MONGOMAN

MYSTERY
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MONGOLIAN
MYSTERY
A Keoki McCoy novel

by Serge Kahili King

Copyright 2012 by Serge King

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced

in any manner except for brief quotations ebodied in
articles and reviews. For further information contact the
publisher below.

First editon 2012

ISBN #978-1-890850-26-5

Published by
Hunaworks
PO Box 426
Volcano HI 9678S5www.huna.net - [email protected]
DEDICATION
This book to my friend, Sarangerel (may the Great
Journey she on on bring her peace), and to my brother,
Dawaatseren (may his journeys lead him to more
advventures).

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, to Sarangerel, whose friendship and guidance in
Mongolia opened my heart and mind to a whole new series
of adventures, and whose books, Riding Windhorses and
Chosen By The Spirits, provided invaluable insights and
inspirations. Thanks as well to all my friends in Mongolia
who helped in so many ways. My great appreciation goes
to Arlene Lum, editor of Sailing For The Sun: The Chinese
in Hawaii 1789-1989, and to the content providers for
innumerable websites, without whom I would have had to
make up a lot more stuff than I did. Finally, mahalo a nui
loa to my editors, Astrid Mohr-Kiehn, Susan Pa’iniu Floyd,
and Stewart Blackburn.

AUTHOR’S NOTES
The historical and cultural aspects of this book are as
accurate as I could make them given the resources
available. In cases where there were differing scholarly
viewpoints I took it upon myself to pick and choose and
blend for the benefit of the story. Any interpretations of
historical and cultural records are my own, of course.
A word about languages: for the Hawaiian language I
included ‘okina marks, but not kahako. Chinese was a
combination of the newer pin yin and older romanizations.
There does not seem to be any standard romanization for
Mongolian, so it is a mix as well.
TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue
One: The End
Two: Hanalei
Three: Mauna Loa
Four: Talking Stones
Five: Unexpected News
Six: Korea
Seven: Ulaanbator 107
Eight: More Vodka 123
Nine: Organized Chaos 140
Ten: The Family Tree 155
Eleven: A Light In The Sky 171
Twelve: Horses And Sheep 186
Thirteen: Shagai 202
Fourteen: Deer Stones 221
Fifteen: City Of Death 239
Sixteen: Waterways 257
Seventeen: Treasure? 275
Eighteen: Farewell 295
Postscript 308
Epilogue 311
About The Author 312
 PROLOGUE

forest, trees dripping with recent rain. The scent

of pine, hemlock and larch, mixed with the rich
smell of damp earth and the faint flavor of wet granite.
Sunset. Pink-tinged clouds slowly turning to dark rose.
Blue sky overhead, blending into shades of green near the
horizon. The ball of the sun hazy behind a thin screen of
slowly-moving clouds.
A large clearing in the forest. A lodge, massively built
of thick logs darkened by age and weathering and moss.
Outside, the definite look of a primeval fortress, softened
here and there by racks of plants with red flowers. Inside,
the definite look of a primeval palace, decorated
abundantly with hunting weapons and their victims—deer,
elk, antelope, moose, bear, and, rather incongruously,
several lions and a single tiger.
In the fading light, which struggles to make its way
through the window of a smallish room on the second floor,
a voice.
“The time has come to act.” Authority, with a hint of
age.
“Tt’s true, then?” Nervousness. Wheezing. The sound of
a body shifting position in a heavy chair.
“Verified.” Certainty. A slight creaking, as if someone
has leaned back.
“It’s so hard to believe.” Wishful. Raspy. A long sigh.
“Believe it.” Confidence. Fingers slowly tapping on
wood.
From a shadowed corner, a cough, then a third voice.
~“Whom have you picked?” Bored. Almost.
Sound of a thick folder sliding across a smooth surface.
“See for yourself.” Mild irritation.
Sound of something being picked up. Sound of pages
turning. “It’s a strange choice.” Mildly amused. “Only one
|
person to do all that?”
Grunt. “More than one would have been toc
suspicious.”
Chuckle. “There will undoubtedly be more than on«
whether we like it or not.”
“In the end it won’t matter.” Firmness. Sounds of <
bottle being opened and liquid being drunk.
The second voice. “How will you do the insertion?’
Tentative.
“It’s been arranged.” Assured.
“And the pick-up?” Querulous.
“Need to know.” Indulgent.
The third voice. “Why this particular person?” Milc
interest.
“Two primary qualities. Dependability.” Pause. “Ane
expendability.” Smugness.
 ONE: THE END
Sloss year was 1227 and the Great Khan was dying.
Only two days ago he had experienced one of
the most satisfying moments of his exceptionally long life.
On a hill outside the well-fortified walls of Deshun, capital
of the only unconquered province of the Xixia Empire,
Temujin, known by most as Chinggis Khan, watched as his
Chinese- and Persian-trained siege engineers finally
succeeded in smashing the great stones protecting the last
major stronghold of the rebellious Tangut dynasty.
As his troops rushed forward to enter the city, the
Tangut general Ma Jianlong led charge after charge of
defenders against them. The lancers were already in front
of the breach, so the bowmen could only shoot at enemy
soldiers on the walls. The hoarse cries of men consumed by
war lust, the screams of wounded horses, the whizzing of
Mongolian arrows, and the acrid dust of deadly conflict
filled the air. Ma Jianlong was a very good general, almost
good enough to win the battle.
On the general's last charge he and a dozen Tangut
warriors actually succeeded in breaking through the line of
attackers and heading up the hill toward the command post
of the Mongol army. The Great Khan had felt a tingle of
anticipation and his hand twitched on the ivory handle of
his scimitar, but that was only the result of decades of battle
memories stirring within him.
Although wearing the typical armor of a Mongolian
cavalryman—silk shirt to reduce the effect of arrows, and
chainmail, because he was Khan and not a trooper who
~ would be wearing boiled leather with metal studs—the fact
that he was the military commander meant that he would be
kept away from actual combat as much as feasible. The
Mongols had too much respect for a brilliant military mind
to waste him in the front lines.
3
 However, an observer would have thought that on this |
occasion the famous leader would have to engage in hand |
to hand fighting anyway. Ma and his men drove their’
horses farther and farther up the hill, hooves kicking up)
clods of dirt in every direction and hands holding scimitars ;
high in readiness to strike. They were on open ground now, ,
and the bowmen below could not fire on them for fear of f
hitting their own Khan. The Khan himself sat outwardly/
impassive, and inwardly wishing he could meet his enemy/
blade to blade. But that was foolish, and he had not done;
anything foolish for many, many years. He could see the>
scowling faces of Ma and his men, even see drops of!
perspiration flinging away from them as their horses;
pounded onward. :
When it almost seemed too late, the Khan lifted his chin:
slightly. The two Arav, groups of ten archers, on either side:
of him lifted their composite bows made of horn, wood,.
and sinew, nocked their arrows, and fired in perfect unison. |
The simultaneous maneuver looked as if they had practiced!
it for hundreds of hours, which they had.
The first salvo shot the horses out from under the
charging men, some of whom, like the general, landed on:
their feet running. Some sprawled in the dust, stunned ass
they struck the ground. And the rest lay under the horses,,
screaming along with their dying mounts. The second}
salvo, fired in seconds with the same precision, quickly)
ended the lives of the few still running forward. General|
Ma, hit with five arrows during a last, desperate leap, died
with the tip of his scimitar extending from his outstretched
arm only inches from the left forefoot of Chinggis Khan's;
horse.
After the taking of Deshun, the new emperor of Xixia,)
Li Xian, sent word of his surrender. If that had been done:
before the war started, the imperial family might have
survived. But after more than twenty years of vebelligke
under Mongol rule, the surrender came far too late. Takings

4
 the opportunity to get rid of this pesky opposition forever,
Chinggis Khan invoked an ancient Mongolian custom. Ata
great victory celebration, a large wooden platform was
constructed, under which were placed the living bodies of
the emperor and all his possible heirs. On top of the
platform, packed with as many of the court and military
officers as could fit, victory was celebrated until the last
member of the Tangut line was crushed to death.
Now, however, the body of the Khan was lying on his
bed inside the battle ger, the huge yurt that served as his
home away from home. So large that it was set on a four-
wheeled platform pulled by twenty-two oxen that were now
grazing in a field somewhere near the war camp, it also
served as his campaign headquarters and royal court. At the
moment, most of the members of that court. as well as most
of the senior officers of his army, were standing around the
outside of the ger several ranks deep, talking in low,
earnest voices about what had happened, and about what
might happen, and about what was currently happening
inside the big ger.
The speculation centered on the human activities inside
the command center, not on the ger itself, for everyone
down to the lowest ranking soldier of the vast army knew
what was inside. Like every ger of the Mongols, the battle
yurt of Chinggis Khan had its material and spiritual aspects,
both equally pragmatic in Mongol thinking.
Materially, the walls and roof were made of esgii, wool
felt, a kind of matted cloth made by rolling and pressing
wet and heated wool. Large sheets of this were attached to
khana, sections of birch lattice for the walls, and uni, birch
poles used to hold up the roof. The poles were attached to
the lattice on one end, and to a foono, a circular hub in the
center of the roof made from a piece of bent wood on the
other end.
The entrance to the ger was covered by a simple felt
curtain. Inside, the center was taken up by the gal golompt,

5
a fire pit lined with stones that was used for heating and:
cooking. Because of the immense size of the yurt and its!
need to be frequently moved, instead of two bagana, tall
wooden poles painted red which normally stood on either
side of the fire pit to hold up the toono, there were four. A’
thick, red rope with three big loops hung from the hub and!
was attached to the lattice. This was used to hold the roof!
down during high winds.
Brightly painted furniture lined the walls, decorated
with traditional Mongolian symbols for all the good things:
of life. The exception was a large, lacquered Chinese desk!
opposite the entrance. The floor was covered withl
elaborately designed carpets from many kingdoms.
Spiritually, the battle yurt of Chinggis Khan followed!
Mongolian tradition, on a much larger scale than a normalli
ger, of course. The entry always faced south, symbolically,’
if not physically. The fire in the center represented the core:
of the universe, and the poles symbolized the world tree u
and down which spirits traveled through the upper, middle.;
and lower worlds, symbolized themselves by the three
loops in the hanging rope. The west side was male, an
open for guests to sleep, eat, drink, and visit. The nort
usually held an altar, but it was not unusual for there to be a4
desk instead when appropriate. The east side was female.}
only used for family, and it was there, on a large bed
against the wall, where the Khan's body had been laid out.
His battle armor, along with his saddle, had been placed
on a stand just to the left of the entry, and his deel, thes
double-breasted, long robe worn by all Mongols, had been
removed from his body, but the raw silk undergarments}
designed to help protect against deep penetration by enemys
arrows still covered his torso.
Lying so still, its broad chest rising and falling slightly.
its color ashen, its normally vibrant aura diminished, The
Khan’s body was already beginning to take on an aspect of
frailty. Not surprising for a body that was over seventy

6
years old in an era where most men were considered elders
at thirty. But not usual for Temujin, the conqueror of the
greatest empire the world had ever seen.
The body of the Great Khan was definitely dying. The
smell of approaching death was evident to all who attended
him or entered the ger. The mind of the empire-builder,
however, was neither dead nor dying. Temujin was aware
of his body struggling to stay alive, of the quiet men sitting
nearby—some of them sons, some of them trusted friends,
some of them merely friends, and some of them not to be
trusted at all.
He could hear them discussing and occasionally
arguing in soft voices about the careful plans he had laid
out for exactly what was to be done in the event of his
death. In precise detail he had outlined his orders for the
disposition of the armies, the division of treasure, the
leadership of the empire, and the continuation of its
expansion, so what was there to discuss or argue about? In
any case, he no longer cared about that. He was aware of
the ger itself, draped in silken tapestries and littered with
precious objects from the conquered cities of his empire.
He was also, almost painfully, aware of how much he still
wanted to do. So many things to learn, to see, to
accomplish once the battles were over. He was aware, too,
almost pleasurably, of how far he had come...
Born as a member of the Borgijin clan of the Mongol
tribe by the side of the Onon River, near the sacred
mountain of Burkhan Khaldun, he was named Temujin,
"the ironworker," by his father. Mentally, Temujin smiled
at all the false stories that had been circulated about the
meaning and purpose of his name in order to protect the
sacred knowledge of his lineage after his father, Yesukhei,
had been killed and he and his mother and his siblings had
been cast out of the clan.
One story he had been told was that he was supposed to
have been named after a Tatar chief captured in a battle by

7
his father, as if that would ever happen. To be named after
the chief of an enemy clan? And how would that story
account for the name of his brother, Temulin, and his sister,
Temuge? Did his father go out and capture more Tatan
chiefs just to name his children?
No, his lineage was that of the darkhanboo, the wise
shaman-smiths who specialized in the making of ritual
instruments for spirit battles and healings, and in the
alchemical preparations of the highly sacred and secret
formulations of magical arshaan, elixirs for life and health
and strength and virility.
He and his brother and sister had been destined tot
follow that tradition, but all that had changed when the
Tatars had poisoned his father in a deadly act of betrayal.
Although the nine-year-old Temujin had claimed his
father’s position as chief, the Borgijin had refused to be led
by such a young boy, so he, his sister, all of his brothers.
and his mother as well had been abandoned by his father's:
tribe and left to survive as best they could in the wilderness,
living on what fruits and wild game they could find fon
themselves.
Tough times, those were. Very dangerous times. To
ensure his family’s survival he had even had to fight and
kill his half brother, Bekhter, who had wanted to take alll
the food away from them after a hunt. It was during these
hard years that Temujin developed his insatiable drive fon
expansion, fueled not only by a desire for revenge, but by;
an even greater desire to know more, to do more, to be
more.
And this drive, Temujin's mind now reflected, was what
contributed to the strength of his hiimori, his "windhorse"
or personal spiritual power, that guided him through so:
many dangers, and attracted to him so many strong men...
and women.
Ah, the women, his mind mused. Borte, his first wife,
came into his thoughts. He had been betrothed to her when

8
 he was nine, supposed to marry her when he was twelve,
but because of all the troubles the marriage was not able to
take place until he was sixteen. Finally she became Grand
Empress of the Empire, mother of his heirs, trusted advisor,
and true love. Not only love, of course, but only true love.
Gone to the spirits already, where he knew he was heading
soon.
As for the others, a quick succession of images and
encounters with beautiful women of all ages, colors and
sizes, some more pleasant than others filled his thoughts for
a while. A mental chuckle came as he recalled a statement
attributed to him. He hadn't really said it, but he almost
wished he had: "The greatest happiness is to vanquish your
enemies," he was supposed to have said, " to chase them
before you, to rob them of their wealth, to see those dear to
them bathed in tears, to clasp to your bosom their wives
and daughters."
Enemies. His mind jumped in that direction. The dung-
eating Bjartskular came up first. Formerly allies of his
father, they had captured him during a raid when he was
twenty and humiliated him as a prisoner, keeping him as a
slave and making him wear a type of binding designed for a
woman. A feeling of satisfaction filled his mind as he
recalled the night of his escape. Thanks to a sympathetic
guard who believed his treatment was too harsh and who
kept his back turned at an appropriate moment, Temujin
was able to lose himself in the dark and hide in some rocks
at a bend in a nearby river. The guard himself raised the cry
of his escape and Bjartskular warriors spent the entire night
looking for him by torchlight without success.
In the morning they searched again, but still couldn’t
find his hiding place in the water among the rocks and
reeds. He had stayed hidden until the middle of the next
night before creeping off and making his way across the
steppes to his own tribe. That escape had helped to
establish his reputation as a resourceful leader.

9
 From the Bjartskular his mind leaped to the Tanguts,
whom he had finally defeated. Six wars he had fought with
them, all because they wouldn't accept his rule, and after
they had been defeated they stubbornly kept rebelling every
time his back was turned. No more, though. Now that he
had exterminated the entire Tangut imperial line of
succession, his sons should have no further problem with
them.
This last war with them, the last war of his life, he
realized, had taken more than a year even though his forces
had defeated them in every battle. That was mainly due to
the fierce leadership of their general, Ma Jianlong who just
wouldn't give up. Now that was a man to respect. If only he
could have been persuaded to join the Khan's forces they
could have done great things together. On the other hand,
Temujin admitted to himself, it was a good thing for our
side that the general died of his wounds at Deshun.
Thoughts of the Jin followed that, those arrogant
enemies to the southeast of his homeland whose corrupt
empire had finally come under his complete control. Then
the Khwarezmids, whose vast Muslim empire far to the
west was considered too powerful for his nomadic troops to
take on. But after the Khwarezmids had murdered a.
peaceful trade caravan he had sent to them, and humiliated |
and beheaded a group of his ambassadors shortly after,
Temujin was able to gather an army of 200,000 men and
cross the Tien Shan mountains for a three-pronged attack
that incited the Khwarezmid Shah to flee for his life and.
caused the the whole empire to fall under Temujin’s:
control. Ah, that was a good time, that was.
His mind jumped backwards in time to the Merkits, one:
of the Mongolian tribes he had brought into his first:
confederation. They were the ones who had kidnapped his:
beloved Borte shortly after their marriage. What an)
adventure! He recalled how cleverly and bravely he and|
Jamuka had rescued her and how wonderful that victory '

10
 felt. He and Jamuka... he and Jamuka...
For a time he was filled with the mental equivalent of
sorrow and regret. He and Jamuka had become anda, blood
brothers, even before the rescue of Borte, and had vowed to
remain eternally faithful. But after Jamuka had become
khan, ruler, of his own tribe, the Jadaran., his pride and
ambition had taken him farther and farther away from their
vows and their friendship.
When Jamuka assumed the title of Gur Khan, Universal
Ruler, he had formed a coalition of tribes to fight Temujin,
but his lack of battle skill and his excessive cruelty had
turned his own men against him and he was handed over to
Temujin's forces as a prisoner. Even after Temujin offered
to forgive him and have him at his side as a friend again,
Jamuka had refused.
Sadly, Temujin remembered what his former anda had
said before asking for a noble death: "There can only be
one Sun in the sky." Such a shame. If Jamuka had rejoined
him, Temujin would have shared his greatest desire, and his
greatest secret...
Some men wanted power more than anything else. That
was Jamuka's failing. Temujin had power, more than any
other man of his time. He had millions of people under his
tule, thousands of tribes, dozens of empires, lands
stretching from the Sea of Japan in the east to the Caspian
Sea in the west, from the mountains of Siberia in the north,
to the borders of Tibet and the sands of Arabia in the south.
Emperors and kings, cities and armies all bowed to him. Of
course it had its privileges and pleasures, but it was only a
side effect of his true purpose. More power was not what he
sought.
Some men only wanted treasure, the ownership of all
that was beautiful and precious. Well, he had treasure in
enormous abundance: exquisite ceramics and silks from the
empire of the Jin; lovely objects of glass and eye-stunning
cloth-of-gold textiles from the lands of Islam; tons of gold
jewelry from the Xixia, and silver in massive amounts from
the far West; fabulous robes, and armor, and weapons, and
even ordinary household goods transformed into wonders
of artistic craftsmanship... overwhelming amounts of
treasure from everywhere. But after all, thought Temujin,
such objects were often pretty to look at, and silk did feel
nice to the touch, but a wooden bowl held something good
to drink just as well as a cup of solid gold encrusted with
pearls and jade, and it didn't weigh as much. No, it wasn't
the attraction of treasure that drove him.
Some men wanted the love of others, needed it, yearned
for it, demanded it. He had certainly had a lot of that, both
the true kind and that which passed for it. Loyal
friendships, adoring coutiers, flattery beyond measure, and,
of course all the women he could possibly want. Hundreds,
if not thousands, of them through the years. Willing ones,
taken ones, gifted ones. He knew that there were men,,
mostly in the South and the West, who wanted love so:
much they insisted on being treated as gods. What pitiful
creatures such men were, not content to be men. True love:
Temujin prized, all other forms he enjoyed, but it wasn't:
what he sought.
What did he really want? What was it that drove him)
night and day, through trials and troubles, victories and!
successes? What he wanted more than anything else was:
more life, and the reason he wanted more life was that he:
wanted to change the world.
He hadn't fought so hard as a young man merely to gain.
control of a tribe. He had united all the Mongolian tribes:
into a confederation for the first time and established a code:
of law, the Great Yassa, for all people to follow. As long asi
the people followed the law there would be peace andi
prosperity for everyone, regardless of ethnicity or culture on
location or language or religion. Those who resisted would!
have to be conquered, of course, and integrated into his
empire if they followed the law, or exterminated if they,

12
 didn't. One rule, one world, one peace. But for that he
needed more life.
If his father had lived when he was a young boy, and if
he had become khan of his tribe instead of having been
kicked out of it with his family because they thought him
too young to rule, then he would have been initiated into
the esoteric blacksmithing tradition as was his due. But his
father had died, and he had been banished, and the shaman
who did invest him as khan eventually had died soon after
with all the knowledge of how to create the Golden Elixir
that would grant an exceptionally long life, perhaps even an
eternal one.
For that reason, as soon as Temujin had been named as
khan of the Mongol clan he ordered his brother, Temulin,
and his sister, Temuge, to seek out any of the darkhanboo,
the shaman blacksmiths who might still exist among the
other clans they would conquer, mainly the Naimans, the
Merkits, the Uyghurs, and the Tatars.
The knowledge they gained from the darkhanboo of
those clans was very useful for helping him to stay strong
and healthy far beyond the norm, but it was not enough, so
he ordered his brother and sister to continue their quest
among all the future conquered peoples, and to bring to him
_ anyone who might have the skill, or at least a clue to the
secret of the Golden Elixir.
On the orders of the Great Khan, Temulin and Temuge
sought out the smiths and alchemists of the Xixia, the Jin,
the Kara-Khitan Khanate, the Khwarezmid Empire,
Afghanistan, India, Persia and Armenia, but although they
gained a great deal of knowledge about smithing and
alchemy, any knowledge of a true elixir eluded them.
Meanwhile, Temujin interviewed a steady stream of
religious leaders, priests, teachers and mystics from among
the conquered peoples. Even his own people thought he
simply had an unusual interest in religion and philosophy,
but during each and every such conversation, always held

13
in private, the topic eventually turned to the question of a
means to prolong life.
Finally, in 1219, when Temujin was already in his
sixties and in the process of conquering Turkestan, he heard
about a Taoist monk named Qiu Chuji living in seclusion in
the village of Laizhou on the Shantung Peninsula by the
Gulf of China in the already-conquered Jin Empire. Since
the monk had written about nine alchemical methods for
generating the elixir of life, Temujin sent for him. In the
year 1220 Qiu Chuji left Laizhou with 18 of his disciples
for the 5000 kilometer trek from the easternmost part of the
Mongol Empire to the snow-filled mountains of Turkestan
that took him two years to complete. Temujin engaged in
many private conversations and—there is no other word for
it—negotiations with the Taoist monk surrounding the
topic of the elixir of life.
In the conversations, Qiu Chuji revealed that Taoist
alchemy was divided into two parts: waidan, external
alchemy, and neidan, internal alchemy. The practice of
waidan involved the compounding of elixirs made from
natural substances, while neidan took the approach that the
alchemical changes must occur within the alchemist
himself. Qiu Chuji's concept was that the two needed to be
combined to produce a truly effective elixir of life.
Along with the need for a pure heart and few desires, ,
the elixir of immortality could be generated by what he:
called the "innate and acquired air inside the human body."
The "acquired air" turned out to be the inhaled essence of a1
particular alchemical mixture known only to Qiu Chuji and!
not even to his disciples. The "innate" air came from the:
breath of a purified person. There was much more to the:
preparation itself, of course, and that was the part that was:
being kept a secret.
Temujin now recalled a conversation with Qiu Chujii
that indirectly led to the actual negotiations between them..
During one discussion the alchemist revealed that he was:

14
also a master of Taoist magic, and that one of his abilities
was the power to detect magical items and determine their
purpose. Intrigued, the Khan had sent a servant to fetch an
odd set of beads that had been given to him by the shaman
who had invested him as khan before he died.
The beads were large, each one about the size of his
first thumb joint in diameter, and strung on a cord made of
some natural fiber. They were nineteen in number, all
carved in the shape of human skulls, all different, and all
made of very old ivory. The only reason they had come to
his attention was that one of his concubines from some
place or another had wanted them, but as soon as she held
them she had screamed and fainted.
Knowing the Khan’s interest in unusual artifacts, the
servants had brought the beads to him, carried very
carefully on the end of a stick. The Great Khan recognized
them, but had forgotten all about them. When Temujin had
handled them all he felt was a strong tingling, but that was
interesting enough that he had ordered them to be placed in
his personal treasure trove. When the beads had arrived at
his battle ger, the great ruler had handed them to the Taoist
master.
Qiu Chuji had fingered the beads separately, his face
impassive and his thoughts apparently elsewhere. Finally,
he set them down on the Khan’s desk and said, “These are
extremely old, from the time of Khan Hot, before the
Mongols thought of themselves as such, before the Jin were
any more than scattered tribes, before the Gobi was a
desert, at the time when the invaders from the far Eastern
Ocean were expanding their empire. These skulls contain
the spirits of nineteen powerful sorcerers, and each one has
knowledge that could be of vast help in creating a true
Golden Elixir, Great Khan.”
“And can you extract that knowledge, Master Qiu?” the
Khan had asked.
“Not without considerable research and study,” the

15
Taoist had answered.
“And once you had that information, could you share it
with another?”
“With sufficient motivation, yes.”
Temujin smiled. “Let me make a proposition to you.. 2%
The outcome of the negotiations was that Temulin and
Temuge would become apprentices of Qiu Chuji to learn
how to make the elixir and bring it to Temujin. They would
also be charged with creating a society of smiths, the
Darkhad, to protect and preserve the knowledge.
Meanwhile, the Taoist monk would share with the Great
Khan the very tiny amount of an elixir he carried with him,
enough to prolong life, but not sufficiently powerful for
immortality, and he would retrieve the information from
the skulls and give it to his new apprentices.
In addition, the Great Khan publicly gave Qiu Chuji the
titles of Shenxian, "Immortal," and Taizonshi, "Great
Master," and put him in charge of all Taoist sects in the
whole empire, with his headquarters to be in the Palace of
Yanjing in Beijing.
Qiu Chuji returned to China with his disciples and his
new apprentices, and Temujin, re-invigorated with a
strength and vitality that he hadn't felt since his youth,
completed his conquest of Turkestan and turned back to put
down the rebellion of the Tanguts in Xixia, while a second
group of armies invaded Russia, Georgia, Bulgaria, and
Hungary.
When the final battle against the Xixia was over, and
the remaining noble princes of theimperial family had been
crushed to death in the traditionalmanner under a wooden
platform upon which the Great Khan and his generals
feasted, Temujin had ridden back to his headquarters
through his war camp, weary but satisfied.
On the way he rode side by side with his most pre-
eminent field commander, Subutai, the only man Temujin
felt to be his near equal in matters of military strategy and

16
 tactics, and the only man at all besides his brother with
whom he could talk about matters of life and death.
Subutai was the son of a blacksmith, and therefore also
privy to some of the esoteric knowledge held by the
darkhanboo. Their families had a long history of
association, and Subutai's father, Qaban. had brought his
son to serve Temujin when the boy was only seventeen.
Since then he had risen to the highest rank possible for one
who was not a direct relative of the Khan.
"What do you think of the Huihui Pao?" asked
Temujin, working his shoulders to ease some of the stress
of the ride.
"The new catapault from Persia?" Subutai smiled.
"Much better than the old Chinese SiJiao Pao. More
portable with those wheels, fewer men required, and
especially more power. Did you see how quickly those
walls came down? The SiJiao Pao is better at piling up
rocks outside the wall so the troops can climb over."
Temujin chuckled and was about to add a rejoinder
when something happened.
He had been aware of the shouts of praise coming from
his soldiers, the carpenters, the wheelwrights, the
blacksmiths, the armorers, the horse-handlers, the
herdsmen, the cooks, the suppliers, the servants, the wives
and children and whores and all the rest who filled the
valley of the encampment. He had smelled the sweat of
animals and men, the aromas of food and spices, the hot
tang of heated metal, the occasional wisp of perfume, and
the dryness of the dusty plain.
He had felt the weight of his armor and weapons, his
saddle and stirrups, the movement of the warhorse under
him. He had noticed, peripherally, his guard of archers
riding beside and behind him, their right arms bare and
glistening to give them more freedom of movement in
battle.
He had just begun to wonder why everything seemed so

17
sharp and clear when he became aware of several other
things at the same time: a sudden emptiness in his heart, a
sudden coldness in his limbs, a sudden vision of the
alchemist, Qiu Chuji, with a surprised expression on his
face. And then, as his mind lost all direct contact with his
body during what seemed like a very long, slow fall from
his horse, he knew that the link between him and Qiu Chuji
that had been forged when the alchemist had shared his
breath and his elixir had been shattered, that the Chinese
master was dying, and that so was he. He did not know that
Qiu Chuji had just been fatally stabbed in the back by a
disciple, jealous beyond measure of the favoritism shown
by the alchemist to the two barbarian Mongols, but those
details no longer mattered.
Temujin did not feel his body hitting the ground, nor
did he feel it being lifted and carried to his ger. He did not
hear the shouts and screams, nor did he smell the odors of
fear and shock. He was barely aware of his body being
placed in his battle ger and he and his whole court being
moved from the hot, dry, dusty plains of Deshun to the
marvelously cool and scenic Liupanshan Mountains. But he
was very aware, most of all, with the deepest kind of regret
imaginable, that he would not live forever as a man.
Days later, though, as his mind roamed free, there was
no more regret. His body was dying, but he knew he was
alive. He had done everything he could to bring his world
into harmony, and he had even done everything he could to
prepare that world for his death. Plans were already in
place for the succession, for the division of the empire and
the distribution of the spoils, and for many other details that
he wanted to control from beyond the grave in case that
was necessary. He allowed himself one last mental chuckle.
One of those details involved the disposition of his body in,
the eventuality of his death, a disposition in a location:
where no one would ever think of looking, and after that’
the purposeful planting of rumors that would keep everyone:

18
 looking in all the wrong places.
With that last thought of earthly matters, Temujin's
mind left the ger where his dying body lay. Free of physical
limitations, he left his sons and generals and court behind.
_ glided over anxious troops who didn't know what was in
store for them and past the milling crowds of delegations
hoping for political advantage and camp followers who
kept most of their own thoughts on day to day survival.
He moved among the herds of animals one last time,
with only faint memories remaining of the smells of horse
Sweat, cattle and yak dung, and goat and sheep breath. At
last he soared out over the seemingly empty steppes. He
knew now that they were not really empty, that there was
something else out there waiting for him that was more
important than everything he had accomplished while in a
physical body. With happy anticipation he rushed toward
it—toward her—Borte!
*

Many miles away in Beijing there was turmoil in the

palace of Yanjing. Enebish, the Mongolian governor, had
arrested the murderer of Qiu Chuji and had him tried and
executed within the hour. Courtiers were debating the
_ rights and wrongs of the governor’s actions. Taoist monks
_ were already arguing about who would succeed Qiu Chuji
in his leadership of the Taoist movement. Military men
were speculating on what actions the Great Khan might
take when he found out. The Chinese disciples of the
master alchemist were weeping and wailing and wandering
around, shocked into near insensibility by the
incomprehensible death of the "Immortal" one.
Temulin was finally able to herd all the disciples out of
the building set aside for alchemical studies and into a
Taoist temple where they could pray for his departed spirit,
while his sister, Temuge, began packing scrolls, equipment,
and carefully packaged substances into well-padded leather
and linen containers.

19
 When Temulin came back Temuge was only a quarter
finished, so he helped her until deep into the night. For this
work they did not want any other help. Fortunately, from
their point of view, no one else seemed interested in
coming to visit the alchemical laboratory after the tragic
death of the master earlier in the day.
"We will need help in moving these containers," said
Temuge, wiping her brow with a silk cloth kept within one
of the wide sleeves of her dark blue gown. The pattern of
embroidered silver cranes, symbols of long life, shimmered
as she moved.
Temulin looked up from stuffing vials full of liquid and
wrapped in cotton wadding into an iron-bound barrel. "Our
Mongolian servants will take care of that. I have already
arranged for the wagons to be parked nearby in readiness."
"It is a wonder that our brother foresaw such a need."
Temuge continued packing scrolls into bamboo tubes.
"Not a wonder,” Temulin replied. "Our brilliant brother
has made it a habit for many years to prepare for any
eventuality, no matter how improbable." He tucked a
drawstring pouch containing a heavy strand of skull-like
ivory beads into an inside pocket of the dee/ that he had
already changed into.
*

It took days of preparation, but at last the army was

ready to move back to the new military capital of
Karakorum, located in the rich lands south of Lake Baikal
and north of the Altai Mountains. Leading the long and.
noisy procession, guarded by outriders, was the Great:
Khan's battle wagon. Within, an old man's dead body lay
on a bed of rich silks, with no sign of what had caused the:
death. Behind it were the troops and their gear, and then a)
long train of treasure wagons filled to their creaking brim:
with fabulous riches, the spoils of war. Following those:
were the supply wagons, camp followers, and herds of!
horses, cattle, sheep, and goats.

20
 As the procession neared Karakorum months later, no
one noticed an old wagon covered with tattered cloth that
veered away from the caravan and headed north. And no
one ever mentioned nor wrote about another, smaller
procession heading from Beijing on a planned path to
intercept it.

