3
Trent was on the veranda, smoking, when Da-yak presented himself at the Inspection Bungalow, and without a word he rose and accompanied the Tibetan.
"We go to the river, Tajen," the native informed him briefly.
A walk past lighted bungalows and well-kept compounds brought them to the river—the mighty Irrawaddi, flowing down from mountain heights, past dead kingdoms and into tropical seas. A slim saber of a moon was swinging up over the hills as they came within sight of the stream. It showered the water with a wealth of silver coins that collected into a band, and, shimmering and coruscating, stretched from the remote shore to the sharply etched Kachin rafts and country-boats beneath the Myitkyina bank.
Into one of the smaller boats Da-yak led Trent. Two boatmen, both in turban, jacket and lungyi, stepped lazily into the craft, and one shoved off while the other crawled forward and plied his paddle, guiding the boat into midstream and turning its prow with the current. The smell of the jungle, warm, fragrant odors, hung in the air, and the rhythmic dip of the paddle, with the sucking sounds produced by the water as it slapped the sides, only italicized the silence.
Trent, lounging among cushions amidships, let his eyes follow Da-yak, who moved forward and took the paddle from the boatman. The latter, with a murmured word, rose and crawled toward Trent.
"I would sit beside you, Sahib," he announced in a soft voice.
Trent stared—and the boatman laughed, a sweet laugh that rippled low in the throat; laughed, and sank upon the pillows beside the man whose breathing had grown a trifle faster as he inhaled the perfume of sandalwood.
"You are surprised?" asked Sarojini Nanjee, quite pleased with the effect of her sudden appearance.
He smiled. "You are clever."
The woman clasped her hands behind her head and regarded him. The night made secret certain of her features, for whereas the moon shone full upon her face, softening the contours, her eyes were hid in dim mystery. Thus, when she looked at him, (as she was doing every second) he could not see her eyes. Which seemed to please her, for she lay back upon the cushions, smiling, an insolently boyish figure.
"Did not you find Tambusami an excellent bearer?" was her next query—and he imagined her eyes were mocking him.
"Quite"—rather drily.
"Yet he cannot equal your Rawul Din," she went on. "He is a perfect example of careful tutoring."
She leaned closer, so close that the warmth of her breath was on his lips, and her eyes, like black opals, burned near to his.
"I wonder, man of wits, how many bearers would think to do what your Rawul Din did, that night at my house?" Then she laughed and drew away; and the musical peals were reminiscent of shattered crystals. "I should be angry—for why did you spy upon me?"
"I don't understand"—this from him.
"No?"—with irony. "Am I so dull that I do not understand when I find a pool of wine under a divan? Oh, he was clever, very clever; but I was more clever!"
Trent wondered how much she knew. He felt sure she could not have guessed the truth, for the discovery that Delhi was keeping a finger on her would undoubtedly have angered her.
"Surely you would like to know how I came here," she announced. "Why not inquire?"
"I was instructed to ask no questions," he reminded.
She nodded that queer little nod of hers.
"You obey well—when you wish to. But we have no time now to talk of the past; suffice to say I come and go like the wind, when and where I will, and depending upon no man."
She settled deeper among the cushions and watched him—watched him half-humorously, as though he belonged to her and she was undecided what to do with him next. He realized she was waiting for him to speak, that she wanted to find out what he had learned since their meeting at Benares. Therefore he resolved to keep silent, not that what he knew was of any significance, but because uncertainty on her part was his best weapon. So he drew into his shell and waited. When she could no longer endure it, she said:
"Now that you are here, have you no thought of what you are to do?"
"There's a platitude about anticipation," was his reply. "Preconceived ideas never are correct."
"You, of course, suspected Myitkyina was not the end of your journey?"
"Then it isn't?"
He could not see her eyes, but he knew she was looking at him closely.
"Did not his Excellency Li Kwai Kung speak of certain terraces, each a step toward enlightenment?"
He nodded. "Is the City of the Falcon the next?"
"Ultimately," she modified.
"When do I start—or do we?"
She shook her head. "You start to-morrow." Then, following a pause: "Previous to this you have been under my direct observation and protection." That made him smile to himself. "I can no longer do that. Certain threads will be placed in your hands and you will be left to untangle them. And it will not be easy. That is why I chose you."
The boatman had ceased paddling, and they drifted with the current in silence that was like a presence. Now and then a gibbon called from the bank; frequently fish leaped above the water, breaking the moon's path into silver fragments.
