yards in either direction, though the yak herd lazed in the middle, kept away from the crops--or what remained of them.
Perhaps there were generators in the village for electricity, and maybe even a two-way radio. She'd stopped in similar places, where some of the village elders had radios with tall antennas that pulled in a rough static with the occasional melody.
"I simply don't understand it," Horace Trotter said, coming up beside her.
"What don't you understand?" Anastasia glanced at Horace, then surveyed the rest of the group. Mr. Lao, the man from Beijing, only smiled thinly to show his relief that they'd rested and that their uphill climb was finished. The diggers stood near Professor Kyichu, watching him warily, though because of his age or his grief, she did not know.
"Why do they live so far away from the lake? Surely crops would grow better there. It's not quite so cold. There are several caves they could have used to store goods. Where we're conducting our dig, there isn't much land to graze their herds, but the area where this stream runs into the lake is broad enough."
Anastasia had her theories about why no one had settled on the rim of the lake, but only Professor Kyichu knew about those theories, and she wasn't going to start talking about the Dragon King Pool now. Trotter ought to have known enough to realize that ancient superstitions lingered for millennia in such remote places.
"Tenzin?" she asked, turning to their guide.
The Tibetan turned his impassive features toward her and looked at Horace Trotter. "The mountains are sacred."
Trotter scoffed. "I thought the old temple city we're unearthing was sacred. Come to think of it, I thought the lake was sacred."
"Sacred too," Tenzin agreed. "Just different. The mountains are holy. Pure. The lake is not a place for people."
"But we're there," the communications man pointed out.
Tenzin fixed him with a meaningful look. "Perhaps you should not be."
That shut Trotter up. Tenzin descended the other side of the rise and started toward the village, yaks ambling lazily out of the way. The rest of them followed. Anastasia hurried to catch up to their guide.
"That wasn't very helpful," she said in a low voice as she came up beside Tenzin.
He smiled sidelong at her. "Helpful to me. No more stupid questions."
"Are they stupid questions?"
Tenzin gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Any question is stupid when the man asking is not smart enough to understand the answers."
They trekked into the village. Even before they reached it, people started to come out to watch their approach. Little girls and women with mesmerizing eyes stood together, many of them wearing thick, soft head scarves. A pair of small boys in dark caps marched out
Then, just as she was about to question Tenzin's sense of direction, they topped a rise to see a flat stretch of grassland below them, covered in grazing yaks. Opposite the rise, in the shadow of the mountain, was a village.
Anastasia smiled at what passed for a modern village in the mountains of Tibet, so far from the nearest city. There were perhaps sixty or seventy dwellings clustered around the base of the mountain, half on either side of the stream--which seemed almost wide enough to be a river here. A wooden footbridge spanned the water. The homes were small, but elegant in design, and smoke rose from several chimneys, reminding her how much chillier it seemed than at the dig site. Farmers' fields spread out for many hundreds of yards in either direction, though the yak herd lazed in the middle, kept away from the crops--or what remained of them.
Perhaps there were generators in the village for electricity, and maybe even a two-way radio. She'd stopped in similar places, where some of the village elders had radios with tall antennas that pulled in a rough static with the occasional melody.
"I simply don't understand it," Horace Trotter said, coming up beside her.
"What don't you understand?" Anastasia glanced at Horace, then surveyed the rest of the group. Mr. Lao, the man from Beijing, only smiled thinly to show his relief that they'd rested and that their uphill climb was finished. The diggers stood near Professor Kyichu, watching him warily, though because of his age or his grief, she did not know.
"Why do they live so far away from the lake? Surely crops would grow better there. It's not quite so cold. There are several caves they could have used to store goods. Where we're conducting our dig, there isn't much land to graze their herds, but the area where this stream runs into the lake is broad enough."
Anastasia had her theories about why no one had settled on the rim of the lake, but only Professor Kyichu knew about those theories, and she wasn't going to start talking about the Dragon King Pool now. Trotter ought to have known enough to realize that ancient superstitions lingered for millennia in such remote places.
"Tenzin?" she asked, turning to their guide.
The Tibetan turned his impassive features toward her and looked at Horace Trotter. "The mountains are sacred."
Trotter scoffed. "I thought the old temple city we're unearthing was sacred. Come to think of it, I thought the lake was sacred."
"Sacred too," Tenzin agreed. "Just different. The mountains are holy. Pure. The lake is not a place for people."
"But we're there," the communications man pointed out.
Tenzin fixed him with a meaningful look. "Perhaps you should not be."
That shut Trotter up. Tenzin descended the other side of the rise and started toward the village, yaks ambling lazily out of the way. The rest of them followed. Anastasia hurried to catch up to their guide.
"That wasn't very helpful," she said in a low voice as she came up beside Tenzin.
He smiled sidelong at her. "Helpful to me. No more stupid questions."
"Are they stupid questions?"
Tenzin gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Any question is stupid when the man asking is not smart enough to understand the answers."
They trekked into the village. Even before they reached it, people started to come out to watch their approach. Little girls and women with mesmerizing eyes stood together, many of them wearing thick, soft head scarves. A pair of small boys in dark caps marched out
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