21
TWO: HANALEI
Fe Ah Sing this day started out well, became worse,
and ended up badly.
The best part was breakfast. As he sat in the dining area
of his clapboard home, furnished with expensive pieces of
art imported directly from the homeland, he could smell the
delicious odors of jook being prepared by his mui tsai, a
Chinese bond-servant sold by her starving peasant parents
to an intermediary and shipped to Ah Sing under cover of
being a relative. The fact that she was a virtual slave was
known only to the immediate family and their intimate
friends, because at this time slavery was against the law in
the kingdom of Hawaii, called Tang Heung Shan, The
Sandalwood Mountains, by the Chinese.
Min Tuk, the bond-servant, had placed a chicken in a
pot the night before, along with a bit of rice, a good amount
of water, and a pi-dan, a one thousand-year-old egg.
Of course, it was not really a thousand-year-old egg.
That was just a poetic Chinese name for it. It was, however,
a lot older than most people would believe. To make the pi-
dan Min Tuk had coated a fresh duck egg with a sort of
clay made from red earth, which was abundant on the
island of Kauai, plus salt, wood ash, garden lime, and black
tea. She had wrapped this in rice husks, along with several
other similarly coated eggs, and placed the lot in a crock
that had been lined and layered with rich soil from the
Hanalei rice paddies. Then she had laid the crock in the
coolest, driest place she could find and let it sit there for
three full months. When the pi-dan were ready, the yolk
would be green, and the white would have turned to a color
resembling black opal. The whole thing would have the
texture of an avocado, and the flavor would resemble that
of a rich and pungent cheese.

pie)
 Sometimes she served the pi-dan by itself, cut into
wedges and accompanied by a special sauce made from
rice wine, vinegar, minced ginger, and soy. Sometimes she
served it with pork. But today she made it with chicken. It
had cooked all night on a carefully tended bed of coals, and
now she was chopping lettuce and arranging a variety of
salted and pickled vegetables as condiments on real
Chinese porcelain.
By the time the jook was laid in front of him, Ah Sing's
mouth was watering and he plunged his ivory chopsticks
into the bowl and dishes with an appetite quite avid for a
eighty-five-year-old blacksmith. In a few minutes he had
devoured the greater share of the food and grunted to let
Min Tuk know that he was leaving for the temple and that
she could have the rest.
First Wife was living with relatives in Honolulu. After
his first son was stillborn, Ah Sing had sent her away and
no longer thought about her. Min Tuk was bought and
brought from China as a convenient servant even before the
first wife had left, and Ah Sing had no other interest in her.
His Hawaiian concubine and their five children gave him
all the domestic satisfaction he needed.
Ah Sing had first come to Hawaii in 1788 aboard the
English merchantship Felice, captained by John Meares,
along with a number of other European and Chinese
crafstmen based in the Pacific Northwest for the fur trade.
That was also the year that Austria declared war on Russia,
the United States constitution was ratified, England
abolished the slave trade, and fur traders visiting Hawaii
were exchanging food for firearms with the warring chiefs
of Hawaii. During a second trip in December of the same
year aboard the /phegenia, the twenty-year old blacksmith
decided to give up the ice and snow of what eventually
became British Columbia for the balmy breezes and better
opportunities of the Sandwich Islands.
For ten years he worked for Kamehameha The Great,

23
helping to build the sloops used in the chief's wars to
conquer the other islands and repairing cannon and
muskets. He even became a trusted advisor, and was
present in Kamehameha's retinue during Captain George
Vancouver's visit to Kealakekua Bay in 1794.
When it was clear that Kamehameha would not be
making another attempt to conquer Kauai by force after the
failed invasion in 1796, Ah Sing was released from his
service with a generous amount of severance pay.
Eventually, the Chinese blacksmith made his way to Kauai
and entered the service of King Kaumuali'i where he used
his new wealth and new connections to build up a
collection of small businesses, including a smithy, in
Hanalei Valley. After 1841, when the Hawaiian
government allowed governors and chiefs to lease land to
foreigners, Ah Sing managed to obtain long-term leases for
a good part of the valley. Next came a wife, then a series of
apprentices, and then slow and steady expansion of his
interests.
On this early morning in 1853, Ah Sing's current
apprentice, named Li Yuen, was already hard at work in the
smithy. He wore only baggy trousers and boots, for the heat
from the furnace was intense. The boots were to protect his
feet from stray coals and hot bits of metal, but his upper
body was scarred from many burns over many years. The
thought of wearing a leather apron, like most blacksmiths
among the whites, never occurred to him. Each stray touch
of fire was, for him, like a blessing from the gods.
The smithy of Ah Sing was a clapboard building with a
high, slanting roof, all made of hard, dark milo wood. It
was set a good way away from the main house, between a_
long circle drive that gave access from the principle:
Hanalei road and the rice paddies. All around it were piles;
of broken and discarded scraps of iron from damaged farm)
implements and remnants of wrecked ships. Some piles;
contained iron only, and some were made of iron fittings:

24
 still attached to pieces of wood. One particular pile was
composed of bits and scraps of copper, brass, and bronze.
All of it could be made into something else as needed.
Inside the smithy, the centerpiece was the anvil. Before
_ coming to Kauai, Ah Sing had bought a European-made,
one hundred-fifty pound forging anvil from the family of a
deceased German blacksmith who had done work in
Lahaina, Maui for the a/i'i, the chiefs, and the British and
American merchant ships that frequently anchored there
just offshore.
It had a long, rectangular heel with a hardy hole for
various tools, and a step plate just before the horn. It sat on
a two-foot high, one-foot square block of oak cut from the
keel of an unlucky ship that had grounded on the reefs by
Makahoa Point just outside of Hanalei Bay. The legs of the
anvil were attached to the block with thick, hand-forged
spikes bent over to secure them as tightly as possible.
Around the base of the anvil was a heavy chain that was
used to pass over the top of the anvil and hold down
various objects that were being worked on. The anvil was
scarred and chipped in places, and it went well with the
_ stained and scarred block of wood.
Over in one corner of the smithy was the forge, which
was really a box made of dense koa wood and lined with
clay dug out of the hills west of the town of Kapa'a. It sat
on blocks of lava rock. Charcoal from Lihue, the seat of
_ government at the southeast corner of the island, was used
for fuel, and the large, leather, hand-operated bellows
_ provided a source of air.
Along one wall was an oak bench made of planks from
another shipwreck, and on its surface lay the hammers,
chisels, swages, cutting plates, forks, and other tools used
in smithing. Another wall held about twenty-five different
sized tongs, and the rest of the space was taken up with bar
stock and current projects.
Li Yuen was hard at work, but the project he was

pa
working on had nothing to do directly with blacksmithing.
Meanwhile, Ah Sing was walking into town and
considering the disturbing news he had recently received
from China about the Taiping Tian Guo, the "Heavenly
Kingdom of Great Peace" that English speakers called the
Taiping Rebellion, and which had already caused the
deaths of many relatives.
Compared to the troubles in the homeland, Hanalei
Valley seemed like a true paradise on earth. A passing
shower carried a rainbow out into Hanalei Bay, and
remnants of low clouds clustered around the emerald-green
mountains of Namolokama and Mamalahoa rising sharply
above the valley, reminding Ah Sing of a Song Dynasty
painting, A Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains, by Wang
Ximeng. Warm trade winds caused ripples across the rice
and taro fields below the mountains, and a variety of sailing
boats and merchant ships were anchored in the calm, blue
waters of the bay. As the first port of entry for Kauai,
Hanalei was a fairly busy town, and the district boasted a
population of nearly two thousand people.
At this time in China the Qing Dynasty of the Manchus,
who had conquered the Central Kingdom in the seventeenth
century, still ruled the land. One of the first things they had
done after consolidating their victory and forming the new
dynasty was to dictate the form of hair style and dress that.
all Chinese had to follow under pain of death if they
refused to conform.
So Ah Sing's hair was braided into a long queue and he:
wore on his head a brimless cap of black silk with a button:
in the center. The rest of his dress consisted of a changpao,
a long, loose, black robe, also of silk, but with a subtle:
design of chrysanthemums embroidered on it. For footwear:
he had turned practical and had on a pair of sturdy leather:
sandals.
Ah Sing's path through the settlement took him to the:
center of town where he exchanged greetings with many:

26
 residents, including Captain John Kellett, postmaster,
customs collector, and port pilot, dressed in his usual high-
collared, naval-style uniform in spite of the temperature.
"Good morning, Captain," said Ah Sing, bowing
slightly. After so many years of dealing with the British
and Americans his accent had only a slight Chinese lilt to it
and he was familiar with the idioms of both.
Kellett took off his cap and wiped his brow with a red
kerchief that he tucked back into a sleeve of his coat. "And
a good morning to you, Ah Sing. Are you coming to check
on a shipment?"
"No, Captain. I am only out for a walk." No point in
mentioning a Chinese temple to this daibizi, this Big Nose.
While they chatted a young Hawaiian came running
with the mail from Kalalau Valley, a steep, deep valley on
the northwestern Na Pali coast of the island, accessible only
by water or by an often treacherous eleven-mile footpath
through more narrow valleys, across fast-moving streams,
and along one-thousand-foot cliffs.
The messenger wore a malo, a type of loincloth made
of kapa, the cloth made by Hawaiians from the bark of
trees. He also wore a torn, faded, red wool shirt, probably
obtained in trade for something from a sailor. It had to be
uncomfortable in the heat of the valley, but in those days it
gave the young man a certain level of prestige among his
peers. As usual, the mail was wrapped in banana leaves to
keep it from getting soaked by rain.
"Eia na leka, e Kapena, Here is the mail, Captain,"
puffed the Hawaiian.
"Pehea ke ala i ke kapakai, How is the trail on the
coast?" asked Kellett in fluent Hawaiian.
_ "Aia kekahi hehe'e mamamala ma Nualolo Kai, There's
a small landslide at Nualolo Kai," said the mail carrier.
After determing that there was no mail for him from his
tenants on the Na Pali coast, Ah Sing left the postmaster to
his business of arranging for workers to clear the trail and

2g
continued his walk, greeting and speaking to whites in
English, to Chinese from the north part of China in his
native Beijing dialect, and to Hawaiians and other Chinese
in Hawaiian.
On his way to the temple he stopped for a visit to the
general store he owned, where people from all over the
North Shore of Kauai, from the plantation workers at the
village of Kilauea in the east, to the fishermen from the
isolated valleys to the west, came to buy their
supplies—iron tools, calico and denim, coffee and tea for
the plantation workers; iron fishhooks, sewing needles,
rope and cord for the fishermen; and rice, flour, sugar, and
sweets for everyone.
In the back room of the store there were gambling
tables that brought most of the weekly pay of the Chinese
plantation workers into Ah Sing's coffers. Even this early
he could hear the clacking tiles of some off-work laborers
playing the ancient game of Tin Kau. Ah Sing smiled at the
thought of all the money coming in without any effort on
his part, and went to the doorway to watch for a few
moments.
There were four players now, slapping down and
picking up tiles almost too rapidly for the eyes to
follow—foreign devil eyes at any rate.
Although the game shared some features with bridge,
foreign devils never seemed to be able to get the hang of it.
They thought it was like the simplistic Western game of
dominoes, because it used tiles with dots.
Not only were the rules confusing to them, they could
not comprehend the complex combination of skill and luck
required, and the fact that every tile symbolized important
and fundamental aspects of Chinese culture.
The old man watched as the players divided their tiles
into Civilian and Military in preparation for a new round.
No doubt these illiterate peasants were only interested in
winning and did not even know they were handling the

28
 powerful forces of Sky, Earth, Man, and the desire for
Harmony. He sighed, turned away, and decided to check
the receipts later.
His route took him past the rather large, green and
white, hip-roofed home of the Christian missionaries,
Abner and Lucy Wilcox, and their green-shingled and
steepled church with stained glass called Hui‘ia, United,
that stood at the entrance to Waioli Valley. Ah Sing and the
missionaries did business together when they had to, but
otherwise they were barely cordial, mainly because the
Wilcoxes strongly disapproved of gambling.
Finally he reached the small, one-room temple that he
had financed. It was a modest structure built out of
beautifully polished koa wood that had a golden sheen in
the sun. The blacksmith greeted the Taoist priest, Pao Yap,
in Mandarin, out of respect for his position.
"Zao shang hao, Pao Shifu, Good morning, Priest Pao.
Hao bu hao? How are you?" Ah Sing bowed a little more
~ than usual.
"Hao. Ni hao ma, Ah xiansheng? Good. And you,
Honorable Ah?" Pao Yap bowed a little deeper than Ah
_ Sing. After all, this was his patron.
"Hao, Fine." Ah Sing followed the priest into the
temple.
Pao Yap was a very learned man in his forties who took
care of the temple and its shrines and gods, assisted the
worshippers, and read Chinese classics in his spare time.
His cap and changpao were of simple, tan cotton, but
he also wore the queue as Ah Sing did. When the merchant
entered, Pao Yap provided the old man with incense and
ceremonial money and hovered by his side as the elder
picked up a stick and hit a drum several times to rouse the
gods and chase away evil spirits.
Since his primary concern was with business, Ah Sing
went first to the shrine of Choy Sun, god of fortune. To a
non-Chinese the figure of Choy Sun would certainly not

29
seem to represent good fortune. Dressed in mourning
on a
clothes, because his mother had died, the god leaned
cane made of a frilled paper stick and kept his head bowed
in grief, because to hold his head up signified happiness,
and to act happy would be unbecoming of a good son
whose mother had passed away. Ah Sing burned incense
and paper money, and from there went on to pay his
respects to the other shrines of Yuk Wong Dai Dei, king of
gods and ruler of heaven; Kwan Yin, goddess of mercy;
How Wong, originally a god of fishermen who had evolved
into a god for success in any profession, trade or business;
and last, but very important, a small shrine consisting of a
white cloth with small Chinese characters representing
Jung Sun, the thirty-six gods who themselves represented
all the gods, for to neglect any would invoke their anger.
After these formalities, Ah Sing and Pao Yap went into
a small side-yard and sat at a table under a mango tree.
There the priest proceeded to tell Ah Sing's fortune, first
with a pair of crescent-shaped wooden blocks called Bwa
Bwei, or "Moon Blocks" in English. Normally this would
have been done while kneeling before a shrine, but the
temple building was small, and this was Hawaii.
Ah Sing first asked about whether his businesses would
continue to prosper. Pao Yap chanted and tossed the bright
red blocks on the table. The blocks were shaped with one
side flat and one side rounded. When they landed, one.
block had the flat side up and the other had the rounded.
side up, so the answer was "yes" and Ah Sing grunted his;
satisfaction. Then the old man asked whether his health:
would continue to flourish. This time both blocks had their:
rounded sides up, which meant "no."
Surprised and bothered, for this had never happened!
before, Ah Sing insisted that the priest also toss the chim:
sticks, a set of thin bamboo sticks kept in a cylindrical!
container with different fortunes printed on them ini
Chinese, Pao Yap chanted again and began gently shaking:

30
 the container up and down until at last a single stick popped
out and landed on the table. Pao Yap picked it up and
consulted a book for the answer. "This cannot be right," he
murmured, "I will toss again." As he started to replace the
stick Ah Sing grabbed his hand.
"It is bad luck to ignore what the gods have to say," the
old man said firmly.
"It is sometimes bad luck to listen to what the gods
have to say," replied the priest.
"Nevertheless, I wish to hear it."
"Very well." Pao Yap picked up the stick and consulted
the book again. "You have entrusted secrets to one who is
not trustworthy. Beware of treason from one you know
well. You will not get your wish today."
All the color drained from Ah Sing's face. He sat
without moving for so long that Pao Yap thought he might
have had a stroke, but suddenly the old man shook himself,
_ stood, and walked away from the temple without another
word.
Very troubled, Ah Sing headed for his smithy,
wondering why, at Pao Yap's words, he should
_ immediately think of his apprentice, and what that had to
do with his health. A nagging thought tried to push its way
into full awareness, but Ah Sing fiercely forced it back
_ down. No! he told himself. That cannot be! It will not be!
The old man was so upset that he walked right past the
general store without bothering about the receipts, a radical
departure from his usual habit.
Ignoring those who gave him greetings, and in the
_ process causing surprise and offense, Ah Sing approached
the smithy and stopped as a cold chill seemed to gather
around his heart. What would he find inside?
Ten years ago he had taken on his third apprentice, after
the first two proved worthless. The third one, however, was
astonishingly good. A youngish man from ShangxiProvince
in Northern China, he claimed to be, looked like, and

31
sounded like a Han Chinese.
It was unusual for Northern Chinese to come and work
in Hawaii, but there was no doubt that his blacksmithing
skills and knowledge were extraordinary, probably because
of the rich iron deposits that Shanxi was known for. Li
Yuen, as he was called, knew the art and science of
working with iron, but he also had some knowledge of the
alchemical side of the practice. Over the years they had
spent many hours debating the differences between waidan,
external alchemy, and neidan, internal alchemy. Their
discussions on whether meditation or some chemical elixir
would eventually prove more beneficial to improving
health and longevity were always highly entertaining. But
Ah Sing had a secret, and if Li Yuen had discovered it...
Full of foreboding, Ah Sing forced himself to take the
next few steps to enter the smithy. The smells of iron,
charcoal, and sweat were familiar, but everything else was
wrong. The anvil and its block in the center had been
overturned and beside it were the prybars and fulcrums that
had been used. In the open space where the anvil had sat
for over thirty years was a hole, and in the hole was a.
black, lacquered box with red characters, and the box was.
open. Ah Sing suppressed a shudder, and finally looked.
directly at his apprentice.
Li Yuen was sitting on the side of the anvil, holding in:
his lap the contents of the box: a book bound in faded red!
leather, an odd-looking necklace apparently made of large:
ivory beads in the shape of human skulls, and a small glass:
vial of liquid, half full and the color of silver. "Greetings,,
Ah Sing," the younger man said, purposely insulting the:
elder by omitting the honorific "Master." When Ah Sing:
didn't speak, he went on. "It pleases me greatly to tell you:
that my real name is Batzorig, and I am a Buryat Mongol oft
the Darkhan Society." The apprentice smiled at Ah Sing's:
look of shock. "It has taken a long time of seeking and!
searching, but my patience has been rewarded. Your family,

32
 history has been most enlightening." He brushed the cover
of the chia pu, the book of genealogy which contained
stories of family achievements and adventures.
"The story of how your great-grandfather obtained
these," he lifted the necklace and vial slightly, "was
particularly interesting. What he forgot to mention was that
he stole them from my Society and killed my great-
grandfather in the process." Batzorig waited for a reaction
from Ah Sing, but the older man seemed made of stone, so
he continued. "My family has practiced what you call
waidan and neidan for thousands of years, since before the
Chinese were even able to walk upright. And today, you
thief, and son of a thief, and grandson of a thief, and great-
grandson of a thief, I take back for my family what the
Great Khan entrusted to us and is rightfully ours to
protect." Batzorig lifted the vial. "This has been defiled and
must be destroyed, so as not to pollute the source."
Ah Sing finally got back the strength to move. "No!" he
cried hoarsely, reaching out. "Do not! I can give..."
"There is nothing you can give me, you old stick.
Nothing you have left to give." And before Ah Sing's
horrified eyes, his former apprentice unstoppered the vial
and poured the thick, viscous liquid onto the ground, which
absorbed it so quickly that it didn't even leave a wet spot.
Ah Sing cried out, stumbled forward, then clutched his
heart and crumpled to his knees. Batzorig watched calmly
as the old man gasped, choked, and fell over onto his side,
quivering slightly.
| Without even bothering to move him, the younger man
replaced the book, closed the lacquered box, and spent
another hour putting the anvil back into its original position
and scattering sand around to make everything look
normal. Then he gathered up the bags of gold coins he had
found buried under the copper and brass pile outside the
smithy. They were "half eagles," United States Government
five dollar coins used for official currency in Hawaii before

33
the new silver kala about to be minted by King Kalakaua
was available.
The U.S. coins had a Liberty head encircled by thirteen
stars with a date on one side and an eagle with outspread
wings and a shield on its chest holding arrows and olive
branches in its claws on the other side. Above the eagle's
head was a scroll, a fairly new addition to the coin, with the
words "In God We Trust" on it, and around the rim was the
name of the country and the denomination: "FIVED." Each
of the coins contained a full half ounce of gold, so the bags
were quite heavy. Batzorig put the coins and other things of
interest under the bed in his room before running off to call
for help that he knew would be too late.
The funeral was a large affair that brought out nearly
the entire population of the district. A quick rain shower
had passed through the valley that morning and the air was
fresh and pungent with the fragrances of plumeria and
gardenia from the leis worn by the Hawaiians as a sign of
respect. Most of the whites and Hawaiian government
officials had on uniforms or whatever formal-looking dress
they could scrape together. Those that had none simply
wore clean work clothes. The Chinese, of course, looked
almost identical in their caps and queues and changpao.
Most of those who had worked for Ah Sing or did
business with him truly mourned, for he had been fair and
generous. All of those who owed him money secretly
rejoiced. There were even some, not many, who would
miss him as a friend. Still others did not care one way or
the other, but were looking forward to the auction of his
worldly effects and properties, and the feast that was soon
to come.
The death of Ah Sing had been declared to be a natural
one related to his advanced age, and preparations were
made for a proper burial. Before embalming, the body was
washed with warm water flavored with pomelo leaves.
Afterward the body was kept on view for three days and

34
 nights, attended in a constant vigil by family and friends.
On the day of the funeral family members, which included
Min Tuk, Batzorig still playing the role of Li Yuen, and Ah
Sing's Hawaiian family, all wore plain white robes and
capes, grass slippers, and on their left arms, a black gauze
band. A male priest and a female priest took turns chanting
the past events of Ah Sing's life.
During the procession to the Chinese cemetery on Old
Homestead Road a Chinese orchestra played while
grotesque images were waved to frighten off evil spirits,
and "spirit" money, printed bills of no earthly value, was
scattered along the route to pay off spirits who hadn't been
frightened away. At the gravesite, Ah Sing's best clothing
and some personal effects were burned to transfer them to
the next world for his use there. Afterwards, brown Chinese
Sugar was given to everyone to take away the bitterness of
the event, and all were invited to a feast.
: Batzorig took the sugar, but passed on the feast. His
_ bags were packed, and a China-bound merchant ship
_ already in the bay had a berth waiting for him. He arranged
to meet Min Tuk alone and without a word he handed her a
- bag of gold. She took it without a word, avoiding his eyes,
but she did bow deeply before he left her and smiled to
herself with a great deal of satisfaction.
Next he found Ah Sing's Hawaiian wife, who also
happened to be his own mistress, standing with her children
under a big mango tree. When no one else was close by he
- told her where he had buried two bags of gold for her and
her family. He said goodbye by giving her a honi, a
_ Hawaiian kiss, and hugging all the children, three of whom
were his.
Batzorig used a wheelbarrow from the smithy to carry
everything he owned onto the pier that jutted into Hanalei
Bay and left it there as sailors helped him load his things
into a whaleboat being used as a lighter.
On board the ship, he stowed his belongings in a locker

35
and spent a few minutes fingering the strange ivory
necklace. It was really too small and awkward to wear,
being made of nineteen rather large beads hand-carved into
the shape of skulls. Each one of those skulls contained
knowledge that only certain people with certain skills could
understand. And all of that knowledge added up to one of
the greatest secrets ever discovered.
Batzorig smiled to himself and put the beads away, too.
Then he went up on deck for the journey out of the bay and
into the broad ocean.
The ship's captain skillfully guided the small ship
through the complex of reefs at the mouth of Hanalei bay.
The water was deep blue with long, smooth rollers coming
in from the northeast, along with a steady trade wind from
the same direction. The sails snapped in the wind as the
ship leaned over to the left, heading northwest, past
Makahoa Point, Lumahai Beach, and Wainiha Bay until it
reached Ha'ena Point.
White, puffy clouds rested on sharp ridges above
emerald-green valleys. Waterfalls streamed down the steep
valley walls, sparkling like white fire beneath the azure
sky. The sweet aromas of land gave way to the tang of the
sea. The captain and his crew all breathed a collective sigh
that combined regret at leaving the carefree pleasures of
Hanalei, and happy anticipation for the journey back.
Alone on the side of the deck facing the ocean, Batzorig
took out a knife from a sash underneath his changpao, cut
off his queue, and tossed it overboard. He never turned
around for a last look at Kauai. As the ship left the fragrant.
Sandalwood Mountains his eyes were on the distant
horizon, and his thoughts were on the cool mountain forests}
of Siberia.

36
 THREE: MAUNA LOA
The Paladin stopped to rest on trembling legs, gasping
_ for breath and hating the stink that came with it. All around
him lay the blood and gore of countless demons who had
tried to prevent him from reaching the dark, dank cavern in
which he stood. He could feel the strength returning to his
limbs, but still he hesitated before going on. Just ahead of
him was a narrow fissure in the wall, gaping like a wound
and glowing with a sickly, greenish light. In there, he knew,
was evil incarnate; a monster of massive size and hideous
form who could rip him to shreds with ease. He knew that
very well, for this was the third time he would have to face
that cursed beast.
He remembered vividly the pain and horror of dying
twice over as it tore his body apart with mindless fury.
Only the power of a merciful God had brought him back to
life to finish this terrible quest. A doubt appeared suddenly
like a worm eating its way into his brain: was God really so
merciful in forcing him to return again and again into this
hellhole of suffering? The Paladin shook his head and cast
out the worm. He was not being forced. He had taken his
vows to combat evil wherever and whenever it showed
itself. This was his duty, the very purpose of his life.
Shifting his body to ease the weight of heavy armor, he
straightened up, grasped his shield and sword more tightly,
and stepped again through the gap in the wall.
And there it stood, like a gigantic, bloated, pus-dripping
insect, with a smell strong enough to nearly make him faint.
It did look somewhat weaker, but there was no time left to
think. The monster raised its claws; the Paladin raised his
sword ...
The phone rang, shattering the world of computer
fantasy. A young man in his mid-twenties hit the escape
key on his keyboard to pause the game, leaned back in his
Si
worn Captain’s chair, and picked up the cordless receiver
sitting on a stack of papers piled on a folding, wooden meal
tray pushed up next to his pressed board desk. He was
good-looking in a rather bland sort of way. His brown hair,
a gift from his Hawaiian mother, was cut rather short and
tended to fall over his forehead a lot. His hazel eyes, a gift
from his haole, Caucasian, father were interesting, and he
had a surfer body that he kept in shape with light workouts,
because he didn’t get to surf much any more. His skin
always looked lightly-tanned, so when he was with haoles
he looked haole and when he was with Hawaiians he
looked Hawaiian.
“Keoki?” asked the voice from the phone.
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me.” His mother was calling from
Kona on the Big Island, where most of his family still
lived.
“It’s so good to hear your voice, Keoki. You should
come visit more often.”
“Yeah, Mom.” If she’d had her way he would never
have left home.
“And bring that new girlfriend of yours over. We'd like
to meet her.”
“Yeah, Mom.” Someday.
And then his mother proceeded to tell him all the family
news: how his sister, Keani, was doing with her hula.
troupe; how his Uncle Willy was recovering from his:
sprained back; the progress of his Aunt Betty’s flower’
garden; the money won by his Uncle Hank on his last trip)
to Las Vegas...; and much more. Keoki half listened as:
usual, and let his gaze wander distractedly over his one-:
bedroom apartment in Kapahulu, just a few miles from)
downtown Honolulu.
The small living room had a sofa, chair, and coffee:
table from the Salvation Army store, plus a couple of!
torchiere lamps he’d picked up on sale at Home Depot. His:
eyes roamed over a few Herb Kane prints on the walls, and!

38
 came back to rest on the little, hairy figure with a Viking
helmet sitting on a shelf crammed with books on computer
programs and medieval history. It was a souvenir from his
visit to Copenhagen a couple of years back, and it brought a
_ smile that took him away from his mother’s voice for a
moment. At the end of his mother’s litany of family feats,
she said as an afterthought, “Oh, and your grandfather is
heading up to the cabin on top of Mauna Loa. He sent youa
roundtrip ticket, and your Uncle Willy will leave his SUV
for you at the airport. E malama pono, Keoki. You take
care and come see your mom soon, okay?”
After the call he tried to get back to designing his new
game, but the thought of Gramps made him pause and gaze
out the window. Outside there was a view of short, Samoan
coconut palms, a hibiscus hedge in full, crimson bloom.
fragrant /aua’e ferns, and ti plants. The tradewind kept
them moving and it eased a lot of his stress just to look at
them. He wished he had an ocean view, but that would
probably be quite a few years down the line.
At the moment, however, he was considering his
strange, and strangely wonderful, relationship to his
grandfather. Although his grandfather had introduced him
as a child to a world of adventure, excitement, and magic,
he had drifted away from that world as he grew up in the
much less fascinating world of high school, university, and
making a living.
In this world, the “real world,” as everyone called it,
_ adventure, excitement, and magic were the stuff of books,
_ movies, TV series, and computer games. Through the years
_ he had remained linked to Gramps’ world through these
_ media, and was currently involved in developing his own
computer fantasy games, but his main source of income
became plain old graphic design, interesting and creative
enough to provide enjoyment as well as money, and even
magical in its own way, though a far cry from what Gramps
had to teach.

544]
 The strange world of Gramps was fun sometimes, very
scary a lot of the time, and so totally outside of the “real
world” that it made no sense most of the time. Besides, it
just wasn’t practical. After all, it didn’t help to buy
groceries, or pay taxes, or do all the normal things that
normal people do. The young man was glad that he had a
regular profession that he liked and an income that was
slowly but steadily rising.
He was free-lance now, thanks to a loan from Uncle
Willy and the extra pay from Interpol, but it was still a
challenge to find enough work to survive and prosper.
Fortunately, he was very good at what he did. Right now,
though, his concentration had been broken and he needed a
break to clear his mind. He put the computer to sleep,
walked out to the lanai to get his slippahs, and headed
down Kapahulu Avenue to Kuhio Beach.
George ‘Okamea‘ekanoa McCoy, known to most of his
friends as Keoki, a Hawaiianized form of George, ended
his walk in front of a fenced-in platform on which four
large stones or boulders stood embedded in sand. Bright
morning sunlight danced over him, broken up in a
constantly shifting pattern by the restless fronds of tall
coconut palms.
On Keoki’s right the traffic on Kalakaua Avenue roared
by. To his left, gracefully curving sidewalks led past racks
of surfboards and belly boards to Kuhio Beach, full of
malihinis, visitors, on this gorgeous tropical day in
Waikiki. Beyond the enclosure in front of him sat a brand-
new police station, and behind Keoki, on the beach side,
was a newly-erected statue of Duke Kahanamoku, a former
Olympic swimming champion and the man who had
introduced surfing to California.
Inside the enclosure, set apart from the big stones, was
a narrow pedestal with a small stone on top, a gift from
recent Tahitian visitors. A plaque told the story, in
Hawaiian and English, of four healers from Kahiki, which

40
 might have been Tahiti or any other place over the horizon,
who came in ancient times to save the Hawaiian islands
from some kind of disaster. The plaque also told how the
healers, before departing, had left their mana, their sacred
_ power, in the stones. The names of the healers were given,
but Keoki already knew them by heart.
“Aloha kakou, e Kapaemahu, Kahaloa. Kapuni, me
Kinohi. E ho’opomaika’i i na ‘ohana holo’oko’a.
Greetings, ‘Peaceful Level,’ *Far-Reaching,’ ‘The
Controlling,’ and ‘Origin.’ Blessings to your extended
families.” Keoki spoke in a very low voice to these
representatives of the ancient healers. Two years ago he
had gone on a kind of inner journey to meet their spirits and
to ask them for help. Two years ago.
At that time these stones had been half-forgotten hunks
of rock clustered on the beach under some ironwood trees.
There had been no curving paths. no statue of Duke, and
only a tiny, worn down police station. All the changes were
a sign of the increasing strength of the Hawaiian
Renaissance, the cultural renewal of the kanaka maoli, the
native Hawaiians. Even though Keoki was a proud part of
that, he couldn’t help feeling that putting those stones
behind a barrier cut the people off from their power. Ah
well, huli i ka mea, huli i ka mea, change begets change, as
Gramps would say.
Two years ago he had been involved with his
| grandfather in, well, an adventure was the only way to put
it. He and Gramps had gone to Europe to work with an
_ organization that was helping Interpol locate an assassin
from the former Soviet Union. Gramps went, because in
addition to being known as an ethnobotanist in some
circles, in other circles he was known as a kupua, a
_ Hawaiian version of a shaman. Keoki had gone with him at
the request of his family "to take care of the old man." In
the process, Gramps had taken him on as a haumana kupua,
a sort of shaman’s apprentice.

4]
 A girl he thought he was in love with almost died and
had then rejected him, Gramps himself was almost killed,
and he, with a whole lot of help from others, had saved his
family from the assassin’s vengeance. In the midst of all of
that, he and Gramps had ended up being hired by Interpol
as special field investigators. On indefinite reserve status,
apparently, since there had been no contact other than a
quarterly check since then. Meanwhile, he dutifully paid a
visit to Gramps once a month to study obake, a Japanese
term used by locals for spooky stuff.
It was fascinating, no doubt about that, but it was also
scary as hell, and his experiences in Europe hadn’t done
anything to lessen the fear. He would continue to study it,
partly out of natural interest and partly out of obligation,
but he had no intention of letting it interfere with his
normal life. Especially not his new relationship with Ari,
his latest girlfriend. What a delicious... Keoki shook his
head as if to clear it. This was enough day-dreaming and
enough of a break. If he ever wanted to be a success in his
field he would have to get back to work.
At the door of his apartment Keoki used his toes to
push off his flip-flops and walked barefoot to his office. He
sat down and stared at his computer for a moment, then
woke it up, put the game away, and opened up a Photoshop |
file. Game design was a potentially lucrative field, but.
grunt work was still paying the rent. Trouble was, his:
current paying project for ComTek involved colorizing part:
of a black and white photo for a book cover, and his}
technical skills just weren’t up to it. With a heavy sigh,,
Keoki pushed back from the oversized LCD monitor of his;
obsolete, but trustworthy, Power Mac, got to his feet, and!
walked across the office to his phone.
His latest girlfriend thought he was nuts for keeping his:
phone so far away from his computer desk, but he thought!
his reasons were good. It gave him a little exercise and itt
gave him a break to ease the stress of sitting in front of a:

42
 Screen most of the day. Now, however, he was about to
increase the stress. He dialed the local computer guru.
“Hi, Da Man, this is Keoki. I need some help.” Leonard
Fujima wouldn’t even talk to you unless you called him
“Da Man.”
“Hey bro, howzit? Ain’t no pilikia, no problem ah
cain’t hep you wid.” Unfortunately, that was probably true,
though Keoki couldn’t help cringing at Leonard’s badly
faked Hawaiian Pidgin accent.
“I'm trying to colorize part of a black and white photo
and...”
“Dat’s easy! Jus’ do dis.” And in a few short sentences
Da Man not only gave Keoki the solution to the colorizing,
but added a better way to make the black and white look
_ good. Then the guru said an abrupt goodbye and hung up,
as if he had far more important things to do with his time,
_ which was probably true.
: Keoki put the phone down, took a deep breath and tried
to relax. He was stressed at Leonard’s excessive attempts to
act “local,” at his superior attitude, and at the solution he
"was given, which seemed too strange to be workable. He
got the colorizing part, but changing the image to Lab
Color, Unsharpening the black and white channel, and then
changing it back to RGB? How would that work?
He was also stressed at his own reactions, because his
_ grandfather would no doubt laugh at him for taking it all so
seriously. At least some of the stress was eased when Da
Man's solution proved to be both elegant and successful.
The rest of his stress was still around, though, because
Gramps wanted to meet him on top of a mountain.
| Ever since coming back from Europe, Keoki had been
studying the kupua tradition with his grandfather. It wasn’t
anything like studying in school, however. Typically, once
a month Gramps or one of his other Big Island relatives
would give him a call and tell him where to meet his
grandfather.

43
 Over the past two years most of those meetings had
taken place on the Big Island, sometimes on the Hilo side,
or in Puna in the southeast, or Ka’u in the southwest, or in
Kona or Kohala or Hamakua. Except for that time in
Waimea near the Parker Ranch and the one in the Kohala
hills above the town of Hawi, all the meetings had been
near the coast. This time Gramps wanted to meet him at the
summit of Mauna Loa, a place where he’d never been.
Keoki never knew what to expect at these meetings.
Oh, there was a sort of a general format. In some way or
another they would talk about the fundamental ideas that
the kupua system was based on, like mana, personal
spiritual power, manawa, which Gramps interpreted as
being in the present, the importance of awareness and
focus, and, of course aloha, the very Hawaiian concept of’
love. But Keoki never knew beforehand how Gramps was
going to apply them at any particular meeting. Sometimes,
they would just talk, and sometimes they would practice:
mental and/or physical exercises. Lately, he had been,
learning about kupua-style healing. It bore no relationship)
to anything he had learned in school about healing, but:
Keoki remembered how Gramps had moved his hands over’
the injured body of the Danish girl, Karen. Her pain went!
away completely and some of the bruises disappeared right!
in front of his eyes.
He didn’t know how it worked, but he’d seen it work on)
Karen, and he’d even used some of it on an injury of his;
own with success, so he wasn’t going to question its:
effectiveness. What the topic would be this time, though.
was anyone’s guess. He wouldn’t even be surprised if!
Gramps didn’t know what it would be yet.
Three days later, Keoki was on an inter-island plane to;
Kailua-Kona on the Big Island. After a short flight, during
which he barely had time to gulp down a plastic cupful of
guava juice, the plane landed at Kona International Airport.
just north of the town. Even though the plane was packed

44
 with visitors, called tourists in other parts of the world, it
didn’t take long to get his oversized backpack off the
conveyor belt at Baggage Claim and step outside into the
searing light of a late morning in mid-August.
The tropical sun poured its heat onto the black, broken
lava field of Keahole peninsula, remnant of an 1801 flow
from the eight thousand foot high Hualalai Volcano that
loomed over the coast. The lava tried its best to pour the
heat right back. Keoki was glad he had his canvas Tilly hat,
and almost wished he’d worn his shoes instead of his
slippahs.
After a short search in the parking lot he found Uncle
Willy’s old four-wheel drive Isuzu SUV with the keys
under the floormat. Even before he got in he rolled down
all the windows, but it didn’t help much. He was happy to
see that the gas tank was full. Too bad Uncle Willy didn’t
believe in air-conditioning.
Keoki drove out of the airport and turned south on
Highway 19, also called Queen Ka’ahumanu Highway, and
after a short distance turned mauka, inland, on Hina Lani,
past the industrial park where he stopped for a few minutes
to load up on water from Costco. Then he continued on to
the intersection of Highway 190, Mamalahoa Highway.
Along the way he couldn’t help thinking about how
_ built-up the Kona coast was becoming. Seemed like every
_ year they kept adding more stores and more resorts, which
drew more and more visitors, who wanted more stores and
more resorts. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that,
~ especially places like Costco. On the one hand he knew that
_ development brought more jobs and, usually, better prices
_ and better pay for the locals, but on the other hand there
was a whole way of psychologically comfortable, small
town living that was disappearing rapidly. He thought again
of Gramp’s saying about change. He’d have to tell Gramps
to add another piece. What was the phrase? Oh, yeah. Hiki
‘ole ke ‘alo a’e, impossible to avoid. Change begets

45
change, and change is inevitable.
At Mamalahoa Highway Keoki turned north. Now he
was in the back country, with nothing but lava fields and
open scrub land, mostly belonging to the gigantic Parker
Ranch. The strange and lonely cinder cone, Pu’u
Wa’awa’a, meaning Desolate Hill, appeared on his right,
looking like some kind of monster that had gotten lost in
the wilderness.
After about thirty miles he came to the infamous Saddle
Road, a dangerously unmaintained, virtually single lane,
roller-coaster, poor excuse for a road that crossed the
highlands between the nearly fourteen thousand foot
volcanic mountains of Mauna Kea in the north and Mauna
Loa in the south. Small wonder the rental car companies
told visitors they weren’t supposed to use it, Keoki thought
as he climbed a low, blind hill and noticed an accident
marker on the right side of the road.
Now that was a curious bit of local culture, he mused.
In Europe, with Gramps and the Interpol people, they had
occasionally come across small religious shrines marked
with crosses or stone tablets. Here in Hawaii, crosses on the
side of the highway, usually decorated with fresh flowers,
marked the place where a loved one had died in an
automobile crash. Unfortunately, that made him think of
death, and that made him think of Karen, the Danish girl he
had loved, who had almost been killed by Nazra, the
assassin he might have loved, who had killed herself by
leaping into a river of molten lava rather than spend the rest
of her life with him. With a determined shake of his whole
body he forced his mind away from the past and back onto
the road.
After more risky driving, during which he was almost
hit head on twice, once by a speeding nut in a ratty old tan
Toyota and once by a very large tractor-trailer hauling
gravel and hogging the center of the road, Keoki came to
the area on Saddle Road where the Mauna Kea Observatory

46
 Access Road and the Mauna Loa Observatory Road almost
meet.
Keoki turned south toward Mauna Loa on the one-lane
road and began the steep climb toward the summit. crossing
- multiple lava flows from various times, including one from
1935, doing his best to avoid the numerous potholes, and
eating a sandwich and an apple prepared for him by Ari
before he left Honolulu. Even though Uncle Willy’s car
didn’t have air-conditioning, at least it had heat, for which
Keoki was very grateful, because it was rapidly getting
colder and colder.
At one point Keoki had to make a sharp left where the
so-called “Hilo-Kona Road” went straight off into nowhere.
At long last he came to the trailhead at the observatory and
found a place to park. It was already mid-afternoon, and
from here to the summit cabin where Gramps said he would
be staying it was seven and a half miles up a winding,
_ tugged trail. A very high and winding, rugged trail.
: The trailhead itself was at just over eleven thousand
_ feet and Gramps had warned him not to try and start for the
summit after 10:00 am, because the trek there could take as
much as six hours or so at this altitude, depending on how
well he acclimated. Clouds and fog were always a
possibility in the late afternoon, and Gramps said it was
way too easy to get lost.
| The terrain outside in this bare, alpine desert didn’t look
too friendly, so Keoki decided to spend the night in the
SUV and start out early the next morning. For the rest of
_ the afternoon he listened to music CDs that he had brought
_with him, read a fantasy novel, Exile’s Return, by Gayle
_Greeno, and sipped water continuously. Just before dark he
watched a gorgeous sunset lighting up the observatory
domes on Mauna Kea to the north. Once that was over he
relieved himself outside, came back in as quickly as he
could, ate a couple of energy bars, and prepared his zero-
degree sleeping bag for a night under a car roof that was

47
under the stars.
Of course he dreamed. Since the adventure with Nazra,
the assassin from Russia, in which dreams played such an
important role, he followed a suggestion of Gramps that he
record as many of his dreams as possible in order to
stimulate his creativity, get more ideas for his games, and
learn how to be as awake in his dreams as he was in real
life. Although Gramps didn’t call it “real life.” He called it
“this dream.”
Another odd thing about his very wise grandfather was
his method of teaching. No matter that Keoki was his
grandfather’s apprentice in the kupua, or shaman tradition
of the family, a title that Keoki had finally accepted after a
lot of resistance, Gramps never really told him what to do.
He would just give a suggestion, a hint, or a
recommendation, and then let Keoki do, or not do,
whatever he wanted. So Keoki did some things and didn’t
do other things, but lately he was beginning to suspect that
he was missing a lot by not doing some of those things.
So Keoki dreamed. A lot. And the practice of recording
them helped him remember a lot. This night he had one of |
his rare “flying” dreams. In the dream he found himself’
surrounded by pools and streams of flowing, molten lava,
so real that he could feel the heat and see chunks of darker
rock being carried along by the red-gold liquid.
The ground he was standing on got smaller and smaller,
and began to wobble like an ice floe. At first he tried to hop |
from one rocky floe to another, but they kept getting,
smaller and more unsteady. Just as he was about to fall into:
a stream, a womanly form rose up out of the lava. Her body |
was actually made of lava, sparkling, glowing, and!
constantly moving. She seemed to spread her arms out!
invitingly and the sense of a smile appeared where a face:
should be. Nevertheless, Dream-Keoki felt a sense of!
danger emanating from her at the same time.
Then another womanly shape appeared, formed out of!

