Free The Cloud Maker (2010) by Patrick Woodhead Page B

know how precious you are to our order, but that will not be possible. The guide can take only one person at a time. And, as you know, only the chosen may go.’
    The woman looked down at the ground for a moment. When she raised her head again, her green eyes were bright with determination.
    ‘He has been chosen, and must be taken first. It is vital that your guide should leave with him immediately. In the meantime, I will wait in the village until the guide returns to escort me. You must trust me, venerable father, he is more important than I.’
    She had barely finished speaking when there was a scuffling sound from behind the herders and a small boy of about nine years old raced up to the woman and slipped his hand trustingly in hers. He had ragged dark hair and bright brown eyes, although the whites were bloodshot from dust and fatigue. He was wearing an oversized sheepskin coat, tied at the middle by a piece of knotted rope. Looking first at the woman, he then turned his gaze on the monk and asked in a voice that was clear and calm: ‘Is this the place?’
    The woman smiled down at him, one hand resting on his shoulder.
    ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘But we’re not far now.’

Chapter 13

    The brass plaque said PROF. SALLY TANG , ASIAN STUDIES . Jack caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shiny metal, and running a hand briefly through his hair, gently rapped on the door.
    ‘Come in!’
    Sally Tang came out from behind her desk, shifting her reading glasses on to the top of her head. She was even more petite than he remembered, with a smart beige jacket hanging off her tiny frame and long brown boots that were little bigger than a child’s.
    ‘Jack.’ Sally shook his hand warmly. She tucked a lock of her jet black bob behind one ear and studied him, her fine-boned face angled to one side like a bird’s. ‘You look well. Much better than in Kathmandu. Sit down, please.’
    Jack smiled, settling himself into a burgundy leather armchair in front of her desk.
    ‘I hope you don’t mind my usurping your meeting with Robert,’ she continued. ‘I heard him mention that someone was coming into the department to talk to him about beyuls , and when I found out it was you, I couldn’t resist cutting in.’ She perched herself on the front of her desk. ‘But I must say, Jack, spiritual myth is a bit out of your usual line, isn’t it? As I recall, you were never interested in anything much unless it was as solid as a rock.’
    ‘Even dinosaurs like me can evolve, Sally – and if I didn’t have such a lousy memory these days, I would have come straight to you rather than cold-calling Professor Harris. But, of course, you’re right. It’s actually my nephew who’s become interested in the subject.’ Jack glanced at his watch and frowned. ‘He’s late as usual, but I hope that nice secretary . . . what’s her name?’
    ‘Emily.’
    ‘I hope Emily will send him our way. Meanwhile I should probably give you the background. Don’t suppose there’s any chance of a cup of coffee . . .’
    Five minutes later they were both sitting in armchairs by the bay window, nursing mugs of coffee. It was now three years since they had met, by chance, on a flight out to Nepal. Sally had been waiting for her visa into Tibet, on her way to a relative’s wedding, and Jack had been on one of his geology field trips, acclimatising before going further up into the mountains. Having established their common link of the university, they had met up for dinner at her hotel, arguing good-naturedly about their different perspectives on Asia and comparing notes on academic life over cups of chrysanthemum tea.
    Now they chatted easily for a while, catching up on the last few years. Sally’s astute brown eyes hardened momentarily when Jack mentioned the pyramid mountain. But as he went on to describe the other discoveries they had made about the secret system of beyuls , she began to smile again.
    ‘Well, you have got yourselves in