Prayer of the Dragon Read Online Free PDF

county seat, to Tashtul, that he was not subject to our decision because he had lived so long away from the village. I gave him the choice. I said I would write a report and send him with it to Public Security, which already has a file on him. I reminded him there were many prisons ready for people like him—new prisons are being built all the time. The next morning he asked me to put the wooden collar on him. As for this stranger, how do you think they would deal with a double murderer down in the world? Do you truly wish me to summon the authorities? They will send a helicopter, with soldiers carrying machine guns. If you continue you give me no choice.”
    Shan’s mouth went dry. “Continue? I just arrived.”
    “Your presence and that of your two friends has caused people to speak behind my back. Many who were weaned of their prayer beads years ago secretly ask your lama for blessings. Half my people realize that this man is a murderer but the others call him a saint. We had plenty of lamps in that stable already but the day after your lama arrived, people insisted there be one hundred eight,” Chodron said with scorn. That was the sacred number, the number of prayer beads on a string and the number of lamps traditionally placed on altars for special ceremonies. “My people speak to perfect strangers about our private affairs. My authority is in question. Our village’s progress is in jeopardy.”
    “Do you know who Gendun is?” Shan asked.
    “I have heard of someone called the Pure Water Lama who wanders the hills like some lonely old goat. I have no idea what he does.”
    “What he does,” Lokesh said, “is collect delicate blossoms in old cracked jars.”
    The words elicited a hungry gaze from one of the old men.
    Chodron ignored the comment. “I have heard of this lama. I have also heard of talking yaks and mountains that fly.”
    “Gendun is here,” Lokesh said, “because these people need him. If he had been aware of what was happening here he would have come long ago.”
    Chodron glared at Lokesh. “Do you truly believe you can descend upon our village and destroy all we have struggled to build?” Anger flared in his eyes. “I know now why you sent for this man Shan behind my back. You thought having a Chinese with you would change everything. You thought our people would be so scared of a Chinese that you could simply order us to release that killer.”
    “The village needs to understand what took place,” Lokesh protested. “It needs to stop fearing—”
    “I am not frightened,” Chodron interrupted. “I know your dishonorable kind. One of his arms will show what he is.”
    Lokesh slipped his prayer beads from his wrist and extended them toward the genpo. “Take these to understand our kind .”
    Shan put his hand on his friend’s arm to quiet him. He rolled up his sleeve and turned the inside of his forearm into the light of the fire. One of the old men moaned. The old woman covered her mouth with her hand. The elders might know little of the outside world but they knew enough to recognize the row of numbers tattooed on his skin. Shan understood why Chodron’s demeanor toward him had changed. The herders who had traveled with Shan and seen him roll up his sleeves at mountain streams must have disclosed that he was tattooed with a number.
    “Tell me this, prisoner,” Chodron asked triumphantly. “Do you have your release papers?”
    The question hung in the air for a long time. Somewhere a dog barked. A lamb bleated.
    “No,” Shan admitted. He had not escaped but his release had been unofficial.
    He was vaguely aware of movement at his side but did not see what Lokesh was doing until the old Tibetan had thrust his own bared arm into the firelight, displaying a similar line of numbers.
    “Shan is the reason I did not die in prison. He forced my jailers to release me,” Lokesh explained. “From the hour he was thrown past the barbed wire into our camp Shan has helped