48
 the steam that rose out of the lava, and she, too, seemed
to
have inviting arms and a hint of a smile. And she, too,
radiated danger. Just as Dream-Keoki was about to escape
by waking up, a memory of something he had done before
in another dream came to him. He was aware at the same
time of how strange it was to remember a different dream
while having a dream.
The memory was of how to levitate by willing himself
upward, and then to simulate flying by willing himself
forward. He did will himself upward and forward and felt a
thrill of accomplishment.
As he moved he found that he had to maintain the effort
of willing or he would float back down and into the lava,
which was now boiling and spitting up strands of fiery rock
as if to grab him. He willed himself higher and faster and
landed on a hill of green grass feeling very pleased with
_ himself. Then that faded into short sequences of ordinary
experiences until he woke up with the sun shining into his
face. A quick check of his watch showed that it was a little
after seven thirty. Keoki wrote down an abbreviated
version of his dream in a little notebook, got up and got
ready for the hike.
The sky was clear and it really wasn’t too cold, so
Keoki dressed in light, layered clothing. He replaced his
slippahs with athletic socks and sturdy hiking boots, then
donned his Tilly hat. After locking his uncle’s SUV, Keoki
shouldered his pack, extended his lightweight, Swiss-made
“LekiSport” walking stick to a comfortable length, a
birthday gift from Ari, and started off. The first thing he
discovered was that he had to walk for a half mile along a
rolling road of crushed lava rock before reaching the actual
trailhead. From then on it got tough.
The trail was barely discernible over pahoehoe lava, the
relatively smooth kind, between piles of rough cinders and
mounds of cracked tumuli where gases had broken though,
making it look as if the land were pocked with open sores.

49
Still, it was beautiful in a very stark sort of way.
Fortunately, the way was marked with ahu, stone
cairns, placed frequently on either side of the often
invisible trail.
Experimentation led Keoki to settle on a pace of
resting ten minutes for every forty minutes of walking.
Perhaps thanks to this and his frequent sips of water, he
didn’t get any symptoms of altitude sickness. The sky was
still a deep, clear blue, and the air was mostly still, except
for an occasional light breeze that brought brief whiffs of |
unrecognizable plant smells with it.
The landscape really wasn’t very interesting. For a
while he played with a technique Gramps had taught him of '
extending his /a’a kea, his active hoaka, aura, into the land
around him, connecting with the rocks and scrubby plants
and trying to sense their mana, their own personal, spiritual
power. When that got boring, he extended it further into the
whole mountain, attempting to feel the mana of the great
volcano. After he began to feel a caffeine-like high that.
grew too strong to be comfortable he quickly ended that.
experiment and simply tried to guess what the land
configuration would be like over the next rise. Sometimes}
the results were surprisingly accurate, and sometimes they
were not, so he occupied his mind with analyzing his;
feelings and sensations in order to improve his technique.
Five hours later, after passing a side trail leading east:
and the smaller crater called “North Pit,” Keoki came in:
sight of the cabin. Here the trail was a mix of pahoehoe and!
a’a, the rough kind, blended with large and small chunks of!
rock that must have been scattered around by previous}
eruptions. The only people he had seen were a young!
couple from Idaho on their way down.
Keoki’s grandfather was waiting at the cabin door. His:
real name was Anton Ke’alapuniaokahiwalani Miiller. He:
had inherited his light brown skin and chiefly features from!
his Hawaiian mother, and his gray hair and blue-gray eyes:

50
 from his German father. Most people called him Lani, but
younger people usually called him Uncle or tutu,
grandfather, if they wanted to show respect or didn’t really
know him. Except for Keoki, who always called him
_ Gramps."
Aloha e ka hale, Hello the house," said Keoki,
practicing a bit of ancient Hawaiian custom. "Nani keia
hale, This is a fine-looking house." As he got closer, he
said, "Aloha e tutukane, pehea 'oe? Greetings, grandfather,
how are you?"
"Maika'i, Fine," said Lani, then went back to a
traditional greeting: "E ku a hele mai i ka 'aina, he hale, he
‘ai, he i'a nou, nou ka ‘aina, Should you wish to, come to
the land, there is a house, poi, fish for you, the land is for
you."
When Keoki got to the door they shared a honi and a
hug. A honi is usually translated as a kiss, but that’s
modern. Traditionally, and that’s the way Lani did it,
people honi by pressing noses side by side and breathing in,
although some Hawaiians had adopted the Maori style of
pressing foreheads and noses straight toward each other.
There were those who said that the purpose was to
inhale each other’s energy, but oni also means “to sniff,”
and Lani said that originally people would do it to get each
other’s scent in order to know relationships, intentions, and
_ state of health.
"A 'o 'oe? And how are you?" asked Lani as he brought
his grandson into the cabin.
"Oh, fine," said Keoki, "but hungry. Do you really have
fish and poi up here?"
The older man laughed. "Nope, sorry. All I have is
bologna and mustard sandwiches, but they're for you,
anyway."
The cabin was simple, with four sets of three bunks,
and each bunk had a mattress. Lani already had a middle
bunk and Keoki took another one. There was also a water
SWAMPSCOTT PUBLIC LIBRARY
tank, like a cistern, but Lani said they would still have to
purify the water themselves.
Once Keoki had stowed his gear, he and Lani walked a
short distance to the actual summit overlooking
Moku’aweoweo Crater, the main one, and shared the
bologna sandwiches from Gramps' daypack near the edge.
While they ate in silence, Keoki looked at his grandfather.
The older man, in his late sixties now, didn’t look much
different from the way he had before the European
adventure.
During their time in Europe, Lani had been seriously
injured by the assassin, Nazra, and it had been thought that
he might have to walk with a limp for the rest of his life.
But there was no trace of that now. If anything, he looked
even better than he had then. At least part of that, Keoki
knew, was due to his kupua healing techniques, some of
which he had been teaching Keoki.
When the food leavings had been put away, Lani picked
up a small rock about an inch in diameter and tossed it up
and down in his hand a few times. “Did you know that
rocks have a lot to tell us?” he said without preamble.
Keoki smiled at the familiar, roundabout way in which
his grandfather often broached a new subject. “I wouldn’t
be surprised, Gramps. Not any more.”
Lani grinned briefly and went on. “Of course, rocks
have their own stories, and that can be interesting, but they
can tell other stories as well.” He paused and just kept
tossing the stone up and down.
The pause went on long enough for Keoki to get the
hint. “What kinds of stories can they tell?”
Lani closed his fist over the stone. “Well, they can tell
you about yourself, they can tell you about other people,
they can tell you about things that have happened, and
about things that haven’t happened...”
“That sounds like astrology and tarot cards.”
“It’s sort of like the same thing in a way. Except that

Ry,
 there’s nothing you need to read or memorize. And if you
know how all these things work, the information’s better.”
Keoki knew that was a lead-in if he’d ever heard one,
and he’d heard a lot of them from Gramps in the past two
years. In his best apprentice manner he said, “Will you
teach me how they work?”
The sun was bright, the sky a very clear, almost
purplish blue, the air was cold and still. All around them
the desolate landscape seemed to hold its breath in silence.
Seated cross-legged near the edge of the crater, Lani
tossed the stone from one hand into the other and laughed.
“Sure, I’ll teach you. That’s why you're here.”
Keoki, sitting the same way. laughed. too. “Did I have
to come all the way up here to learn it?”
Lani became solemn and held the stone in one hand. “I
don’t know, but you had to come up here. I expect we’ll
know why before you leave. Anyway, let me tell you about
all this divination stuff. Do you remember any of the
proverbs I told you about mana?”
Keoki thought a moment. “Yeah. there were two. Mai
ka po mai ka mana, power comes from inside, and noho ka
mana i ka manawa, power lives in the present.”
“Right. So any time you use one of these tools, like
tarot cards, or coins in the Chinese I Ching system, or the
shoulder bone of a sheep, or even stones from a volcano,
the answers are coming from you and the answers are
always about the present.”
“Then what good are they?” Keoki frowned in
puzzlement as he unzipped an insulated pouch, pulled out a
plastic bottle of Menehune water and took a sip.
Lani’s grin came back. “No good at all, unless you want
to understand more about yourself and more about the
present.”
The young man took another swallow of water and
decided to wait for Gramps to continue.
“It’s like this,” the older man said, with a wide,

D0
swinging gesture of one arm, “assume you are connected to
the whole world. Remember when you used the tree to
connect with Nazra?”
Keoki took a deep breath. He remembered it vividly.
He had connected so well that Nazra knew what he was
doing. He nodded.
“Well, cards and stones are like the tree. They help you
connect more consciously with what you are already
connected to. It’s like using a car to go to the store. Sure,
you could walk, but the car makes it easier and faster. Sure,
you can connect with anyone or anything you want to, but
trees and cards and stones can make it easier and faster.”
Keoki knew by now that the half grin appearing on
Gramps’ face meant he expected a reply.

54
 FOUR: TALKING STONES
4 | can understand that,” said Keoki after a moment,
“but what’s this about the answers always being
about the present? The tree experience was like that, but
_ everyone I know who uses tarot cards is always trying to
get answers about the future. They use astrology for that,
too.” Karen, the Danish, girl, had used tarot cards for a bit
more than that, he knew, but her readings were still mostly
oriented toward the future. And Melia, a former local
girlfriend, was heavily into astrology. Too heavily, in fact.
She was always trying to predict what Keoki was going to
do, and she was always wrong. But she was always very
_ good at explaining whatever he did by looking backward.
“Yep,” Lani replied, “that’s one of the great tragedies
of modern times. So many people think there’s a future out
there, just around the corner, and it’s already good or bad
and they’re doing everything they can to get ready for it or
avoid it.” The older man sipped some of his own water
from the container at his side.
Keoki began nodding his head. “Okay, I see where this
is going. You’ve said before that the future isn’t fixed, and
that there’s always a way to change it, and that the only
way to change it is to do something right now. But there’s
still a future out there, isn’t there? Like clouds over the
horizon?” The young man shifted his position to ease a
growing numbness in his legs.
Lani nodded, too. “That’s pretty good. But how do you
know there are clouds over the horizon?” There was a
mischievous expression on his grandfather’s face this time.
Keoki looked surprised at the question. “Well, I don’t,
but I could check a weather forecast and look at a satellite
photo.”
“Fine, what does the satellite photo show you?” The
older man tossed the stone again.
55
 “It shows me what the weather is going to be
tomorrow.”
Lani grabbed the stone out of the air. “Whoa, how can
you say that? All it shows is a picture of clouds in a
particular place at the present moment.”
“Well, the weather forecast can tell me what’s going to
happen.”
Gramps smirked. “Let’s put aside the problem of how
often weather reports are wrong, and let me ask you this.
How are weather forecasts made?”
”They gather all the data they have about wind and
cloud conditions and make a forecast.” Where is this
going? wondered Keoki.
“That’s exactly right!” His grandfather looked very
pleased.
Keoki looked baffled, and then suddenly his face
cleared. “Oh, I get it. They gather information that’s
available in the present and make a prediction of what the
weather will probably be like, and weather patterns can
change so quickly that their predictions aren’t always
accurate. But we know some things about the future with
certainly. Like the fact that the sun will come up
tomorrow.”
“Oh, really?” grinned Lani. “Tell me, where is
tomorrow’s sun?”
“What?”
“Where is tomorrow’s sun right now?”
“Well, I can tell you where the sun will be tomorrow, at
the same time tomorrow it will be right where the sun is
now.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” conceded Lani. “I admit that
there’s a strong probability, based on past experience, that
when tomorrow becomes our present moment the sun will
be in almost the same position that the sun is right now. But
where is tomorrow’s sun right now?”
Keoki grimaced. “It isn’t anywhere. It doesn’t exist yet

56
 in Our experience.”
“Bravo! Next question. When are predictions made?”
Gramps tossed the stone again.
“In the present moment,” Keoki said, with an intonation
_ that sounded like he was admitting defeat.
“And where does the information come from to make
predictions?”
“I know you want me to say ‘the present moment,’
part 2.272
“No buts,” said Lani, keeping the stone in his hand. “If
you use tarot cards, the information comes from your
interpretation of the card patterns lying in front of you; if
you are using astrology it comes from your interpretation of
the planetary patterns outlined on a chart lying in front of
you; if you use the stones, it comes from your interpretation
of the pattern of stones lying in front of you. Mai ka po mai
ka mana and noho ka mana i ka manawa. Power comes
from within and power is in the present. There is no power
in the future, because, relative to the present, the future
does not exist.”
“Okay, okay,” laughed Keoki, “but where does that
leave us? If it’s all in the present, what’s the point of trying
to know the future?”
“Knowing the future is not as important as knowing the
present,” said Gramps. “If you know the present patterns,
you can do something to influence a possible, or probable,
future. And the influence comes from modifying your
behavior, not from having a direct effect on a non-existent
future. In Alaska, when the present environmental
conditions form a particular pattern, whales head for
Hawaii. They aren’t worried about a non-existent future.
They are doing what’s appropriate for existing conditions.
When we throw the stones and read the patterns, we are
gathering information about the present, interpreting that
information, and modifying, or not modifying our behavior
accordingly. Then, when a non-existent future becomes an

a7
existing present, the patterns are in place for, hopefully, an
appropriate response.”
Keoki rolled his eyes. It always threw him when
Gramps talked like a professor. “Whew! I’Il chew on that
for a while. Meantime, how do you use the stones?”
Lani stood up and stretched, and made Keoki do the
same. Then they both sat back down and for the next few
hours Lani opened up Keoki's mind to a new way of seeing
the world.
First he told Keoki about the ancient Hawaiian art of
kilo, or kilokilo, often mis-translated as magic or fortune-
telling. The basic meaning of both words, he said, was "to
observe, examine," and what the practitioner, also called a
kilo, observed and examined were patterns.
“Absolutely everything has a pattern of behavior,” said
Lani. “The patterns might be visible or invisible; physical,
emotional, mental, energetic; whatever. Some are very
stable, at least from our point of view, and some are
changing constantly. Learning the patterns of people,
animals, plants, things, and events enables us to make
useful predictions of probable outcomes.”
"That's the same thing that weather forecasters do," said
Keoki, shifting position again.
"Right," replied Lani. "And political forecasters, and
behavioral scientists, and biologists, and tarot card readers,
and stock market analysts, and everyone who does any kind
of forecasting. Computers do it, too, in the same way."
"Well, why can't I just use a computer."
Lani chuckled. "You could, but computers are limited
by the amount of data they can handle, and you have
something much, much, better."
"Stones are better than a computer?" Keoki shook his
head.
"Not the stones, Keoki, they're just a read-out, like the
information that appears on a screen. The monitor is not the
computer, is it?"

58
 Keoki agreed.
"The computer itself is hidden, isn't it?"
Keoki nodded.
"Well, you have what we might call a ‘super-computer,'
_and it's hidden as well. Some people would say it's your
brain, but that's just the physical part. Others would say it's
your spirit, but that's a vague and confusing concept. In
Hawaii I've heard different teachers call it unihipili or Ku,
but I have my own preferences, so I'm going to call it your
iho. The word basically means 'core.' and it can also mean
‘self,’ so in this context we can think of it as your ‘inner
self.’ Don't get locked into names, though. We only use
them for convenience."
Lani stopped talking and Keoki used the time to think a
bit. After a while he said, "Okay, so I've got this iho that's
better than a computer, and let's say I have a pile of rocks
to take the place of a monitor. What I'm missing is
something to take the place of a keyboard to get the iho to
tell the rocks what it knows." Keoki couldn't help smiling
at how absurd it all sounded.
"You're on the right track," Lani smiled back. "The
keyboard equivalent consists of your hands. Now watch."
Lani reached into his daypack and pulled out a small
black leather pouch. Keoki recognized it as the same one
Gramps had had to show Security when they were on their
way to Europe two years ago. Lani spilled seven stones out
of the pouch into his palm. Each stone was different, but
they were all a little less than an inch in diameter, more or
less rounded, but not smooth. Keoki recognized a garnet, a
piece of nearly clear quartz, and a piece of turquoise, but
not the others.
"Any stones can be used," said Lani, "but these are like
special friends. The quartz was given to me by a girlfriend
when I was a student in Munich and we were skiing in the
Alps. The dark red one comes from a river in Japan and I
don't know what the material is. The orange one is

59
carnelian that I found in Brazil. I found the yellow one on a
beach in Estonia, and the mostly green one—it's full of
olivine—in a stream on Kauai. The turquoise was a gift
from a friend in Mexico, and the garnet I bought in a rock
shop in New York."
Wow! Gramps has been to more places than I thought.
"And I imagine each one has a special story to tell?"
queried Keoki.
Lani laughed. "Many stories. More than you can
imagine. But now let's continue this story." He set the
pouch down and held the stones in the palm of one hand
while covering them with the other, as if he were hiding
something. "As I hold the stones like this I'm going to think
of a question. I can ask a question about anything, and my
iho will do its best to give me an answer through the pattern
of the stones when I toss them. However, no matter what I
ask, the answer is always about me, or about my
relationship to whatever I ask."
"Wait a minute!" interrupted Keoki. "That means it's
always subjective. What if you want an objective answer?"
"Ah, you've hit on a couple of key points. First, you are
right. According to what I said the answer is always
subjective. And second, there is no such thing as an
objective answer."
"But..."
Lani lifted one hand from the stones to stop Keoki.
"Listen. There is a very neat toy I bought for your cousin
Kalani's twelfth birthday, a little computer called 'Twenty
Questions.’ You could think of practically
anything—animal, vegetable, mineral, or other—and within
twenty questions it could almost always tell you what you
were thinking of. So I decided to test it and I thought of
God. And after twenty-five questions—it asked for five
extra—it came up with 'a big, strong angel.' 1 was amazed
that it came that close, but the point is, it was only capable
of answering within the framework of its existing database.

60
 The same is true for humans. I can ask about anything, but
the less I know about it, the more vague or inaccurate the
answer will be. In contrast, the more | know, the better the
answer. Information is infinite, but our ability to absorb it
_and process it through these physical bodies isn't."
"T still don't see why we can't receive information that's
beyond our personal experience."
"Well, then," Lani smiled ruefully, "go the library and
try to read a book on botany written in Latin."
After a moment of stillness, Keoki sighed and nodded
his head. "Alright, I get it. The information's out there, but
unless I have some framework in my database for making
sense of it, like some understanding of botany and Latin,
it's just garbage. Sounds like you had the same problem
- when you got your degree."
Lani allowed himself a brief recollection of many late
nights in the company of Latin Grammar at the University
of Munich, then came back to the present. "You realize
what I'm saying now?"
"Yeah. It's like what happened to me a few days ago. I
asked someone about a technique for my Photoshop
program. At first the answer didn't make sense, but after I
tried it I found out that it worked. If I didn't know
Photoshop well enough, though, it never would have made
sense. So I guess using the stones must be similar. You
have to ask the right questions."
"Maika'i! Good!" exclaimed Lani. He smiled fondly at
his grandson. Such potential! Yet, still so far to go. Ah,
well. Onward, ever onward. "Okay, let's form a question
and see how it works. First, I'll ask a question about myself,
and the kind of throw I'll make will produce a symbol. I
have to have that expectation in mind beforehand so my iho
knows what language to use. Don't ask," he said, as Keoki
opened his mouth, "we'll talk about that later. Right now
I'm asking for a symbol to represent the next place I'll
travel to." Lani shook the stones in his hands about seven

61
or eight times and let them fall in front of him onto the
ground.
Keoki couldn't see anything in the pattern made by the
stones, but Lani gave a little jerk and snort of surprise.
"Well, I know it's possible, but not very probable. Still..."
"What is it?"
Lani was silent for such a long time that Keoki began to
think he hadn't heard. He was just about to ask again when
his grandfather pointed at the stones and said, quietly, "To
me they look like the horns of an antelope that's found in
West Africa. They probably wouldn't look like that to
anyone else, but... I have a memory of horns like that from
a botanical field trip to Togo, and..."
Good grief, another surprise from Gramps' past,
thought Keoki.
".,.the iho uses memory associations to give meaning
to the symbols. How odd."
"Does that mean you're going to Africa?"
Lani gathered up the stones and put them back into the
pouch. "Not likely! That was another lifetime ago. Maybe it
means I'll visit the Africa section of the Museum of Natural
History in Los Angeles. I've been thinking about seeing an
old friend of mine in Long Beach. Anyway, it's your turn,
now."
"What do I use for stones?" asked Keoki.
Lani reached into his daypack again and drew out
another pouch of tan leather and handed it to Keoki with a
big smile. "Think of it as an unbirthday present."
Keoki poured seven stones into the palm of his left
hand. The were similar in size to the ones Gramps had, but
all different, and more rounded. The young man looked up
at his grandfather for an explanation.
"Like I said, you can use any stones you want, but to
get you started I selected these for you. The white one is
coral from Kona here on Big Island. The red one is from a
cinder cone in Haleakala Crater on Maui, the orange one is

62
 from an old lava flow on Ni'ihau, the yellow one is calcite
from Mahaulepu on Kauai, the green one is a form of
peridot called 'oceanite' from O'ahu's north shore, the blue
stone is from a quarry of dense basalt on Molokai, and the
_ one that’s sort of purple with the iridescence is a bit of lava
from right here on Mauna Loa."
Keoki gazed at them for a few moments. "They're
beautiful, Gramps. Mahalo a nui loa, Thank you very
much. Since they're the same colors as yours, I assume
that's significant?"
"It is," said Lani, "but we can go into details another
time. For now think of them as representing the Hawaiian
rainbow, with white being all the colors together."
"Uh, there's something else I need to ask you," said
Keoki with some hesitation."
"Sure," said Lani. "What is it?
"Well, I've heard a lot of talk story about how it's bad
luck to move stones, and especially to take them away from
the islands. I don't think I really believe it, but a lot of
people do, and some get really angry if you even pick them
up. I'd like to know your take on it."
"Right." Lani sounded disgusted. Then he took a deep
breath and changed his expression to a more benign one.
"It's not an easy thing to sort out, because it comes from a
combination of several things, some of it superstition that's
not even Hawaiian, some based on cultural practices, and
some political. Let me give you a brief overview." He
searched the ground and picked up two stones, one porous
and one smooth, and showed them to Keoki. "Do these
represent anything to you?"
"Well, yeah," Keoki answered. "I mean, traditionally,
what we were taught in Hawaiian Studies classes, was that
porous stones were considered to be female and the non-
porous ones were male."
"That's right. Now, there's a beach on this island at
Punalu'u in Ka'u District, southeast of here, where tradition

63
says that the smooth male stones and the porous female
stones actually mated and gave birth to little keiki, baby
pebbles." Keoki rolled his eyes and Lani ingored him.
"Anyway, tradition goes on to say that if you took a stone
from that beach then the stone of the other sex wouldn't be
able to have any children. Since that beach was also
considered to be the best source for 'ili'ili stones, the ones
used like castanets in certain hulas, at least some people
took stones from there, so maybe the story was made up to
protect their source.
“Regardless, a more modern story says that it was either
a tour guide or a Hawaii Volcanoes park ranger who got
tired of all the visitors picking up rocks to take home as
souvenirs. The tour guide supposedly didn't like cleaning
up his bus, and the ranger supposedly was upset because it's
illegal to take anything from a National Park. So one of
them made up a legend based on the Punalu'u one that Pele
would curse you if you took a rock from her island. There's
really no such legend in Hawaiian tradition, but fear is
contagious.” Lani paused to sip some more water.
“The funny thing is,” he went on, “people didn't stop
taking rocks, but as soon as they had any bad luck at home
they sent the rocks back to Hawaii. I remember when the
visitor center at the park had a big table piled with rocks
sent back by guilty visitors. When the rocks kept coming
they began storing them in a warehouse, and finally that
wasn't big enough. I don't know what they're doing now,
but the rocks keep coming back. Sometimes they even sent
back souvenir packages of green sand, and I heard that the
Honolulu post office once got a package of rocks addressed
to ‘The Kahuna of Hawaii, Honolulu’ that they sent on to a
guy on Kauai."
“But why do so many Hawaiians believe it?” asked
Keoki.
“Well, that's a bit complicated,” said Lani. “Like I said,
fear is contagious and some Hawaiians have bought the

64
 story. Others see it as a good joke to play on visitors. And
still others see it as a political statement. meaning that
taking rocks from the islands is symbolic of taking the
islands away from the Hawaiian people, so they encourage
the legend and even get angry when rocks are taken.” Lani
went quiet and both he and Keoki sat with their own
thoughts for a while.
Finally, Keoki shrugged and held up his handful of
stones. "Okay, then, how do I use these?"
Lani heaved a big sigh and turned back to his grandson.
"First thing is, I want you to know that I talked to these
rocks personally and all of them agreed to go with me and
stay with you. Second thing is. you have to think of a
question."
Keoki smiled. Sometimes Gramps took the strangest
_ things so seriously. "I like the one you asked, about where
_ I'm going to travel next."
_ "That's as good as any. Now, cover your stones with
_ your hands, take a deep breath and relax. ask your question
clearly in your mind, shake the stones a bit, then toss them
out in front of you."
Keoki did as he was told. When he was done he looked
at the stones scattered on the lava and asked, "Now what?"
"Now you try to see a picture or a symbol in the pattern
of the stones, something like the old child's game of
connecting dots. Take your time."
Keoki gazed silently at the stones for a while. At first
they didn't look like anything, but he had learned enough
by now to know that he just had to relax more and let his
logical mind take a break. Suddenly, so suddenly his body
jerked a bit, he saw something.
Lani noticed the jerk. "What is it?"
"Uh, this is going to sound strange, but it looks to me
like the head of a horse. I mean, at first it didn't look like
anything, and suddenly up popped the horse. Am I
supposed to go someplace where they have horses?"

65
 "Maybe so,” said Lani. "Have you been thinking of a
trip to any place where horses are important?"
"Nope," said the young man. "There’s my cousin Liko’s
ranch near Waimea, but I haven’t been there in a while and
I don’t have any plans to go. I guess it doesn't work."
Lani shook his head. "No, it works, all right. We just
don't know what it means yet. Anyway, it's a great tool not
only for tuning into patterns, but for developing your inner
skills." He began to close his daypack.
Lani seemed about to quit, but Keoki wasn’t ready yet.
“Let’s get back to something you said earlier, if you
would.”
Lani nodded and looked back at his grandson.
“Okay, you said that your iho had to know what
language to use. What does that mean?”
Keoki’s grandfather leaned back on his elbows and
stretched his legs out in one of his favorite teaching
positions. “Let’s look at languages in general for a
moment.” He glanced at Keoki, who looked expectant. “All
languages have three basic elements: an alphabet; a
vocabulary; and a grammar—a structure of some kind that
the vocabulary fits in to make sense. Would you agree with
that?”
The young man thought for a moment, couldn’t think of
anything wrong with that statement, so he said, “Okay.”
“Fine. Now, different verbal languages, like Hawaiian,
and German, and English, have very different alphabets,
different vocabularies and different grammars, right?”
Keoki nodded.
Lani went on. “There are also different musical
languages—ways in which people compose music—like
Western, Chinese, and Arabic, each with their own form of
alphabets, vocabularies and grammars, agreed?”
Keoki had to think about that for a bit, but he nodded
again, wondering again as usual where this was leading.
“Good,” said Lani. “And finally, just for illustration,

66
 there are different mathematical languages, with their own
alphabets, vocabularies, and grammars, like arithmetic,
algebra, and calculus.” He looked at Keoki expectantly.
Forcing himself not to roll his eyes, Keoki said, Shine;
_ Gramps, but what does that have...”
The young man’s grandfather held up his hand. “Tarot,
the I Ching, and the stones are more like language groups,
_ than individual languages, because you can modify the
same elements to create new or different understandings.
Think of the way that the Roman alphabet is used for
different languages, or the way musical notation can be
used to create the ‘languages’ of blues, rock, or classical
music. You are familiar now with the different Tarot
spreads where the same cards take on different meanings
because the ‘grammar’ has been changed, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Keoki admitted. After the European experience
he had done a little research on Tarot just to understand
_ what it was all about.
| Lani opened his daypack, took out his pouch, and
spilled his stones onto the ground again. “Look, I can give
any meaning I want to the individual stones, to the
groupings, and to the overall patterns they form. I can focus
on the apparent image they make, on the color
combinations, on their relationship to each other, or on any
particular meanings I choose to give them.
“However, if I want the toss to make any sense, to be
effective for my purpose, I have to decide beforehand what
the meanings are going to be. Otherwise, the result will be
garbage.” Lani paused, searching for appropriate memories.
His eyes had a faraway look as he continued. “There
was a time, at a party in Munich, when I’d had just a few
too many shots of schnapps. I had been talking with a
group of German friends, when I saw a group of new
American exchange students who had been invited. So I
wandered over to talk with my fellow Americans and after
a few minutes of conversation in which I thought I had

67
been speaking English, I finally noticed their completely
blank expressions. It was only then that I realized I had
been speaking to them in German. There wasn’t anything
wrong with my German, but as far as they were concerned
it was garbage.”
Keoki couldn’t help laughing, and so did Lani.
“Anyway,” the older Hawaiian said, “What I taught you
was only one ‘stone language.’ I think it’s the most useful
one, but you can either make up some others, or, when I’m
in a good enough mood, I’ll teach you some variations that
I know.”
“Thanks, Gramps,” smiled Keoki.
Lani looked around and shivered. "It's getting cold fast.
Let's gather up our stuff and head back to the cabin for
some warmth."
Keoki was surprised to see how low the sun was, and
how penetrating the cold had become. The long shadows
made the landscape seem even more stark than it had
looked earlier. He picked up his water bottle and
shouldered his pack as Gramps did the same, and both of
them went to stand for a few moments at the edge of the
crater.
The sky was a deeper blue, but no longer as clear.
Clouds had begun to form in the west. To the northeast, the
higher peak of Mauna Kea dominated the horizon, and the
waning sunlight sparkled on the domes of the astronomical
observatories that littered its summit. Moku’aweoweo
Crater in front of them was a black pit in which anything
could be happening, and from which anything could come.
Keoki extended his /a’a kea, his active aura, into the
depths of the crater, and it seemed to him that he could feel
the fires of creation bubbling just below the surface. Lani
did the same, and felt the certainty that major change was
in store for both of them. He sent his peaceful blessings to
the magma and the whole of the island of Hawaii. And he
surrounded his grandson with a field of confident energy

68
 that the young man could draw upon in times of need. Then
they went back into the cabin.
Later, after Lani had shared some stories about his
adventures in Togo and they'd had a hot meal, they both
_ went outside to watch the sunset. It was like nothing Keoki
had ever seen. The sunset was a masterpiece of red and
gold, but the whole thing took place high in the sky, ina
massive cloudbank that seemed to hold the sun like a
blazing jewel in a gigantic, reflecting bowl. And in the
bowl, next to the sun, was something that for some reason
Keoki didn't feel like telling Gramps about—a cloud
_ shaped like a glorious, prancing stallion.

69
FIVE: UNEXPECTED NEWS
t was early morning on Oahu. The sun was up above
Diamond Head and the surfing stands at Waikiki
Beach were just being set up. A few obsessive malihini,
visitors, were jogging on the beach and along the sidewalks
of Kalakaua Avenue, but otherwise the loudest sounds were
those of birds and the steady surf. Palms were waving at
each other in the gentle trade wind, and the whole feeling
was one of peace and calm.
Normally, it was Keoki’s favorite time of day, but not
this day. He had gone for a walk to the beach at dawn, and
noticed the unusually large number of frigate birds circling
above the city. A sign of a storm at sea, someone had told
him, and maybe of one coming toward land. Maybe toward
him in particular, he thought as he returned home, stopping
only to pick up a large paper cup of coffee from a corner
ABC store.
Back in his apartment, Keoki kicked off his sandals at
the door and walked into his bedroom. He set the coffee
down on an end table and looked at the manila envelope
that he’d left on his pillow, and at the contents strewn over
his bed. Something Gramps had said on the mountain kept
running over and over in his mind: Stones are alive and
they have stories to tell.
While Keoki was sitting on the edge of the bed, his
right hand reached out on its own to the end table, picked
up the coffee, and brought it to his lips. He was barely
aware of the rich-tasting, fragrant brew as he sipped at it,
because he was wondering how to react to the papers in
front of him.
After coming down from Mauna Loa, Keoki had taken
an Aloha Airlines flight to Honolulu from Kailua-Kona on
the Big Island, and as soon as he arrived at the Honolulu

70
 Airport Keoki had called his latest girlfriend, Ari Lake, to
set up a date for the next night.
Then he caught TheBus route 31 at the airport and took
it north up Pu'uloa Road to the intersection with Salt Lake
Boulevard and Pukoloa Street where he picked up route 3
for the long ride across town to his apartment on Date
Street in Kapahulu. By the time he had reached his
apartment it was already early evening. He was looking
forward to a simple meal at home. maybe a couple of hours
on the computer, and a late-night re-run of “Hawaii 5-O.”
He had been in the process of unpacking when there
was a knock on the door. To his surprise it was a courier
with a package for him to sign for. He had never had
anything delivered by a courier before. and it crossed his
_ mind to wonder at the coincidence of the guy arriving just
_ after he'd come home, but all such thoughts left him when
he had opened the package.
Keoki shook his head to clear away the thoughts of the
:past, brushed his hair back from his forehead, and picked
up the cover letter again. The paper was heavier than
normal and cream-colored, with the Interpol logo on the
upper left of the page, a blue globe of the earth in front of
golden scales of justice and a silver wreath of peace
holding the globe like an egg in a cup. A scroll with the
word "Interpol" covered the bottom of the wreath, and
another scroll with the initials of the organization in French
and English connected the wreath at the top. According to
the letterhead it had originated from the General Secretariat
in Lyons, France, and its message was very brief.

"You are to attend an international shaman

conference in Ulaanbator, Mongolia. Please follow
the enclosed itinerary and report to the chief of the
National Central Bureau at your final destination
where you will be given the details of your
assignment.”

72
 And that was it. Apart from the signature of the head of
Division Two, Sub-Division Four, to which Keoki
belonged.
He let his thoughts drift back to the small room in
Tiibingen, Germany where a meeting with a German
security agent and an Interpol liaison officer had resulted in
him and Gramps being recruited as Special Crime Analysts
for Interpol. And then, after a series of exciting and all-too-
dangerous adventures involving a psychic assassin from the
former Soviet Union, they had been put out to pasture and
ignored for several years. But, obviously, not forgotten.
Sighing, Keoki picked up the next document in the pile
and scanned it. This was a formal invitation to visit
Mongolia... Mongolia of all places!... from the National
Central Bureau of Interpol there and was to be presented at
the airport on arrival. Next was his itinerary: Honolulu to
Seoul, Korea; Seoul to Ulaanbator; and back again. And he
was to leave in three days! It sounded extremely exotic, no
doubt about that. However, and it was a very disturbing
however, there were no return dates filled in.
A separate packet contained his airline tickets, with
open return tickets, thank goodness, a new passport issued
by Interpol with a Mongolian visa already in it... Where
did they get that recent photo of him?... and a shiny new
credit card with his name on it. A stack of the usual
accounting forms, along with a letter giving him an ATM.
PIN number, a notice that the limit on the card was
US$5000, and instructions on how to fill out the forms in
triplicate, completed the package. Not a single word about.
what the assignment was, though.
It was possible to refuse the assignment, of course, but!
then he'd have to pay back all that stipend money he'd been
receiving since coming back from Europe just for being on
call, and he'd probably get a big black mark next to his
name on all the immigration computers in the world.

WT
 It wasn't that he didn't like the idea of another
adventure, as long as it didn't include the kind of danger the
last one had, but this wasn't a good time at all. First, his
graphics career was beginning to move, then there were his
ongoing studies with Gramps that were getting really
interesting, but mostly there was Ari. For the first time he
felt a strong bond of friendship with a woman, and he didn't
want to risk losing that with a trip off to the other side of
the world, or a quarter of the way, actually.
Suddenly he slapped his forehead like he should have
had a V8. Gramps! Of course! Gramps must have received
the same assignment. Surely they wouldn't need both of
them, since Gramps was the real expert. With a rising sense
_ of happy anticipation he reached for the phone and dialed
_ the number for Gramps' cell. It rang and rang until he was
prompted to leave a message, which he did. Mildly
disappointed, but still hopeful that there was a way out, he
decided nevertheless to Google Mongolia and at least get
acquainted with where he might have gone.
After downloading enough material for three days of
reading, in his opinion, he put all the files away and called
Ari, just to get his mind off Mongolia. She must have gone
out, though, because she wasn't picking up.
Just as he put down his phone it rang. Thinking it was
her, he jerked up the receiver and said excitedly, "Ari?"
"No, I don't think so," answered a familiar voice.
It was Gramps. After a brief moment of
disappointment, Keoki felt a wave of relief. Now
everything would be all right. "Sorry 'bout that. I need to
talk. Do you have a few moments?"
"Of course. I've already said goodnight to the moon and
hello to the sun."
"Uh, good." That was a new one, but Keoki decided not
to follow it up. There were more pressing things to deal
with. "Gramps, did you get your package for Mongolia
from Interpol yet?"

