Trent nodded.
Kerth placed the mitre upon his head and let the veil fall over his features. A blue steel eye glittered in the folds of his robes—an eye that was focussed upon Hsien Sgam.
"Come, Transparency!"
Kerth leading, they left Falcon's Nest; left it with its silence and its brooding secrets.
5
A few minutes later Kerth was seated on the throne of Sâkya-mûni (Trent and Hsien Sgam stood on the red carpets before the daïs) and reaching toward a gong that hung from one of the carved lions of the chair. Following the mellow ring, the curtains in the other end of the chamber parted to admit the Donyer-chenpo, who bowed and stood waiting.
The thin voice sounded from under the yellow veil—a stream of Tibetan words. Trent wondered, irrelevantly, if it was really Kerth who spoke—Kerth of the satanic smile.
And now he saw the yellow-robed figure motioning him to leave, and backed slowly to where the Donyer-chenpo stood; backed between the parted draperies; and the curtains dropped, and he was in darkness.
In the first ante-chamber the Donyer-chenpo resumed his seat at the nacre-inlaid desk, among the other cardinals, and Trent continued with the soldiers. Back through the courts and corridors they went (each glimpse of the stars brought to Trent a sweet recollection of another lustrous pallor), and down the innumerable staircases. They emerged at length into the courtyard where the horses were waiting; mounted; rode out of Lhakang-gompa and down the causeway.
Afterward, Trent could remember no single incident of that brief ride from the lamasery; it was a panorama of moon and white walls and darkness. The bewildering events of the past few hours had left him in a state of mental confusion. The soldiers wheeled about at his gate, and he rode into the deserted quadrangle alone.