45

EIGHT BEADS

Kumari Ghar, Durbar Square, Kathmandu, Nepal

October 27, 2014

“So you are sure about this?” Sir Jack asked.

“I think so,” Beth replied.

“The Kumari’s people are adamant that you can only meet her if she chooses.”

“Yes.”

“And only you, as a woman,” Sir Jack reiterated.

“I understand.”

“You do know the Kumari can’t be the one for a whole host of reasons.”

“I do, but we have to try. It’s the only link I have left. We have nowhere else to turn.”

The car pulled up before the palace building of the Kumari Ghar and stopped. Beth left Sir Jack and Quinn at the doorway to walk into the center of that palace’s courtyard. She stopped and looked up at the ornate wooden window boxes that encrusted the two stories over her head, each opening latticed with cedar wood slats, dark shadow between.

Beth just stood there stock-still with the prayer wheel in one hand, the mala beads hanging from the other from which also protruded the soft toy that Quinn had returned to her.

Her heart counted time to the minutes passing by, but nothing happened. The only sounds were the occasional rustle of wings or cooing of the pigeons perched on the apexes of the pointed window frames. From within, there was no hint of movement, no glint of the white of an eye pushed close to see better, no whispered sound of recognition, nothing.

After he had waited what seemed a suitable time, Sir Jack called her quietly, but Beth didn’t move.

“You should go in and get her out. It’s not working,” he said to Quinn. He did as he was asked and walked into the courtyard to stand next to Beth. “We should go,” was all he said and took her hand.

“But I was so sure . . .”

They turned to leave but as they reached the entrance to the courtyard, an adult voice behind them said, “Stop.”

Neil and Beth turned back to see that a small girl of about eight was now standing on the other side of the courtyard. She was holding the hand of another child, younger still, an attendant walking reverently at a slight distance to them both.

The older girl was dark haired and smoky eyed, petite. The Kumari. The smaller child was more robust with very short red hair and a strong, determined face; Beth realized that she too was a girl. The two children whispered to each other and then the older one spoke to the assistant.

“You, sir,” the attendant said to Quinn. “The ghost moth said you would come for her.”

The Kumari released the small child’s hand. Yangchen Norgyu walked to Beth and took the small toy from her hand. She immediately gave it to Quinn as she spoke back to the Kumari. The older girl said something that the assistant translated, “She says that this is yours, that she gave it to you to keep you safe to do what the ghost moth needed you to do.”

“Tell her it did,” Quinn replied, trying to give the toy back to the Tibetan child, but she wouldn’t take it. She spoke again to the assistant who said, “She says that you will need it still. The mountains remain.”

Instead her small hand reached inside her tunic and came out clenched. Her other hand then took the mala beads from Beth. She turned the clenched fist over to reveal, in her palm, eight tiny skulls that perfectly matched those of the mala.

“The circle is now complete,” Beth heard the assistant say.