G3
 "What package for Mongolia? What are you talking
about?"
"Yours is probably in the mail. I got orders from
Interpol to go to Mongolia in three days to attend a shaman
conference, and that won't work for me. I was hoping you
could convince them that you didn't need me on this one."
"Kali iki - Just a minute, mo'opuna. | received orders
from Interpol, yes, but mine are to attend a conference in
Los Angeles. I was going to tell you tomorrow. | didn't
know you had received orders, too."
Keoki was so stunned he almost dropped the receiver.
"You mean you aren't going to Mongolia?" he finally got
out. "But then... how will I... there must be a mistake..."
He felt like the bottom had dropped out of his world.
"Sounds like you're on your way to a great adventure
without me," chuckled Gramps. "It's about time. I have to
admit I'm slightly envious, though. I met a Mongolian
shaman once, but I've never been there. Are they setting up
an orientation for you?"
The young man couldn’t believe how unruffled his.
grandfather sounded. He of all people should have known
that his grandson wasn’t ready to go out on his own for
Interpol. "Nnn... no, not according to the itinerary," he:
stammered. Keoki described the routing, which included.
only two nights in Seoul.
"That's strange," said Gramps. "Makes it seem like an:
emergency. And no indication of what it's about?"
"None." None at all. No way, nada, and ‘a’ohe!
"Well, that's a sign of confidence in your abilities as a
kupua, a shaman, obviously."
Keoki winced. He still wasn't used to that title. And he
sure as heck didn’t feel confident. "I guess so," he said
reluctantly.
"And it would be a good idea to learn something about
the place before you get there."
"I downloaded a bunch of stuff from the internet."

74
 "That's good. Also, it's pretty far north and I think it
Stays cool even in the summer, so bring some warm clothes
with you, like you used on Mauna Loa. Do you remember
what I've taught you about ritual?"
"Yes." That he did remember. Make the beginning and
ending strong, and make the middle part interesting. His
grandfather didn’t seem to think there was anything more
to it than that. But why... ?
"Fine. Better review it. From what little I know they use
a lot of ceremony and ritual, and you may have to
participate or do some of your own. I'd suggest you bring
along a kihei - a cloak, a kukui nut lei, and a ka'aha -a
ritual rod, at least."
"But I don't know any real rituals," protested Keoki.
"Then you'd better be prepared to make some up." That
was something Gramps had talked a lot about. He’d said
that all rituals had been made up by someone, and that the
success of a ritual was determined by its outcome, not by
the way it was done.
There wasn't much more to the conversation. The
conference Gramps was going to was some kind of
metaphysical expo and he didn't know yet what he was
supposed to do there. He wished Keoki well and Keoki
returned the wish. Then they said “a hui hou, until we meet
again,” and they both hung up. Lani was feeling proud of
his grandson, and Keoki would have been shaking in his
slippahs if he'd had any on.
For the rest of the day Keoki tried to concentrate on a
graphics job for a local restaurant chain, but he couldn’t
hold his focus. He also tried to work on his computer game,
but that was a wash, too. After a salami and cheese
sandwich eased down with an Aloha Maid mango drink he
gave up and zoned out on Cartoon Network so he wouldn’t
have to think at all.
At about five pm Keoki, dressed in dark blue khaki
Dockers, a light blue Tori Richard shirt, and a bone

75
fishhook necklace, took TheBus again from in front of his
apartment to University Avenue, where he switched to
route 4 and got off at Campus at the University of Hawaii
at Manoa to pick up Ari. She was waiting for him and when
he saw her he felt happy enough to float off the ground.
Ari was eighteen, part Hawaiian, part Welsh, and part
Delaware Indian, with long, dark blonde hair, brown eyes
that twinkled a lot, and a figure perfectly suited to be a
dancer, which she was. Born on the mainland, she was in
the Hawaiian Studies program at the University of Hawaii
and had already decided she was in the islands to stay.
Keoki, for his part, had already decided that Ari was the
best thing to come along in his life for a long time, as far as
girls went, that is. Ari was also studying hula with a local
kumu, a hula instructor and Keoki went to all the ho‘ike,
class performances, that her halau, her hula troupe, put on.
They practiced speaking Hawaiian together, sang
Hawaiian songs while Keoki played the ukulele and Ari
sometimes danced, and they argued in a friendly way about
the differences between what Ari was learning in her
classes and what Gramps was teaching Keoki.
Best of all, in addition to her good looks, was her great
personality, in particular her amazing ability to tolerate his
numerous faults. More than tolerate, actually. It was as if
they really didn't matter to her. She didn't play mind games,
she didn't use emotions to manipulate, and she was always
exactly what she presented herself to be. He felt very lucky
indeed.
Hand in hand they walked leisurely down University
Avenue to South King Street and turned west for a short
ways to the L & L Hawaiian Barbeque, one of his clients. It
was another one of those perfect Hawaiian evenings, apart
from the traffic. The temperature was around seventy-five
degrees and the tradewind breeze was very light and carried
the fragrance of plumeria blossoms. Fluffy white clouds
dotted the darkening sky above, and in the west the

76
 lowering sun was already starting to put some color in the
cloudbanks there.
The L & L restaurant chain was famous for its barbeque
as well as for having the best plate lunch around. Ari
_ ordered the Hawaiian BBQ chicken as a small plate with
one scoop of rice, one scoop of macaroni salad, and a
_ garden salad with ranch dressing. Keoki had a regular plate
of one of his favorites, Loco Moco, a big hamburger over
tice topped with brown gravy and an over-easy egg, along
with two scoops of rice plus the macaroni and garden
salads, his with blue cheese dressing. For drinks, Ari had an
iced tea and Keoki chose a Dr. Pepper.
Ari had already asked him why local dishes, and even
luaus, almost always included macaroni salad. It seemed so
un-Hawaiian. So he’d told her that Hawaiian tradition
_ wasn’t some isolated, fragile thing that had to be protected
from nasty, outside influences. It was a dynamic, living
process that enriched itself by absorbing things from other
cultures and modifying them in a way that made them
Hawaiian.
The ukulele was derived from a small Portuguese
guitar, he told her, and the Hawaiian guitar was based on
the Spanish one. The unique Hawaiian cowboy sub-culture
was inspired by Spanish vaqueros, and Hawaiian music
borrowed from many other musical traditions. And the
macaroni salad came from the missionaries, as did a lot of
other things that became Hawaiian. Hawaiian culture
endured because it could be adaptable and flexible without
losing its “Hawaiian-ness.” In his opinion, he’d said, if
Hawaiian culture ever became rigidly defined, it would die
for sure.
During the meal Keoki kept the conversation on what
Ari was doing for as long as he could, and when that topic
ran out he shared his experience with Gramps on Mauna
Loa in great detail. To his amazement, she wasn’t very
surprised about the stones.

Wel.
 “It reminds me of the runestones that my European
ancestors used,” she said.
“I thought those were used by Vikings,” said Keoki,
looking puzzled.
“That’s right,” Ari replied sweetly.
“But you said that your ancestors were Welsh.”
In a half-mocking way, Ari said, “Well, the reason
Welsh culture has survived is because they've been able to
be adaptable and flexible without losing their ‘Welsh-
ness.’” When Keoki smiled in appreciation of her kidding,
she continued. “Many of the Vikings not only raided the
British Isles, they settled there, too. Especially the Danes.
So my Welsh ancestors very probably had some Danish
blood mixed up with some Danish culture.”
Keoki had a brief memory flash of Karen, then
refocused his attention on Ari, who was very much a part of
the present moment. They talked about their ancestors until
the main meal was over.
Finally, over a dessert of haupia, coconut pudding, he
took a deep breath and told her that he was going to have to
go to Mongolia in a few days.
"Mongolia?" Her pretty eyes widened and her cute
eyebrows shot up. "Why on earth would you go to
Mongolia?"
"It isn't a choice," he said, a sense of frustration in his
voice. "It's just something I have to do."
"But why? Do you have relatives there?"
"No, it isn't like that. I have to attend a conference. It's.
like an official thing." Keoki knew it was going to be hard
to explain, but it was becoming harder than he expected.
No one knew about his Interpol connection except Gramps,
and although he hadn't been told to keep it secret, he didn't
know how to mention it without sounding like he was
bragging. And no one else but Gramps knew the whole
story behind it.
Ari looked very confused. "I really don't understand,

78
 Keoki. What do you mean by 'official'?"
"It's really hard to explain, and I can't do it here. I have
some stuff at my apartment to show you that will make it
easier to understand."
She grinned mischieviously. "Like etchings?"
He couldn't help grinning back. "No, nothing like that.
_ Just some papers."
This time she arched one eyebrow with an expression
of mock skepticism. "Mister McCoy, are you planning to
take advantage of me?"
"Well, of course!" he laughed, "that goes without
saying. And in addition to that, I have some papers to show
you."
Ari shook her head as if doubting her own wisdom. "I
~ don't know why I trust you, but I do. Okay, let's go."
Keoki called for the check and paid it. And then the two
of them left the restaurant.
Hand in hand again, they walked through the night and
under the stars to Keoki's apartment, instead of taking the
bus. Along the way he told her what little he had read about
Mongolia's history, and Ari didn’t ask any questions about
his "official" business. Turning off Date Street they
climbed the stairs to Keoki’s front lanai and he opened the
door, letting her go in first while he turned on the light.
Once inside, he sat her on the sofa, brought out a liter-
and-a-half bottle of Carlo Rossi Paisano, and served them
each a glass. Then he sat next to her and spread out the
papers relating to Interpol on the coffee table. For the next
two hours he filled her in on his relationship to Interpol and
most of the events that led up to and followed it.
He told her about PERI, the organization of psychics
that had invited his grandfather to help them locate the
psychic assassin, Nazra. He described the encounter in
Copenhagen's Deer Park, the near-death of the Danish girl
in Tiibingen, most of the events in the Black Forest, the
almost-deadly meeting with the assassin Nazra in

19
Neuschwanstein, and the final confrontation on Big Island.
Then he told her how he and his grandfather came to work
for Interpol. He did leave out certain details about his
relationships with Karen, Marta, and Nazra, but Ari was
smart enough to realize from Keoki's tone of voice at
various times that there must have been some kind of
intimacy going on, and she was wise enough not to bring it
up.
: When Keoki's narrative had finally slowed down and
stopped, Ari said, "Wow! That's some story. I'm impressed
and awed, and... not quite sure how I ought to feel about
it." She leaned back on the sofa.
Keoki looked dejected and turned slightly away. "Yeah,
that's what I was afraid of. That's why I didn't want to tell
you, or anyone." He sighed. "That's okay, Ari. I'll
understand if you..."
The lovely girl leaned forward and put two fingers on
his lips to stop him from talking. "No, Keoki, you don't.
understand. I'm overwhelmed that you would share this:
with me, 'cause I know it's too important and unusual to tell
just anyone. I'm more impressed with you now than I was
before, not because of your involvement with Interpol and
what you've done, but because of how you talk about it.”
She held his near hand between both of hers. “I really,
really like you, Keoki, and I'm really happy to have you in
my life. And if you have to go to Mongolia, then you have.
to go. Just bring me back a nice souvenir, 'cause I'll be:
waiting for it."
After that there was a lot of kissing, some petting, and a
firm finish before anything went further. Ari was beautiful,
passionate, and very open-minded, but stubborn as a rock
about some things. Keoki took her back to the University
and returned home, frustrated and happy at the same time.
The next day, Keoki tried his best to work on his
current projects, but he just couldn't get into it, so he
decided to take another day off to relax his body, clear his

80
mind, and invigorate his spirit. He had too much energy to
zone out on TV like he had the day before, so he decided to
go on a hike.
First, though, there were some practical business and
personal things to consider, so he spent a few hours paying
bills and making calls to arrange for things that had to be
taken care of while he was gone. One of those included a
promise to his clients that he would complete his work for
them before he left. That he planned to do the next day. For
now, he just had to get outside.
Around eleven Keoki put on jeans, a t-shirt with an
image of Tivoli Gardens that he had bought in Copenhagen,
and a pair of old, but comfortable tennis shoes. Just before
leaving his apartment he stuck a novel, a small insulated
bag, and a flashlight in his daypack and slung it on his
back. When he reached the sidewalk he turned left toward
busy Kapahulu Avenue. It was a beautiful day, as usual,
with puffy clouds drifting across a very blue sky. The
temperature was about eighty-five, just right for an easy
walk.
After crossing Kapahulu, Keoki took a few side streets
through residential areas, enjoying all the different colors
and types of plants that people had in their yards, especially
appreciating the smells of plumeria, gardenia, and jasmine.
At Alohea Avenue he was already on the slopes of
Diamond Head, which was his destination.
First, though, close to Twelfth Street, he had to stop in
at Fort Ruger Market to pick up some poke for a picnic
lunch.
Fort Ruger Market was one of the few mom and pop
convenience stores left in Greater Honolulu, which was
partly due to its location in a residential area, and mostly
due to having the best poke on the island, and maybe in the
whole State.
Of all the local dishes available, Keoki liked poke best.
As a Hawaiian word it simply meant "to slice crosswise

81
into pieces," but as a food it generally referred to raw fish,
usually ahi, yellow fin tuna, cut up into bite-sized cubes
and mixed with minced onions, seaweed, sesame oil, and,
sometimes, inamona, ground and roasted kukui nuts. There
were actually many recipes and many types of seafood
used, but Keoki preferred the fairly standard version with
sesame seeds added. What made the Fort Ruger Market
poke special was the fact that it was made to order with the
freshest fish available.
The storefront window and glass door were almost
completely covered with various signs, including security
and "We Card" warnings, store hours, commercial ads,
"ATM inside," and a hand-written notice about "Kimo and
Kawika's Smoke Wagon."
As Keoki entered the store he noticed that it was very
busy with locals and malihini, visitors, which was not
surprising. On the left was the deli section where they made
the poke, and Keoki had to wait in line before he could
order. When his turn came he ordered a quarter pound and
had the pleasure of watching his poke being prepared right
before his eyes.
The dish came with chopsticks, and Keoki had the clerk
add a small container of Hawaiian salt. Then he went to the
regular part of the store to pick up an ice cold can of
Arizona tea and a couple of musubi, small blocks of rice
topped with a slice of Spam and wrapped together with dry
seaweed. He put all of these into the insulated bag that he
had brought with him and left the store.
He continued on Alohea until he reached Diamond
Head Road close by Kapiolani Community College, and
from there it was just a short distance to the Diamond Head
Monument park entrance between Makapu'u Street and
Eighteenth Avenue. He paid his $1.00 entrance fee at the
small gate and followed two girls with large backpacks
onto the trail leading up to the rim of the crater.

82
 The trail to the top was fairly steep, but not too
difficult, especially since there were handrails and
occasional benches for those who needed to rest. However,
there were also two unlit tunnels on the way up, and this is
_why Keoki had brought his flashlight. At the first tunnel,
the girls in front of him stopped and seemed upset.
"No flashlight?" asked Keoki?
"No," said one of them. She was blondish. blue-eyed,
reasonably good-looking, with her hair pulled back into a
tight bun, wearing hiking boots, gray shorts, and a T-shirt
with an Iowa State emblem embossed on it.
"We didn't think it would be this dark." said the other,
with loose brown hair and green eyes. even more pretty.
She was dressed the same, except that her shorts were
brown and her T-shirt said "Iowa Girls Just Want To Have
Fun" printed across the front.
"No problem," said Keoki. "I've got a good one. Just
_ follow me." And so they did.
With the ice nicely broken, the three young people
naturally began talking for the rest of the way up. The girls
introduced themselves as Nance and Gerri ("with a G and
an I"). They were on vacation for three weeks and wanted
to see all they could of Hawaii. Keoki introduced himself
and had to explain what Keoki meant.
"So you're local?" asked Gerri.
"Well, I was born here and I live nearby, so I guess that
qualifies," said Keoki, smiling.
"Do you mind if we ask you some questions?" asked
Nance.
"Not at all."
The girls waited, however, until they all had reached
the rim and had a chance to appreciate the absolutely
spectacular view. Down in front of them they could see all
of Waikiki and much of Honolulu and the southern coast of
Oahu. On the right were the mostly green ridges of the
Ko'olau Mountains almost covered (/itfered, thought

83
Keoki) with houses, and on the left was the vast expanse of
the Pacific, edging toward the shore in sparkling lines of
rolling surf.
It was a full five minutes before the questions began,
amidst preparations for and the eating of their individual
lunches.
Nance looked at the items Keoki had laid out in front of
him. "My first question," she said, "is what in Heaven's
name are you eating?" So Keoki explained about poke and
musubi, then offered them a taste.
Nance shook her head and Gerri said, "No thanks. we're
just fine." And they proceeded to indulge in their Subway
sandwiches and diet Cokes.
After a minute or two of eating and drinking, Gerri said,
"So, like, we're sitting on the edge of a volcanic crater and
it's called 'Diamond Head.' I read that some early sailors
found crystals here that they thought were diamonds. Is that
true?"
Keoki chuckled. "As far as anyone knows. I can't think
of any other reason for calling it 'Diamond Head." But as
for what they really found, different sources give different
stories. Most often you hear it was calcite, but I really
doubt that, because calcite is too common and too dull to
pass for a diamond.
“Some sources say it was olivine or peridot, and I
suppose that's possible if the sailors were really dumb. It
does sparkle in the sunlight, but the pieces in Hawaii are so.
small that they couldn't be worth much, and besides, they're
green, so why wouldn't the sailors think they were
emeralds? I think the most probable is that they found some.
quartz crystals. These are very rare on the islands, but some
have been found on Oahu."
"That makes sense," said Nance. "Okay, that explains
the English name, but didn't the Hawaiians have their own
name for it? Like, when we climbed Mt. Shasta in
California, we learned that the original Karuk name for it

84
 was Uytaahkoo, which meant 'White Mountain.’ So, was
there a Hawaiian name for Diamond Head?"
"I read that it was called Lae ahi, 'the brow of the
yellowfin tuna," put in Gerri, after taking a sip of Coke.
Here we go, thought Keoki. "Okay, this will take a little
explanation," he began, putting down his chopsticks. "First,
lae ahi can't mean 'brow of the yellowfin tuna’ for a number
_ of reasons, the most obvious one being that tuna don't have
brows. Lots of Hawaiian words have many meanings. So,
while /ae can mean 'forehead' or 'brow,' it also means ‘cape’
or 'headland,' and that's what this is that we're sitting on."
"And ahi?" mumbled Nance, her mouth full of bread
and chicken.
"Ahi means 'fire,'" said Keoki. “Yellowfin tuna is called
_ ahi because its meat is red, like fire. So Jae ahi means 'cape
of fire' or 'fiery headland.’ And that opens up a great big
can of worms related to Hawaiian history and geology."
Both girls looked startled for a moment, but Gerri
caught on quickly. "But the brochure says that this crater
has been extinct for a hundred and fifty thousand years!
How could the Hawaiians have seen fire here? Everything
I've read says they've only been here for about fifteen
hundred years at the most. Unless the name came from
signal fires they built up here, maybe to guide ships in."
"I have to admit, that's a possibility," replied Keoki.
"However, there are lots of names of places in Hawaii that
seem to come from direct observations of volcanic activity,
even places where there isn't supposed to have been any
activity for millions of years.
“There's Lehua Island just north of Ni'ihau, and /ehua is
a flower that looks like a volcanic explosion; there's
Kilauea on Kauai, and ki /au ea seems to refer to forceful
fumes spreading all over; Lae Ahi here on Oahu, Haleakala
on Maui, which means ‘house of the sun.' Today people
think it refers to the fact that the sun comes up in the east
and passes over the mountain, but it really makes more

85
sense to think that the house’ refers to the crater, and that it
glowed like the sun when it was erupting.
“On Lanai you have Pu'u Mahana, ‘warm hill,' and even
in the northern part of Big Island, in Kohala, where no
eruption is supposed to have occurred in several hundred
thousand years, there is a peak called Lahakiola, which
contains words related to something being thrown out over
a large area." He realized that he had been waving his
chopsticks around while he spoke.
"And your conclusion?" asked Gerri, who had been
holding her sandwich halfway to her mouth during Keoki's
rant.
Keoki grinned, put his chopsticks down, and took a bit
of musubi. He swallowed it before he replied. "Maybe, just
maybe, the Hawaiians were here long before anyone
thought they were. And maybe, just maybe, the geologists
are wrong." He took another bite of musubi, chewed and
swallowed it, and grinned again. "And maybe, just maybe,
I'm completely bonkers."
The girls both laughed, and the conversation went on to
even less reasonable topics, like the Hawaiian sovereignty
movement.
It was after five by the time Keoki got back home. The
girls he met had gone on to Koko Head. He spent the
evening reading more about Mongolia, had a light supper
of instant noodles, and went to bed. He spent the whole
next day completing his project for L&L and two other
clients, and was getting ready to spend another lonely night
at home when the phone rang.
“Aloha, Keoki,” said a sugar-sweet voice.
“Aloha no, Greetings indeed,” he said automatically.
And then to himself, Oh, no!
“So when were you going to tell me?” his mother asked
him in the sing-songy Hawaiian way of posing questions.
Her voice was still sweet, and that was a danger sign for
sure.
|
86
 nies eh. 52
“You were planning to leave without saying anything,
weren’t you?” And then began a long tirade without pauses
about how inconsiderate he was, and how could he think
_ about going off on another foolish adventure with “those
cops” when the last time he, his grandfather, his sister, “and
your own mother” were almost killed by that crazy woman
and... and... and...
Keoki held the phone a little ways away from his ear as
his mother went on and on giving him innumerable reasons
why he shouldn’t go. It was true that he had been avoiding
a call to his mother, partly for this reason, and partly
because he was hoping that he could find some way to get
out of this obligation before he had to leave. He knew she
was upset and that the rest of the family, except for
Gramps, would be, too. In fact, he was on the verge of
agreeing to quit Interpol and not go regardless of the
consequences when his mother went too far.
“... SO I think you should stop playing with computers
and drawing things for people and come back home to live.
Your Uncle Hank can get you a real job as assistant
manager of the golf course at Mauna Lani and...”
“Mom!” Keoki broke in with a voice so firm it startled
his mother into silence. “I am not going to live with you
and work on a golf course. I am going to continue my
career as a graphic designer and I am going to keep
working for Interpol and I am going to Mongolia. Give my
love to the family. I love you very much and I’ll write. Bye,
Mom.”
When he hung up the phone he was tingling all over
and sweating like he was in a sauna. He had never spoken
to his mother like that before, but instead of feeling guilty
he felt like he had broken through some kind of barrier
inside. It took him a long time to get to sleep that night.

87
SIX: KOREA
OO: the morning of his departure for Seoul, which
would be in the early afternoon, Keoki met with
his friend and cousin, Kimo, for their usual Saturday
morning breakfast at the Wailana Coffee Shop at the
western edge of Waikiki. Kimo was a hoahanau, a real
cousin, not just a Hawaiian of the same age group as Keoki.
Kimo's real name was James Kalaka, and "Kimo" was a
Hawaiianized form of "Jim," like "Keoki" was one of
"George." In addition to being cousins, Keoki and Kimo
had been friends since they were kids. They had surfed and
fished together, gone to the university together, gotten into
lots of trouble together, and had lots of fun together. Their
career paths had diverged somewhat—Keoki became a
graphics designer and Kimo was a photographer—but their
friendship was just as strong as ever. To help keep it strong
they had breakfast at Wailana every Saturday possible to
share ideas and experiences.
The Wailana Coffee Shop was an anomaly in Waikiki.
Popular with visitors and locals alike because of its good
food, good prices, good service, and good location, it had
remained in its same location on the corner of Ena Road
and Ala Moana Boulevard across from the Hilton for about
50 years, when practically everything else in Waikiki had
changed dramatically. There were booths along the
streetside windows, tables in the middle, and an old-
fashioned counter on the other side with the kitchen behind
the serving area .
At the moment, Keoki and Kimo were sitting at the
counter bantering with their favorite waitress, Fannie. She
was probably old enough to be their mother, but she was so
friendly and witty they didn't even notice her age. In
between the banter, Kimo worked steadily on his supply of
all-you-can-eat pancakes while Keoki thoroughly enjoyed
his corned beef hash with poached eggs and sausage.
88
 When the banter stopped because Fannie had other
customers to serve, Kimo said, "So, Bra. what's with this
trip to Mongolia. That's gotta cost a lot of kala, dollahs.
You gotta graphics gig over deah, 0 what?"
"Sorta. Someone with big bucks is paying me to go
over and draw pictures of the pretty shaman girls so he can
_ choose one to go out with."
Kimo snorted. That was so outrageously untrue he
knew Keoki didn't want to talk about it. so he let it drop. It
was the kind of friendship that went so deep they didn't
have to keep proving it to each other all the time. "Okay,
how long do you think you'll be there drawing pictures?"
"Don't know yet," said Keoki. He sipped some coffee.
"They have an awful lot of girls there. Couple of weeks at
least, I'd guess."
"Mongolia. Wow." Kimo patted his friend on the
_ shoulder. "Gonna miss you, Bra."
"Yeah, I know. I'll bring you back a Mongolian
- something-or-other. I don't even know what kind of
- souvenirs they have over there."
"A pretty Mongolian girl would be nice."
Keoki laughed.
"So, Bra, what are you going to bring them?"
"What do you mean?" Keoki was honestly puzzled.
"Well," said Kimo, "people you meet, the pretty girls,
they might like a souvenir from Hawaii. They'll probably
do things for you, or give you gifts. You gotta have
something to give back. I always bring little doodads with
me when I travel."
"I don't know what to bring."
Kimo just smiled, and when they had paid the bill he
took Keoki to the nearest tourist mecca, an ABC store, and
had Keoki buy a bunch of postcards and a dozen Hawaiian
souvenir keychains before they drove to the airport.
His cousin drove Keoki to the airport in his old Toyota
Corolla and let him off at the curb with his baggage in front

89
of the Korean Airlines departure area. A quick hug and
Kimo was gone, leaving Keoki feeling very lonely.
The young man checked his one suitcase, passed
through security easily enough with his two carry-ons, and
presented his passport to the Korean Air Lines gate agent.
Then he waited in the departure lounge with the other
passengers, reading some more of the material about
Mongolia that he had downloaded from the net.
He wasn't in first class this time, but even economy
class was comfortable on the B777 he boarded. It was a
long flight, though, three movies long. There was one about
a Korean bonze boy that was interesting for its scenery, one
about a future time when machines ruled the earth without
most people realizing it, and one about a mom who lost and
then found her kid. Lunch was minced meat, rice, pickled
veggies, and a small glass of wine, and a sandwich snack
was served shortly before landing.
Once the plane had landed at Seoul and Keoki was in
the arrival area, he suddenly realized that he had no idea of
what to do or where to go after he picked up his bag from
the baggage claim carousel. His extremely brief
instructions had only said that he would be met by someone
in Mongolia, but not a word about Korea, and he had two
nights here.
Just as he had decided he would try to contact the local
Interpol office a very pretty smiling Oriental woman in a
business suit broke away from the line of greeters and.
headed right toward him, carrying a small sign that said,
"George McCoy."
"Mr. McCoy?" she asked as she got up close, sounding
like she already knew. When Keoki nodded she extended
her right hand and said in perfect American English, "Hi,
I'm Tyla Bold, your contact from the Mongolian office. We:
thought it would be better if you were met here, rather than.
in Ulaanbator to help your orientation go more smoothly.
We have a room ready for you at the Holiday Inn." She

90
 linked her arm in his and guided him toward the baggage
claim area. "After we pick up your bag we'll take the KAL
limo to the hotel, let you get setttled, have dinner, and talk
about your assignment. We also have a big day planned for
you tomorrow."
Keoki felt like he was on a fast escalator. "Uh, do you
know what my assignment is?" he managed to say, noticing
her intriguing perfume at the same time.
Tyla gave him a devastating smile. "Not here. There'll
be plenty of time for that later."
In the limo she told Keoki that her real name was
Tylanni, a Buddhist name of unknown origin, but even her
family called her Tyla, and that made it easier for her job,
as well. Bold had been her father's name, meaning "steel,"
and under the Soviets all Mongolians had to take a parent's
name, almost always the father's, as a last name, even
_ though Mongolians as a rule didn't use last names.
On her passport her name was given as Bold Tyla,
because officially the patronymic, the parental surname,
comes first. However, in the English-speaking international
community that not only sounded funny, it was confusing
to many people, so most of the time she was known as Tyla
Bold. Keoki could just call her Tyla. She didn't call him
Keoki, however. She called him George and she asked him
what it meant.
Most modern Americans, even Hawaiian Americans,
whose names in the vast majority came from Greek, Latin,
Germanic, or Hebrew roots, had no clue as to the meaning
of the names they had been given. Keoki, though, when he
was in Freiburg, Germany during the Nazra adventure, had
met an Englishman named Jeffrey Boggles who had told
him that "George" meant "tiller of the soil." As part of his
Hawaiian Studies program, Keoki had looked up his name
in a book called Hawaiian Names/English Names. There he
found confirmation for what Jeff had told him, put in the
much simpler term, "farmer." Not very exciting, but he told

91
Tyla anyway.
For the rest of the trip to the hotel, Tyla asked him
questions about Hawaii, and while he answered he was able
to look at her more carefully. He realized that his first
impression was wrong. She was not only pretty, she was
beautiful enough to be a model.
Her hair was long and straight and very black, with
several strips flowing across her forehead in an artfully
careless way. Her eyes were large, or seemed large, wide-
spaced and dark brown, with a trace of uplift at the corners.
Her mouth was generous and her lips full. The rest of her
looked nicely slim and trim in a white blouse and a black
suit, a tiny Interpol pin in her jacket lapel and a skirt that
tastefully and enticingly ended a few inches above her:
knees.
Even while answering her questions, Keoki was aware:
of an attraction that he'd have to be dead not to feel, but it!
was subdued and natural. Not like his attraction to Marta,.
the Swiss call girl and part-time assassin who had the
power to amp up her aura to make men blind with lust.
Keoki was also aware of his attraction to his girlfriend, Ari,
which was natural in a different way, more warm and
fuzzy. Tyla was attractive, for sure, but no more than any
beautiful woman might be.
At the hotel, located in the downtown, high-rise area of
Seoul that looked very American, in spite of outdoor
markets of tables filled to overflowing with Nike shoes
crowded into every alleyway. Tyla guided Keoki through:
the check-in process, then arranged to meet him for dinner
in the hotel restaurant where they could discuss business.
Keoki went to his room, unpacked, showered and shaved,
watched a little CNN on television, then dressed in a dark
blue, multi-pocketed sport jacket with matching trousers:
and white micro-weave shirt that he had bought online
from Travel Smith for a concert he had taken Ari to, and
went down to the restaurant.

92
 Tyla was waiting for him at a table for two well away
from the other customers. She had the same devastating
smile, but she had traded the suit for a black, spaghetti-
strap sheath that clung marvelously to her slim body. The
neckline was bare of jewelry and low enough to reveal a bit
of cleavage. On her ears she wore small pearl earrings, and
she was wearing that same attractive fragrance. Keoki
resolved to use all the will power he could muster to keep
his eyes on her face, a resolution he was only able to keep
on a part-time basis.
Over a T-bone steak and a bottle of Chilean Carmenére,
which tasted very different from the Carlo Rossi he'd had
with Ari, Tyla filled Keoki in on his assignment. Since he
was more of a consultant and not a regular police officer of
Interpol, she, Tyla, would be his handler for the period of
his assignment. Specifically, his job would be to help
recover an artifact stolen from the National Museum of
Mongolian History.
"What kind of artifact?" asked Keoki, sipping some
wine while he waited for her answer.
"A strand of prayer beads shaped like human skulls and
apparently made of bone. The provenance—source
information—is spotty. From what I've been told it's part of
a collection of shamanic artifacts left over from the Soviet
purges, and there's a story that it's some kind of map
leading to Chinggis Khan's buried treasure. | think that
part's unlikely, but one of the higher-ups obviously thinks
it's important enough to bring you over here to help look
for it." Tyla stopped to drink some of her own wine.
"Well, that leads to a bunch of questions. First, why
doesn't the local police force take care of it?"
"Simple question, complicated answer." Tyla chewed
and swallowed a piece of steak. They've tried, of course,
but there's been only one thin lead suggesting that one or
more shamans are involved, and the shamans aren't talking,
either because they don't want to, or because they don't

95
know anything. There's also a chance that it's been taken
across the border, and that's where we come in."
"Why are the shamans so important?" Keoki asked as
he cut a chunk out of his own steak. "I mean, where I come
from even the Hawaiians hardly know anything about
them, and what they do know is mostly distorted. In Europe
they are so far in the background that they might as well
not exist where most people are concerned. I've read about
shamans in different areas, including a little about them in
Mongolia, but they always seem like a kind of subculture,
way out of the mainstream. Are there a lot of shamans in
Mongolia?"
Tyla laughed, a light, pleasant sound that Keoki
wouldn't mind hearing again. "Mr. McCoy, you are in for a
surprise. Mongolia is different from the rest of the world. In
our country, shamanism, which some people call
'Tengerism,' is the dominant religion and a powerful
political force. Look, Mr. McCoy..."
"Please call me George, or even better, Keoki, my
Hawaiian nickname. Especially since it seems we'll be
working together for awhile." Keoki picked up his wine
glass and drank some.
Tyla gave him a measured look as she drank some more
wine, also. "All right. I'll use 'George' for the time being. I
don't know how much you've read about our long and
turbulent history, but we were under Soviet rule from 1924
to 1990. Even though for part of that time we were called
an independent country, we really weren't. In modern times
we've only been truly independent for a very short while.
During Soviet rule they did their best to destroy all the
religions in Mongolia. They were very hard on the
Buddhists, but they were rabid about getting rid of the
shamans. It's estimated that thirty to forty thousand
shamans were killed outright during that period.
“All of those shamans had ritual objects, and probably
most of them had culturally precious objects handed down

94
 from generations. Those things were scattered and sold."
Tyla paused to eat a little. "Some found their way into
private and museum collections, some can be found in
shops and markets, and some are probably still hidden. But
back to my point. Shamanism is alive and well and kicking
in Mongolia today. Religiously, its closest competitor is
Tibetan Buddhism, and politically it's right up there with
the other major parties."
"Are you a shaman?" asked Keoki. digging into the pile
of mashed potatoes that came with the dinner.
That got a large smile. "No. George. I'm a Buddhist.
And you have to understand that not everyone who follows
shamanism is a shaman. We don't really have a word for
the followers. I suppose in English you might call them
'Tengerites,’ but shamans themselves are something like the
priesthood of a shamanic community, with big differences
that you'll discover for yourself. Would you like some
_ dessert?"
: They both decided to skip dessert and end the meal with
_ coffee. "One last question for this evening. " said Keoki.
"Why me? Why bring a relatively inexperienced outsider
from Hawaii into this?"
The lovely Mongolian Interpol officer stared into her
cup as she answered. "I don't know, George, I really don't
know. I've been ordered to guide you, protect you if
necessary, and introduce you to people.” She raised her
head, still looking solemn. “You seem like a nice person,
but I have no idea why you are here." Then she brightened.
"But we have a whole day to spend in Seoul, and I've
arranged some activities that I think will interest you. We
can meet for breakfast at eight, if you like, and we'll leave
the hotel at nine."
They finished their coffee and Tyla signed the check.
Before they each went to their separate rooms, Keoki
handed her a keychain made from an acrylic palm tree.
“Just a thank you gift,” he said, “for meeting me at the

95
airport and checking me in.”
“Why, thank you, George. How sweet!” She tucked it
into a little black purse she had hung on a chair
In her room, Tyla called in a report and studied her
notes on George McCoy, In his, Keoki tried unsuccessfully
to call Ari and watched a little television. Then they both
went dreaming.
Tyla's dream involved an encounter with a Jama, an
independent Mongolian priest not associated with a
monastery. On top of a high mountain, surrounded by
towering snowbanks and a raging blizzard, Tyla and the
lama sat in a peaceful glade of springtime greenery by a
quiet pool of water. There they sat, sipping nectar from
flowers, and discussing the best pathway to san, shambala,
the second pure land of paradise. When she awoke the
dream quickly faded and all she could remember was:
something about flowers.
In Keoki's dream he was riding a horse across the:
steppes—large areas of grassland—toward some distant.
mountains, and even in the dream a part of him was quite
surprised since he hadn’t ridden a horse in several years.
Dream-Keoki, however, was an accomplished rider. Beside:
him on the right was another rider whose form and face he:
could not see, although the feeling was that of an old!
companion.
The mountains they rode toward were very high and!
snow-capped, and there was a sense of urgency about
reaching them. In the dream they never seemed to get
closer, and they rode on and on and on until a voice from
his left caught his attention, calling out, "Ride, fellow
Zayaan, ride!" The caller was a snow leopard running
beside Dream-Keoki's horse. That, plus the strange name
he had been given, was enough to shatter his focus, and
Keoki woke up with his heart pounding.
After calming down and reorienting himself to being in
a hotel room in Seoul, the thought came to him that he had

96
 identified the running animal as a snow leopard, and he
didn't even know what a snow leopard was.
Over a so-called American-style buffet breakfast at the
hotel restaurant, featuring scrambled eggs with the
consistency of bread pudding, limp bacon, and bitter
coffee, Tyla filled Keoki in on the planned events for the
day. Keoki was wearing a polo shirt and jeans. Ari had told
him that all her traveling friends said that jeans were
acceptable wear overseas for everything except the most
formal occasions. And besides being durable, you could
wear them quite a long time without having to wash them.
Keoki had another pair in his suitcase.
"First we'll go to a performance by a rather special and
controversial Korean shaman here in the city and have
lunch at a Korean restaurant, then we'll visit the Korean
Folk Village, where we'll finish with another shamanic
performance." Tyla paused to munch on the pile of
sausages on her plate. This morning she was wearing dark
blue slacks and a pale blue blouse.
"Sounds interesting," said Keoki. "Are the Korean and
Mongolian types of shamanism very similar?"
Tyla choked a bit, recovered, and answered with a
chuckle. "Oh no, George. Very different. One reason for
taking the tour is to broaden your perspective, to give you
some comparative information so that when you encounter
Mongolian shamanism you'll notice more details. Anyway,
that's what I was told."
"You said 'one reason.’ Are there others?"
The Interpol officer grinned. "Sure, we have to do
something to fill up the time until our flight tomorrow.
There are only two a week."
After breakfast they returned to their rooms briefly and
met in the lobby. Keoki had a light jacket on and had a
small Casio camera around his neck. Tyla also wore a short
jacket that matched her slacks, and carried two containers
of bottled water in pouches with straps. She handed one to

97
Keoki. "It's a good idea not to drink anything that's not
bottled outside of the hotel."
"Are we waiting for someone?" asked Keoki, hanging
the bottle strap around his neck.
"Yes," said Tyla. "A Korean tour guide. She'll take us
around and explain what we see." Casually, as if it were an
afterthought, she added, "Oh, by the way, we're sort of
undercover from now on. You're my Hawaiian shaman
boyfriend, and I'm bringing you home to meet the folks and
introduce you to the country of my birth.
“T've been in the United States since high school, got a
degree in Art at the University of California Berkeley,
currently going to film school in Hollywood. Met you on a
filming trip to Hawaii and we both fell in love. We have to:
act cozy and friendly, but we never kiss in public, and we:
certainly do not sleep together. Family rules." She had said|
all this without looking directly at Keoki. Now she turned!
to him with a mischievous smile and asked, "Any:
questions?"
Stunned, Keoki just blinked at her for a few moments.
Then he heaved a big sigh and, using a technique he had
first applied with the lovely Danish girl, Karen, in
Heidelburg, he slipped into a James Bondish kind of
persona, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Well, do we at least
get to kiss in private?"
Tyla's eyes widened in surprise, then she grinned
widely. "Don't get carried away, George. It's a cover. Hey,
here's our guide."
Another very pretty Asian woman came through the
lobby doors toward them, dressed in a black slack suit with
a big "Tour Guide" pin on her jacket. "Miss Bold, Mr.
McCoy," she said, shaking hands with each of them, "My
name is Soo Lee from the Korean-American Tourist
Agency, and I'll be your guide today. Are you ready to go?"
Tyla grabbed Keoki's hand and they followed Soo Lee
out to a spacious Jeep Grand Wagoneer with a driver ready

98
 to open the doors for them. Soo Lee got in front with the
driver, and Tyla and Keoki sat behind them.
As they drove off, Soo Lee turned in her seat and said.
"May I ask how much you know about Korean
shamanism?"
"Practically nothing," said Tyla. "Please assume that we
know as little as the typical American tourist."
Soo Lee smiled briefly. "First, then, Korean shamanism
is a very important part of Korean culture, but the shamans
themselves do not have a very high social standing. Most of
the shamans are women and they are usually called
mudang. As is the case with shamans elsewhere, they act as
intermediaries between humans and spirits."
"What kinds of spirits?" asked Keoki.
"Nature spirits as well as the spirits of deceased human
beings. Most of their activities involve counseling and
healing with the help of the spirits. This is usually done
through a gut, a ceremony during which the mudang takes
possession of the spirit and acts with the spirit's power. In
the more public gut, like the one we'll go to this morning,
the purpose may be to honor a distinguished person, to
demonstrate shamanic powers, or for general success and
prosperity. That's called a chaesu gut, and it's the kind
we're about to see."
"You said that the shaman takes possession of the spirit.
Is this like a trance?"
The guide pursed her lips. "Yes and no. I find that when
most Americans hear the word, ‘trance,’ they imagine
something like a hypnotic trance where the person sits
passively with their eyes closed. Or the Western type of
mediumship or channeling where the individual goes into a
deep trance and is taken over by an entity of some kind
who uses the medium's body. Korean shamanic trance is
not like that. The mudang does the possessing, and it
happens so fast that an inexperienced observer might not
even notice that the mudang is holding a spirit in her body.

