Father’s arms open to the visitors in the courtyard. “It’s wonderful to see you, brothers.”
Two men step out of the shadows and I recognize at least one of them—Dendup, the man with the sharp nose and red tassels in his hair. He’s the one who requested that I meet my grandfather’s family a few weeks ago.
It was the first time I’d ever met this side of my mother’s family.
Seeing Father put his arms around Dendup, it looks like Father knows them well.
Of course he would—they’re my mother’s blood relatives. I just never realized Father was this close to them. After all, our families had a grave fall-out.
I was told my grandmother’s brothers killed my grandfather Rapten after he eloped with Dechen, my grandmother—who was pregnant at the time. Grandfather’s family never sought blood revenge, which was quite unusual. They also never claimed the child—my mother—who was raised by Grandmother’s family. I was always under the impression that this tragedy caused the families to avoid each other at all costs.
But what do I know about Father, let alone the rest of my extended family? He stashed away at my grandmother’s monastery when I was about five or six—I was so young—and I never met any of my relatives as far as I can remember.
Father beckons me into the courtyard, pride gleaming in his eyes. “Nordun, come.”
I stumble forward, as clumsy as ever. How things have changed over the last few weeks. Going home to ask Father’s permission to become a nun, I’ve gotten to understand him in such a different way. The grief-stricken, troubled man who abandoned me after my mother’s death is no more.
Sure, Father’s still filled with regret over his actions in the past. As humans, we always struggle with forgiving ourselves and letting go, don’t we? My heart expands as I look at him now, standing here in the yard, full of confidence and hope for the future again.
Long white scarves sway over the men’s outstretched arms. Khatas. Not to welcome me this time, but to celebrate my victory of bringing home a wild horse, tamed.
“Happy to learn of your fortunate return, sister.” Dendup offers the khata around my neck. The sliver of moonlight that cuts across his rugged face reveals genuine joy.
“Thank you, brother.” My head bent, my fingers fumble with the ends of the khata. I’m not sure of the exact family connection but he must be close as he’s sent to represent the family.
“Our grandfather sends his regards,” the other man says as he joins the khata giving. “He, wè, are most honored to be family.”
A warm glow spreads through my body as the man’s honest delight touches me. After so long, I’m finally part of the family. I’ve done them proud. I’ve proven to be a worthy successor to my father, the next in line to be the horse master of these stables. And the fact that I’m a woman taking up the position doesn’t seem to be a concern to them. Being nomads, some of their women also ride horses, like Sangmo, my cousin.
“Please, come in,” Father says. “You’ve made a long journey. You must be hungry.”
Father ushers the men into the house. To the kitchen I notice, not the formal room.
Good.
With the stove crackling away, tea is served and a generous amount of food is passed around, a fitting welcome for family.
Karma’s hand touches my shoulder as he joins us. With a blushed smile, I look around. I don’t see his sister Sangmo anywhere. Well, I suppose she’s still tidying up our quarters. That girl doesn’t stop working.
As the men want to hear all about my journey to the Four Sisters Mountain, I fill the teacups and let Karma do the talking. After all, I would never have gotten there in the first place without his help.
Normally not a man of many words, this time Karma goes all out recounting how he intercepted Uncle’s three sons from preventing me from getting the wild horse. The story of tricking the two cousins by getting them drunk is quite hilarious. The aftermath of the tale, however, when he fought off the third cousin who came around with a gang of his mates, really gets the men roaring.
My heart surges. This man. He throws me a meaningful glance, conveniently leaving out the bit about the drinking, the gambling, and the two women of leisure hanging around his neck. I guess he doesn’t want to embarrass me, something he does so easily as he’s everything I’m not. Confident, worldly, with a wicked sense of humor—he’s experienced in all the ways of this world—the world I’ve just entered and started to explore.
“So, they haven’t been seen since?” Dendup raises his cup to Karma with a wide smile. “Well done, brother. That’s how we take care of our own.”
As I fill the cups with another round of tea, I hold my breath as the conversation takes an inevitable turn.
“And Tennah left?” Dendup’s eyebrows draw down.
