Free Neon Lotus by Marc Laidlaw Page A

wore their
hair in long braids; they seemed to hold themselves apart from the nomads in
many ways. They dressed in nothing but khaki military gear and stood with their
rifles ready, looking suspicious even of Marianne. She decided that they were
Khampas, the Eastern hill people, Tibet’s first guerrilla fighters. Of course
they would not trust a white girl in their sanctuary, no matter that the others
called her the Gyayum Chenmo.
    When she had
drunk a cup of tea flavored with borax and dze butter, she asked Dr. Norbu
about them. “They’re guarding the temple, aren’t they? They look at me as if
they think I’m a spy.”
    Dr. Norbu
took her arm and led her toward the sentries.
    “They will
see that you are not.”
    The Khampas
raised their weapons. She found herself reaching for one white scarf which had
remained around her neck; she took another from Dr. Norbu.
    “Blessed are
the guardians of Chenrezi, the protectors of Tibet,” she said.
    The first
guard looked embarrassed. He dropped his rifle and bowed his head, waiting like
a timid child as she draped the cloth across his shoulders. Turning, she saw
that the other sentry had also lowered his head to accept the scarf with equal
grace. She was gratified to see nothing but good humor in their eyes when next
they regarded her. Smiling, they stood aside from the dark fissure, clearing
the way.
    She stared
into the opening and saw that there was light up ahead. They would not need a
lantern.
    “Go on,”
said Dr. Norbu.
    “Hold it!”
called a voice from the shore.
    Looking
back, she saw Jetsun Dorje running toward them. “Don’t go without me,” he
cried, hurrying up the slope.
    The soldiers
stepped away from the wall, raising their guns as Jetsun approached.
    “There’s no
need for that,” said Marianne.
    One nomad, a
stocky man with a long mustache, caught Jetsun as he passed. “They’re not going
anywhere,” he told the pilot; Marianne recognized the voice as that of Dr.
Norbu’s friend Dhondub, the leader of the party.
    “Is there
some reason he can’t come with us?” Marianne asked.
    “It’s all
right,” Jetsun said. “I just don’t want to be left behind.”
    “That
passage is the only entrance to the temple,” Dhondub told him. “There is no
chance of them leaving without you.”
    Jetsun
pulled his arm from Dhondub’s grasp and went to pour himself a cup of tea from
a huge copper kettle. With a smile, he raised the cup to Marianne. “Good luck!”
    “Go ahead,”
Dr. Norbu said.
    She stepped
into the passage, putting her hands upon the rock walls at either side. She
walked toward the light, hearing Dr. Norbu’s footsteps behind her. The passage
crooked right and then widened until she could no longer touch both walls at
the same time. A soft white radiance flooded the air. She saw the walls angling
up into dimness then dropping sharply to form a natural portico. Through that
gateway the light streamed steadily, yet there was a flickering quality to it
that reminded her of lightning or flames in a wood fire.
    She stopped
in the entryway. Reting touched her elbow. The floor of the cave was inlaid
with colored tile. She walked out into the temple with the feeling that she was
dreaming.
    All that she
saw strengthened this impression.
    The cave was
alive with light. Constant flickering lines of radiance played through the
walls, causing the air to shimmer and dance. The shadows of stalagmites and
stalactites leapt forward and back across the floor as the luminance shifted.
Much of the cavern seemed to be quartz; she felt as if she had stepped into the
center of an enormous geode.
    For a minute
she was too dazzled by the piezoelectric display to take notice of anything
else. But gradually her eyes followed the crackling trails of light and she
realized that they had a focus.
    At the far
end of the cavern stood a figure of gold and white, studded with gleaming gems.
It moved slowly as if swept by unseen currents. At first she thought it was