99
So, especially in a public gut, the mudang will almost
always change her costume in some way as different spirits
are possessed. You'll see that at both performances today.
You don't seem surprised, Mr. McCoy."
Keoki had been musing. "Well, that sounds a lot like
the shamanic kind of shift in consciousness that's used
where I come from."
"And where is that?"
"Hawaii."
"I didn't know there were shamans in Hawaii," said Soo
Lee:
"When you come to Hawaii maybe I'll take you on a
tour, Miss Lee," smiled Keoki, and handed her a postcard
of a palm-fringed beach that he pulled out of his jacket
pocket. She thanked him politely and smiled back.
The place where the first ceremony was going to be
held looked like an ordinary residence from the street.
However, what would have been the back yard had been
transformed into an outdoor theater. The yard had been
divided approximately in half by a low fence with a little
gate. The area closest to the house was filled with folding
chairs, and those were almost filled with tourists, most of
whom looked very American. The area beyond the fence
had what seemed to be a long altar against a building.
Boxes and baskets and stacks of fruits and vegetables were
piled along it.
"Offerings," whispered Soo Lee, "made by happy or
expectant clients. They are for the use of the mudang and
her family." The three of them were sitting near the middle,
in the second row back from the fence.
From then on, to Keoki's very inexperienced eyes,
things got bizarre.
First, people moved around in front of the altar, doing
things that Keoki didn't understand and didn't feel that he
could ask about, because they were happening too fast.
Then a woman appeared whom Soo Lee identified as the

100
 principle mudang. She was wearing a kind of robe with
very large, floppy sleeves. It was mostly pink, with green
flowers of some kind. Soo Lee called it a hanbok, a kind of
traditional and national dress.
The mudang did some more incomprehensible things,
invited a few Koreans up front, and with the help of an
assistant she put a thin, dark blue cloak over what she was
already wearing, took hold of a large staff that an assistant
handed her, and began to shout in a loud voice at the people
she had brought up.
"Ah," said the guide, "she has now possesed the spirit
of Admiral Yi Sun-shin, the hero who repelled the Japanese
invasion in 1598. The Admiral is giving advice and making
predictions for the people standing there."
Keoki didn't know what to think about that. He hadn't
seen anything that he could recognize as a sign of the
mudang going into an altered state. All she did, from his
point of view, was put on a cloak and start talking
differently. But then he remembered what Gramps had said
about the Hawaiian prayer form of haipule. Both amateur
and professional anthropologists tried to explain it from
observations, while the really important stuff was going on
inside the person who was doing it. So, without anything
else to go on, Keoki had to assume that the mudang was
making some inner change. She sure was able to do it fast,
though.
After a while, the shamaness returned the staff and the
cloak to her assistant, and the Koreans who had gone up
went back to their seats. She did some other things, and
then, to sounds of surprise and amusement from the
Americans in the audience, she put on an Eisenhower-type
military jacket over her robe, set an old-style American
officer's hat on top of her elaborate hairdo, and stuck a
corncob pipe in her mouth. Her voice turned rough and
gravelly as she barked out orders to her assistants.
"Now she has possessed. the spirit of General Douglas

101
MacArthur," said Soo Lee. "Another great general who
repelled the invading Japanese. General MacArthur has
ordered that everyone be given a taste of his favorite
drink."
And sure enough, the mudang's assistants busily served
whiskey to the audience from trays holding shot glasses
and bottles of Chivas Regal.
The mudang walked back and forth in front of the fence
in what passed for a military stride, looking very odd with
the jacket and cap over her Korean dress and hairdo, and
taking the pipe out of her mouth from time to time to
seemingly emphasize a point she, or rather MacArthur, was
making about something. Soo Lee said it was a
commentary on the current political and economic state of
Korea.
Suddenly, the mudang came close to the fence and|
pointed the pipestem directly at Keoki, saying something:
rapidly at the same time. A moment later she was striding
away and after a few more statements the spirit of
MacArthur was gone, along with the props that were given
back to the assistants. A few more prayers were made,
offering baskets were passed through the audience just like:
in Christian churches, and the chaesu gut, the ceremony for
success and prosperity, was over.
It wasn't until they were back in the Jeep that Keoki
asked Soo Lee, "What was that all about?"
Soo Lee didn't speak for a few moments. Then, "What
General MacArthur said, in Korean, was Horang-i gool-e
kaja horang-ilul japneunda. It's a Korean proverb. The
translation is: 'If you want catch a tiger, you have to go to
the tiger’s cave.' It is used to express the thought that if
you want to achieve something, you have to go to its
source, or the appropriate place. I suppose it would be like
saying that if you want to sail a boat, you have to go where
boats are. But it also carries the idea of being willing tc
face the difficulties involved. I do not know why he said it

102
 to you, though. That was very unusual."
During the rest of the drive Keoki was wondering just
how dangerous this assignment was going to be.
For lunch they went to a Korean restaurant located in a
park. It was quite crowded with lots of small rooms for the
diners, and Soo Lee had reserved one of these in a corner of
the third floor. To make things simpler and to save time.
_ because they still had a long drive ahead of them, she had
_ pre-ordered the meal. Like an American "family-style"
_ meal, everything was served at once, with vegetables on the
left, hot dishes on the right, sauces in the front, and
fermented dishes at the back. Tyla and Keoki were told that
according to Korean etiquette, rice and soups were eaten
_ with a spoon and chopsticks were used for the rest. Also,
unlike in China, the rice bowl should never be lifted from
the table.
For a meat dish they had bulgogi, shredded beef
marinated in sesame oil. sugar, garlic, black peppers,
scallions, and soy sauce., accompanied by namul, sauteed
vegetables. The soup was doenjon jiigae, made from
soybean paste and containing shellfish, tofu, and
vegetables. And of course there was banchan, \ots of small
side dishes mainly consisting of various kinds of kimchee,
vegetables of different kinds fermented in a brine of ginger,
garlic, green onion and chili pepper.
Keoki was very familiar with the cabbage form so
common in Hawaii, but didn't know they also used
cucumbers and radishes. As a beverage they had their
choice of insam cha, Korean ginseng tea, or sujeonggwa,
dried persimmon punch. All three decided against dessert.
From Seoul they took the Gyeongbu Expressway south
to the Suwon-Yongin National Road, turned east, then
south again toward Osan, and arrived at the Korean Folk
Village. Along the way, Soo Lee gave a running
commentary on the countryside and the 5000-year-old
history of Korea.

103
 The Korean Folk Village, founded in 1973, was
established as a way of trying to preserve the best of
Korean folk life during the rapid modernization that began
in the 1960s. Thirty villages and one hundred sixty-eight
houses were transported to the site from their original
locations, and in addition to the theme park elements, the
KEV took on all the activities and responsibilities of a true
folk museum.
As they entered the park and began exploring the
traditional village sites, Keoki was also very impressed
with the setting. Backed by a range of mountains, with a
natural river flowing through it and rice fields beside it, the
KFV did manage to give the impression of real village life,
in spite of the souvenir shops and amusement areas.
Strolling along, Keoki was surprised by a sudden whiff of
something very familiar, and looked around for the source.
He was even more surprised to see a field of what certainly
looked like mature marijuana plants. Soo Lee told him that
it was a traditional plant used for fiber, but Keoki suspected
someone there had other uses for it.
Keoki found the whole place fascinating, but especially
the more traditional buildings, like the manor house and the
provincial governor's house that reminded him a lot of
some of the Buddhist temples in Hawaii, and like the
farmer's compound with its thatched roofing that made him
think of drawings he had seen of old Hawaiian household
compounds. He was intrigued as well by the Korean village
herbal drugstore, the pottery-making area, and the haunted
house, which were unlike anything he had ever seen.
While they were approaching the performing area,
where the next shaman presentation would be, Keoki felt an
uncomfortable, itchy sensation along the back of his neck
and shoulders. He realized he'd been lightly aware of some
faint kind of pressure on his back ever since they entered
the park, but there was so much else that caught his
attention he'd ignored it. Now it was stronger. As casually —

104
as possible he glanced behind himself, but didn't see
anything unusual, other than an old mongrel dog that
trotted out of sight behind a bush as soon as he looked at it.
The feeling may have been uncomfortable, but it was
familiar. Gramps had spent a lot of time teaching him how
to be aware of very subtle changes in his environment.
changes of airflow, odors, sounds, and visual movement.
And changes in body sensations, especially on the skin. In
one exercise that was repeated many times, Keoki sat or
stood while Gramps moved silently behind him at various
distances, sometimes forward and backward, sometimes
crosswise, and Keoki had to try and tell what Gramps was
doing and how far away he was. In another repeated
exercise, Gramps would still be behind his grandson, but
would only stare at him from time to time, and Keoki had
to be able to tell when that was happening. Keoki also
practiced the staring on other people, and was amazed at
how often people would suddenly turn to look at him.
The feeling now, at the Folk Village, was like the
sensation he had when Gramps stared at him from behind.
Keoki knew that someone was looking at him fairly
consistently, but not so obviously that they could be caught
at it when he turned. It was either because someone thought
him unusually fascinating, or because someone was
keeping tabs on him for some reason related to the case he
was on. He hoped it was the former, but he feared it was
the latter.
By the time they reached the performing arena, the gut,
the shamanic ceremony, was about to begin.
"This will be a chaktu, a knife-riding ceremony, to
demonstrate the powers of the mudang. She will dance on
the knives while she possesses the Knife-Riding General."
That didn't happen right away, though. There were
many offerings presented, including a milky-white rice beer
that was shared with the audience. There was dancing and
robe-switching by the mudang and her assistants,

105
 tional
accompanied by a small Korean band playing tradi
g
instruments. There was a slaughtering of a pig, durin
in
which the mudang bathed her arms and covered her face
the
it's blood. And finally there was the "dancing on
knives."
Actually, it was more like "standing very still on the
knives." The knives were two broad blades that were bound
to a wooden framework side by side and a few inches apart,
whose sharpness was demonstrated on fruit. The
framework was set on a table, and the mudang, already
wearing the robe of the Knife-Riding General, was assisted
to mount the table and very carefully stand on the knives so
that her feet crossed both blades.
At this moment, cymbals clashed, assistants shouted,
flags were waved, the mudang waved her arms and swayed
her body without moving her feet, and the crowd clapped
wildly. Keoki was less than impressed, but didn't say
anything because it might be a lot more dangerous and
daring than it seemed.
He checked his sensations and the staring effect was
still there. He looked around, but there was no way he
could tell who it was in this crowd. Just as he was about to
look forward again, he had the impulse to look back again
and there was the same dog, sitting next to one of the altar
tables and simply staring at him. When his attention was
fully on it, the dog scampered behind the table and didn’t
come out again.
On the walk back to the parking lot he noticed that
there were no other dogs in the Village, and he felt the
same staring sensation several times more. He made a
mental note to ask Tyla about it, but during the ride back to
Seoul he completely forgot the incident and didn’t
remember it until much later.

106
SEVEN: ULAANBATOR
n their return to the hotel from the trip to the
Korean Village, Tyla told Keoki that she had some
business to attend to and would see him the next morning.
After seeing the Interpol agent off as she left in a taxi,
Keoki had a simple meal of pork chops and a glass of wine
in the hotel restaurant, and went to his room. He read a bit
from a Ludlum spy novel he had brought along, and then
went to sleep.
It was not a dreamless sleep. however. He found
himself in a city that seemed very familiar, driving along
streets he knew well, going toward a hotel where he was
living. He parked the car in an empty parking lot behind the
hotel and took an elevator up thirty floors to his room. His
key wouldn’t work, though, and when he knocked on the
door he found that a family was living in his room. When
he tried to take the elevator down to the reception desk it
took him instead to a dark alley where he could hear
something growling. He entered the elevator again and it
took him to the parking lot where his car was supposed to
be, only now it was filled with other cars and he couldn’t
find his. He wandered out to the street on foot, only to find
he was in a different city where people were speaking a
language he didn’t understand. Then there seemed to be a
long series of vignettes that didn’t appear to have any
relationship to each other and eventually he woke up,
feeling frustrated and, for some reason, angry.
Sitting up in bed with the sun shining in his window, he
reviewed what he could remember, wondering about the
areas of familiarity and strangeness, and trying to figure out
what to change and where to start. Gramps had taught him
a long time ago that the best way to deal with unpleasant
dreams was to recall them and then change them.
Remembering Gramps’ frequent admonition to “Keep It
Simple, Shaman,” he started at the beginning and imagined
107
driving the red car to his real apartment in Kapahulu where
Ari was waiting for him with a smile. That made him feel
better, and reminded him that one of these days he was
going to have to ask Gramps for some extended training in
the whole dream thing.
Keoki got out of bed, did the toilet/shave/shower ritual
and dressed in jeans and a dark-red, cotton-polyester Tori
Richards short-sleeved shirt with epaulets and a small,
embroidered Hawaiian sailing canoe over his left breast
pocket. He had five of them in different colors and he had
brought them all, because they were easy to wash and dried
without a wrinkle. It was almost eight o’clock, so he called
Tyla’s room, but there was no answer. Feeling slightly
disappointed, he shrugged and went down to breakfast on
his own. This time he added soggy bacon to his scrambled
egg loaf and bitter coffee.
When he got back to his room there was a message
from Tyla to meet her in the lobby of the hotel with his
bags. When he appeared she gave him a big smile and a
girlfriendly peck on the cheek and led him to the Korean
Air Line bus waiting outside. This morning Tyla was
wearing jeans, like Keoki, with a cream blouse and a lighter
blue cashmere cardigan sweater. She also had on a
different, lighter perfume. Tyla mentioned that she liked the
lemony after shave lotion he used.
From the hotel they went to the airport and checked in
with MIAT, the national Mongolian airline. They wandered
around the duty-free shops for about an hour and almost
missed their flight because MIAT had temporary signs up
and it was a bit confusing.
The plane was a comfortable enough 727, and during
the fairly short trip to Mongolia, which included a lunch of
beef, Tyla spent the time telling Keoki about Mongolian
geography. He learned that modern Mongolia is a
landlocked country roughly the size of Alaska, shaped
somewhat like a bowl of mutton stew with one piece

108
sticking up above the rim on top.
The Altai Mountains, with peaks as high as 4000 meters
(she had to think a bit before translating that into about
13,000 feet) more or less follow the southwestern border of
the country, and a smaller range, the Khangai Mountains,
fill a lot of the center of the country. An even smaller
range, the Khentii Mountains, are northeast of the capital,
Ulaanbator, and extend into Russia. Most of the rest is
steppes—plains—and in the southeast is part of the Gobi, a
mostly desert area that extends into Inner Mongolia,
currently a part of China.
"Hey," remarked Keoki, "we have a couple of
mountains that are about 13,000 feet. Mauna Kea and
Mauna Loa, volcanoes on the Big Island. They even have
snow on them in the winter."
Tyla was truly amazed. "You have snow in Hawaii?"
Keoki pulled out a postcard of Mauna Kea with snow-
covered cones and gave it to her. "Only on those mountain
tops, and only for short periods, but it's beautiful when it
happens. When I was a kid we used to go up to Mauna Kea
in the winter and throw snowballs at each other."
The Mongolian woman just smiled as she looked at the
postcard and shook her head, still astonished at the idea of
snow in Hawaii.
Keoki's first impression of Ulaanbator from the air was
of a city spread out on flat, dry land with hills all around it.
On landing they were met by Tyla's cousin, Cholon, in the
pre-arrival area before immigration control. Cholon was a
policeman, now off-duty, a stocky, rather short man
dressed in simple baggy pants and shirt. He greeted his
cousin warmly and gave Keoki a blue silk scarf to wear
around his neck. The Hawaiian learned later that this was
commonly given to shamans as a mark of honor or
gratitude for some service, and Keoki couldn’t help but
think of how similar it was to the giving of leis in Hawaii.
Then Cholon took their passports and the letter Interpol had

109
sent him, and with the policeman’s help they breezed
through Immigration and Customs without any fuss and
soon were loading their bags into an old Land Rover.
Cholon had a nice smile, but he didn't speak any
English, so on the way into Ulaanbator Tyla explained that
they would be staying at Cholon's apartment on the edge of
town. She also said that her cousin was an apprentice
shaman and that he would be their link to the shamanic
community.
During the drive the traffic was very heavy because of
long lines of cars waiting for gasoline at various stations.
The problem, Tyla told him, was some kind of hitch in the
supplies from Russia. Keoki noticed that almost all the
signs were in letters that looked Russian, except for a few
in a vertical script that didn't look like anything he'd seen
before. His Interpol companion said that during the Soviet
occupation the Mongolian alphabet was outlawed, and their
language had to be written in Cyrillic characters, which is
why it looked like Russian. Since independence,
Mongolian script was legal again and experiencing a
growth in popularity, but so many people had grown up in
the Soviet education system that Cyrillic was still
dominant.
They passed a lot of decaying, concrete buildings, many
rail tracks carrying old trains and trolley cars, a monstrosity
of a building that turned out to be the Chinggis Khan Hotel,
and quite a bit of trash in the streets. The cars on the roads
ranged from decades-old models barely running, to
Mercedes and BMWs. None of the people he saw looked
very prosperous. All in all, it was an ugly city.
There were more modern parts, Tyla said, including
hundreds of Western-style bars, restaurants, and nightclubs,
and a wealthy class of people to frequent them. But there
was also extreme poverty that had to be dealt with, like the
large number of street children who lived in the sewers in
winter. Fortunately, there were more and more

110
 organizations like Save The Children that were coming in
to help with those kinds of problems.
However, Keoki was unlikely to encounter either of
those extremes. The population of Ulaanbator was around
600,000, and half of them still lived in the outskirts of the
city in gers, or yurts. A few of the most successful and
popular shamans lived in fairly nice apartments or even
luxurious gers, but most were what Keoki might call lower
middle class, and those were the ones that she and he would
deal with mainly.
Cholon and his family lived in a block of Soviet-style
apartment buildings at the edge of the city, next to a range
of low, dry hills scattered with ger. Keoki's first impression
of the apartment area was that it looked like pictures of the
worst ghetto you could imagine in the worst part of New
York, except that there weren't as many people hanging
around. Cholon's three-bedroom apartment was on the fifth
floor of one of those buildings, and Keoki quickly learned
that the rickety elevator only worked when it felt like it.
Today it didn't feel like it, so they hauled their luggage up
the dirty stairwells to the fifth floor.
Keoki was shown to a small bedroom that looked as if
it had been recently occupied. It was about eight feet wide
from door to window and about ten feet long from left wall
to right. There were two small beds, one on either side. The
one on the left had a clean coverlet, and the one on the right
had someone's clothes scattered over it.
Keoki put his carry-ons and suitcase on the bed on the
right because there wasn't any other place to put them. To
the left of the door was a wardrobe against the wall with
suitcases piled on it and a rolled-up oriental carpet leaning
_ against it.
More suitcases were stacked on a chest to the right of
the door next to a portable heater. Below the window,
which was in the center of the far wall, was a radiator.
Beside it, on the right, was an old short sword, an empty jar

111
 On the
and bottle, and two full, but dusty, bottles of vodka.
bottles
left was an old radio, an old briefcase, and two more
of vodka.
The window had a white, chipped, wood frame with a
small clock on the sill, along with a couple of smoking
pipes and a young girl's used cosmetic case. The window
itself had a large pane on the left and two smaller ones on
the right on the room side, and a duplicate set on the
outside, probably for insulation in the winter. The view
included cracked and broken roof tiles, the street below
divided by strips of dry weeds, rows of shipping containers
across the street, and rolling hills of dry-green grass with
conical rock piles here and there, a scattering of ger, and
power lines on a ridge.
The floor of the room was linoleum, partly covered by a
red and green rug. The walls were covered with dirty,
peeling bluish-gray wallpaper, decorated with an intriguing
assortment of posters: the Moffats rock group; Miss Greece
from some undated contest; two bathing beauties; and
Chinggis Khan carrying a mouse and a parasol and riding a
lion-dog surrounded by a drawing of Nature with lots of
animals. The room was permeated with the faint,
indescribable scent of human habitation.
Keoki hung his blue scarf on a clothesline that ran from
a pipe next to the door over his bed to the far wall, and sat
down on the coverlet. This, for an undetermined amount of
time, was home.
Shortly after sitting down, Keoki was brought into the
living room by Cholon to meet his wife, Bolormaa, a very
pleasant woman who smiled a lot. He was served a cup of
chai, which turned out to be tea with milk, along with a
shot of vodka served in a small glass, and the three of them
sat and smiled at each other until Tyla, whose bedroom was
across the hall from Keoki's, came in to translate. There
followed an awkward period of polite questions and
answers until Cholon suggested they go for a walk in the

112
 hills before going to register for the conference.
The elevator had decided to work. so Cholon, Tyla, and
Keoki rode it down to street level, with Keoki silently
praying to the elevator gods that the creaky old box
wouldn't fall. After landing safely, the three of them
crossed the street and followed a winding path leading up
into the hills. Very quickly they came to one of the conical
rock piles where Cholon, translated by Tyla, explained
what they were.
"These are called oboo, and there is no translation for
that. They are erected for the purpose of drawing spirits
down out of the sky to help with our problems. That's why
they are made like a cone. Here in this part of Mongolia we
use rocks, and in other places they use sticks."
"So, who decides where to put them?" asked Keoki. "I
see quite a few of them around."
Cholon smiled. "Anyone. You make a pile when and
where it feels right. Some of the most popular ones, where
people have received lots of help or where the need is great,
can get very high, but it's not the height that's important, it's
the act of making it and using it."
"How do you use it?"
"Let's do it, so you'll know," said Cholon.
He had Keoki and Tyla pick up three rocks each from
the surrounding area, and he did the same. The he
instructed them to follow him in a clockwise circle around
the oboo while asking its spirit for a favor of some kind.
They would circle it three times, dropping a rock on the
pile each time as an offering to the spirit in thanks for
granting the favor. Keoki didn't know what to wish for, so
he decided to wish that Cholon would become a full-
fledged shaman.
On the second circle, Cholon stopped Tyla just before
she was about to place a rock on the top of the pile. "No,"
he said gently. "Women must never put offerings on top of
the oboo, because the sky gods are male and that would be

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offensive. In the same way, a man would never place an
offering in a hole in the ground because that would offend
the female earth spirits."
When they were finished with the simple ritual, Keoki
said, "I understand about the rocks, but I notice that there's
other stuff in the pile, too, that looks like trash. See, there
are some empty bottles, some pieces of a plastic doll, a
piece of bent metal..."
Cholon couldn't help chuckling. "Is that how it looks to
you?" He bent down to look more closely at the things
Keoki was pointing to, then straightened up. "Those are
medicine bottles," he said, "offerings related directly to
some illnesses people wanted cured. The plastic doll parts
probably represent parts of the body someone wants healed.
I don't know what the bent metal piece stands for, but it
must represent something important to whomever put it
there." He shook his head sadly. "In the old days the rocks
were earth offerings to the sky spirit and the wish was in
the heart. Now some people don't have enough faith and
they want to make absolutely sure that the spirit gets the
point."
They walked uphill for a while after that, making
circles and offerings around two more oboo, before
returning to the apartment to get ready to go to the
university and get Keoki and Tyla registered for the
conference.
On the way to the university, Keoki noticed that some
of the side streets were so pot-holed that driving on them
was like being on an obstacle course. It was strange to see
all the cars weaving drunkenly to avoid the holes, and it felt
a little queasy to be in a car with Cholon doing the same
thing. Keoki also noticed that driving in this place seemed
to be a dangerous sport. There were many near misses,
lanes were apparently optional, and crosswalks were
targets. Pedestrians were not only at risk; it seemed to the
young Hawaiian that drivers actually speeded up and tried

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to hit them when they dared to cross a street. At one point
the Land Rover jounced wildly when they ran over an open
manhole, and Tyla said that she had been hurt once when
she stepped on a manhole cover that tipped and she fell
down into the sewer.
The World Shamanic Education Group registration
office was in chaos, but Tyla managed to get Keoki and
herself registered for the three-day event. Cholon would not
be attending, but he would be available for transportation if
needed. After registering, Tyla took the three of them out
for an early dinner at a decent-looking place called the UB
Deli Restaurant.
Tyla had buuz, small dumplings filled with steamed
mutton, and Cholon and Keoki had khuushuur, large filled
dumplings that were deep-fried and delicious. All three had
airaq with their meal, a very popular drink of fermented
mare's milk that had a slightly acid taste. Tyla explained
that it was made by mixing fresh milk and leaven in a
special horsehide bag and stirring it for a certain period of
time. The longer it was kept, the more sour and alcoholic it
got. Fresh airag, like they'd just had, was pretty mild in
taste and only slightly alcoholic, but old airag could have
as much alcohol as strong wine. All airag was supposed to
be good for your health.
From the restaurant, they went back to the apartment
where Bolormaa served them chai and vodka and Keoki
lost a game of chess to Cholon. Tyla went out somewhere,
and since there was no conversation without her, Keoki
spent the rest of the evening reading his spy novel in his
room
The next morning Keoki woke up early to a rainy and
overcast day. From his window he watched the
neighborhood milk delivery in the form of a dump truck
full of people who dropped off gallon cans of milk at
various apartments.
Breakfast was served on a table in one corner of the

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small living room where at least two more people slept out
of the seven or eight in the whole apartment. The meal
consisted of chai, bread and butter, and tsuivan, a lamb and
pasta stew. Russian beer in plastic liter bottles and stale
doughnuts were also offered, but turned down. The
television was on, as it always was, and as usual, no one
paid any attention to it.
Cholon got them to the university shortly before the
opening session began and took the opportunity to
introduce them to Baatarsaikhan, his shaman mentor, who
was also attending. Baatarsaikhan, whose name meant
"Peaceful Warrior," was a big man in his sixties with a
warm demeanor, wearing a gray-brown deel, robe.
According to Cholon, he was also very well known
throughout the country. He, then, introduced Keoki and
Tyla to Oyunbileg, an attractive woman in her forties
wearing a long dress and a short jacket who turned out to
be a famous and powerful shamaness. Although
Baatarsaikhan did not speak English, Oyunbileg did. When
she found out that Keoki was a shaman from Hawaii she
became very interested in him.
At the opening session there were a lot of speeches, a
note from the president of the country, a supposedly
shamanic musical presentation, and more talks. After a
lunch break the real sessions began in a tiered-seating
classroom, mostly dull presentations by scholars who were
studying various forms of shamanism around the world.
One exception was a lively presentation on Greenland spirit
carvings that Keoki found fascinating. A very strange
element, from Keoki's point of view, was that all the
presentations had to be in English, even though there were
only two native speakers of English at the conference,
Keoki and a scholar from an American mainland
university. Sometimes it was almost painful to hear a
presenter struggling to give his talk in terribly distorted and
broken English, but Keoki learned that English was the

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 official language for international conferences, so they had
to do it.
At the end of the first day there was a break before the
evening reception, and while Tyla and Keoki were sitting in
a lounge talking, Oyunbileg came over and asked to speak
with him privately.
When they were seated alone, Oyunbileg said, "I need a
healing. I have this sty in my right eye," she pointed to it,
"and I can't get rid of it myself, nor can I ask another
shaman here to do it because of my position. What can you
do?"
Keoki was shocked, but did his best not to show it.
Although he had accepted the label of being a shaman, and
therefore a healer, intellectually, this was the very first time
he was actually being treated as one. And by a famous and
supposedly powerful shamaness, no less. What was he
going to do? Then a wild idea struck him. He had merged
with the personality pattern of James Bond once before in a
sticky social situation. What if he merged with Gramps'
pattern of a shaman healer? Would he be able to do things
he normally couldn't do? If there was ever a time to try, it
was now. So he thought of Gramps, felt how much he
loved him, and tried to feel what it would be like to be him.
Keoki felt an indefinable change come over him,
calming and confident, and then memories of things
Gramps had said that he had barely paid attention to began
forming in his mind. "Are you angry about someone or
something? Perhaps a man?" he asked Oyunbileg,
remembering that Gramps had said that swelling and
redness were usually signs of anger, and that issues
involving men or male symbols usually appeared on the
right side of a person's body.
Oyunbileg looked surprised. "Why, yes! Except that it's
not a man. It's another shamaness who is probably sending
evil spirits to harass me! Can you fight her with your spirits
to make her stop?"

big
 What would Gramps do with a case like this? "In my
tradition we have a different way of working with this kind
of problem. Instead of fighting with spirits we change their
energy so they lose their power. Let's try something first."
When she agreed, Keoki had her take a deep breath and put
all of her attention on the top of her head, then he had her
put all of her attention on her feet as she exhaled. At the
same time, he held one hand near the right side of her face
and his other hand pointing at the floor, and he moved his
attention while breathing in a similar way and holding a
thought of forgiveness. After one minute he put his hands
down and asked her if she felt any difference.
Wonderingly, she said, "Yes, the pain is less. The
swelling is still there, but it doesn't hurt as much. Can you
get rid of the rest of it?
A Gramps memory came up reminding him that some
people needed to be involved in their own healing, they
needed to do something that they felt was causing or
helping the healing. And for some people, if the process
were too simple they wouldn't give it any authority, but if
were too hard, they just wouldn't do it. Keoki imagined his
mind to be a bowl, waiting for an inspiration to drop into it,
and one did. "You need to complete the healing by doing a
ritual," he said. "Find a picture or a photograph of a river
and hold it over your eye for one hour before going to bed,
while saying these words: E ola e, e ola e, be healed, be
healed, over and over. If you do this you will be healed
completely. Will you do it?"
Oyunbileg nodded, looking wide-eyed and impressed.
At the reception that was given after the conference
talks Keoki had an opportunity to meet quite a few
Mongolian and Siberian shamans, as well as the visiting
scholars and University officials. Only a few spoke English
well enough for conversation, but Tyla was there to
translate. There were also enough pupus, a Hawaiian term
for hors d'oeuvres or snacks, to take care of dinner. And of

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course there was more than enough vodka and beer for
everyone. Tyla said that several of the shamans had
commented on the strength of Keoki's aura. Keoki noticed
that Oyunbileg wasn't there, and hoped she was okay.
After the reception, Keoki, Tyla, Cholon, and Gansukh,
a politician who was trying to organize the shamans into a
viable political party, were invited to the ger of
Baatarsaikhan, which was in a special park dedicated to
shamanic culture. Because of his fame. Baatarsaikhan was
allowed to live there, but he had to allow the public to visit
his ger from time to time as part of the deal.
For the first time, Keoki was given the opportunity to
see the inside of a traditional Mongolian ger and he was
very impressed. He did not learn until later that it was not a
typical ger, but that didn't matter at the time.
It was basically made of traditional materials, like thick
felt walls and roof supported by frameworks of birch in a
circular form. The felt was dyed a dark red and the birch
was as highly polished as fine furniture. On entering
through the low, south-facing doorway, the visitors were
guided toward the left and given padded stools to sit on
while Baatarsaikhan sat behind a large, intricately carved
desk. The center and right half of the ger were blocked off
with hanging tapestries, and the walls were decorated with
scrolls in Mongolian script and various implements that
were left unexplained. Before anything else, Baatarsaikhan
served everyone a shot of vodka in little copper bowls from
a silver pitcher.
Baatarsaikhan was interested in Hawaiian religion and
shamanism, so he began by asking Keoki about Hawaiian
creation stories.
"Well," said Keoki, "there are actually several versions
of creation, depending on the particular ‘ohana, or family
tradition."
"We have a similar situation here among the different
Mongolian tribes," said Baatarsaikhan. "So the ‘ohana are

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like tribes?"
"Not really," answered the Hawaiian. "Hawaiians were
never divided into tribes. The ‘ohana is really just a family
group."
"Like clans, then."
"No," said Keoki, realizing that-this was hard to
explain. "Clans are groupings of families with a single
leader, but we didn't have that in Hawaii. Originally we had
family groups with a head of the household, but he wasn't
like a chief. We had chiefs later who created a feudal
system similar to the one in Medieval Europe. So we went
right from family groups to a feudal system, without
passing through tribes or clans."
Baatarsaikhan stroked his chin as if mulling that over,
then asked, "What about your family's creation story?"
"My family shares this with a lot of other families, and
it's complicated, but to keep it simple, Wakea, who is
something like a Sky Father, and Papa, who is something
like an Earth Mother, became husband and wife and
produced the islands and the people of Hawaii."
Smiling, Baatarsaikhan said, "That's simple enough.
And do you still worship them?"
Keoki looked startled. "No, that is, that was a long time
ago. Nobody worships them today."
"That's sad," said Baatarsaikhan. "Who or what do you
worship today?" The elder shaman sipped some vodka
while he waited for Keoki's answer.
The young Hawaiian wasn't sure what to say, so he
slipped into "Gramps" mode and the words came easily.
"Hawaii is a land of many religions today, and only a very
few Hawaiians still worship the old gods. Most Hawaiians,
and that includes all those with some Hawaiian blood, are
Christians, and some are Buddhists, usually because of
intermarriage. Hawaiians are also a minority in the islands
today. Some of the Christian Hawaiians will invoke
thethree old gods of Kane, Ku, and Lono in their prayers,

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though." That sounded pretty good, he thought.
"And you, as a Hawaiian shaman, are Christian, too?"
"No," said Keoki. He took a deep breath. "At least, not
a practicing one. I work with the spirits of land, sea, air.
and people, but as friends, not as a worshipper."
"So you do believe in spirits," said Baatarsaikhan.
"Of course. Well, it isn't really a matter of belief. I don't
have to believe in air to breathe it. The spirits are there, all
around us, even the spirits of the ancestors. As my
grandfather says, everything is alive, aware, and
responsive, and the spirit is more important than the form."
A part of Keoki was surprised to hear himself say this, and
even more surprised to realize that it was how he really felt.
"So you heal with the help of spirits?" asked
Baatarsaikhan.
"It's the only way," said Keoki, rolling with the
"Gramps" mode now. "If you use herbs, you work with the
spirits of the herbs; if you use medicine, you work with the
spirits of the medicine; if you use massage, you work with
the spirits of the muscles, and organs, and bones."
Baatarsaikhan laughed. "I like that!"
"And what about your religion, and shamanic
practices," said Keoki quickly. "Can you tell me about
them?"
"It's complicated," said Baatarsaikhan, laughing again,
"but I'll keep it simple." First, though, he poured everyone
another shot of vodka from the pitcher. When everyone had
drunk theirs, he poured them another to sip on and began to
speak. "We, too, have our Sky Father, Tenger Etseg, and
our Earth Mother, Gazar Eej. All of our rituals start by
invoking those two, plus the ancestors. Everything that
happens in the sky, like weather and lightning, and
everything that comes from the sky, like meteorites, is
attributed to Tenger. And everything that is of the earth
comes from Gazar. In addition to those two, we worship
and call upon ancestor spirits, who often take up residence

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in rocks and other natural objects. Then there are a great
many sky spirits, ¢enger, and earth or nature spirits, for
which we have many different names."
"Do you work with animal spirits?" asked Keoki.
"Oh, yes," said Baatarsaikhan. "Some of them, like
Bear, and Wolf, and Eagle, are even considered ancestors.
And you?"
"It's very similar with us. Only our most common
ancestral animal spirits are Shark, Owl, and Lizard." Keoki
remembered something from a recent dream. “Do you
know what a snow leopard is?”
The older shaman looked surprised. “Of course. They
are an endangered species here and in Siberia. A very
powerful animal spirit, too.”
“And a zayaan?”
This time Baatarsaikhan looked intrigued. “A very,
very special helper spirit that few even know about. Where
did you hear that term?”
“In a dream,” said Keoki. “I, uh, we work a lot with
dreams.”
"We seem to have a lot in common, then," smiled
Baatarsaikhan, thinking that there was a lot more to this
young Hawaiian shaman than there first appeared to be.
The small group continued to discuss the similarities
and differences between Mongolian and Hawaiian
shamanism for another couple of hours, interrupted only by
a brief, impassioned statement by Gansukh for the
necessity of political organization to preserve their
shamanic heritage, to which Baatarsaikhan seemed to listen
like an indulgent parent. Then it was time for another shot
of vodka before the guests went home.

