Soldiers dressed in yellow and red, with leather jackets and plumed helmets, were standing guard. They were armed with swords and bows and arrows. Wandgi explained that their function was purely decorative; the actual police carried modern weapons. He added that the bow was the traditional weapon of the Forbidden Kingdom and also the favorite sport. Even the king participated in the yearly competitions.
The party was received by two officials attired in elaborate court dress, and led through several halls in which the only furniture was low tables, large polychrome wooden trunks, and piles of round cushions to sit on. There were occasional religious statues with traditional offerings of candles, rice, and flower petals before them. The walls were decorated with frescoes, some of them so ancient that the motifs had nearly disappeared. A few monks outfitted with paintbrushes, tins of paints, and thin gold leaf, were restoring the frescoes with infinite patience. Everywhere they looked, they saw rich tapestries embroidered with silk and satin threads.
They walked down long corridors with offices on both sides, where dozens of clerks and scribes were at work. Computers had not as yet been adopted; all the data of public administration were still entered by hand. There was also a room for the oracles. That was where people came to ask advice of certain lamas and monks who had the gift of prophecy and could be of help in moments of indecision. For the Buddhists of the Forbidden Kingdom, the road to salvation was always individual, and was rooted in compassion for all things animate and inanimate. They believed that theory served no purpose without practice. A person could correct his course and hasten good results by using a good guide, mentor, or oracle.
Finally they came to a large, unadorned chamber: in its center sat an enormous, gilded Buddha whose head touched the ceiling. They heard music that sounded like mandolins, and then realized that they were hearing several monks, chanting. The melody grew louder and louder. Then suddenly it would fall, adopting a new rhythm. Before the monumental image were a prayer rug, lighted candles, sticks of incense, and baskets of offerings. Imitating the dignitaries, the visitors bowed before the statue three times, touching their foreheads to the floor.
The architecture of the hall where the king received them was as simple and delicate as the rest of the palace, but in this room the walls were decorated with ceremonial masks and tapestries with religious scenes. Five chairs had been provided in deference to the foreigners.
Behind the king hung a tapestry featuring a creature that surprised Nadia and Alex because it so closely resembled the beautiful winged dragons they’d seen in the distant Amazon, in the tepui near the City of the Beasts. They were the last of a species that had been nearly extinct for thousands of years. The royal tapestry proved that in some long-ago epoch those dragons had also lived in Asia.
The monarch was wearing the same tunic he wore the day before, but today he had added a strange headdress that looked like a cloth helmet. On his chest shone the medallion of his authority, an ancient gold disc encrusted with coral. They found him sitting in the lotus position on a dais about a foot and a half high.
Beside the sovereign was a beautiful leopard, stretched out like a cat; it pricked its ears when it saw the visitors and bared its teeth at Alexander. Its master’s hand on its back calmed the leopard, but its elongated eyes never left the American youth.
Several dignitaries accompanied the king, splendidly attired in striped cloth, embroidered jackets, and hats adorned with large gold leaves—although some wore Western shoes and carried executive briefcases. A few monks were there in their red tunics. Three girls and two boys, tall and distinguished-looking, stood beside the king. The visitors assumed that these were his children.
As Wandgi had instructed them, they did not accept the offer of the chairs, because it was not polite to sit at the same level as the king; instead they chose the small wool carpets arranged before the royal dais.
After the obligatory greetings and exchange of the katas, the foreigners waited for the king’s signal to take their places on the floor, the men with crossed legs and the women with their legs folded to one side. It was all Kate, tangled in her sarong, could do to keep from rolling across the floor. And it was all the king and his court could do to keep a straight face.
Before they began their conversation, tea was served, along with nuts and strange fruit sprinkled with salt, which the visitors ate only after refusing three times. The moment had come for the gifts. The writer signaled to Timothy and Joel, who crawled forward on their knees to present the king with a box containing copies of the first twelve issues of International Geographic, published in 1888, and a manuscript page of Charles Darwin’s writings that the director of the magazine had miraculously obtained from an antiques dealer in London. The king thanked them, and in turn offered them a book wrapped in a cloth. Wandgi had told them that they must not open the package; that would be a sign of impatience acceptable only in a child.
At that moment, an official announced the arrival of Judit Kinski. The members of the expedition of International Geographic realized why they hadn’t seen her in the hotel that morning: the woman was a guest at the royal palace. She greeted everyone with a slight nod and took her place on the floor with the other foreigners. She was wearing a simple dress and carrying her usual leather purse—which apparently she was never without; her only adornment was a wide African bracelet of carved bone.
As Judit sat down, Tschewang, the royal leopard, which had been quiet but alert, sprang from the dais and took a stance before Alexander, its upper lip pulled back in a threatening grimace that revealed a row of very sharp teeth. Everyone froze, and the two guards stiffened, ready to intervene, but the king stopped them with a gesture and called the beast. The leopard turned toward its master, but did not obey.
