Sam and Remi raised their cups and said in unison, “And one for all.”
“Tell me more about the burial chamber you found,” Karna said. “Leave nothing out.”
Remi briefly described the alcove they’d found in the Chobar Gorge cave, then retrieved her iPad from the backpack and brought up the gallery of photos she’d taken during their exploration. She handed it to Karna.
Fascinated by the iPad, he spent a minute turning it over in his hands and playing with the interface before looking up, wide-eyed, at Sam and Remi.
“I really must get one of these. All right . . . to business.” He spent the next ten minutes studying Remi’s photos, panning and zooming the iPad’s interface, clicking his tongue and muttering words like “wondrous” and “astonishing.” At last, he handed the iPad back to Remi.
“You have both made history,” Karna said. “While I don’t imagine the larger world will realize the significance of the find, the people of Mustang and Nepal certainly will. What you have there, in fact, is the final resting place of a Sentinel. The four characters engraved into the top of the box . . . Do you have a better photos of them?”
“No, sorry.”
“Where is the box right now?”
Sam replied, “In San Diego, with Selma, our chief researcher.”
“Oh, goodness. Is she—”
“Fully qualified,” Remi said. “She’s trying to open it—carefully, without damaging it.”
“Very good. I may be able to help her with that.”
“Do you know what’s inside?”
“I may. I’ll come to that shortly. How much did Sushant tell you about the Sentinels and the Theurang?”
“A good overview,” Remi said, “but he made it clear you’re the expert.”
“That’s very true. Well, Sentinels were guardians of the Theurang. The honor was handed down from father to son. They were trained from the age of six for one purpose and one purpose alone. The Himanshu Decree of 1421 was one of four times the Theurang has been evacuated from Lo Monthang. The previous three instances, all of which preceded an invasion, ended favorably, and the Theurang was subsequently returned to the capital. The invasion of 1421 was different, however. The ‘Marshal of the Army’ at the time, Dolma, convinced the King and his advisers that this invasion would be different. He was certain it would spell the beginning of the end of Mustang. Not to mention the prophecy.”
“Prophecy?” Sam prompted.
“Yes. I’ll spare you the particulars, most of which involve Buddhist legend and numerology, but the prophecy stated that a time would come when the Kingdom of Mustang would fall, and the only way it would ever rise again was if the Theurang was returned to its birthplace.”
“Here?” Remi said. “That’s what Sushant told us.”
“My dear friend is mistaken. Not his fault, really. The popular history of Mustang and the Theurang is spotty at best. First, you must understand something: the people of Mustang never considered themselves owners of the Golden Man but rather its caretakers. How exactly did Sushant describe the nature of the Theurang?”
“Its appearance?”
“No, its . . . nature.”
“I think the term he used was ‘birth giver.’”
Karna considered this for a moment, then shrugged. “As a metaphor, perhaps. Mrs. Fargo, you’re an anthropologist by training, are you not?”
“That’s right.”
“Good, good. Give me just a moment.” Karna stood up and disappeared down the side hall. They heard what sounded like books being shuffled on a shelf, then Karna returned carrying two leather-bound tomes and an inch-thick manila folder. He sat back down, leafed through the books until he found the pages he was looking for, then set them aside, facedown, on the floor.
He said, “The Kingdom of Mustang was never a grand place. The architecture is more functional, more modest—like its people—but long ago they were quite learned, far ahead of the Western world in many ways.”
Karna turned to Remi. He asked, “You’re an anthropologist, what do you know about Ardi?”
“The archaeological find?”
“Indeed.”