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 EIGHT: MORE VODKA
he next morning, all Keoki could remember of his
dreams was that there were a lot of animals in
them, including a snow leopard and a hawk. He lay in bed
for awhile, trying to recapture more detail, but nothing
more would come back. By the time he got up the sky had
lightened some more, yet it was still early, so he used the
bathroom and returned to his room, dressing in his usual
jeans, and another one of his Tori Richards shirts, a green
one this time.
Tyla, wearing jeans and a gray sweater over a blue
blouse, knocked on his door to tell him breakfast was
ready. This time it was chai and oatmeal and some slices of
cucumber.
As soon as Keoki and Tyla got out of Cholon's car at
the university, Oyunbileg came bustling up with a big smile
and bright eyes, dressed in her daily robe. She praised
Keoki as a most powerful shaman, loudly enough for
everyone to hear, and then she gave him a white scarf and
pressed a 1000 tugrik bill into his hand. Her eye was
completely healed, and she seemed very happy at the fact
that it had taken her most of the previous day to find a
photograph of a river to put over her eye.
When Keoki found out that white scarves were only
given to powerful shamans he felt very proud, but when he
learned that the money she gave him was only worth about
US$2.50, he was a bit deflated. Cholon had to explain to
him later that in the context of the Mongolian economy,
that was a very high payment for a healing, and that paying
shamans for healings and readings was standard practice.
He was also told that very few shamans earned their living
from shaman practice. Baatarsaikhan was an exception
because he was part of a government cultural program, and
Oyunbileg had retirement money from her career as dancer.
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He himself, Cholon said, would keep his job as a policeman
even after he attained the full status of a shaman.
The most interesting session at the conference that day
was one on women in shamanism and the androgynous
elements in many forms of shamanism. Keoki was
reminded of Kanaloa, the ancient spirit of the ocean, who
was often represented as an androgynous being—both male
and female—in many of the South Pacific islands. He also
remembered that the four healing spirits of the stones at
Waikiki, who had been so immensely useful during the
Nazra adventure, were considered to be androgynous in
some legends.
Lunch consisted of potato salad, lamb's tail soup, and a
Mongolian kind of "Loco Moco," which was a hamburger
patty with an egg on top served over a bed of rice and
cabbage. The luncheon was sponsored by a company that
made Mongolian hats, and each of the conference attendees
were given one as a gift. All of the hats were different, and
the Hawaiian learned that there were many more styles in
use than the ones demonstrated by the company. The one
Keoki got was made of a yellow cordurouy material on top,
divided into six sections by golden cords, and topped by a
kind of tower made of gold damask. It had four raised flaps
made of velvet on the inside, and a gray, silk-lined interior.
It was quite comfortable to wear, and Keoki liked the soft
feel of the velvet-lined flaps, but it didn't go well with
regular clothes.
When the sessions were over, Oyunbileg announced
that Keoki, Tyla, Baatarsaikhan, and Cholon were all
invited to her place that night for a party.
That afternoon, at Cholon's apartment, Keoki was
requested to do some readings for several people who came
to visit. When he asked Tyla what this was all about, trying
to suppress his panic, she asked Cholon, and informed the
Hawaiian that this was expected of him in his role as a
shaman and a guest. Keoki suddenly realized that taking on |

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 the role of a kupua, a shaman, in Mongolian society meant
taking on the kuleana, the responsibilities, that went with it.
After a few moments of rapid thinking of what to do, he
remembered the stones that Gramps had given him, and
went to his room to get them. He opened his suitcase and
dug through his clothes until he found the tan leather bag
with the seven stones in them and poured them into his
hand. Just rocks, a part of him said. Stones have stories to
tell, if you know how to read them, said a memory of
Gramps' voice. He sighed, and tried to remember what
Gramps had told him about reading the stones as he poured
the seven rocks back into their bag. pulled the thongs tight
to close it, and turned toward the hallway.
On his return to the living room Keoki saw that Cholon
had set up an incense burner on a small table next to the
coffee table. The apprentice used a brass bowl about four
inches high and three inches wide that was sitting on tripod
legs and filled with ash. From a special pouch, Cholon took
a small spoon, and from the same pouch he ladled out
powdered incense onto the ash in the bowl in the form of a
circle, leaving a small gap. After Cholon lit the incense,
Keoki closed his eyes for a few moments to get into
"Gramps" mode and began the readings, surrounded by the
smell of sandalwood.
The first reading was for a woman who was a friend of
Bolormaa, Cholon's wife. She was a plain woman in a plain
dress with a nervous habit of partially covering her mouth
with one hand whenever she spoke. All she said at first was
that she was worried about her daughter. Keoki emptied the
bag of stones into his left palm and covered them with his
right hand. Composing himself by taking a slow, deep
breath, and suppressing any thoughts of doubt, he mentally
asked for an image related to the daughter's problem, shook
the stones, and cast them onto the coffee table. He gazed at
them for a few moments, and rather than a clear image, he
got more of a feeling that he shared with the others.

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Keeping connected with the "Gramps" mode as strongly as
he could, he simply stated his feelings as a fact, without
worrying about whether he was right or wrong. "Your
daughter is in a situation where she feels blocked in every
direction, and doesn't know how to get out of it." Right
after he said it, part of him wondered how he could make a
statement like that with such confidence.
The mother nodded her head emphatically, and said
something rapidly to Bolormaa, who asked Tyla to
translate. "That's exactly what is happening. My daughter is
going out with a crowd of young people who have no
respect for the proper way to live. She wants to leave them,
but is afraid they will get angry with her." Keoki tried to
hide his surprise. The woman looked directly at Keoki and
said something that Tyla translated. "Can you help her?"
Help her? What do I do now? Then Keoki remembered
two things, almost at the same time. One was a statement
Gramps had made on the phone to the effect that if you
didn't have a ritual handy, make one up on the spot. And
the second was a bit of information about Mongolian
shamanism that he had picked up from his internet
downloads. In addition to working with all kinds of spirits,
Mongolian shamans made, or found, or designated various
objects, called ongon, to serve as "houses" for their helper
spirits, as a sort of favor to the spirits and to keep them
handy for when they were needed. So, even though the
Hawaiian way was to think of the objects as spirits, from a
Mongolian perspective his stones were like ongon, and if
he talked about them like that he would probably be better
understood by the Mongolians than if he tried to speak
from his own perspective.
"I will ask my ongon spirits to free your daughter from.
her situation," he said. Then he let himself feel the pattern
of the stones, and feel the points or areas of tension in the:
pattern. When he sensed that clearly, he said, "the spirits
tell me that I must change the pattern to free your

126
daughter." He moved a few of the stones a little bit, just
enough to ease the feeling of tension, and sat back up. To
his further surprise, everyone present, including himself,
heaved a big sigh, as if something had actually been
released.
The woman seemed very happy, and gave Keoki 100
tugrik plus a little box of candy. At this rate I might earn
enough to buy a bottle of beer for Cholon before I leave, he
thought.
The next reading was for a woman lawyer who wanted
to know if she would win an upcoming case. At first Keoki
tried to explain that the future wasn’t fixed, but even with
Tyla’s skeptical help he couldn’t get that idea across. So,
recalling Oyunbileg's comment about the rival shamaness,
Keoki said that the opposing lawyer was also seeking spirit
help, and that made the outcome hard to predict.. What he
would do instead would be to ask the spirits what the
woman lawyer could do to help her win.
Keoki relaxed, concentrated, and tossed the stones onto
the table. To his eyes, they formed the image of a lop-sided
triangle, with the left end extended much farther than the
right. He had no idea what that could mean, but as soon as
he described it, the lawyer smiled broadly and said, “Of
course! That’s the perfect solution!” She was so happy that
she gave him a blue scarf, a bottle of vodka, and 500 tugrik.
Several more readings were done, all of which seemed
to be accurately related to the situation at hand, and
successfully resolved, at least from the point of view of
those who received the readings. Keoki ended up with two
more blue scarves, two bottles of vodka, and about a
thousand more tugrik.
_ Both Tyla and Cholon were very impressed with his
shamanic skill, but Keoki himself wasn’t. He excused
himself, saying he needed to rest, and returned to his room
to think about the whole experience.
He sat on the bed, holding the bag of stones. Okay, he

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said to himself, J understand the logic of what Gramps told
me, but how does that relate when other people are
involved? It was one thing to accept that his iho was like a
computer, his hands were like the keyboard, and the stones
played the role of the monitor. It made a kind of sense that
he could access data on his own “hard drive” to see existing
patterns that could represent a possible or probable future,
but in doing a shamanic reading, how could he access the
iho of someone else... Good grief! he exclaimed mentally.
Through the Iho Internet, of course! He smiled at his own
strange logic. As long as he was using a computer
metaphor, why not go all the way with it? After all, it
wasn’t like he had never encountered or used telepathy.
He’d done it with Nazra through the tree. He’d done it—or
at least a form of it—when he was searching for his mom
and sister when he got back from Europe. So, when he was
doing a reading for someone else, just thinking of the other
person was like connecting to a telepathic network, then
downloading the information with his hands to the stones.
When he thought of it that way, it wasn’t hard to
understand at all. In the next moment, though, it was almost
as if he could hear Gramps in his mind saying, Don’t
forget, explanations are not truth, they are explanations.
Keoki grinned and shook his head slightly. Good ol’
Gramps. Always there, even in my mind, to knock me off
balance so I can get centered again.
Keoki emptied the bag of stones into his hand. All right,
guys, what’s in store for tonight? He tossed them on the
bed and looked puzzled. For some reason the pattern
reminded him of a bottle.
On arriving that evening at Oyunbileg's third-floor
apartment in a nicer section of the city, the shamaness,
dressed in a silk gown covered in embroidered scenes of
nature, greeted everyone effusively and gave each guest a
blue scarf except for Baatarsaikhan and Keoki.
To Baatarsaikhan, wearing a dark gray deel for the

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 occasion, she gave a white one, and to Keoki, blue-suited
and white-shirted, she gave a bottle of vodka, which she
said was for sharing. Keoki immediately remembered the
stone pattern he had thrown earlier and smiled inwardly,
thinking that his stone work was getting pretty good.
Gansukh the politican was there, as well as several other
shamans that Keoki was introduced to, but whose names he
quickly forgot. Tyla, who had on a simple, black dress of
cashmere, took Keoki's arm as they explored the apartment.
Oyunbileg’s apartment was richly decorated with
paintings and sculpture, but the center of attention was a
long table full of food. Scattered over the table were bottles
of vodka; dishes and bowls of eetsgil (sun-dried sheep
cheese), wrapped pieces of candy like Keoki had seen at
hotel reception desks in Europe, taraq ( sour yoghurt),
bottles of vodka, chanasan makh (boiled mutton), nainoli
(minced meat rolls), airag (fermented mare's milk) and
bottles of vodka. Keoki experienced the faint beginnings of
uneasiness. His stone work might be getting better, but his
mind work had a ways to go.
After everyone was seated, Oyunbileg showed Keoki
the proper way to open a bottle of vodka. Vodka was
considered by the Mongolians to be "spirits" in the usual
sense, but in addition each sealed bottle was considered to
be an ongon housing a spirit inside that had to be honored.
First, Keoki was told to unscrew and take off the cap. Then
he was given a small knife to cut away the leftover ring.
which was supposed to free the spirit. Next he had to pour a
shot into a small brass bowl, take it to the window, and toss
it outside to feed the spirits of sky and earth. Finally, he
poured another shot into the brass bowl and had to share it
with someone, so he handed it to Oyunbileg. She smiled
and promptly dipped her ring finger into the vodka and
flicked it into the four directions, representing the feeding
of all the spirits of Heaven and Earth. And that's how it
went from then on.

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 Conversation and eating were frequently interrupted by
someone pouring vodka into a silver or brass bowl, handing
it to someone else, and getting flicked with the drops.
When one bottle was empty, which didn't take long,
another was opened with the same ritual and shared with
others. Along with individual sharing there were a lot of
toasts to everything conceivable. The bowls held at least
two ounces, and at first Keoki thought he had to drink the
whole thing each time someone gave him one, but
gradually he noticed that the older shamans were only
sipping the vodka before passing it on, and he began to do
the same thing. Still, he was drinking more than he ever
had, and starting to get a buzz. By this time also, no one
who opened a new bottle even bothered to take the first
shot to the window. It was still given to the spirits, but that
was done by simply tossing it into the air above the table.
And most of the time no one bothered any more to do the
finger flicking.
The emotional energy was high, and perhaps that was
why he wasn't feeling the effects as much as he might have,
but he was glad nevertheless when the last bottle on the
table had been opened and emptied. Then he almost
groaned out loud when three people at the table reached
underneath it and pulled out more bottles of the fiery liquid.
After a while, Oyunbileg started singing some songs,
and other shamans shared chants. When Keoki was asked
to do something, he picked E Moemoea, a variation on the
chant, E Ala E, written by Pualani Kanaka'ole Kanahele,
that Gramps had taught him:

E moemoea
Ka lai ke komohana
I ka moana,
Ka moana hohonu
Hele iho I ke kai

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 Ke kai pahiwa
I ke komohana
Aia kala
E moemoea

Dream a good dream

The sun is in the west
Toward the ocean
The deep ocean
Descending into the sea
The sacred sea
In the west
There is the sun
Dream a good dream

Everyone claimed to be very impressed with the chant

and with his voice.
Keoki had noticed another ritual going on between
different people at different times, almost casually, since
the beginning of the party. Every once in a while, someone
would pull out a little bottle, like a small perfume bottle,
that looked like it was made of carved jade, or silver, or
some other substance. The person who pulled it out would
hand it to another as if he were going to shake hands,
holding up the elbow of the offering hand with his other
hand. The one receiving would usually take it and unscrew
the top a bit, take a whiff, and then take off the cap, which
held a little spoon, sprinkle something on the side of his
hand, and sniff it up his nose. Sometimes, though, the one
receiving would merely sniff the bottle and hand it back.
When Keoki asked Baatarsaikhan about it, he was told that
this was a traditional form of greeting, although not limited
to that. The little bottles held snuff. which some people
liked and some didn't. But if you were handed a bottle, the
polite thing to always do was to take an-appreciative sniff
before handing it back to the owner.

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 From singing and chanting the party broke up into
dancing. The older people stayed at the table, but Keoki
danced first with Tyla, and then with Oyunbileg, who was a
very graceful dancer. During their dance, the shamaness
steered Keoki into her bedroom and at first Keoki thought
she was trying to put the make on him, but the door was left
open and other dancers wandered in as well. Oyunbileg
stopped dancing when they reached a large glass cabinet at
the end of the room.
“These are my ongon spirits,” she said, opening the
cabinet doors with a flourish. “I do not show them to
everyone.”
Keoki got the point that she was letting him know that
she was doing him a great honor by showing him her
personal ongon, dwellings for her helper spirits. Keoki
didn't know what to say, except for thanking her sincerely.
The case was full of the most odd assortment of objects,
from plastic doodads, to empty bottles, to figurines of
various kinds, and even a box of liquor-filled chocolates.
Most prominent were eagle figures, which Oyunbileg said
was her most powerful spirit. She said that some of the
spirits who resided here were the spirits of people who had
died tragically, whom she had recalled to heal and to
become healers themselves. Others were the spirits of
deceased shamans who had not passed on to other realms or
duties. Each ongon, really the spirit who resided there, had
to be fed regularly, and different ones required different
food offerings.
As she continued talking, Keoki got the sense that
anything at all could be used as an ongon, once the shaman
had blessed it and willed the spirit to enter it. That part was
still hazy, but the Hawaiian got the general idea.
As final special honor for Keoki's prowess as a shaman,
Oyunbileg removed a ten-year-old half liter of vodka in a
dusty bottle from the case to share with her guests, and
Keoki suppressed another groan.

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 At the table again, with the feasting and drinking
slowed but not stopped, Oyunbileg told the legend of
Hunter-Boy. Everyone got quiet and gave her all their
attention, even those who had heard it many times since
childhood.
"In the Altai Mountains, far southwest of here, in a
place of great beauty, lies the camp of Hunter-Boy. When
he rides his brown pony and hunts to the east he hunts deer.
When he hunts to the west he brings back antelope. As he
travels south he hunts argali, the mountain sheep, and
when he goes north he hunts fox and wolf. Always, though,
he shares his game with the people of the mountain
villages.
"One morning as he left his camp he saw a hawk
carrying away a small white snake, and to his surprise he
heard the snake cry out to him for help. Unable to refuse
such a request made in such a way, Hunter-Boy quickly
strung his bow and shot the hawk out of the sky. Thinking
no more about it, Hunter-Boy went on his way to continue
hunting.
"That night, after having killed and cleaned a mature
roebuck, Hunter-Boy was sitting at his campfire roasting a
bit of meat when the small white snake crawled out of the
grass and spoke to him again. 'Hunter-Boy,' said the snake,
‘your kind deed merits a reward. Follow me and I will take
you to the palace of the Dragon-Master, my father. Beware,
though. Do not accept any gift he offers except that which
he holds in his mouth.’
"So Hunter-Boy got up and followed the snake into the
dark woods, unable to see anything except the white body
of the little snake. After a long time they came to the
Dragon-Master's palace, sitting on the edge of a great cliff.
Once the small white snake had told his father what
Hunter-Boy had done for him, the Dragon-Master offered
the young man anything he wished from any of the one
hundred and eight treasure rooms of his palace. There was

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a great abundance of silver, gold, weapons, and magical
items, but Hunter-Boy was not only the best hunter in the
Altai, he was also wise enough to listen to advice from
someone who should know the right thing to do. So he
thanked the Dragon-Master for his generosity, and said that
the only thing he wished for was the object held in the
Master's mouth.
"The Dragon-Master was very surprised at first, but
then realized his little snake son must have given the young
man some guidance. So out of his mouth he took a small,
round stone and handed it to Hunter-Boy. 'When you hold
this stone you will understand the language of all the
crawling, hopping, jumping, walking, running and flying
things in these mountains, but if you tell anyone what you
hear you will be turned to stone,’ warned the Dragon-
Master."
Around the table nearly all the Mongolians made
various sounds of approval, recognition, or satisfaction at
hearing these familiar words.
Oyunbileg cleared her throat and continued. "Knowing
the languages of the animals helped to make Hunter-Boy an
even better hunter, and so he listened frequently to the
conversations of the animals, especially to those of the
birds. Some time later, on another morning, he heard some
mountain birds say that the tiger king was planning to eat
two children from the nearby village who came regularly
into the forest to gather firewood.
“Hunter-Boy thought about warning them, but he
remembered in time what the consequences would be of
telling them what the birds had said. Instead, he got his
bow and arrow ready and hid in the part of the forest where
he knew the children would go. Finally, he saw the children
come along, picking up pieces of wood as they ambled
along and chatted together. At almost the same time, he
saw the tiger crawling closer and getting ready to spring on
them. Just as the tiger began to spring on the children,

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 Hunter-Boy killed him with an arrow through the heart.
The children bowed to him to express their gratitude, and
on the way back to his camp, all the animals of the forest
came to thank him as well, for the tiger was feared and
hated by all."
The shamaness paused in her story-telling for such a
long time that several of the guests murmured words of
puzzlement, apparently expecting more to the story.
Olunbileg simply smiled and poured some vodka from her
ten-year-old bottle into a silver bowl and handed it to Keoki
as she stared at him intently. When she did speak, it was in
Mongolian, and Tyla had to translate. "This was not the
story of how Hunter-Boy was turned to stone. This was the
story of a hawk, a snake, a Dragon-Master, a tiger, and a
hunter, told as my ongon spirit told me to tell it." She
patted her bottle and would say not more about it.
Someone else began a story about a girl he knew who
went to America and got lost, and was helped to find her
way home by the eagle spirit that all Americans
worshipped. His story was followed by more toasts, more
inconsequential stories and tales of gossip, and finally the
beginning of goodbyes.
It was after midnight by the time they got back to
Choion's apartment, and fortunately the elevator felt like
working. Just before Keoki entered his bedroom, Tyla gave
him a much more than friendly kiss and left her door open
when she went into her room. That left his head spinning
even more than it already was, but he was in no shape for
an amorous undertaking, so he ignored the signals and went
into his bedroom, closed the door, fell on the bed, and went
instantly into a very deep sleep.
_ Dream-Keoki found himself in a thick jungle, his nose
overwhelmed by the heavy, almost painfully sweet
fragrance of flowering vines, underlaid with the sour,
repulsive smell of stagnant water. He was dressed in khaki,
like a big-game hunter, sweating profusely as he cut his

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way with a machete through leafy plants that tried from
both sides to cover up the trail he was following. Behind
him was a group of men and women wearily plodding
along. They wore a wild mixture of clothing that didn't
seem to fit the jungle setting, although they might have
blended in well with the crowd at a heavy metal concert.
Dream-Keoki didn't know why or how, but he knew that he
was responsible for the care and safety of the group, and for
getting them to their destination, wherever that might be.
Suddenly Dream-Keoki heard a scream behind him, and
when he turned he saw impossibly long arms in the process
of snatching the girl in front of the group off the trail and
dragging her into the jungle. Brandishing his machete, he
dashed after her, cutting away obscuring leaves and
branches as fast as he could. The girl was still screaming
and sounding further away as even more leaves and
branches got in Dream-Keoki's way and slowed him down.
Redoubling his efforts, Dream-Keoki was making better
progress when one of those inner world incidents occurred
that Gramps had been drilling Keoki about in their journey
practices.
Dreams are real experiences, Gramps had told him
multiple times, but not all dreams take place in the same
reality. Sometimes realities, or dimensions as some people
called them, apparently had very odd laws of physics and
very weird inhabitants. Nevertheless, Gramps had insisted,
each reality's existence depended on a certain degree of
consistency. And each reality's potential for change
depended on a certain degree of inconsistency. At this point
in such a conversation Keoki's eyes would start to glaze
over and his mind would leap toward a topic easier to
grasp, like what kind of pizza he wanted for dinner. Still,
one point Gramps had made did stick with him. "When you
find yourself in any kind of reality and something occurs
that obviously doesn't fit, that's an opportunity to exert your
will and induce a change."

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 When Dream-Keoki sliced away a palm frond that
revealed a monster standing on the trail with its bloody
mouth gaping wide and its eyes declaring evil intent, his
first impulse was to scream and run back. But in that
infinitesimal moment between impulse and action Dream-
Keoki recognized the creature as being a kind of shark-man
from a movie about a government experiment gone wrong
_ that he had watched very late one night on the Sci-Fi
Channel, and in an infinitesimal extension of that moment
he remembered what his grandfather had told him.
Without taking time for any more thought, Dream-
Keoki willed the monster into nothingness, willed himself
to where the long-armed kidnapper and the girl were, and
lopped off said arms with his handy machete. Green goo
spurted from the creature's stumps and Dream-Keoki heard
a sound that was like a groan and a growl and a laugh all
mixed up.
A figure like a magician in a robe of many shifting
colors replaced the wounded creature. The magician,
however, did not appear wounded at all. He grinned at
Dream-Keoki and turned the girl into a bear. For some
reason, Dream-Keoki knew that he had to focus on saving
the girl, so he turned her back into her original form. The
magician turned her into a dog, then a cat. then a goat, then
a rabbit, and each time Dream-Keoki turned her back. With
another groan/growl/laugh, the magician made the girl
disappear into the ground, and disappeared himself in a
flash of purple light. Dream Keoki tried everything he
could to raise her back up, but he couldn't do it.
On awakening, Keoki went back into the dream,
affirmed his shamanic powers, and vividly changed the
story so that the woman was never taken in the first place.
While Keoki dreamed in Cholon’s apartment,
Oyunbileg cleared the table in her own. She put the food
away with the help of two young girl apprentices, then sent
them off to bed and sat herself down at the table with a

137
bottle of vodka made from mare’s milk. She poured some
into two small silver bowls to the brim and raised hers in a
toast to her last guest. “Ae shargan khousiye, To your
happiness.”
“And to yours, always,” replied Baatarsaikhan, raising
his bowl and taking a sip.
Oyunbileg set her bowl down without tasting it and
smiled broadly. She knew her limits, and she knew that her
old friend would not be offended. “It was a good party.”
“Of course it was. Your parties are always good.”
“The young Hawaiian conducted himself well.”
“Yes, his chanting was a little strange, but his voice was
good.”
“And my story was good.” There it was. The real
subject of this little meeting was now open for discussion.
“Your story was... different.” The older shaman took
another sip from his bowl.
“It was how my spirits told me to tell it.” The
shamaness moved her bowl in a little circle, tempted, but
not ready to give in yet.
Baatarsaikhan smiled a very small and short smile. “Let
us say that. We both know who the hawk, the snake, and
the tiger are. We suspect who the Dragon-Master and the
two little children might be. So the question remains, who
is Hunter-Boy?”
The woman looked genuinely surprised. “How can that
even be in question? He comes from the most ancient of
lands. He is a healer. He knows what he does not know, as
you told me yourself. When will you tell him of his
destiny?”
The man chuckled, finished his vodka, and poured
another bowlful. After sipping it, he said, “Destiny has a
way of unfolding itself with or without my help. The airaq
is still too fresh. Let us allow it to ferment a bit more and
then see how it tastes.”
Oyunbileg looked down at her silver bowl as if it might.

138
have something to tell her, moving it around and around in
a circle. Suddenly she lifted her head and the bowl, saying,
“To a herd of horses.”
“To horses,” said Baatarsaikhan, raising his bowl as well.
And they both drank the rest of their drinks.

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NINE: ORGANIZED CHAOS
eoki rose from his bed after re-working the dream,
feeling groggy and upset even though the dream
work was good. Gramps had told him over and over that all
his dreams were his own dreams, first and foremost,
although they might be about someone else as well.
Nevertheless, it was hard not to start thinking that someone
was really out to get him in the dream world.
This morning there was no hot water in the tiny
bathroom, but Bolormaa heated some in a teapot so he and
Tyla could take turns doing sponge baths in the little sink.
After he was through in the bathroom, Keoki went back to
his room, made notes on his dream, and read Conan the
Usurper, by Robert E. Howard and L. Sprague de Camp
until it was time for breakfast.
When Tyla was through in the bathroom she left the
apartment and took the stairs down to the street level. As
soon as she came out of the building entrance she walked
around the corner, well out of sight of her cousin’s
apartment, and entered the passenger side of a new Toyota
compact that was parked at the curb. She sat silently,
waiting for the driver to speak first.
Two full minutes passed before the driver said a word.
When he did speak, it was with the abrupt tone of a
superior. “Report.”
The Interpol officer took three minutes to deliver a
concise report of her activities vis a vis the Hawaiian. She
included her attempt to seduce him by leaving her door
open the night before.
“He did not follow up on your, shall we say, subtle
invitation?”
“No, sir. I think he was too drunk.” Tyla could think of
no other valid reason. She knew the boy thought her very
attractive.
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 There was a thirty-second pause. “Events are moving
forward as we had planned. Our outside resources tell us
that there is an eighty-eight percent chance that he will be
accepted. When that happens he will be subjected to strong
influences from those who wish to use him for their own
ends. Before then it is vital that you establish a very close
bond with our young shaman, one that will, shall we say,
weather the coming storm.”
“What would you have me do, sir?” She thought she
knew, but she wasn’t going to act on her assumption
without specific orders.
“At the very next opportunity, do not be subtle. Now,
go and do your duty!”
Tyla got out of the car and ran to the front of the
apartment building, then ran up all five flights to the door
of the apartment. Along the way she thought, Well, that
wasn't very subtle. At least the boy is good-looking, and
seems clean and healthy. Only slightly winded, she paused
for a few seconds before going back in. A minute later,
Cholon called her and Keoki to breakfast.
Cholon and his family and the invisible other roomers
had already eaten, so Keoki sat down at the breakfast table
for a morning meal of eggs, beef-noodle-potato stew, and
chai. Tyla came in to join him a little later, smiling
beautifully and looking radiant in dark brown slacks with a
matching jacket and an off-white blouse. They chatted
amiably while they ate. Bolormaa offered them some
vodka. Keoki looked at her unbelievingly, then realized it
was just her normal sense of hospitality. He smiled and
politely refused, as did Tyla. When they were finished with
their meal Cholon drove them through the city traffic to the
third and final day of the conference.
Blue sky and sun competed with swift-moving clouds
to make the morning cool, but comfortable, and traffic was
surprisingly light. The most interesting of the morning
sessions was given by a Siberian shaman who spoke Buryat

141
instead of English. An assistant translated while the shaman
spoke about and demonstrated healing sticks from a
lightning-struck tree, and a quartz crystal that he also used
for healing. At the formal conclusion of the conference,
once the speeches were over, all the delegates were given
paintings of a Mongolian landscape and scrolls done by a
local artist using Mongolian script to form the shape of a
wolf. The final announcement said that the delegates were
invited to a special Mongolian shaman ceremony called
Nadaam, taking place that afternoon on Bogd Khan Uul,
the most sacred of the four sacred mountains surrounding
the city. A bus would be made available to take the
delegates there and back.
"That afternoon" turned out to be just after four pm. By
then the sky had become overcast and a light rain was
falling. All the Mongolian and Siberian shamans had left,
and the remaining delegates, including Keoki, Tyla, and
assorted scholars and visitors, boarded the single bus for
the trip. With its extended hood it reminded Keoki of some
of the old schoolbuses they still used on Big Island.
Although Tyla was familiar with the mountain, she took
the time to find out more about it so she could tell Keoki.
She also said that before leaving, Baatarsaikhan had invited
Keoki to participate in the ceremony if he wanted to. As a
result, Keoki was only half listening to Tyla while the other
half of his attention was occupied with figuring out what he
would do when he was called on to participate. At least, he
thought, he had developed the habit of carrying his kihei,
cloak, his ka'aha, wand, and his kukui nut lei with him in
his daypack wherever he went just in case they were
needed.
Tyla told him that the name, Bogd Khan Uul, meant
something like "Holy Mountain of Chinggis Khan," and it
had been venerated since ancient times. One legend said
that Chinggis Khan had been born at its foot, but
historically it was known that he did set up headquarters

142
 near the base of the mountain after one of his campaigns. In
any case, it was officially designated as a sacred area in the
eighteenth century, and in modern times it became what the
Mongolian government called a Strictly Protected Area.
"The mountain itself is huge." she said, "covered with
cedar and larch forests, with over a hundred thousand acres
set aside as the protected area. The main summit is called
Tsetsee Gun Peak, and it's three thousand feet above the
surrounding land. Baatarsaikhan said that most people think
of it as a guardian at the southern end of Ulaanbator."
The bus took them about seven miles south of the city
center, across the Tuul River, and into the forest along a
road that became a trail and ended in a grassy meadow
where the rain had made it too slick for the bus to be able to
go any further. About a half dozen other vehicles were
randomly parked in the same meadow, and as the delegates
got off the bus they could see small groups of people
walking on a trail that led from the meadow into some
woods at the base of a large, rather steep hill with a big
oboo visible on top. A few people, all men it appeared,
were climbing directly up the hill from the meadow.
Although steep, that part of the slope was mostly grass,
with only a few scattered trees and fallen logs.
Tyla began heading toward the trail leading into the
woods with the other delegates, but stopped and turned
when she realized that Keoki wasn't following. "Aren't you
coming?" She looked puzzled.
The Hawaiian didn't answer right away. For some
reason, Keoki felt a tremendous sense of affinity with this
place, a feeling that was surprisingly similar to what he
always felt at certain mountains, and valleys, and coastlines
in Hawaii. There was something about this place, here in
Mongolia where he'd never been, that felt familiar. It
certainly didn't look familiar. The trees were different, the
grass was different, and even the rocks were different. But
it felt familiar. Then he heard himself saying, as if it were

143
someone else speaking, "Yeah, but I think I'll go uphill
with those people," he said, flicking his hand toward the
ones who were already climbing.
The Interpol officer gave a disbelieving little laugh. She
had already decided that this Hawaiian was a bit weird, but
this was ridiculous. "Look," she said reasonably, "almost
everyone is using the trail, which means that it's probably
the easiest way to get to the top. So come on."
Keoki paused again before answering. Part of the
familiar feeling, he realized, was a sense of very strong
energy. Gramps had been teaching him a lot about ki, a
Hawaiian word somewhat related to the Japanese ki and the
Chinese chi, and about hoaka, the energetic field or aura
that all things had. In terms of energy, the level of ki, or
energetic force, that someone or something had, determined
the density and extent of its hoaka, and the amount of
mana, or influence, it had. And the field of this place was
strong. In addition, although this was an area where he was
still not really comfortable, he felt like the mountain either
was already a friend, or wanted to make friends, with him,
and that it wanted him to go that way. He could refuse, of
course, but why should he? When he thought about
climbing the slope it felt good, and right. "Nah," he said,
"you go on. I'll meet you at the top."
Buddha protect me from idiots! thought Tyla. With a
disgusted shrug she turned away and followed the others
into the woods.
The trackless route uphill took Keoki over a long,
furrowed ridge, through some woods, then up a steep slope
though wet grass and slabs of shale that required a lot of
switchbacking. The smell of the wet grass was combined
with that of wet trees and wet rock. It was longer and
harder than he expected and he wished he had a walking.
stick. Immediately after having that thought, as if the:
mountain spirit had responded to his wish, he found a:
perfect stick lying on the grass right in front of him.

144
 His mind whirled for a few moments with some of the
far-out theories of the relationship between thoughts and
events that Gramps believed in, but he carefully put them
into a back room of his mind for consideration at a much
later date, and continued his climb, stick in hand. It was wet
and smooth, just the right diameter for a good grip. It
seemed easier to climb now, as he made his way over and
around fallen logs and sharp-edged stones. As he neared the
top he heard the sound of many voices.
On reaching the summit, Keoki found himself standing
next to the large oboo he had seen from below. It was made
of sticks and logs, and stood about ten feet high. The rain
had stopped and the clear air revealed a spectacular view of
Ulaanbator and the surrounding countryside to the north.
Turning to the east, he heard and saw a large crowd of
people in a flat saddle between the peak he was on and
another one at the other end. There was a trail leading from
the oboo into the saddle, so Keoki walked down to join the
people below and found that the far side of the saddle had
been set up like an arena.
Making his way to the front of the noisy crowd, made
up almost entirely of Mongolian men and women, mostly
in traditional dress, Keoki saw that the people were
watching a wrestling match, or actually a series of matches,
taking place on a large, bare patch of ground. Although the
majority of the audience was standing, there were a lot of
people sitting right at the edge. At the base of the other
peak a sort of lean-to had been set up and someone in a
strange costume was sitting there.
The wrestlers, all men, wore very strange outfits also,
from Keoki's point of view. Each of them had on a tight,
colorful, very short jacket that left the shoulders and chest
bare, what looked like bikini bottoms, and leather boots.
Before the fight they did a kind of brief dance or warm-up,
and then they met, standing up. After watching several
matches, Keoki realized that whoever was made to touch

145
any part of his upper body to the ground was the loser, and
the winner had to take on the next challenger. The crowd
shouted and cheered at each win, and Keoki thought he
could even see some betting taking place.
Between the short bouts, the wrestlers bowed to the
person in the costume under the lean-to, and the winners
would come up to him and kneel to be blessed. Keoki
shifted through the mass of people to get closer and
realized that the person must be a shaman, but dressed
differently than any Keoki had seen so far. He had an
elaborate headdress of brown feathers that covered his face,
wore a deel, a robe, that had things sewn on it, and he
smoked a pipe with a yellow ivory bowl that looked a lot
like a human skull. He also had a confident air about him
that made him seem like he owned the mountain.
The wrestling went on for quite a while, but the crowd
began to break up when a woman shaman sat down near a
smaller oboo made of sticks and stones in the center of the
saddle and went into a trance and tossed mare's milk into
the air as she began speaking like she was channeling a
spirit. About a dozen people had already gathered in front
of her. Then other shamans who were scattered around
began putting on special costumes of their own. Keoki
figured that the ceremony was about to start and waited for
someone to tell him what to do or where to go. He had his
kihei, cloak, and ka‘aha, wand, and lei all ready to put on.
So he waited. And waited. And waited. Strangely, no one
came. And no one else seemed to be getting ready to do
anything like a large ceremony.
Finally he noticed that all the different shamans were
already doing ceremonial things, but they were each doing
their own things and drawing different parts of the crowd to
themselves. Keoki had to laugh at his own foolishness. Of
course, he said to himself, what else should you expect
from a group of shamans? He had known intellectually that
shamans had no hierarchy, but here was shamanic

146
 organization in its pure, practical, form, being played out
before his eyes. They had gathered in the same area, but
that was as much organization as they needed or wanted.
Sure, he could participate if he wanted to, by doing
whatever he wanted. No one else was going to tell him
what that should be, because no one else had the right.
Keoki watched the woman in trance with her crowd, as
another shaman led his crowd to the large obvo on the peak
and began circling it while chanting, while one shamaness
started blessing her crowd with a horsehair wand and a
second shamaness led her crowd in a circle dance. At the
same time a different shaman walked around with a large
silver bowl filled with mare's milk, offering a drink to
everyone with a big spoon carved with the head of a horse,
and still another shaman—the one from the arena—went
into a wild dancing trance and pounded on a very large and
strangely decorated drum. Keoki saw Cholon assisting the
last shaman and suddenly realized it was Baatarsaikhan!
As it got later it got colder and darker, and Keoki was
glad that some people had started fires. He stood by one
most of the time, enjoying the heat, watching everything he
could and admiring the tolerance that allowed everyone to
do their own thing without needing a lot of rules about the
right way to do it.
Earlier he had noticed two hawks hovering above the
crowded saddle, and had briefly thought in an amused way
that they must be nature spirits taking part in the ceremony,
or at least enjoying it. Now, as he stood by the fire he heard
their cries and became aware that they were hovering over
him a lot, and it felt like they were watching him. He
shrugged as if to shake off that thought. Getting into this
too far, he said to himself, and moved to another fire, and
then another, so he could see as much as he could. He
looked for Tyla, but couldn't find her, then glanced up
again to find only one hawk hovering above him, higher up
than it was before.