There it is. The iron fist clenches tight around my heart again. A sunken silence fills the air.
Father’s big frame caves. His eyes dart over men’s heads. I know—Father doesn’t want to tell, for the consequences will be grave. His own brother.
But he has no choice.
“I guess word has already reached you.” He clears his throat and takes another sip of tea.
“I’ve sent word to the family.” Karma glances from Father to the men and back. Not to me—he doesn’t dare to, for I know what’s coming.
“I had to.” He lowers his head, and my heart drops to my stomach. Yes, he had to, but Father…
Carefully, I glance at Father, his body hunched, his gaze flung into nowhere. He’s a strong man, but how much can even a strong man bear?
“There’s more.” Father shifts in his seat. “Nordun and I, we’ve just come from the ngakpa.”
My pulse quickens. My hands wring around my cup.
“Seems his wife’s involved in this too,” Father says, his g sinking into his cup. “She provided Tennah with a spell to accomplish his evil deed and now they’ve run off—together.”
Dendup and the other man don’t move a muscle. Did they already hear about the ngakpa’s wife? How? My face flushes. I get up for more tea. The handle of the kettle slips in my sweaty palms.
“Where to?” Dendup hands me his cup but keeps his eyes on Father. I pour him another one without spilling.
Father slowly slurps his tea and gives himself some time before responding.
“Lhasa,” he says. “The ngakpa thinks they went to Lhasa.” He looks up and a somber stare meets us.
“Lhasa.” Karma straightens his back and raises his chin towards the men.
“Then Lhasa it is.” Dendup clicks his tongue. He turns to Father, a curt nod. “The family has decided.”
The kettle weighs heavy in my hands. The stove hisses and roars. Tears burn in my eyes. The family has decided. They’re going to Lhasa.
“We’ll take care of it,” Dendup says. “Karma and I.”
No! Not Karma! A wave of nausea heaves in my stomach. I stumble, and steam rises as tea slushes over the sizzling stove. My lungs collapse. Focus. The stench of burned milk sears my nostrils, the arid heat of dung scorches the back of my throat. With all my strength, I direct my senses to stay present.
The kettle bangs back on the cooker. I take in a deep breath, fighting the panic filling my being. They’re not saying it, but I know exactly what it means. They are going to Lhasa to avenge Mother’s death—Dendup and Karma are going to Lhasa to slay my uncle.
“We’ll leave tomorrow.” Dendup waves his hand. “We’ll waste no good time to get this done.”
I dig my heels in the hardwood floor to steady myself—another deep breath in and out. It’s not working, I’m lost. I gawk at Father. My face’s on fire by now.
Say something. My mouth opens, but the words stay stuck deep down my throat. What to do? I need time. Time to think.
“Let us do the proper preparations first,” I blurt out. “We need prayer, and guidance from the ngakpa as we don’t know how to handle the spell.”
All eyes are on me now. My hands dig in a rag, my feet rumble around the stove.
“Please.” I stretch my arms to Karma, his face void of any expression. My eyes widen, I can’t believe this. How can he sit there so calmly when he knows he’s going off to murder a man?
“Nordun’s right.” Father’s voice—raw and unsteady—cuts through the tension like a blunt knife, causing frayed edges to linger between us. “It’s a long, arduous journey, it’s better to prepare well.”
The men sift in their seat. Dendup throws Karma an odd glance while the other man gulps down his tea. I hold my breath—again. My lungs explode in my chest. Will they?
“You’re probably right.” Dendup shrugs after a pause that seemed without end. “We’ll leave the day after tomorrow.”
A sigh of relief gushes from my chest. Good. This gives me the time to better my case.
“Nordun.” Father throws me a sharp look before I get the chance to open my mouth again. He pushes his cup aside, and he points at the big jug on the shelf.
The cloth drops from my hands and I step back. A bitter taste fills my mouth. Revenge. So it’s decided then, just like that.
I snatch the jug from the shelf and hand it to Father. Too flustered to pour the chang myself, I clear the teacups, their clatter drowning the lone cry inside of me. No killing, not Karma—but as the chang flows, I know my desperate words won’t be heard.