Page 40 of These Godly Lies
“You’re awake,” he says, but there’s no accusation in it. Only warmth. “It’s midmorning.”
Anna shifts, turning so she can face him properly. “I must have been more tired than I thought.” She looks over his shoulder, peaking at the tiny glimpse of blue sky. “It looks like the storm passed.”
“It stopped a little before dawn. It will still be difficult with the snow, but at least we’ll be able to see properly. Are you ready?”
Part of her wants to beg for five more minutes, knowing the warmth she has now will be long gone once she’s back to shuffling through the snow, but her joints are stiff from sleeping on the hard ground. Begging for movement. “Let’s go.”
They crawl out, Khiran offering her a hand. In the daylight, the opening looks even smaller than the tiny cave felt, but she doesn’t dwell on it long. Outside, the world is white framed by blue skies. Pristine in ways that feel increasingly rare. Below them, a river so blue it almost looks otherworldly cuts through the landscape. She looks up, trying to find the windows she had spotted through the storm, but they’re too close to the cliff face to see it.
“What did you say it was called?”
“Phuktal Gompa,” he answers, walking ahead of her. Anna follows, trying to step in the tracks he’s already made. “It’s a monastery.”
Anna thinks of Venice—of the years she lived as a nun, just so she could be permitted to heal without risking accusations of witchcraft. “What religion?”
“Buddhism.” He looks back at her, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. “Which I’m now realizing you probably know very little about.”
She shrugs. “Only the bit I read from that book you have on religions. It gave some information on the origins but very little about the practice itself.”
“I have a book on religion?”
Anna’s certain he probably has a book on just about everything spread throughout all his little hideaways. Artfully bound in leather and pages gilded with gold. He’s always seemed to have a penchant for hoarding things he finds valuable but never reallylookingat it. “You do—did,” she corrects, stomach twisting. “I suppose it depends on if our home is still standing.”
Khiran says nothing. Anna appreciates that he doesn’t try to ease the ache in her heart with false optimism. Even if the house still stands, they will likely never be able to return to it.
They continue on in silence, slowly scaling the mountainside until Anna spots the first glimpse of red-tiled rooftops. She thought it had been an optical illusion when she had seen it through the haze of wind and snow—that they couldn’t possibly be built into the rock—but in the daylight, she’s only more convinced. The buildings stagger, following the slope of the ridge of the mountainside, and seem to be built of the same stone it stands on. As they draw closer, Anna spots the round mouth of a cave perched at the back of it, spies the hint of steps leading in. “Does it go into the cave?”
Khiran nods. “Yes. The Tibetan monks have been here since the 15th century, but the caves are thousands of years old.”
Anna traces the lines of the stepped roofs. “Why here?”
It’s beautiful. Peaceful. She knows that can’t be why he chose it. There were plenty of smaller, unassuming communities they passed and could have stopped in. None of them would have been even half as difficult to get to.
“I’m acquainted with one of the monks.” He flinches. “Not that he’ll recognize me. He’s a good man… he’ll take us in and ensure that we have food and shelter.”
“What language is spoken in this area?”
His eyes slide to hers. “Tibetan is most common.”
She nods. “You’ll help me learn?”
Khiran’s face softens. “Of course.”
They continue to climb the zig zagging path. Anna bites back a curse when her foot catches a spot of ice buried beneath the snow—Khiran’s grip on her hand is the only thing that keeps her from tumbling. Even still, the leg of her trousers bears the brunt of her misstep, sticking wet and cold against her skin for the rest of the hike. By the time they finally reach the monastery, Anna is happy just to be back on level land.
She immediately feels the eyes on them, but a quick glanceproves there is no unkindness in their stares but, rather, surprise. Anna imagines how haggard they must look—howfoolishto brave the Himalayas in the middle of winter—and feels herself flush as deeply as the sea of maroon robes staring back at her.
One of the monks steps forward, his face round and his eyes concerned beneath his mustard yellow hat as he looks over them. He’s young, certainly no older than Jiro. She can see the youth in the lankiness of his limbs, as if he’s still growing into himself. He seems to be searching for words, but Anna doesn’t understand why until Khiran speaks to him in the local language and relief colors his face. She doesn’t know what he’s saying, but she can hear the request in his inflection.
The boy looks between them before giving a sharp nod and gesturing for them to follow.
Anna and Khiran walk a few paces behind him through a maze of narrow footpaths, steep stone carved staircases, and tunnels held up by wooden trusses. Her eyes travel over the small buildings constructed of mudbrick and wood that would blend almost seamlessly into the mountainside if not for the colorful square-cut banners strung over the arches and doorways. “Where is he taking us?” she asks, smiling at a group of curious children watching them from around the corner. Some of them shriek, giggling. One boy answers her smile with one of his own that’s so wide it shows off the gap of a missing front tooth.
“I asked him to take us to Master Tenzing.” He glances at her just as she waves to the children, lips stretching into a shadow of a smile. “He’s the acquaintance I spoke of.”
Anna glances over the faces of the people they pass, noticing a commonality that makes her stomach sink. Those that aren’t men, are boys. “Are you sure he’ll let us stay?”
He follows her gaze before looking out over the snow filled mountains rising like pale giants on the other side of the winding turquoise river. “For now, at least. He won’t turn us away when doing so would spell most people’s deaths.”