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 Idly, he let his gaze sweep slowly over the different
groups of people, and then it got caught by a vision.
In the crowd gathered around Baatarsaikhan, who was
still dancing and drumming, one face was looking at him,
and not at the shaman who was dancing. A woman's face, a
lovely face, a face that made his heart want to soar up into
the sky with the hawks. There was no lust in the feeling,
just a sense of expanding beyond his body. Even the
darkness had lifted, it seemed, still lit by the sun, and not
only by the fires. Just as he felt the impulse to go to her, she
broke away from the crowd and moved toward him instead.
"My name is Solongo," she said as she held out a hand.
Her hair was black and looked soft as silk. Her eyes were
black as well, wide-spaced and large, with galaxies almost
visible in their depths. Her skin looked smooth as satin, her
mouth looked delicious, her smile entranced him utterly.
She smelled like fresh flowers. "And you are the Hawaiian
shaman that everyone is talking about." Around her slender
neck was a leather thong on which a single feather hung,
the feather of a hawk. Lani might have considered this
significant, but Keoki was oblivious to any connection with
the hawks overhead. Her robe was brownish gold, with
some kind of faint pattern in it. She wore a belt of dyed
leather links that emphasized her narrow waist and hips.
"You do speak English, don't you?"
“Uh, oh, yes.” Keoki felt as if he had been snapped out
of a trance. “And so do you, very well. My name is George,
but you can call me Keoki. It’s like a nickname. ” He shook
her hand and knew he would be happy holding onto its firm
softness for a long, long time. However, she withdrew it
gently, smiling, and the last bit of sunlight seemed to grow
brighter for a moment before it disappeared.
“Thank you, Keoki,” said the woman, with a trace of a
smile still on her full lips. “Baatarsaikhan is my father. You
seem to enjoy his perfomance.” In her mind she was
thinking, He's so young. How could he be the one? And his’

148
 huch, his spiritual energy, is like a bright, white cloud. I
cannot even see his setgel, his focal point, within it. How
very strange.
“Uh, yes. I’m fascinated by it.” He glanced at the
dancer. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Baatarsaikhan
was now drumming vigorously, his knees bent deeply and
his head hanging low as if he were looking at something on
the ground.
Solongo looked surprised. “But you are a shaman.
Don’t you do trance dancing?”
Part of Keoki’s mind was trying to figure out how this
woman—or girl, he wasn’t sure about that—appeared so
much more clear than the other people around them, even
though the sun had gone down. “Well, no, not like that. Our
dancing gets us more fully into the present moment. And
our drumming serves the same purpose. If we want to do a
journey trance, we just, uh, turn our mind in that direction.”
He knew the terms he had to use, even though they didn’t
quite seem to fit what he and Gramps did when they went
to the inner world.
“How different,” mused Solongo. As she turned back to
look at her father, her skirt swirled gently against her legs
and brought Keoki’s attention to her elaborately
embroidered boots. She turned back toward him and said,
“And how do you give energy to your horse?”
Keoki’s eyes snapped back to her face. “My horse?”
“Yes,” she said, looking straight at him. “That’s what
my father is doing now with his drum. He is riding his
horse in the spirit world, and the drumming gives power to
his horse.” How can this boy really be a shaman?
The Hawaiian was so entranced by Solongo’s face that
he almost forgot what she had just said. “Oh,” he recovered
quickly, “I thought he used the drumming to go into trance.
Anyway, sometimes we use animals in our journeys, and
sometimes we don’t. And they generally give us energy if
we need it, not the other way around.”

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 “Curiouser and curiouser,” she said, as if quoting
something. “Like you, we go into trance just by turning our
mind in that direction, but we use our horse to travel in the
spirit world.” She paused a moment, cocking her head to
the side in a way that reminded Keoki of a bird for some
reason. “What do you do if you encounter an animal that
bars your way, like a growling wolf, for example.” This
will tell me something about his ideas of shamanic power.
Keoki couldn’t help chuckling as he remembered
something Gramps had said about that. “Well, my
grandfather told me that if you meet an animal that bares its
teeth at you, first you smile back. If that doesn’t help, you
keep moving forward, and if he tries to eat you then you let
him do it, go on through, come out the other end, and keep
on going. When you are in the inner world, he told me, it’s
your world, and nothing has the right to keep you out.”
“I think I would like your grandfather,” laughed
Solongo. That was very good. Maybe there is some
potential here.
The sound of her laughter felt like snowflakes on
Keoki’s skin. “I think he would like you, too,” he grinned.
A flash of fantasy showed a scene of Gramps giving her a
big hug.
“And if you meet a more powerful shaman?” J can feel
some kind of unfriendly presence. Not close, but...
interested in this boy. I hope he has more hiimori,
windhorse, than he seems to have.
Very seriously, drawing on his grandfather’s teachings,
Keoki replied, “It’s your world. No other shaman can be as
powerful as you in that world unless you give him that
power.”
Solongo seemed about to say something more, but at.
that moment Tyla walked up and linked her arm to Keoki’s:
in a decidedly possessive way. “I’ve been looking all over
for you, Keoki,” she said, startling him by the use of his.
nickname. Then she turned to the other woman and said in.

150
the most neutral tone Keoki had ever heard her use,
“Hello.” So who is this? Someone to watch, I think.
As soon as she had reached the saddle Tyla had looked
everywhere for Keoki, searching through the crowd from
one end of the area between the peaks to the other, but had
not seen him anywhere. A moment ago, she had noticed
this woman, standing out in the crowd in spite of the
growing darkness, and only then had she seen the Hawaiian
next to her. She had felt an odd shiver, almost like fright,
which bothered her, and sensed danger to her purpose,
which bothered her even more, so she had immediately
stepped forward to claim her “property.”
Baatarsaikhan’s daughter smiled and held out her hand.
“Hi, I’m Solongo. We’ve just been talking about the
differences between Hawaiian and Mongolian shamanism.”
Hmm. Someone to watch, even though she is not the
unfriendly presence Ifelt before.
“How nice. I’m Tylanni.” Tyla shook Solongo’s hand
briefly. “I’m Keoki’s girlfriend,” she added pointedly. Ger
that, girl? It means 'keep away.’
“How nice,” said Solongo with another smile. Strong
woman. Connected to some kind of authority. A helper or
an obstacle? We shall see. “| hope you enjoy the rest of
your evening together. I’m sure we’ll all meet again.” With
that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd and the
darkness. Keoki missed her already.
Tyla brought him back to the present with a tug on his
arm. “Come on, Keoki. Half the crowd has left and we
have to get back to the bus.”
Startled again, Keoki looked around and saw that it was
true. Even Baatarsaikhan and the other shamans were gone.
How had the time passed so quickly?
His Mongolian “girlfriend” led him back down the path
through the woods, talking all the while to keep his
attention on her. She said that there would be a final

151
gathering at the home of one of the shamans in the hills just
north of the city.
Two hours later they were guests at another shamanic
feast, and this time Keoki was very careful to do no more
than sip from the many bowls of vodka that were served
over and over. They were outside, in a large compound
with tables of aromatic food and benches and chairs filled
with shamans of both sexes eating and drinking and
laughing and talking. Everyone had been given a blue scarf
on arrival. Keoki felt very good at being included in the
group with such friendliness.
After a while different shamans got up to tell jokes,
relate stories, or do a chant, and finally Keoki was asked to
present something. Fortunately, he was already prepared
just in case something like this would happen, so he put on
his kihei and held his wand, stood up in front of everyone,
centered himself, and chanted E ‘Jke Mai, composed by
Mary Kawena Pukui, in o/i style complete with gestures:

I luna la i luna
Na manu o ka lewa
TI lalo lai lalo
Na pua o ka honua
I kai lai kai
Na i’a o ka moana
Iuka lai uka
Na ulu la’au
Ha’ina mai kapuana
A he nani ke ao nei!

Above, above,
The birds in the sky
Below, below,
The flowers of the earth
Seaward, seaward,
The fish in the ocean

152
 Inland, inland,
The trees of the forest
Here is my story,
Oh how beautiful is this world!

After Tyla translated there was a great deal of clapping and

much admiration for Keoki’s voice. Many expressed
amazement at his gestures, which were so unlike what the
Mongolians were used to in their chanting.
The evening ended with a few more songs and stories
and then Cholon, who was also there, drove Keoki and Tyla
home.
In his own room, Keoki was feeling happy and a little
buzzy as he undressed and slipped under his sheet and
coverlet, wearing nothing as usual. He was already dozing
when the sound of his door closing woke him up. When he
opened his eyes, Tyla was standing next to his bed, wearing
a short, silky-looking black robe. As soon as she knew he
was looking at her, she gave him a big smile, loosened the
belt of the robe, and let the garment fall to the floor. If
Keoki had been standing up also, his jaw would have
dropped just as far, because she was stark naked. “I think
it’s time to take this boyfriend/girlfriend thing to the next
level... Keoki,” she said as she crawled into bed with him.
The last thing he remembered before he stopped thinking at
all was that she not only looked really good, she felt really
good and smelled really good, too.
Much later that night, in another part of the city,
Baatarsaikhan asked his daughter what she thought of the
young Hawaiian shaman. “Very young and inexperienced,”
she said, “with great power that he doesn’t even realize he
has. And powerful helper spirits around him, but I can’t tell
if they are of Sky or Earth.” She paused for a moment, as if
seeking the right words for her next comment. “Most
strange of all, I can’t read him. He isn’t hiding anything,
but when I try to look at his spirit all I see is a gray mist. In

153
any case, the next few days should tell us if he’s the one.”
“I like him,” said the older shaman, “but you are right.
We must wait and see.. If he is the one, there will be others
who will want to be involved, and we will not be able to
prevent them.”
“I know, but as long as I am with him he will not be in
danger.” This last was said without the slightest trace of
either doubt or arrogance.
Baatarsaikhan smiled at his daughter. So confident of
her shamanic powers, and rightly so. However, there was
more to be concerned with than rival shamans. “You will
all be in danger when you cross the border, should it come
to that.”
“You are right about that, father,” said the young
woman. “Should this Hawaiian prove to be the one and we
do cross the border, we will have to bring more
conventional protection with us as well.”
Shifting to a more comfortable position in his chair,
Baatarsaikhan asked, “What do you have planned for
tomorrow?”
“A tree ceremony, in the forest. If the boy is what he
seems to be, something will happen there to support it. I'll
want you to be part of it, father." She patted his arm
affectionately. "If nothing happens, then we will have
nothing more to do with him and we wait for another. The
signs, however, indicate that something will happen, but I
cannot tell what that will be. If it does happen, and if it is
significant enough, well prepare the next test.”
“Of course. And what about the girlfriend?”
Solongo smiled mysteriously. “Ah. She is not what she
seems to be at all.”

154
 TEN: THE FAMILY TREE
he day began overcast and cold and rainless.
Remembered wisps of a dream in which he was
attending a party with a lot of Mongolians drifted through
Keoki's awareness in the state just before waking. In the
dream, someone gave out brochures that manifested prizes,
and the one he was given produced a silver ring that was set
with garnets. Then, with a suddenness that made the dream
disappear like a blown-out candle, Keoki remembered
vividly who had shared his single bed for most of the
previous night, and all that they had done together.
His body responded so strongly to these memories that
he sat up quickly on the edge of the bed until he was able to
calm down a bit, letting his blanket fall away so he could
feel the cold and taking deep. slow breaths with his
attention on the details of the room, including the fact that
his bed-partner was no longer there.
With his body somewhat more relaxed. and his mind
somewhat more clear, Keoki guided his thoughts into
memories of the previous night that had less to do with the
incredible sensual pleasure that had been gifted to him. The
young Hawaiian was not inexperienced with women, so he
had a basis for comparison that let him acknowledge the
fact that Tyla was very highly skilled in the art of
lovemaking. At the same time, that basis provided him with
the insight that, in spite of her physical skill, the whole
experience was part of a calculated plan. When this idea
came forward, Keoki couldn't help thinking of Marta, the
Swiss call girl/assassin who had used him for her own
pleasure without regard to his. Tyla seemed to be doing the
opposite: doing her very best to pleasure him without
regard to her own.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized how
much of a set-up it seemed. Things had been just
155
 cover, until
companionable, in keeping with their supposed
and open
that sudden, surprising, more-than-friendly kiss
the same
door invitation the other night. Then things were
his room and
as usual until last night, when she entered
th and
jumped his bones without any signs of growing warm
expe rien ced in
passion beforehand. Keoki wasn't very
and this
worlds of intrigue, but he did read a lot about them,
owing
kind of behavior fit the pattern of someone foll
orders.
But why? He was supposed to be here to find out about
a missing artifact, and getting acquainted with the local
shamans seemed like a logical part of that, but why did
someone think it was necessary to seduce him? To bind
him to Tyla more closely? What for? What else was going
on? What was really expected of him? And how was he
supposed to act toward Tyla now?
While all of this ruminating was going on in his mind,
Keoki took his body through the motions of shaving,
washing, and dressing, so that when the call to breakfast
came he was sitting on his bed and ready for whatever the
day would bring. Before leaving his room he took a
moment to adopt a mode from a Mel Gibson movie he'd
seen: warm, friendly, and non-committal.
At the simple breakfast of beef stew and chai Tyla was
all friendly smiles and little touches. Their first little hug
and peck on the cheek had been in keeping with the polite
form of public displays of affection, but Tyla was now
moving more fully into the part of a girlfriend in love, so
Keoki decided to stay with the role he had chosen until he
could learn more of what was behind the scenes.
As Bolormaa was taking away the breakfast dishes,
Cholon said through Tyla, “Oyunbileg is going to pick us,
all up at eleven to go to a tree ceremony.”
“Okay,” said Keoki, “what’s a tree ceremony?” He:
looked at Tyla, but she just shrugged as if she didn’t know,
either.

156
 With Tyla’s help, Cholon tried to explain. “Trees,
forests, mountains, streams, and rocks are the home of
gazriin ezren, nature spirits. Some of them were once the
souls of human beings. An especially beautiful or large tree
would be the home of a former shaman, and it can offer
_ great help if you honor it, or great harm if you insult it.
Oyunbileg is taking us to a famous tree in the mountain
_ forest northeast of Ulaanbator where we will honor it with a
feast, and then it will help Oyunbileg and other shamans to
do healings for the people.”
Keoki almost asked if Solongo were going to be there,
but caught himself just in time. He’d learned the hard way
that when you were with a woman who thought she had
some kind of tie to you, some questions were best left
unasked. Instead, he inquired, “Do you worship the tree?”
When Tyla tried to translate that, Cholon looked
puzzled, and a fast exchange in Mongolian took place for at
least a minute, until Cholon’s face cleared and he spoke
directly to Keoki.
“The spirit in the tree is not a god,” Tyla translated. “It
is simply a spirit with the power to help an ordinary person
or a shaman to accomplish something. It might be easiest to
think of it as a powerful friend who will be more likely to
help if you give him proper respect and include him in your
feast.”
“So,” ventured the Hawaiian cautiously, “I don’t mean
any disrespect, but do you worship any gods other than
your Sky Father and Earth Mother?”
When Tyla translated that for him, Cholon smiled. “Of
course we worship Jenger Etseg, Father Sky, and Gazar
Eej, Mother Earth, in the sense you mean. Together they
are the creators of everything else. Some people call it
worship when we honor the other spirits, but it’s really just
cementing friendships. At least that’s what Bataarsaikhan
says.” Then, to the Hawaiian’s surprise, Cholon asked him
a question. “And who or what do you worship, Keoki?”

157
 For a few moments Keoki didn’t know what to say. All
of a sudden, though, he did. “I worship Ke Akua Nui, The
Great Spirit, the spirit that creates everything in the
universe. I don’t use any formal rituals for that, however.
My grandfather taught me that the most sincere form of
worship lies in thoughts and deeds.”
“I agree with that,” said Cholon, smiling again. “Formal
ritual is useful, but it’s how you think and act that really
counts.” Keoki noticed that Tyla kept a completely neutral
expression as she translated that.
The rest of the morning passed in leisurely fashion.
Bolormaa showed her guests a family album. Cholon gave
Keoki a photograph of himself on a horse, and in return
Keoki gave Cholon a postcard from Oahu of a man surfing
a wave.
The weather had cleared up quite a bit and Tyla had
excused herself to go for a walk, so Cholon invited Keoki
to join him and a friend from the police department at a big
oboo on the hill across from the apartment where they
drank airag and attempted to have a conversation in
Mongolian, English, and Russian with the help of a small
Russian-Mongolian dictionary and the friend's small
amount of English. It was very enjoyable, but not what
anyone could call productive. Cholon had brought a
telescope and through it Keoki could see the Great Oboo at
the far side of the city on Bogd Khan mountain where the
shaman gathering had taken place. After about an hour they
went back to the apartment and got ready for the trip.
Meanwhile, Tyla had made a rendezvous with the:
Toyota driver again. As before, she waited for him to speak |
before she did.
"Report." And Tyla told him about the experiences on:
the mountain, including how she had lost track of the:
Hawaiian until the very end of the ceremony, and the fact!
that she finally found him in the company of!
Bataarsaikhan's daughter.

158
 "Very good. We are moving closer to our objective.
And were you successful in your seduction?"
"Yes, I was."
"And what do you think?"
"He seemed to enjoy it very much."
The driver chuckled. "I should think so. What's next?"
"Some kind of tree ceremony, whatever that is."
"Excellent," the man said, seemingly very pleased.
"Undoubtedly a test. It means they are taking him seriously.
Continue in your role as a lover as well as a colleague. The
next few days will be critical, and things may happen even
more quickly than expected. Go now!"
Oyunbileg showed up just after eleven with her
Mercedes, another car, and a van following. Cholon
suggested that Keoki bring his shaman stuff. Tyla picked
up their gear and they went down the working elevator to
meet her. On a hunch, Keoki brought along his warm
jacket. Somehow, in the hustle and bustle of loading people
and things, Keoki ended up in the back seat of Oyunbileg's
car and Tyla was put in the one behind. Riding with Keoki
were Oyunbileg as the driver with two young girls with her
in the front. Cholon, his policeman friend, and Keoki were
in the back.
The caravan of three cars headed northwest of the city
on very bad roads through hilly countryside, crossing dry
riverbeds and passing through small shack villages.
Occasionally they would see fenced-in pastures with cattle,
yaks, and some very odd creatures that Keoki finally
learned were hybrids. As soon as they were out of the city,
Oyunbileg passed out bags of white, candy-coated peanuts
for everyone to toss outside as they went along as offerings
to the earth spirits.
Once they had to leave the road to cross a grassy
meadow and the Mercedes got stuck halfway across
because it was too muddy. Then everyone had to get out
and push until they reached a different road. Another time

[59
they were crossing a dry riverbed and the van got in
trouble, so everyone had to help lift it over a steep incline.
A man on horseback followed them for a while across
meadows and through woods until they lost sight of him.
At last they were on a fairly decent dirt road again and
heading higher and higher into the mountains. When they
came to a landmark in the middle of the road—a large oboo
of sticks and logs and automobile parts—they made a sharp
right into the forest itself. When the vehicles could go no
farther they were parked and everyone took their gear and
continued on foot. Tyla immediately took the opportunity
to get close to Keoki again and he gave her a big smile of
welcome.
The forest in this area consisted mostly of larch, a tall
conifer native to northern climes, with a scattering of birch.
Oyunbileg led the party directly to one of the larch trees
that was very large and that had scarves tied around it and
many ribbons hanging from the branches. Like a master
sergeant, Oyunbileg began directing preparations for the
ceremony. While doing his best to stay out of the way,
Keoki noticed that Solongo and Bataarsaikhan had been in
the last car and were pitching in willingly with the
preparations. While others were getting everything ready,
Keoki felt moved to tie a blue scarf of his own around the
sacred tree.
Two big felt mats, measuring about nine feet by twelve
feet together, were laid out on the uneven and slightly
sloping ground in front of the tree, and cloths were laid on
top of them. Along the twelve-foot length opposite the tree
the food offerings were laid out: chai in pots, airag in
unlabeled bottles, vodka in clearly labeled bottles, bowls of
Mongolian crackers or biscuits (which Keoki found out
were very hard and very sour), hard cheeses on plates,
relish in jars, currant jam and raspberry yoghurt in small
bowls, more small bowls of wrapped candy, and lots and
lots of mutton.

160
 Even before things were first being set up, some men
had slaughtered and skinned a sheep and cooked the meat.
When the party had arrived the full skin. including the head
of the sheep, was hanging in a small tree with the head
toward heaven like an offering, and when the feast area had
been prepared the sheepskin was laid down on the ground
facing the tree, in a different offering position. To the left
of the tree, just beyond the feasting mat, a portable stove
was set up, to be used for heating tea.
Seating arrangements were made for the shamans to sit
like presiding officers along the twelve-foot length of the
feasting area on the tree side. Keoki, to his surprise, was
placed in the middle, with the special tree at his back.
Bataarsaikhan was to his far right. then a space was made
for Oyunbileg, who hardly ever used it because she was
constantly supervising something or other. On Keoki's left
sat Solongo, and beyond her was Cholon. Everyone else sat
where they wanted along the edges and the far side behind
the food. Tyla made sure she was sitting opposite Keoki,
but she was still clearly unhappy with the arrangement.
The choicest parts of the food were laid out in front of
the shamans, and they were also given plates of fresh
currants. Each shaman was given a bowl of mutton and a
knife, and Solongo told Keoki that the shamans, including
him, were expected to cut off bits of their meat, especially
the fat, and share them with the other people. Everyone had
their own serving, but the meat coming from a shaman was
supposed to have a special blessing that went with it. Over
the course of the meal, Keoki managed to cut his up and
give nearly all of it away. As a mark of favor, a bowl of
candy was placed in front of the Hawaiian and he was told
the bowl was his to keep. It resembled a white, porcelain,
Chinese rice bowl, about five inches arcoss the top and
narrow at the base. The outside of the bowl had a wide
band of orange, with a Mongolian design in white showing
through. It felt very nice to hold and look at and he

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wondered if Solongo had blessed it.
talk, and
The feast was filled with food and vodka and
for the
more vodka, of course. Finally, though, it was time
, the
actual ceremony, or to put it more accurately
ceremonial activities.
Oyunbileg changed into full ceremonial regalia, which
included a sort of face mask of golden metal ribbons that
hid her features completely. It was only later that Keoki
realized she had merely moved her necklace up to her head.
Solongo whispered to Keoki to follow his own heart, and
then got up and added a cloak with bells and amulets to her
already impressive embroidered green and gold robe. Keoki
stood and put on his kihei, his cloak made from a bolt of
cotton cloth with brown and black patterns in a traditional
Hawaiian tapa style, and got the urge to tie a tuft of grass to
the end of his short ka’aha, wand. Bataarsaikhan remained
seated for the time being.
With the three shamans standing and facing the crowd
of about twenty-five people, Oyunbileg started things off
by exhorting or haranguing the people about their behavior
in their daily life and, according to the whispered, partial
translations by Solongo, including quite a bit of self
promotion. Then those two sprinkled the crowd with vodka
as Oyunbileg gave spoken blessings a mile a minute and
Keoki just vaguely waved his wand around. Oyunbileg then
led a procession of all the shamans, which Bataarsaikhan
joined, over to the stove, with each one of them carrying a
bowl of vodka. As they passed the stove, individual
shamans would sprinkle a little vodka on the stove top and
give some kind of blessing while it sizzled. When it was
Keoki's turn, he sprinkled some of his vodka, waved his
wand, and said, "E ho mai i ka pono no keia po'e manu,"
roughly translated as "Grant good fortune to this group of
people."
The shamanizing began in earnest when Oyunbileg.
stalked off into the woods until she reached a little clearing, .

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 and sent Solongo even further off. The older shamaness
began receiving family groups of people and apparently
started possessing spirits in a way similar to what the
Koreans had done. As each group stood in front of her she
would strike various martial poses and speak to them in
strong tones, as if she were chasing away or exorcizing evil
spirits. At the end of each group ritual she would do a
swirling dance and end by forcefully flinging a small, silver
bowlful of vodka right into the face of the main person in
the group who needed help. Then she would send that
group on to Solongo and deal with the next one in the same
way.
Solongo, meanwhile, had gone into a journey trance,
drumming vigorously on a small drum as she half-crouched
among the trees. Keoki learned later that she was doing the
journey to connect with ancestral spirits of the family group
in order to get advice for them. From what Solongo said,
the trance journeys were only used for this purpose, or for
soul retrieval.
Keoki was watching the whole thing with avid interest,
trying to imprint details on his memory and doing his best
to grasp the whole of what was going on. He was barely
aware of Bataarsaikhan simply standing apart and watching
him.
Standing on the edge of the little clearing, Keoki wasn't
thinking of anything in particular when he got a strong
sense that someone or something was calling him. It wasn't
a voice, but more of a feeling. He lifted his head, looking
around as if to seek the source of the feeling. Instead of a
direction, he was moved to go further into the woods and
wander around, without knowing why. He did notice that
Bataarsaikhan and Cholon were following him closely, but
he was more involved in following the feeling. As he
moved slowly in a large circle he became aware that he was
looking for a tree. At the same time he saw Bataarsaikhan
pointing to one tree and making a questioning gesture.

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Keoki shook his head, That was not the one that was calling
him. The Hawaiian continued walking uphill deeper into
the woods and Bataarsaikhan kept pointing out various
trees, but each time Keoki shook his head. He didn't know
what he was looking for, yet he knew he would recognize it
when he saw it.
And there it was, clearly: a tall larch, bigger around
than the first one, and surrounded by a circle of smaller
trees. Without knowing how, Keoki had the gut awareness
that this tree spirit was one of family harmony, and that this
was what was needed by everyone in the forest. It felt right
to Keoki to do a simple ritual in front of the tree, which he
accomplished by putting his forehead against the trunk of
the tree and inhaling its odor as it inhaled his. Mahalo no
kou mana, e Kumu La'au Nui, Thank you for your mana, O
Great Tree, he said silently. Then he removed the grass tuft
from his wand, stuck it in a small crevice in the bark as a
sign of blessing, and stepped back. Bataarsaikhan
immediately came forward and bowed to the tree, followed
by Cholon. Then all three moved back down to the first tree
and continued with the feasting. Keoki, however, moved by
another strange impulse, stood up a few minutes later,
apparently unnoticed, and asked permission of the first tree
to undo his hadag, his scarf, and bring it up to the second
tree. It felt right to do that, so he walked alone back to the
second tree, bowed to it, and tied the blue scarf around its
trunk. Then he went down to sit with the others, studiously
avoiding any self-analysis of his own actions.
When Oyunbileg, Solongo, and everyone else had
gathered back around the feasting mats, Bataarsaikhan.
announced, with Solongo translating for Keoki, that the:
Hawaiian shaman had found the tree that he, Bataarsaikhan,
had known was there, after having been tested with other
trees. Therefore, Bataarsaikhan said, he was formally
adopting Keoki as his brother. Solongo was very surprised
at that, and told Keoki that it was a very high, and very

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 rare, honor. Bataarsaikhan followed that up with some
kinds of statements or blessings, and then the older man
took an object that had been hanging around his neck by a
worn, blue scarf made into a ribbon, and gravely placed it
around Keoki's neck, as if he were presenting him with a
lei.
Keoki held up the strange, bronze-like object, and
looked at it. About three inches long, it resembled a barbell.
with each end formed into a sort of basket, rather than a
ball. It had been tied very tightly around the middle with
the scarf and a few red threads showed out from the edges
of the tie. It looked like there might be some kind of design
on the center bar, but he couldn't tell what it was and it
didn't seem appropriate to untie it. He turned with a
quizzical glance toward Solongo.
"It's called an ochir, although Tibetans call it a dorje,"
she whispered. "It's mainly a symbol used in Tantric
Buddhism that can mean the thunderbolt of enlightenment
or the diamond of spiritual power, depending on the user.
In what might be called 'tantric shamanism,’ this is a special
ongon, a spirit dwelling which houses a male at one end
and a female at the other, and they meet in the middle to
generate fsog, spiritual power. The red threads represent the
gol, or fire that results from that generation. | am amazed
that he gave it to you. This is truly special."
Keoki was amazed, also, and realized that he would
need to give a very special gift in return to seal the deal, so
to speak. Logically, he couldn't think of anything he had
with him that would be special enough. He had brought
some keychains, but they were obviously just keychains, so
he opened his mind and simply focused on the desire to
know what to give. With a suddenness that startled him, an
image of the purple stone from his casting set appeared. At
first he felt a great reluctance to give that up, especially
since it was a gift from Gramps, but right after he realized
that that was what made it special, and appropriate. All of

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this only took a few seconds, so it did not seem to the
others that Keoki took very long to decide.
He reached into his pack and took out his bag of stones,
emptied it into his palm, and, with Solongo's help,
explained the meanings of these ongon. Finally, he picked
up the last one, the purple one with the iridescence, and
said to Bataarsaikhan, "This holds a spirit from our sacred
mountain, Mauna Loa. With great happiness I give it to my
brother."
Bataarsaikhan took it reverently, touched it to his brow,
then placed it inside his dee’. He was very moved, and
kissed Keoki a lot over the next few minutes, so Keoki
showed him how to honi, Hawaiian-style, with hands on
each other's shoulders and noses pressed side to side while
they inhaled each others' breath. After that, of course,
Keoki was required to bless everyone, which he did by
touching them with his bag of stones, and received scarves,
money, and gifts, including a Dumbo-like porcelain
elephant from one of Bataarsaikhan's sons.
Soon after, Bataarsaikhan led everyone up to the tree
that Keoki had marked, and did what seemed to be a full
ceremony of worship which consisted of a lot of praying,
hand-clasping, and bowing. To Keoki's surprise, he found
himself spontaneously doing the same. When they had both
finished, people came up and added more hadaq, scarves,
and then cloth was cut up by Bataarsaikhan's older sister to
make ribbons for this tree and the surrounding "family"
trees. After that, the mats and food from below were
brought up and another feast began. Keoki noticed that —
Bataarsaikhan had placed a brass incense bowl on a flat
rock that was at the base of the main tree, and when he saw
Keoki watching the older shaman told Solongo to tell him
that he had placed the rock there a long time ago in
preparation for the right person to find the tree.
As sunset drew near, Solongo left the feasting mats to
find a small clear space nearby and did a ceremony with

166
 her drum while facing the sun. When she fell down in a
deep trance, Bataarsaikhan got up and stood over her, using
her drum as a kind of power object to assist the
shamanizing. Keoki felt that the scene was forever burned
in his memory: being in the larch and birch woods in the
mountains of Mongolia while Bataarsaikhan chanted in a
powerful voice as he beat the drum loudly and Solongo
crouched with her arms spread out, lit by the ruby-red sun
glowing through the trees and setting over a distant ridge.
Finally, in the spreading darkness, the party gathered
their things, picked up the litter, and trudged down the hill
to the cars, Keoki and Bataarsaikhan walking arm in arm.
As the cars came out of the woods. they all circled once
around the large oboo in the road and headed back to town.
It wasn't the end of the gathering. though. On the way
back everyone stopped at Bataarsaikhan's sister's house, a
large, rambling, ramshackle structure in an area that looked
like a slum. They crowded into a big living room where
more vodka and food were served and Bataarsaikhan
introduced Keoki as his children’s new uncle. Those two
sat on a hard, rug-covered bench against a wall with a
hunting tapestry on it, and Keoki was induced to give
blessings to Bataarsaikhan's sons and grandchildren. This
time he did that by touching each of them lightly on the
head with his wand while chanting "FE aloha e — Let there
be love."
Just before leaving, Solongo presented Keoki with a
small wand from a lightning-struck tree, and in return he
gave her a keychain of a rainbow with the word Hawaii
under it, which pleased her very much. After that he gave
out keychains with palm trees to Bataarsaikhan and his
sister, one with a hula dancer to Oyunbileg. who was
delighted with it, one with a head of the god Ku to Cholon,
and one with a flowery Hawaiian shirt to Tyla, who gave
him a kiss for it.
Cholon led Tyla and Keoki into his apartment about

167
two o'clock in the morning. Without saying anything, Tyla
took Keoki by the hand and led him into her bedroom,
where they fell quickly asleep after some fast and furious
love-making.
Solongo and Bataarsaikhan went to his ger in the city
and sat up talking and sipping chai.
"You surprised me by making him your brother," said
Solongo. "He must have impressed you very much."
Her father smiled, "Perhaps I did it to keep you from
becoming his lover."
The young woman smiled enigmatically. "So why did
you really do it?"
More gravely, Bataarsaikhan replied, "Because I
recognized him as my brother from a very long time ago,
because he knew where the tree was that I had prepared,
and because his ami soul is very strong, even though I
cannot read it clearly."
His daughter nodded. "I understand that. But I am more
interested in the memories of his suns soul. He has passed
your test, and now he must pass mine. I will have him
brought out to the steppes tomorrow, and we shall see what
we shall see. If he is the one, something even more
significant will happen there."
"Do you have any idea of what to expect?"
"No, that is still hidden from me. But I know that I will
recognize it when it happens."
Bataarsaikhan grunted. "Then tell me about your
journey."
“Weren’t you with me?”
“T was, but my vision and hearing were blocked. I could
sense danger, but I could not see or hear it.” |
Solongo glanced at him without speaking, then drank |
the rest of her chai and sat in silence for a minute or so.
While he waited, Bataarsaikhan finished his chai as well,
and poured himself a bowl of vodka.
When she spoke again, it was almost as if she were:

168
 again in a trance. “There was danger, for the whole group,
but especially for the Hawaiian. Spirits from the lower
world were getting ready to attack us, led by the most evil
shaman I have ever encountered. Behind the attackers,
sitting like generals at a command post, were another group
of spirits, only these were spirits of living men.”
“Did you recognize any of them?”
“No, the... generals, let’s call them, are not Mongolian,
although there is an Asian among them. The shaman might
be Tuva, but he made so many transformations that I
cannot be sure.” Solongo was quiet for a few moments. “I
gathered my helper spirits and we attacked with bows and
arrows before they were ready. Your chanting and
drumming gave us the power to overcome them and drive
them back, but not before some of them were able to throw
spears at the Hawaiian.”
“He was there?”
“No, father, not fully. I was at the border between
worlds where the World River plunges into the lower
world, and I could see his spirit, misty as usual, but it was
clearly him.”
“Were you able to protect him?” Bataarsaikhan looked
concerned.
His daughter laughed shortly. “We did protect the
others at the gathering, but your new brother did not seem
to need our help.”
“Please explain that.”
Solongo poured herself some vodka into a cup and took
a big sip. “Well, the spears from the lower world spirits
went straight toward him, but before they could touch his
aura, lightning bolts flashed out and destroyed each and
every one of them, both the spears and the spirits who
threw them.”
The older shaman looked thoughtful. “Perhaps the
spirits of my ochir that I gave him are even more powerful
than I knew.”

169
 “And perhaps your drumming added to their power,”
commented the young woman.
Bataarsaikhan raised his bowl of vodka as if he were
toasting an unseen presence. “And perhaps, my dear
daughter, our relative from Hawaii has powers that we
don’t even suspect.”
“If he does,” Solongo said skeptically, “he doesn’t seem
to know it.”
“Nevertheless, I think he’s the one.”
Solongo put down her cup and stood up to give her
father a hug and a kiss on the cheek. ““We’ll see tomorrow,”
she said, leaving him with one last smile.