"Oh, it is far from easy!" she continued. "You will pass through a stretch of country where no Englishman has been. There will be discomforts—yes, dangers. The jungle knows how to torment white men. Death in a hundred guises waits for the unwary; death in the poison swamps, in the bush; death everywhere!" She straightened up, and her hand closed over his. "There will be times when you will curse me for having sent you! Yet in the end there is reward! Glory! Honor! Your name will sweep from one end of the empire to the other!" Then she drew a sharp breath, for she divined what was in his mind. "You believe I lie? But I speak the truth, before all the gods! Yonder"—with a wave of her hand—"beyond the moon, it lies, this city where the Falcon nests with the treasures of Ind!"
"You mean the jewels passed through Myitkyina?" he questioned, trying to speak casually, as though it were a spontaneous query rather than a studied interrogation.
"Ah! Did I say so?" she fenced. "Nay! I will not answer that! Perhaps they did; perhaps they did not." (Trent was more inclined to believe the latter.) "However, they are there, beyond the moon, and every one shall be returned, down to the smallest pearl!"
It sounded rather preposterous to him. How could this thing be accomplished by two people? Was she playing with him? She'd hardly dare. She might risk it, were he alone, but with the Government of India behind him a false move on her part would be her own defeat. Yet he could not disassociate her from some hidden, not altogether pleasant, purpose.
"Aye!" she resumed. "You and I"—and her fingers tightened about his hand—"shall do what the Secret Service could never do! We shall go where they could never go! We shall understand things that they could never understand! We are blessed of the gods, you and I! We shall pluck the Falcon's pinions; rob his nest. And, oh, it will be a great jest, a very great jest! If you only knew, you would laugh with me! But not yet. It would spoil the secret to tell it now."
"Yet you can tell me now," he suggested, "how far this Falcon's nest is?"
She inclined her head. "Yes, I can tell you that now." And her answer was as fantastic as the city itself: "It is nearly eight hundred miles."
Inwardly, he started. A moment passed before he spoke.
"Nearly eight hundred miles," he repeated, picturing as accurately as possible a map. "Traveling west of Myitkyina that would take us beyond the Brahmaputra; east, into China—about upper Yunnan or Kweichow; and north—well, the Tibetan border is three hundred miles from Myitkyina. Which is it: north, east or west?"
"Which seems the most likely? In which of the three regions would the Falcon's nest be in less danger of discovery by blundering British agents?"
He had guessed, but he did not wish to commit himself. He deliberately chose—
"Beyond the Brahmaputra?"
She laughed. "You are no fool. The moment I said nearly eight hundred miles you knew I meant Tibet."
He considered for some time. Then: "That's impossible." Subconsciously, he was thinking of the coral pendant.... Janesseron, a Tibetan god. Nor had he forgotten what Kerth told him in Rangoon.
"What is impossible?"
"Tibet."
She chose to smile at that. Apparently she enjoyed the astonishment that he made no effort to conceal.
"There is a way and a means for everything! Whither goes the elephant when his time is come? Does man know?" She shrugged. "Oh, it is a strange planet, this!"
She drew something white from beneath her jacket—something that crackled as she unfolded it and spread it upon her knees. The moonlight showed him the faint tracery of a map.
"Bend closer," she directed. "See, here is Myitkyina"—her finger rested on a tiny dot. "Above is the confluence of the Irrawaddi. The Mali-hka flows northeast, the 'Nmai-hka northwest. You will follow a route in the triangular space between the two rivers, in a territory where Government surveyors have never been. At the edge of the Duleng country you cross the 'Nmai-hka and go eastward to a town across the Chinese border, in Yunnan. It is called Tali-fang, and is under the administration of a military governor, the Tchentai. Just beyond Tali-fang is the Yolon-noi Pass into Tibet. And there"—she touched a blank space in Tibet, in the northwest corner of Kham—"is the City of the Falcon. Its name is Shingtse-lunpo."
That conveyed nothing to Trent. But its situation did. In Tibet, between the sources of the Brahmaputra and the Mekong! It was as incredible as if she had informed him he was to go to the moon. Her figure of speech was not amiss—"Beyond the moon." That territory was as nebulous as the regions of the moon, as weirdly unreal. It was the country toward which Mohut, the explorer, had striven, which Prince Henri d'Orleans had skirted.
"From Myitkyina," he heard Sarojini Nanjee saying, "to Tali-fang, you will be guided by a Lisu; there will be porters, of course. At Tali-fang you must call at the Yamen of the Tchentai, who will furnish fresh mules and supplies. There you will also exchange your porters and guide for Tibetan caravaneers. A passport is necessary to enter Shingtse-lunpo, but that will be provided. Once inside, you will be upon your own resources."
