Kerth nodded. "That's his palace"—indicating Lhakang-gompa. "Oh, we've stumbled into a jolly little nest! It'll take your breath when I tell you everything. This—Shingtse-lunpo—is everything that Lhassa was, and a hundred things that Lhassa never could be, with Lhassa's secretiveness and holiness intensified to the nth degree. It's the—well, I suppose one might call it the secret capital of the Lamaist hierarchy. From all I can learn, it hasn't always had the great significance and power that it has now; until a few years ago it was simply the home of a Grand Lama who ranked with the Tarnath Lama. Nobody knew of it, because explorers haven't covered this part of Tibet; the nearest anybody ever came to this particular strip of territory was some time ago when a naturalist made his way into Kham, and again, later, when an American doctor went to a place called Chiamdo.... They say the Dalai Lama actually hid here, in Lhakang-gompa (which, incidentally, is a facsimile of the Potala at Lhassa, which I saw with the Mission) before he went to Urga. But that's monkish gossip.... At any rate, here's how I interpret affairs from all I've heard:
"After the Mission was sent to Lhassa the Dalai Lama lost a certain amount of prestige. The authority of the Tashi Lama, as you probably know, is more spiritual than temporal. Englishmen had been to Lhassa and to Tashi-lunpo; therefore, both of their holy-of-holies had been profaned. The lamas—that is, the hierarchy—were losing their hold on the people. All that was before nineteen-twelve. Then the President of China restored Tubdan Gyatso, the Dalai Lama, to Lhassa. But even that failed to revive the old zeal. So a coup d'état was planned. A Grand Lama had a made-to-order vision in which he saw the soul of Gaudama Siddartha descend into the body of one of the abbots. From that moment the abbot was Sâkya-mûni, Buddha reincarnated, and they installed him in Lhakang-gompa, here in Shingtse-lunpo, the secret city par excellence of Tibet. Lhassa and the Dalai Lama became figureheads—'to fool the British,' as one priest put it to me. The monasteries of Sera, Debung and Gaden, hotbeds of political intrigue in the time of the Dalai Lama and the Buriat, Dorjieff, were no longer powerful, but subservient to Lhakang-gompa. I understand the Tashi Lama objected to all this, but the Yellow Caps over-ruled him.... So now Sâkya-mûni, with the Lamaist hierarchy behind him, is supreme pontiff of the Church—and Lhakang-gompa is the Vatican, as it were, from which he rules Tibet and practically all of Mongolia, with certain sub rosa wires that give him power in Nepal, Sikkhim, Bhutan and parts of China."
Trent was staring up through the branches at the stars, but as Kerth stopped he looked down and asked:
"Didn't you say you had an audience with him?"
Kerth's shaven skull nodded. "Yes. The Living Buddha wears a veil at all ceremonies—too holy for mortal eyes, I fancy. Of course the Grand Lamas have seen his face, but in the presence of the laity he is always veiled. I attended what might be called pontifical mass. In company with a number of pilgrim priests—at Shingtse-lunpo for the Feast of the Sacred Dance—I was conducted through a veritable labyrinth in the monastery and to a huge cathedral-like place. Sâkya-mûni, in yellow robes and with a golden veil over his face, sat on a throne at one end. Many cardinals and high officials were there, including the Great Magician of Shingtse-lunpo. After the ceremony the Living Buddha murmured something about 'Om, Ah, Hum' and blessed a lot of red scarves, or katags as they're called, and distributed them among the pilgrim priests. Then we left."
In the pause that followed Trent inserted:
"What of the jewels?"
Another shrug from Kerth. "If they're in Shingtse-lunpo, they are well hidden and their presence isn't widely known."
"Yet—" But Trent checked himself.
"Yet Sarojini Nanjee said they were here," Kerth finished up. "I know it. The fact that I haven't learned anything about them doesn't mean they aren't here."