as if to meet them, but then only stood aside to watch them pass. The man from Beijing glared at them, and they glared back. But when Anastasia smiled at them, they giggled and ran away.
Staying by the river, they entered the village unhindered and passed among the houses. It was still only late morning, but Anastasia smelled something delicious cooking in one of the houses. The wind stole the scent a moment later, but her stomach rumbled with the memory of it. Clothes hung out to dry on lines. Dogs raced around, barking at the newcomers and each other, then tearing off across the village on some other mad errand.
The gun felt heavy against the small of her back, beneath her jacket.
Half a dozen men stood on their side of the wooden bridge, waiting for them. Others stood in front of homes but did not come any closer. The men wore drab grays and browns, or white. Though several were ancient--including one whose face was so wrinkled his eyes were almost hidden in the folds, and one whose long, thin, white beard was tied with a cord a few inches below his chin--most of them were of indeterminable age. They might have been thirty or fifty. Some had their heads shaved bald, while others had black or black-and-silver hair.
All were as expressionless as Tenzin, save for the man with the white beard that hung like a braid. He smiled and, as Anastasia gestured for her party to halt, he nodded to her.
Anastasia had found that the Tibetan language often sounded sharp and abrupt to her. But when this man spoke, there was a softness to his words that made the language sound beautiful. He looked at her as he spoke--she presumed because he had seen the others defer to her--but when he was through, she glanced at Tenzin.
"He welcomes us to Nakchu village with all appropriate prayers and hospitality," Tenzin said.
She nodded. The six men had been joined by three elderly women, and their expressions were not as muted as those of the men. They glared at her with open suspicion and hostility. One of them muttered to the man next to her and touched her hair, glowering at Anastasia. Something about her red hair being sinister, she was sure. Tenzin didn't need to translate that one.
"Thank him. Say whatever you have to say to not offend these people. All the customary niceties, please. And then tell them of our missing girl and ask if any of their herders or anyone else might have seen her."
A chill went through her, and she glanced back to see the man from Beijing watching her with grim disapproval.
"What?" Trotter said. "Why don't we just look for her ourselves? If they snatched the poor thing, they're not likely just to hand her over."
Professor Kyichu whipped his head around and froze Trotter with a glance. "Don't be a jackass, Horace. You don't honestly think this entire village kidnapped my daughter? If anyone did, it would be one, among them. One twisted spirit. When they hear what's happened, we need to know if they suspect one of their own could do such a thing."
"And how will we know?" Trotter replied testily.
"We'll know," Anastasia said. She glanced at Tenzin. "Speak. We're going to offend them, making them just stand here."
Tenzin nodded and began to rattle off a stream of Tibetan. He gave a respectful bow of his head and gestured to Anastasia, then to the group in general. She recognized only a handful of words, including her own name. At one point, when Tenzin paused, the old man replied.
"They're aware that you're digging at the lake. He worries that you will disturb spirits of their ancestors."
Anastasia bowed her head just as Tenzin had. "Tell him we will preserve anything we find, that we're there to study, only, and that our respect for what we discover knows no boundaries. Tell him that nothing will be removed from the site without the proper authorization."
Tenzin shot a glance back at the man from Beijing, then looked at her. "They'll want to know what you consider the proper authorization."
She flushed.
Staying by the river, they entered the village unhindered and passed among the houses. It was still only late morning, but Anastasia smelled something delicious cooking in one of the houses. The wind stole the scent a moment later, but her stomach rumbled with the memory of it. Clothes hung out to dry on lines. Dogs raced around, barking at the newcomers and each other, then tearing off across the village on some other mad errand.
The gun felt heavy against the small of her back, beneath her jacket.
Half a dozen men stood on their side of the wooden bridge, waiting for them. Others stood in front of homes but did not come any closer. The men wore drab grays and browns, or white. Though several were ancient--including one whose face was so wrinkled his eyes were almost hidden in the folds, and one whose long, thin, white beard was tied with a cord a few inches below his chin--most of them were of indeterminable age. They might have been thirty or fifty. Some had their heads shaved bald, while others had black or black-and-silver hair.
All were as expressionless as Tenzin, save for the man with the white beard that hung like a braid. He smiled and, as Anastasia gestured for her party to halt, he nodded to her.
Anastasia had found that the Tibetan language often sounded sharp and abrupt to her. But when this man spoke, there was a softness to his words that made the language sound beautiful. He looked at her as he spoke--she presumed because he had seen the others defer to her--but when he was through, she glanced at Tenzin.
"He welcomes us to Nakchu village with all appropriate prayers and hospitality," Tenzin said.
She nodded. The six men had been joined by three elderly women, and their expressions were not as muted as those of the men. They glared at her with open suspicion and hostility. One of them muttered to the man next to her and touched her hair, glowering at Anastasia. Something about her red hair being sinister, she was sure. Tenzin didn't need to translate that one.
"Thank him. Say whatever you have to say to not offend these people. All the customary niceties, please. And then tell them of our missing girl and ask if any of their herders or anyone else might have seen her."
A chill went through her, and she glanced back to see the man from Beijing watching her with grim disapproval.
"What?" Trotter said. "Why don't we just look for her ourselves? If they snatched the poor thing, they're not likely just to hand her over."
Professor Kyichu whipped his head around and froze Trotter with a glance. "Don't be a jackass, Horace. You don't honestly think this entire village kidnapped my daughter? If anyone did, it would be one, among them. One twisted spirit. When they hear what's happened, we need to know if they suspect one of their own could do such a thing."
"And how will we know?" Trotter replied testily.
"We'll know," Anastasia said. She glanced at Tenzin. "Speak. We're going to offend them, making them just stand here."
Tenzin nodded and began to rattle off a stream of Tibetan. He gave a respectful bow of his head and gestured to Anastasia, then to the group in general. She recognized only a handful of words, including her own name. At one point, when Tenzin paused, the old man replied.
"They're aware that you're digging at the lake. He worries that you will disturb spirits of their ancestors."
Anastasia bowed her head just as Tenzin had. "Tell him we will preserve anything we find, that we're there to study, only, and that our respect for what we discover knows no boundaries. Tell him that nothing will be removed from the site without the proper authorization."
Tenzin shot a glance back at the man from Beijing, then looked at her. "They'll want to know what you consider the proper authorization."
She flushed.
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