"As whom does the Falcon know me?" he inserted.
"I am coming to that. He knows you as Tavernake, the jeweler—a childhood friend of mine. The work he expects you to do is to oversee the cutting and resetting of the jewels—a work that you will never do. He will no doubt see you before I do, so guard your tongue. Trust no one unless he comes in my name and has proof."
"Then I shall see you there?"
A nod. "I start to-night, as I must reach Shingtse-lunpo in advance of you. Oh, as I said, I come and go as the wind, when and where I will, and depending upon no man! But I do not go as Sarojini Nanjee.... Just before you reach Tali-fang—it will not be necessary until then—Masein, your Lisu guide, will help you effect a transformation from a white man to a Hindu merchant from Mandalay. White skins are not popular in that region. You speak Hindustani as well as some Hindus, better than others. Avoid the natives as much as possible, for they are not over-fond of any one who is not of their race. If asked whither you go, say to a holy city in Tibet."
Silence settled for a moment after that. They were more than a mile from Myitkyina, and the silver coins still glittered and danced in midstream.
"D'you think," he began at length, "if the Government knew I was going into Tibet, it would approve?"
She shrugged. "Why not? It was understood at Delhi that you were to do as I directed; go wherever I willed."
"Suppose—" But he halted.
"Yes?"
"Suppose I am killed in Tibet?"
"But you will not be."
"You said there would be dangers."
"Yes—but you are a resourceful man."
"Frequently resourceful men are killed. Let us suppose I were murdered in Tibet—by robbers, we'll say. It would place my Government in an awkward position. Could Tibet explain satisfactorily; or would there be a British expedition, resulting in death for hundreds, because of one indiscreet Englishman?"
"Is it indiscreet," she countered, "to recover the jewels?"
He appeared to be considering that. Finally:
"If it were made known that the gems are there, the Government could demand action from the ruling powers of Tibet—or send an expedition."
She laughed. "Do you call that logic? And answer me, impossible one, who are the 'ruling powers' of Tibet, as you choose to call them? The Dalai Lama? Or the British Raj? Answer me that! And as for the expedition: we are the expedition. In this case the wits of two are worth more than a hundred Lee-Metfords. Guile! Guile is the stronger weapon—and it does not attract so much attention as guns!"
Again silence. They were still drifting with the current. Behind, in the moon's path, was a tiny blotch—another boat. He watched it curiously. Seeing his inquisitive look, the woman spoke.
"No doubt it is Tambusami with your luggage; I instructed him to fetch it from the Inspection Bungalow and follow. Yonder," she explained, with a gesture downstream, "is your camp. There you will remain until dawn. I shall accompany you to the camp, as I have further instructions to give your guide."
Questions bred in Trent's brain and clamored for utterance, but he pressed them back. For her to know he was anxious was the surest way to learn nothing. Therefore he held his tongue, reflecting upon what she had told him.
He was suspicious of her promises. She was not a type to volunteer service to a government without some personal motive. And of her motives he was doubtful. There was a scheme of her own interrelated and under the surface. Too, he felt that by this latest move, in having his luggage brought from the Inspection Bungalow, she had thrown Kerth off the trail.
He extracted cigarettes from his pocket, for he felt that a smoke would clarify his thoughts; passed the case to her. She took one with languorous grace and bent nearer for him to light it. As the match flared, he saw her eyes, again like black opals, close to his. But he learned no secrets from them; they were as baffling, as crowded with mysteries, as the black jungles ahead of him.
"There is much more to be explained," she said, tilting her head and expelling smoke from her nostrils; "certain things to be ignorant of which would surely lead to trouble...."
As they drifted on she talked, cigarette in one hand, the other resting upon the map. Before long Da-yak plied his paddle, sending little ripples over the stars that lay reflected like silver pebbles in the river. The moon rode high above the hills, a phantom dugout, and the collar of silver coins spread in extravagant display. The boatman in the rear crooned a song of ancient Hkamti—of a Sawbwa who loved a Maru maiden and forsook his kingdom for the dark-eyed daughter of delight. And Trent, listening, felt himself drawn back to the night when he stood in the bow of the Manchester, in the realm of the stars, and Romance whispered an old, old tale.
The spell did not leave until the boat grated upon a sandbank, close to a dark tangle of forest, and Da-yak sprang out. Then Sarojini Nanjee put away the map, rose and took Trent's hand.
"Your camp is only a short distance beyond the trees," she told him.
As he stepped out of the boat Da-yak made a sound like a night-bird, and a moment later there came an answering cry from the dark thicket.