In the rear of the daïs, concealed by yellow draperies, was a door that gave access to a stairway. Kerth took the lead, his robes dragging upon the stone steps. The stairs mounted at a steep grade, broke their ascent on three landings, and brought them into a small space, facing coral-hued curtains. As Kerth gripped the center of the hangings, preparatory to parting them, he looked around, over his shoulder and Hsien Sgam's close-cropped head, at Trent.
"Be prepared, major," he drawled. "This is 'Thatsang' or, as we would say it, 'Falcon's Nest.'" He laughed—a low, rather grim chuckle. "You stand face to face with the secret of Lhakang-gompa."
With that he jerked the draperies apart and the clink of the metal rings from which they hung sent a slight shiver down Trent's spine. He stepped between the curtains, Hsien Sgam preceding him. He found himself in a long room. Its floor and walls were bare. At the far end, in an alcove-like space, raised and sectioned off from the rest of the apartment by a half-partition, was a bed. Yak-hair curtains partly hid it—only partly, for they did not conceal the limbs and the crimson garment of the body that lay upon the gold-fringed bed-robe.
Kerth had crossed the room. Now Trent halted at the break of the partition, Hsien Sgam at his side.
The face of the sleeper (Trent knew by the fall and rise of his breast that he was not dead) was Aryan, but the shape of the eyelids and brows suggested that the eyes, when open, were oblique. Lips thin and sensitive; features of an ascetic. The skull was high and shaven as bare as if hair had never grown upon it; a white bandage covered the right temple and sloped over the dome.... Trent lifted his eyes from the pale, yellow features to Kerth, who, with a slight smile, answered the inquisitive look.
"Sâkya-mûni is the Falcon."
Trent looked down upon the wasted features; looked up again.
"He's been unconscious since noon to-day," Kerth explained. "This morning I attended a ceremony in the audience-hall. While I was saying a mantra, the idea occurred to me.... I crept into one of the corridors off the hall and hid there. When the lamas had gone, Sâkya-mûni went behind the curtains in the rear of the throne, with two attendants. Soon the attendants reappeared ... and I went up. Unfortunately, in the tussle he struck his head. I'm afraid he's done up rather badly. Take a look, major. Meanwhile, Transparency"—his eyes fastened upon the Mongol—"be seated—here."
He indicated an armchair and Hsien Sgam sat down. Trent bent over Sâkya-mûni.... After several minutes he straightened up.
"It's a bad cut, but I can't tell much without a closer examination. He has fever—pulse running up, too."