Without thinking, Alexander whipped off his glasses, rose on all fours, and assumed the same expression as the big cat; he had made claws of his hands and was growling and showing his teeth.
At that point, Nadia, sitting calmly where she was, began to murmur strange sounds like the purring of a cat. With that, the leopard padded over to her and put its face next to hers, sniffing her and switching its tail. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, it lay down before her, turned over, and exposed its belly, which she scratched with no sign of fear, still making the purring sound.
“You can speak with animals?” the king asked in a matter-of-fact tone.
The dumbfounded foreigners deduced that apparently in this kingdom speaking with animals was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Sometimes, your Majesty,” the girl replied.
“What is happening with my faithful Tschewang? Usually he is very polite and obedient.” The monarch smiled and waved a hand toward the feline.
“Your Majesty, I think he was frightened of a jaguar,” Nadia replied.
No one except Alexander understood what she meant. Kate smacked the palm of her hand against her forehead. They were definitely creating a scene; they must seem like a pack of escaped lunatics. The king, however, did not bat an eye at the answer of the little honey-colored foreigner. He merely studied the American boy who by now had returned to normal and was again sitting before the dais with his legs crossed. Only the sweat on his forehead betrayed the scare he’d experienced.
Nadia Santos laid a silk scarf before the leopard. The big cat picked it up delicately in its jaws and carried it to the feet of the monarch. Then it took its usual place on the royal dais.
“Tell me, child, can you also speak with birds?” the king asked.
“Sometimes, Majesty,” she replied.
“We often see interesting birds here,” he said.
In truth the Kingdom of the Golden Dragon was an ecological sanctuary where many species could be found that were extinct in other places in the world, but he did not want to seem boastful about that; it would be unpardonable bad manners. Not even the king, who was the ultimate authority in questions of flora and fauna, flaunted his country’s treasures.
Later, whe
n the group from International Geographic opened the royal gift, they found it was a book of bird photographs. Wandgi told them that the king himself had taken the photos. His name, nonetheless, did not appear anywhere; that would have been another demonstration of vanity.
• • •
The remainder of the interview consisted of talk about the Kingdom of the Golden Dragon. The foreigners noticed that no one ever made a direct statement. The most frequently used words were “possibly,” “maybe,” and “perhaps,” a convenient way to prevent clashes of opinions and confrontations. The avoidance of absolutes provided an honorable way out in case the parties involved were not in agreement.
Judit Kinski seemed to know a lot about the wonders of the region’s natural world. This captivated the ruler, along with the rest of the court, because her knowledge was so unusual in a foreigner.
“It is an honor to welcome the representatives of the International Geographic magazine to our country,” the sovereign said.
“The honor is entirely ours, Majesty. We know that your nation’s respect for nature is unique in all the world,” replied Kate.
“If we harm the natural world, we must pay the consequences. Only a madman would commit such folly. Your guide, Wandgi, will take you wherever you wish to go. Perhaps you will want to visit the temples or the dzongs, the fortified monasteries, where possibly the monks can welcome you as guests and give you the information you need,” the king proposed.
Everyone was aware that he was not including Judit, and guessed that the ruler was planning to show her the beauties of his kingdom himself.
The interview had come to an end, and all that was left was to offer their thanks and say good-bye. That was when Kate committed her first blunder. Unable to control her impulse, she asked the king point-blank about the legend of the Golden Dragon. A glacial silence settled over the hall. The dignitaries were paralyzed, and the king’s amiable smile disappeared. The pause that followed was thick with tension, until Judit dared speak out.
“Please forgive our disrespect, Majesty. We are not familiar with your customs. I hope that Mrs. Cold’s question has not been offensive to you. In truth, she spoke for all of us. I am as curious about that legend as the journalists from International Geographic,” she said, fixing her chestnut eyes on his.
The king returned her gaze with a very serious expression, as if he was weighing her motives, and at last he smiled. The ice shattered, and everyone began to breathe again, relieved.
“The sacred dragon does exist; it is not merely a legend. However, I regret that you may not see it,” said the king, speaking with a firmness he had avoided until then.
“Somewhere I read that the statue is kept in a fortified monastery in Tibet,” Judit persisted. “I’ve always wondered what happened to it after the Chinese invasion.”
Kate had thought that no one would dare push the subject any further. This woman had a great deal of confidence in herself and in the attraction the king felt for her.
“The sacred dragon represents the spirit of our nation. It has never left our kingdom,” he clarified.
“My apologies, Majesty, I was misinformed. It is only logical that it be kept in this palace, close to you,” said Judit.
“That may be,” he said, standing to indicate that the interview was over.
The group from International Geographic bid their farewells with deep bows, and backed from the room—all except Kate, who was so entangled in her sarong that she had no choice but to pull it up above her knees and stumble out, turning her back to his majesty.
Tschewang, the royal leopard, followed Nadia to the door of the palace, pushing its muzzle against her hand, but also never taking its eyes from Alexander.
“Don’t look at him, Jaguar. He’s jealous of you,” the girl laughed.
