“An old friend died,” was the only explanation Shan offered, and Lhamo gave a meaningful nod. “He’ll stay in there for days probably, and just take tsampa and water for nourishment.”

Lhamo nodded again. She had probably lost count of the number of death rites she and her husband had conducted through the years. “Except he wants to go to Shiva in the morning, he says,” the old woman explained, “to get a death chart started.”

Shan went to a window, several panes of which were broken, and gazed out at the compound. Despite the weeds that had overtaken the courtyard, the decrepit condition of the barn roof, and the faded paint on the walls, it still had the air of a sturdy, welcoming outpost. Undoubtedly the farm’s expansive fields had provided food for the monastery for decades, if not centuries, and pilgrims had probably slept in the courtyard, singing their songs of devotion into the night. The compound commanded a view of the rolling hills in each direction for nearly a mile and was obscured from the town by a low ridge that was ablaze with spring flowers. Yara’s grandparents, like Lokesh, were ferals, Tibetans without identity cards, and for most of their lives they had avoided towns. The compound was probably the safest place for them, at least for now.

“I will bring food later,” he said, then excused himself. Choden would be getting off duty soon.

Only two reports awaited Shan on his desk. Mrs. Lu had caught the incorrigible young girl with Meng’s companion throwing stones at the bust of Chairman Mao and the Committee of Leading Citizens had demanded that Choden arrest her.

“They’re still here? You arrested her?” Shan asked his deputy, who looked up with a sheepish expression.

“If I hadn’t, Mrs. Lu was going to thrash her with a belt.”

Shan opened the door to the back room. The cells were empty.

Choden shrugged. “She slipped out between the bars. She’s very thin. But I can truthfully report to Mrs. Lu that I did put her in jail.”

“And?”

“That woman with Lieutenant Meng was waiting at the back step. She seemed to expect it, as if it were not the first time the girl had broken out of jail. Buddha’s Breath! She can’t be more than five!”

“Meng wouldn’t stop the girl?” Shan was reluctantly reaching the point at which he was going to demand they leave town. Surely Meng understood the girl could not stay.

“She was feeling poorly, took to bed.”

Shan shook his head in frustration and read the second report, then looked up. “You can’t file this. An ‘obstruction of an emergency vehicle’? What does that mean? What ambulance? I’ve never seen one anywhere close to here.”