CHAPTER NINE
Kidnapped
THE COLLECTOR WAS STARTLED awake by the ringing of the private telephone on his night table. It was two in the morning. Only three people knew that number: his doctor, the chief of his bodyguards, and his mother. It had been months since that telephone rang. The Collector hadn’t needed his doctor or his security chief, and as for his mother, at that moment she was somewhere in the Antarctic, photographing penguins. The lady had spent recent years on a series of cruise ships, sailing from port to port on an endless journey. As soon as she arrived at one destination, an employee met her with a ticket in hand for her to board a different ship. Her son had discovered that travel kept his mother happy, and kept him from having to see her.
“How did you get this number?” the second richest man in the world asked indignantly; he recognized the speaker in spite of the filter that distorted the voice.
“Finding out secrets is part of my job,” the Specialist replied.
“What news do you have for me?”
“The article we agreed upon will soon be in your possession.”
“So why are you bothering me?”
“To tell you that the Golden Dragon will not serve your purposes unless you know how to use it,” the Specialist explained.
“I have the translated parchment for that, the one I bought from the Chinese general,” the Collector responded.
“Do you think that something as important as that secret would be laid out on a single sheet of parchment? The translation is in code.”
“Then get the code! That’s what I hired you to do.”
“No. You contracted me to get the object, nothing more. That was our deal,” the distorted voice informed him coldly.
“I’m not interested in the dragon without the instructions, you understand me? Get them, or you will never see your millions,” the client screamed.
“I never amend the terms of a negotiation. You and I made an agreement. I will deliver the statue to you within two weeks, and I will collect the sum we settled on or you will pay the consequences.”
The threat was all too clear; the client realized that he was gambling his life. For once, the second richest man on the planet was frightened.
“You’re right. A deal is a deal. I will pay you an additional fee for the code for deciphering the parchment. Do you think you will have it fairly soon? As you know, this is a very urgent matter. I am prepared to pay whatever is necessary, money is no object,” the Collector said in a conciliatory tone.
“In this case, price isn’t the point.”
“Everyone has a price.”
“You’re wrong,” the Specialist replied.
“Didn’t you tell me that there is nothing you can’t get your hands on?” asked the anguished client.
“One of my agents will be in touch with you soon,” the voice replied, and the line went dead.
The multibillionaire could not go back to sleep. He spent the rest of the night in his office, which occupied most of his house and contained his fifty computers, going over and over the figures of a fortune too large to count to the penny. Day and night his employees monitored the most important stock markets in the world. However, no matter how many times the Collector went over the figures, and no matter how often he screamed at his staff, he could not alter the fact that there was a man who had more money than he did. That his nerves could not bear.
After a tour of the enchanting city of Tunkhala, with its pagoda-roofed houses, its stupas, or religious shrines, its temples, and its dozens of monasteries perched on the slopes of the hills in the midst of exuberant trees and flowers, Wandgi offered to show them the university. The campus was a natural park with waterfalls and thousands of birds. The pagoda roofs, the images of Buddha painted on the walls, and the prayer flags gave the university the look of a complex of monasteries. They saw groups of students standing and talking along the paths in the park, and were struck by their formality, so different from the relaxed air of Western youth.
They were welcomed by the rector, who asked Kate if she would speak to the students and tell them about International Geographic, which many of them read regularly in the library.
/> “We have very few occasions to welcome illustrious visitors to our humble university,” he said, bowing repeatedly.
And that was how the writer, the photographers, Alexander, and Nadia found themselves in a hall before a hundred and ninety university students and their professors. Nearly all of them spoke some English, because that was the favorite subject, but many times Wandgi had to translate. The first half-hour went by very smoothly.
The members of the audience asked naïve questions, very respectfully, bowing before addressing the foreigners. Alexander quickly became bored, and he raised his hand to say, “May we ask a few questions ourselves? We’ve come a long way to learn about this country.”
There was a moment of silence, during which the confused students just looked at each other; this was the first time a speaker had proposed such a thing. After some hesitation and whispering among the professors, the rector gave his consent. During the next hour and a half, the visitors learned very interesting facts about the Forbidden Kingdom, and the students, freed from the strict formality they were accustomed to, grew brave enough to ask questions about American movies, music, clothing, cars, and a thousand other things.
Toward the end, Timothy pulled out a rock ’n’ roll CD, and Kate put it in her player. Usually shy, her grandson was struck by an irresistible impulse and jumped to the front of the stage to give a dance demonstration that left the students with their jaws hanging open. Borobá, infected by Alexander’s frenetic dance, imitated him to perfection, drawing raucous laughter from the audience. At the end of the “lecture,” as their professors watched in amazement, the students accompanied the International Geographic group to the edge of the campus, singing and dancing as enthusiastically as Borobá.
“How were they able to learn that American music after hearing it only one time?” Kate asked, impressed.
“The students have been listening to it for years, Little Grandmother. At home they wear jeans, just like you Americans do,” Wandgi replied, laughing. “They’re smuggled in from India.”
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