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 ELEVEN: A LIGHT IN THE SKY
ream-Keoki found himself on the rounded top of a
bald mountain, well above the tree line, one of a
number of such peaks that encircled a deep, darkly forested
valley where a glint of light reflected from the sun shining
out of a clear blue sky revealed a hidden lake or pond.
Directly in front of him was a steep, wide swath of scree
that extended part way into the forest, but not as far as the
body of water. In spite of the sun, he was chilled by a cold
wind that caused his loose clothing to flap noisily. He
barely noticed that he was dressed for winter, in leather,
fleece-lined boots, pants, jacket and a Mongolian-style hat
with ear flaps, because the wind seemed to go right through
all of it to his bones.
Below him, a hawk circled lazily on an updraft,
occasionally calling out with its piercing cry, as if trying to
entice him to descend into the valley below. Regardless of
the cold wind, though, he knew that he really did not want
to go into that valley. It was as if he could see it in two
ways at once. In one way it was only a valley covered with
trees and surrounded by mountains. In another way it was a
roiling, boiling, seething mass of oily, greasy, brown and
black liquid that seemed like it would swallow his body and
eat his soul if he got anywhere near it.
So he ignored the hawk for as long as he could,
accepting the cold and hiding his fear beneath a mask of
indifference, until something happened that forced him to
take action. A dark shadow passed over him and took on
the form of an eagle to his eyes, but so impossibly black
that no detail could be seen. It looked, in fact, more like a
moving hole in the sky than a living bird. While Dream-
Keoki was still trying to see it more clearly, it plunged like
an arrow directly toward the hawk. Skillfully, the hawk
swerved out of the way, but even more skillfully the eagle
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swerved with it. The hawk twisted and turned, dove and
rose, and the eagle kept pace. The small gap between them
was closing quickly and the eagle opened claws as black as
its body in preparation for snatching the hawk out of the
air. Just before the final capture, the hawk folded its wings
and dropped like a stone straight into. the viscous mass
below. The eagle screamed in frustration as its claws
grabbed empty air, hesitated a moment, then dove after the
hawk. Both of them disappeared the instant they reached
the tips of the trees.
"Nooo!" cried Dream-Keoki. Without thinking, he
leaped off the mountain to follow the two birds into the
forest that was not a forest, realizing on the way down that
he was transforming into a bald eagle at the same time. He
felt strong and powerful and determined to save the hawk
from the other eagle.
As soon as he passed the boiling treetops, however, he
found himself on a normal-looking forest floor in the form
of a human again, dressed in hunter's garb. Other things
had changed as well. Although the canopy of trees dimmed
the sunlight, he could see and hear in front of him an
enraged and huge black bear growling loudly and ripping
away at a thicket in which a multi-colored doe was trying
to hide. Dream-Keoki was wondering what he could do
when he suddenly realized he was holding a bow and
arrows. Without a pause, and without considering that
Real-Keoki had never drawn a bow in his life, he fitted an
arrow to the bow, pulled the string behind his right ear, and
let the missile fly to the bear's right foot.
Howling with pain, the bear turned away from the
thicket and turned to face him on all fours, its eyes blazing ©
like red coals. Dream-Keoki shot another arrow and hit the —
bear's right paw. Screaming in a human voice, the bear
charged toward Dream-Keoki with incredible speed, but the
archer teleported behind a tree to the bear's right and shot
another arrow into the bear's side. He wasn't trying to kill

172
 the bear, because he didn't know if he could. He just
wanted to cause it enough pain to distract it and draw it
away from the doe. This he did. over and over again,
stinging the bear in sensitive spots and flitting from tree to
tree further and further away from the thicket. When he
sensed that the doe had escaped, he stopped and set his bow
and arrows down on the ground. The bear, sure of finally
being able to take its revenge. charged the young man with
slavering jaws and fiery eyes. Dream-Keoki waited until
the bear was almost upon him, then smiled and vanished
from its sight.
Keoki woke up feeling very, very good. This was one
of the best dreams he could ever recall. He stretched
happily while still under the covers and there was a knock
on the door. He sat up in his bed and said, "Come in."
Bolormaa came in smiling with his breakfast on a tray,
the first time that he had been served in his room. He took
the tray and thanked her. On it was a cup of chai, four eggs,
and two slices of bread. Before he had finished that she
returned with a bowl of soup with meat dumplings. He was
halfway through the soup before he remembered that he
had gone to bed with Tyla, made love, slept, and returned
to his own room sometime in the middle of the night.
Thinking about it now, he was surprised to realize that the
only feeling he had about it was that it had been very nice.
It was as if something in him had shifted, and a lot of his
habitual fears and self-doubts were simply not there.
Maybe they would come back and maybe they wouldn't,
but it sure felt good now.
After eating, shaving, showering, and dressing in his
usual jeans and shirt, a blue one this time, he joined
everyone else in the living room. Tyla, who had been
sitting at the breakfast table in blue slacks and a white
blouse, jumped up and gave him a hug. a peck on the
cheek, and a big smile. Keoki squeezed her back and
returned the smile, then greeted Bolormaa, Cholon, and two

173
relatives who had stayed overnight. It was a clear, warm
day and Cholon said that they would be going out to the
steppes that afternoon for a picnic. Tyla suggested that they
do some sightseeing in town, but Cholon had work to do,
so she and Keoki took a taxi.
Their first stop was the National Historical Museum, a
massive concrete structure with stone statues and steles in
the forecourt, and a big bas-relief on the face that appeared
to be some kind of heavenly battle scene as far as Keoki
could tell. Since their time was limited, they focused on the
permanent exhibition halls and Tyla let Keoki choose
which ones to visit.
The Hawaiian's first choice was the first hall, which
featured the pre-history of Mongolia. There, Keoki was
astonished to learn that archeologists had determined that
humans had inhabited the area as long as 800,000 years
ago. In terms of artifacts, what interested him most were
the so-called "Deer Stones," steles in the form of angular
upright slabs of unknown purpose between one and four
meters high on which were carved images of the sun and
moon on top, deer in the middle, and carvings of weapons
below. The inscription, translated by Tyla, called them
"flying deer," but as far as Keoki could tell that was only
because they were carved in a line going up at an angle due
to the narrow shape of the stone. On the other hand, he
thought with a mental grin, maybe this is where the stories
of Santa's reindeer came from. In any case, he had the
strong feeling that if he had enough time to spend with one
of these stones it would have a lot to tell him. He could
sense that it would be easy to do..., but this was neither the
time nor the place for that kind of experience. |
Shrugging and turning to break the connection, he
touched Tyla's back to indicate he was ready to move on
and they went to the third hall for a quick look at examples
of traditional Mongolian dress and jewelry. What Keoki
retained from that was Tyla's information that there were

174
 over four hundred styles of dee/, robes, a hundred different
styles of hats, and twenty types of boots. The next hall, the
fourth, took up most of their time, because it dealt with the
period of the Mongol Dynasty under Chinggis Khan.
Although everything there interested him deeply, he Spent a
long time gazing at an impressive display of the Great
Khan sitting on his throne. When he asked her, Tyla
admitted that no one really knew what he looked like, so
the image used nowadays was simply a popular sense of
what his appearance ought to have been.
They visited the museum store, where Keoki bought
what looked like a scapular rattle with odd designs on it,
with two small bones and a very old Chinese coin attached
to a small hole in one end by cords. He learned later from
Solongo that it was also a divination tool and an ongon that
contained the spirit of a young boy who needed to be fed
with milk from time to time. He and Tyla had a simple
lunch of sandwiches and sodas at the tiny museum
restaurant and went from there to visit a Tibetan Buddhist
temple.
The temple was supposed to be a museum, but it was in
active use as a religious shrine as well, as evidenced by the
many offerings and burnings of incense all over the place.
Tyla told him that it was a temple of the Red Hat sect,
which included wrathful gods, peaceful gods, paintings on
the ceiling of the skins of defeated demons, paintings and
hangings showing scenes of disembowelment for those
who didn't follow the rules, scenes of hot and cold hells,
models of Paradise, images of dragons, masks with three
eyes, and a great artistic emphasis on fighting evil demons.
Outside there were three more shrines. One was Chinese
and featured Buddhas of the past, present, and future plus
disciples in caves; another was Indian with more Buddha
figures in their style; and a third was Tibetan with statues
of and by a famous artist monk. In a little shop Keoki
bought a large and small brass ¢o/i, shamanic mirrors used

“475
for healing and protection that were tied together with a
very old piece of scarf, a brass image of a horse
representing hiimori, “windhorse," or personal spiritual
energy, and a nicely embroidered leather bag containing
four sheep anklebones called shagai, which the clerk said
were traditionally used for divination. The brass objects,
according to the clerk, had originally belonged to shamans
who had been victims of the Russian purge, and they did
look old.
Before leaving the temple, Tyla and Keoki stopped to
look at another outside exhibit, a life-size replica of the
battle wagon used by Chinggis Khan during his wars of
conquest. It was a huge platform on which sat a very large
ger, and it was set up to be pulled by many teams of oxen.
Keoki had strange, undefinable feelings while looking at it.
He had never seen anything like it, and yet it looked, and
somehow felt, familiar. Amorphous images that never quite
coalesced into definite form crowded the edge of his
awareness so strongly that he forced himself to turn away
and draw Tyla toward a booth selling Budweiser beer. It
was a hot, clear day, so he bought two bottles with some of |
the money he had earned by divination and healing. He
remarked on the fact that the brew neither looked nor tasted
like the one he was familiar with, so while they sipped Tyla
told him why that was the case.
"The name Budweiser has been used by three different
breweries since the 1800s," she said. "Two of them were in
the city of Budweis in what used to be Bohemia, and
Budweiser is just a German way of referring to something
from that city. Your American company, Anheuser-Busch,
registered the name in the US in 1878, but all three.
companies have lawsuits about it in different countries." :
"How do you know all that?" asked Keoki with a look.
of astonishment.
Tyla laughed. "I had to look it up for my American}
boyfriend when I was in school in the States." She took ai

176
 long pull on the bottle and set it down on the counter of the
refreshment booth.
"Where did you go to school?" Keoki sipped at his
bottle of beer.
"In Washington State. How about you?"
Keoki had a definite feeling that Tyla had just lied to
him. Perhaps it was the offhand, vague way she answered,
plus a slight narrowing of her eyes as she spoke, but he had
no idea why she would do that. "I went to the University of
Hawaii in Manoa. That's a valley on the main island of
Oahu, where Honolulu is."
Tyla picked up the beer and took another swallow.
"What did you major in?"
He noticed that she was keeping the conversation
directed toward him. "Graphic arts," he said. "And you?"
Keoki suddenly realized that this was the first time they had
come anywhere near sharing personal information.
"Business administration. I was planning to work for a
cashmere exporting company before I was recruited by
Interpol." She smiled in a way that seemed to indicate how
differently things turn out sometimes from expectations.
"Oh, right, I read about cashmere being one of
Mongolia's most important exports. So, how long have you
been with Interpol?"
Tyla looked away and back. "Long enough to know that
we shouldn't talk too much about our employment. What
did you do with graphics before you became a shaman?"
It was Keoki's turn to laugh. "Just as with Cholon, it's
not either-or," he said, taking another sip of the beer. "I do
computer graphics for ads and games to earn a living. I'm
only a part-time consultant for Interpol, and the shaman
stuff is... uh... something I do on my own." It came to him
as he spoke that it would not be a good idea to express any
doubt or resistance to his own shamanic status. After all,
the only reason he was here, the only reason Interpol kept
him on the payroll, was because he was supposed to be a

77
practicing shaman. Oddly, he used to feel guilty about that,
but he didn't now.
The Interpol agent looked bemused. "I find it difficult
to reconcile the idea of a computer professional also being
a shaman," she said.
"Hey," he said, finishing his beer and putting the bottle
down, "it's a modern world. Cholon's a cop and a shaman
apprentice, isn't he?" When Tyla nodded in a way that
admitted he was right, Keoki looked at his watch and said,
"We'd better get back to the apartment and get ready for the
picnic."
They were just in time. Cholon was waiting for them a
bit impatiently, along with Bolormaa, Gansukh, the
politician, and Gansukh's wife and young daughter. Cholon
had borrowed a friend's old Land Rover for the trip and
they were all packed and ready to go. Cholon said it might
be hot, so Tyla and Keoki quickly changed into more
suitable clothes, bringing jackets in case of a change in the
weather, and off they all went.
They crossed the city and headed southwest, out to the
steppes. Keoki had read about steppes in various historical
and fantasy novels, and more recently in his readings about
Mongolia, but he didn't really have a good idea of what
they were all about until this trip. What he saw were large
areas of flattish, dry, mostly empty plains. In some parts
there were low, rolling hills, and some small mountain
ranges visible in the distance. After an hour's ride from the
outskirts of the city they came upon a kind of compound
fenced in with bound sticks. An old car of a type Keoki
didn't recognize was parked outside the entrance.
Cholon parked next to it and they all went into the yard. -
Tyla translated Cholon's explanation that this was the house —
of a relative who owned the land they would be having
their picnic on, so it was necessary to visit him first to pay
their respects. The relative was a herdsman, and that was
evident from the big piles of cow dung in the yard being

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 dried for fuel. Inside the ramshackle house was a very large
table filled with food, and Keoki's first thought was that
this was the Mongolian version of a picnic. Seated at the
table was Solongo, which pleased Keoki very much and
didn't please Tyla at all. Next to her was a man who was
introduced as her cousin, Delger. They were introduced to
Bat, the herdsman, and his wife. whose name Keoki didn't
quite get.
The newcomers sat down at the table and everyone had
tea, milk tea, airaq, soft drinks, and vodka pushed at them
faster than they could drink. Along the table, in various
colorful bowls and dishes, were mutton, a coleslaw-type
salad, macaroni salad, the usual hard and soft cheeses, and
a new dish for Keoki—nurum, a yellow, clotted cheese that
was sweet and very good. As a special treat, Cholon served
a fine-tasting, double-distilled airag from his own family's
stock. Everyone ate their fill, and conversation centered
around the weather and the state of the herdsman's
livestock. After nearly an hour of feasting and talking, Bat
made an announcement and everyone except Tyla and
Keoki stood up from the table. Tyla didn't get up because
she was having a coughing fit, and Keoki because he didn't
know what was going on.
Finally, Tyla was able to turn to him with tears in her
eyes and a choked voice and say, "Ummm, this is a new
one for me. That was just a welcome feast. Now we have to
get ready for the picnic."
Keoki's eyes got very big and he had the strongest urge
to laugh, but he suppressed it, realizing at the same time
that Tyla was doing the same thing. only not quite as
successfully.
_ It took about a half hour to get the table cleared and the
Land Rover and Delger’s car packed and loaded with
people. Then, guided by Bat. they drove out of the
compound and across the steppes, not following any road
that Keoki could see, until they finally rolled to a stop on a

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slight rise some fifty yards from a slow-moving stream that
Cholon said was the Tuul River. Everyone got out of the
vehicles at that point and carried picnic gear down to the
bank of the river. Keoki thought the area was quite pretty in
a barren sort of way. There were a few trees along the river
toward the west, the land itself was-gently rolling with
hardly any grass, multi-colored stones lined the shore, and
low mountains, miles away, ringed the whole area. The
whole steppe valley, Keoki was told, was called Tuul Gol
Hundi.
Blankets were set down on the ground, food was laid
out, shoes came off, and some shirts, too. While the
herdsman and Delger gathered basalt stones from the edge
of the river, Cholon and Gansukh built a small teepee fire
and Keoki wandered along the riverbank, letting his
personal energy blend with the energy of the land. It was a
very peaceful feeling. On his way back his eye was caught
by a purplish-red pebble that seemed to radiate more
energy than those around it. Whimsically, Keoki mentally
asked it if it wanted to travel, and was surprised by a firm
sense of agreement. With a smile and a shrug he picked it
up, put it in his pocket, and continued walking.
At the picnic site Bat was setting the basalt stones in the
middle of a teepee fire to heat. Cholon and Gansukh knelt
nearby, cutting up pieces of mutton while Delger watched.
When the stones were placed the four of them stayed
together to chat, so Keoki went over and sat down with the
women on the blankets. Tyla laid a proprietary hand on his.
shoulder and Solongo just smiled as she arranged bowls.
and knives for the meal. Gansukh’s wife was occupied with |
playing with their daughter.
“What are they going to make?” Keoki asked the young ;
shamaness.
“It’s called khorkhog,” said Solongo. “It’s one of the:
tastiest of all Mongolian dishes. Just watch.”
The men had stopped talking, and everyone quietly:

180
 watched the fire as if it were some form of meditation.
Finally, Bat opened a metal box about two and a half feet
long by eighteen inches wide and deep and put in chopped
onions, a bay leaf, some salt and pepper, and a little water.
Then he plucked hot stones out of the fire with two sticks
and placed them into the metal container, adding the pieces
of mutton after that and closing the lid. This was left to
steam for a half hour or so while everyone except
Gansukh’s daughter drank vodka and talked about this and
that. When the meal was ready, the herdsman opened the
steamer and passed out the meat and onions to be served in
bowls for the diners to cut up and eat or share. Keoki, Tyla,
and Solongo were given the choicest pieces, but even
though it tasted better than most of the mutton he had had
so far, the Hawaiian thought it was still very tough meat.
Late afternoon became early twilight as the small group
enjoyed each other’s company around the simple meal
accompanied by cups of vodka and airag. Solongo had just
decided, unhappily, that nothing special was going to
happen when three things did, with surprising suddenness.
Gansukh, translated by Tyla, mentioned that Temujin had
hidden out in this very valley early in his career, a meteor
flashed across the darkening sky, and Keoki began shaking
and sobbing.
Unaware that someone had placed his coat over his
shoulders, thinking that he was getting cold, Keoki felt
himself in an old man’s body, dressed in a ragged deel
covered with ornaments and bells, and kneeling over the
inert body of a young man lying on a mat of woven grass. It
was midday and the sun was very hot, but he and the man
were shaded by a goatskin lean-to. Keoki knew himself to
be a shaman, knew he was Mongolian, knew that the man
on the mat was Temujin, knew that the man was badly
wounded, and knew that he was in the process of healing
him. He could hear himself chanting, calling upon his
personal ongon spirits, the spirits of sky and earth, and

18]
Tenger and ... He could feel the energies of all the spirits
coursing through his body like fire and wind, lightning and
rain. He could sense the stirrings of life in the body of the
man as the spirit energy flowed out of his hands and
brought ami, suld, and sun back together in harmony. He
could see the man’s muscles twitch, his wound close, and
his eyes open. He could hear the man speak...
And Keoki was back inside himself, shaking and
sobbing, hearing himself cry out that he was here as an old
shaman in the time of Temujin and had helped to hide him
and heal him when he was young. While his mind reeled to
hear himself say such things, he saw a bright light in the
sky, apparently another meteor, and this time heading
straight toward him. A great calm settle over him as he
spoke out again, strongly and clearly, fully aware that he
was speaking Mongolian, and accepting it.
The others around him were momentarily stunned, and
then they, too, accepted it, each one of them coming over to
him to request a blessing, even Tyla and Solongo. Keoki
blessed them all, speaking Mongolian the whole time, and
he went on speaking Mongolian until the sky was filled
with stars and whatever it was that was happening faded.
away with the embers of the fire.
When it was over, Keoki remembered nothing of what:
he had said except for one phrase, and even that had to be:
translated for him by Tyla: Sohryn gazar sokhor bolzh,
dogolongiin gazar dogolon bolzh yav - Go as a blind person
to the land of the blind, go as a lame person to the land of?
the lame. Somehow that felt important, but he couldn’t say’
why.
All the way home everyone was quiet, and back at!
Cholon’s apartment, the policeman and his two guests went!
straight to their own beds and fell immediately asleep.
Solongo, however, went immediately to the home of
her father, who was still awake.
“You look troubled, daughter,” said Baatarsaikhan,,.

182
 after their initial greeting.
“I am troubled, father,” said the girl.
“So, the picnic was not successful for our purpose?”
Baatarsaikhan sipped from a silver cup of vodka.
“On the contrary, you could say it was too successful.”
The older shaman simply raised his eyebrows.
Solongo grimaced. “We were looking for someone to
help us read the map, someone with the right shamanic
skills and without the cultural prejudices that would
interfere with our plans. And what do we get:? She
poured herself a silver cup of vodka and gulped down half
of it, a sure sign of her agitation.
Baatarsaikhan waited patiently until she was ready to
speak again.
“... Instead of a nice, innocent. skilled apprentice,
which this Hawaiian appeared to be at first, we get some
kind of highly advanced master so well disguised that he
doesn’t even recognize himself who he is!” Solongo gulped
down the rest of her vodka and poured herself another cup.
“Gently, my daughter,” said her father, placing his hand
over the cup she held. “Center yourself before you take
any more.”
After allowing herself a brief moment of resistance,
Solongo relaxed, drew her hand away from the cup, and
touched the hawk feather at her breast, calling upon the
strength, clarity of focus, and supreme self confidence of
the ongon spirit there. In seconds she had regained her
composure and she smiled ruefully. “I was caught
completely off guard. That doesn’t happen often.”
“No, it doesn’t. Not since you were five, I think.”
Solongo looked at her father, who was grinning, and
laughed at herself. Deliberately, she took a sip of vodka and
leaned back in her chair, still touching the feather at her
breast. “This George McCoy, or Keoki as he prefers to be
called, impressed you by passing that tree test that you had
set up. Well, this past evening he impressed me beyond all

183
expectation, not only by evoking the su/d spirit of the very
same shaman who had healed and protected Temujin when
he was hiding from the Tatars, but by speaking of sacred
and secret darkhan matters for about an hour after he came
out of that trance, in perfect Mongolian, no less!” Realizing
that her emotions were getting the best of her again, she
took several very slow and deep breaths with her eyes
closed before looking at her father for his reaction.
Baatarsaikhan merely looked thoughtful. “Did anyone
else understand what he was talking about?”
“No,” she said. “They were all too busy getting blessed,
even Cholon’s cousin. When that phase passed, he faded
back into his normal, sweet, innocent and mysterious
Hawaiian self again. Speaking of the cousin, though, did
you find out anything more about her?”
The older shaman nodded. “A friend of a friend of a
friend in the government found out that she works for
Interpol. And, by the way, so does my newly adopted
brother.”
“Interpol?” Solongo looked shocked. “What does
Interpol have to do with any of this?”
Baatarsaikhan picked up his dark yellow, skull-shaped,
meershaum pipe, tamped the tobacco in it with a short
cylinder of birchwood, lit-it, and took a couple of puffs
before answering. “Tylanni really is Cholon’s cousin, but
she is also an agent of Interpol. Keoki is a sort of special
consultant for Interpol. Apparently he was hired because of
the shamanic skills he displayed on a case in Europe a
couple of years ago. The story is that they are trying to
recover an ancient artifact stolen from the National
Museum.” :
SNOTas
“Yes. A set of beads carved out of ivory in the shape of '
skulls. Supposedly a map of some kind to the treasure of '
Chinggis Khan.”
“Bute.”

184
 “I know. It was never in the museum. So how did they
hear about it? And why is Interpol involved? And how
much do they really know about it? You said you felt a
presence when you first met the Hawaiian. Have you given
that some thought?”
Solongo sighed. “Yes, father, I have.” After a few
moments of silence she continued. “It has to be Badzar.”
A look of pain crossed Baatarsaikhan’s face. Carefully,
he put his pipe down on his desk and picked up a birch rod
about a foot long and an inch in diameter. He grasped it
with both hands near each end and squeezed. The muscles
in his arms, shoulders, and neck bunched up and his face
got red. Seconds later the rod snapped in half with a loud
crack, and the shaman’s mind and body became peaceful
again. Gently setting the two halves of the rod down on the
desk next to the pipe, he turned to his daughter and said,
“Tomorrow you will have to prepare for the search. And
you will have to convince both Tylanni and Keoki to help
us find the beads.”

185
TWELVE: HORSES AND SHEEP
e was a leopard, and he found it very interesting.
He was not an ordinary leopard, of course. In the
first place, he was a snow leopard, sort of a silvery gray in
color with large-patterned spots, and huskier than a jungle
leopard, but not so heavy as a jaguar. In the second place,
he was a dream leopard. Well, at least he was aware of
being Keoki and of being a leopard at the same time, so it
had to be a dream. Probably.
For the moment he was sitting on an extremely short
and narrow ledge of sharp rock, licking one of his front
paws to remove bits of ice and gravel that had lodged
themselves between the pads during his last round of |
leaping down and across the mountain slope. Below him
were five thousand feet of very steep and jagged rocks,
partly covered with ice and snow, that ended in a small
valley with a frozen river. Up a thousand feet or so and
behind him were the remains of a delicious young antelope.
In front of him, more or less, was something else entirely.
The cold wind ruffled his fur and brought with it the scent
of a female leopard in heat. She was not visible, yet, but.
she soon would be. Not only visible, but his. He growled
deep in his throat, set his paw down, checked the slope:
ahead for a reasonable set of leap-points, adjusted his tail,
and made his first jump.
Sometimes upward, sometimes downward, but always:
forward, he let the scent draw him closer and closer to his;
goal. There! In that crevice! She was hunched down, facing.
away from him, but looking back over her shoulder. He felt’
the urge in his loins and bunched his muscles for a final!
jump that would bring him right to her and... stopped,.
confused. The scent was very strong... but it had changed.
How...? His gaze was drawn above the waiting leopardess;
to another ledge where a second female waited, in the same:
186
 position, facing away from him with her head turned back
toward him. The two female leopards looked at each other
and hissed, then looked back at him and moved their
sinuous bodies in ways designed to entice him. And the
scent was so strong. And he wanted them both, but he had
to choose. And he knew that if he chose one he would lose
the other. And if he didn’t choose at all...
As Keoki woke up in his human body he felt more
confused than ever.
While Keoki was being confused, Tyla was being
threatened by her superior in the compact Toyota around
the corner from the apartment building where her cousin
lived.
“I don’t care what you think of the Hawaiian’s spiritual
abilities!” Her superior’s voice was practically snarling. “I
don’t care if he is a bodhisattva, the Lord Buddha himself,
or a reincarnation of the Great Khan! You were assigned to
seduce him and create a bond that would make him want
you by his side no matter what. If you can’t do that little
thing there will be consequences that you—and your
family—definitely would not like.”
“I did seduce him!” said Tyla defensively. “And I’m
sure he does care for me. But I don’t think...”
“Good! Don’t think!” her superior interrupted. “Just
follow orders. We are reaching a critical point in our plans.
All indications are that Solongo and her family are
preparing to lead the Hawaiian to the artifact. It doesn’t
matter why, but what does matter is that you are with him
when they do.”
“And I am supposed to retrieve the artifact and bring it
back to you.”
_ “No, you little foo]! There you go trying to think again.
According to our sources, the artifact will be used to lead
him to something else, something even more important. We
don’t know what it is or where it is, which-is why you have
to be with him. Here.” He handed her a small, gold-colored

187
metal tube.
“This looks like a tube of lipstick.”
“It is a tube of lipstick,” he said sarcastically, “and it is
also a device that signals your location. Keep it with you at
all times.” He smirked. “Or at least in the same room. I
know that there will be occasions when actually carrying it
would be rather inconvenient.”
Tyla blushed in spite of herself. She had not joined
Interpol for this type of assignment, but there was nothing
she could do about that now. At least...
“Do you understand what you are to do?”
“I am to have this device with me or near me at all
times, and I am to continue to be a close companion of Mr.
McCoy, no matter where he goes. What happens when we
find this other thing?”
“That is not your concern. Just follow orders. There is a
button on the base of the tube that you will press when you
find whatever the artifact leads you to. Then you will wait
for a helicopter to make the pickup. When your role in this
case is over you will be re-assigned. Now go!”
Feeling humiliated as well as troubled, Tyla got out of |
the car, shut the door properly, and made her way back to
Cholon’s apartment.
When she arrived there, Keoki was just sitting down to
breakfast at the little table. No one else was around. He
greeted her with a smile and didn’t say anything else, but
he did look at her inquiringly.
Tyla smiled back, gave him a quick kiss, squeezed his.
shoulders from behind, then sat down to join him. “I woke.
up early and just felt like going for a walk. How did you.
sleep?”
“Oh, fine,” Keoki said, turning red.
Before Tyla could ask him about that Bolormaa came:
in. They greeted each other in Mongolian, and the older:
woman handed her a sheet of paper. “It’s a message from
Cholon,” she said after reading it. He’s gone out to do some:

188
 kind of ceremony and he says that Delger—that’s
Solongo’s cousin who was with us on the picnic, do you
remember?—has invited us out to the country for a couple
of days to see his family’s horse herd. He’ll be by right
after lunch. What do you think?” she asked, turning toward
Keoki.
Horse herd? thought Keoki. His mind leaped back to
the moment on top of Mauna Kea with Gramps when he
saw the prancing horse in the sunset clouds. Of course, he
had seen lots of symbols and carvings of horses, and one
guy riding a horse, since arriving in Mongolia, but a whole
herd of live horses? He felt chicken skin—what
mainlanders would call “goose bumps”—all over his body,
and knew that this was going to be a significant event.
“Sounds like fun,” he replied, brushing aside all potential
doubts and fears.
By the time Delger arrived at the apartment, dressed in
a plain brown deel, a plain brown, traditional ear-flap hat,
and plain brown, well-used leather boots, Keoki and Tyla
were all packed and ready, wearing jeans and long-sleeved
shirts. The day was cool and cloudy, so Keoki had a
sweater on under his jacket, and Tyla wore a sporty,
synthetic fiber-filled jacket of bright blue with white
slashes. As always, Keoki brought along his ritual gear.
Delger loaded them and their bags into his car and
drove them out of the city toward the northwest, taking a
very bad road past numerous shantytown villages,
eventually leaving all traces of habitation behind until they
reached a beautiful, broad valley with widely scattered ger
and small herds of small horses. Delger, who had been
mostly silent until then, spoke to Tyla as he headed for a
large ger surrounded by a cluster of smaller ones, and Tyla
told Keoki that this was the main ger of Delger’s
grandmother, whose family owned the entire valley. The
smaller ger were those of children and grandchildren.

189
 Parking his car about twenty yards from the main ger,
Delger helped Tyla and Keoki unload their bags and took
them first to a small ger and told them to leave everything
there for the time being. Keoki only had time to notice that
it was very plain, with several wooden beds or cots around
the outer wall, an old black stove in the center with a pipe
going up and out through a hole in the roof, and what he
learned later was called a “Russian sink,” which consisted
of a small, chipped, porcelain basin set into a wooden
framework. Instead of a drainpipe, there was simply a
dented galvanized bucket sitting under the drain hole.
From there Delger took them to the main ger, where
they entered by a wood-framed door. Keoki had to duck
under the lintel. His first impression was that the interior
was crowded with people, which it was. His second
impression was that this ger was a lot more plain than the
one Baatarsaikhan lived in. Even the floor was just made of
pieces of metal and linoleum with grass showing in some
areas. Then Solongo appeared, smiling broadly, and he
didn’t see anything else for a while. She was wearing an
off-white deel with matching boots and hat and Keoki felt
as if his heart was trying to push out of his chest. She led
them to the left and sat them at a large table already
crowded with others. After saying a few words to Delger,
she spoke to Keoki and Tyla in English.
“On behalf of Delger’s grandmother and her family,
you are welcome in this ger.” She presented an old woman
who looked like she was in her eighties. This is
Dzoldzaya—her name means “Light of Destiny.” The
matriarch came forward with her hands clasped as if in
prayer. “She expects a blessing,” Solongo said to Keoki.
“your reputation has preceded you.”
“What kind of a blessing?” A trace of the old panic
tried to rise up, but he suppressed it.
“Whatever you think is appropriate,” said the
shamaness with a slight smile.

190
 Keoki took a deep breath, identified with the pattern of
Gramps that he held in his memory, and clasped his hands
around those of the old woman. “E ola, e ola, e ola no! —
May you receive blessings of health, blessings of
prosperity, blessings of long life,” he said solemnly, using
three meanings of the single word, ola.
Solongo’s eyes widened in surprise. and then she
translated his English words for the matriarch, who gave
him a wide smile and a white hadagq, a scarf, and bowed
repeatedly before backing away. “By the way. that was the
most appropriate blessing you could have given,” Solongo
said to the Hawaiian. “Now everyone here is going to want
a blessing, but you can make it shorter if you want to.”
This time, as each person in the ger came around to him
bowing with clasped hands, he merely touched them on top
of the head and said “Ola — Life.” receiving blue scarves or
bits of money from most of them. At the end, to his great
surprise, Tyla bent before him, so he gave her the same
blessing. And then, to his shocked surprise, Solongo did the
same. For an instant he was tempted to give her a special
blessing, but in the same instant he realized that that would
not be appropriate, so he blessed her in the same way as the
rest. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice how weird he felt
during the whole process. Who am I to be blessing people?
he wondered to himself.
The matriarch spoke to Solongo and she translated.
“You have been asked to bless the ger and, by extension,
the valley and the horses, if you would. This time, however,
I think vodka would be more appropriate. Delger?”
Her cousin immediately produced a bottle of vodka,
unscrewed the cap, cut the metal ring with a pocket knife,
filled the cap, and took it to the doorway where he tossed it
out for the spirits to enjoy. When he came back he poured a
small brass bowl full of vodka and handed it to Keoki.
Keoki took the bowl, thought for a moment, then
remembered what Oyunbileg had done at her party. He

19]
dipped his right ring finger into the bowl and some instinct
made him flick the first drops toward the door on his right,
then across from him, to his left, and behind him, while
saying, “E Aloha, e Mana, e Pono! — Let there be Love,
Power, and Good Fortune!” Solongo translated, and all the
family nodded and made sounds of approval as the
matriarch gave him a present of a wonderfully carved
wooden spoon with the head of a horse as a handle. Then
conversations started, and Keoki was no longer the center
of attention, for which he was grateful.

The shamaness poured vodka for Keoki in the brass

bowl, and for Tyla and herself in porcelain teacups. The
matriarch apparently gave orders of some kind, because the
girls and women began doing different things inside, and
the younger men and boys went outside. Solongo sipped
her vodka and urged Keoki and Tyla to do the same. “We
have some time before the meal,” she said. “Would you
like to know something about how this ger is organized? Or
perhaps you already know, Tylanni?”
Tyla smiled briefly. “This is my first time inside a real
ger where people live. My family has been Buddhist for
many generations, and we are mostly city folk, so yes, I’d
be interested to know more.” In a casual way intended to be
noticed, she laid a hand on Keoki’s arm.
“So would I,” said Keoki. He actually did want to learn
more, but he also wanted the pleasure of listening to
Solongo speak in her soft, melodious voice. At the same
time he was very aware of Tyla’s hand, and just as aware
that Solongo was purposely ignoring it.
“Good. I’m going to leave out most of the theology and
just give you the basics. Let’s start with the directions,
then. First, the door always faces south when possible,
mainly because the coldest winds come from the north. The
west side, where we are sitting, is for guests, which is why
we are sitting here. It’s also the side where the airaq is

192
prepared, like you see that girl doing by the door, using that
blue plastic barrel as a churn. The east side is only for the
family, and in this ger it has one bed for the grandmother.
On the north side, hidden by that curtain, is an altar for the
ongon spirits important to this family.”
As she paused, Keoki asked, “What’s that rope thing in
the center?” He gestured vaguely toward a fairly thick,
faded red rope attached to a red-painted wooden circle in
the middle of the domed roof through which the stovepipe
exited. The rope hung down in three loops before it
attached to the east side of the ger wall.
“That rope represents the pathway to the upper, middle,
and lower spirit worlds, each represented by one of those
loops.” Solongo grinned, which made her look very young.
“It also helps to hold down the roof in big storms. Almost
everything in the shamanic culture has both a spiritual side
and a practical side.”
“The stove, too?” asked Tyla.
“Of course.” Solongo took a sip of vodka and
continued. “In ancient times there was always a firepit in
the center, representing the fire of life as well as being the
place for cooking and heating. The same is true today,
except that now we use a stove.” The stove in question had
a flat top on one side and a hole on the other side where a
metal bowl of water had been inserted. On the flat side a
flattened sheet of dough, looking a lot like a pizza, was
cooking, heated by a wood fire burning merrily below that
was also heating the water at the same time. “Those red,
paddle-like posts on each side of the stove hold up the ring
in the roof.”
Now food was being laid out on the table and on a
couple of decorated cupboards that sat next to the wall,
along with bottles of vodka and pitchers of airag. Those
who had been outside came back in after doing unknown
chores, and the girls inside made sure that everyone had
drinking glasses or cups that were kept filled. Soon the

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crisp dough was being cut into strips, cooked meat was
produced from somewhere, and both were added to the
heated water to make a very good soup.
Keoki enjoyed his first bowl of soup, was coaxed into
having a second, practically forced into having a third, and
absolutely refused to have a fourth. In addition, his brass
bowl of vodka was never allowed to be emptied and he also
had a full cup of airag to contend with as well as numerous
snacks that different people gave him as treats. By the end
of the meal the Hawaiian had concluded that the function of
a host in Mongolia was to make the guest eat and drink
himself into insensibility, and the function of a guest was to
eat and drink as much as possible without passing out or
getting sick.
When the meal was finally over, everyone went outside
to watch the sunset. A saddled horse was brought over by
Delger, and Keoki was helped to mount it. This was the
first time in a long time that he had sat on a horse, and even
though it wasn’t much bigger than a pony, he couldn’t help
feeling a sense of excitement, especially in a setting like
this. For his game research he had read a lot about horses in
fiction and non-fiction, and had watched a very great
number of cowboy and medieval movies that featured
horses, but to actually sit on one in Mongolia was a thrill
like he had never imagined. The horse beneath him felt.
SO... SO... alive!
“Do you like being on a horse?” asked Solongo,
holding onto the reins as she stood next to him.
“Oh, yes!” cried Keoki enthusiastically.
“Good!” she said, smiling enigmatically. “Very, very.
good.”
Tyla, meanwhile, was riding around the valley with:
such enjoyment and ease that one of the boys had to ride:
after her to bring her back before it got too dark. Although:
city-bred, as she claimed, she had the traditional Mongolian|
love of, and skill with, horses.

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 Before it got really dark, Keoki was shown how to hold
a colt while its mother was milked, and allowed to use the
community slit trench latrine. After Tyla got back and both
had washed up and said their goodnights to the family,
Delger led them to the ger that was to be theirs for the
night.
While Keoki was wondering how to behave, Tyla told
him. “It’s not unusual for men and women to share a guest
ger,” she said, coming close and wrapping her arms around
him, “but it would be stretching the limits of hospitality for
us to make love or share the same bed in a place not
designed for that. After all, any one of the family has the
right to come in at any time, and any new guest arriving
would be expected to share the same space. So, my love, I
wish you a sound sleep and pleasant dreams... of me!” She
kissed him soundly and went about preparing to sleep
alone.
Keoki sighed deeply and prepared to do the same,
although it still felt very strange to share the same room.
While Tyla was under her blankets and he was still sitting
on his bed, one of the boys came in unannounced to get the
fire going in the little wood stove, so Keoki understood
Tyla’s point better. As he lay down to sleep he had a
sudden, almost frightening, impression of leopards sitting
on the floor on each side of his bed, just looking at him. He
forced that away and concentrated on being in his waena,
his Inner Garden, before he fell asleep.
In another ger, Solongo, Delger, and a third person sat
on benches around the central stove, drinking airag from
colorfully decorated porcelain bowls. The third person
looked very old. His face was a mass of wrinkles and his
clothing—traditional deel, hat, and boots—was just as
wrinkled and bordered on ragged. His name was
Muunokhoi, “Vicious Dog,” called Muun for short. Not
that he was vicious or doglike in any way. In the most
traditional families, Mongolians were often given such

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names as protection from evil spirits or bad luck. Muun, as
he was usually called, was the master blacksmith of the
family. His grandfather had also been a master blacksmith,
by the name of Batzorig.
After a suitable period of polite silence, Solongo
addressed Muun. "Yr ydamaa — Grandfather, we have
found the One."
Muun grunted. "The young boy who is not a young
boy, the warrior who is not a warrior, the hero who
trembles in his boots?"
Gravely, Solongo nodded, and Delger hid a smile with
his hand.
"His hiimori — psychic energy, and huch — personal
strength, are sufficient. So this is the One who will find
what has been stolen again?"
"Timee, Yr ydamaa — Yes, Grandfather. If Blue Heaven
wills it."
Muun gave a snort of disgust. "You don't have to use
that traditional and respectful stuff with me, Solongo. I may
be old, but I'm not dead. If you weren't a relative I'd hike up
your skirt and take you to bed."
Solongo smiled broadly this time. "Relative or not, that
would be a dangerous thing to try, old man."
"I know, I know," laughed the blacksmith, and Delger
laughed with him. "However, I can still dream about it.
Now," he picked up an old briar pipe and lit it with a Bic
lighter. After a couple of puffs he continued. "Even
assuming he is the One, we need to do a reading for the
success and timing of this venture with all the people
present who will be on it. And then we'll have to get the
party outfitted. This Interpol girl, will she be going?"
"I think she'll have to," said Solongo. "She's officially
in charge of the Hawaiian. She will probably insist on
going, and he will probably be unwilling to go without her.
Besides, we don't want to leave her here to alert the
authorities and we need someone to keep the Hawaiian

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 happy on the trip."
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to do that?" asked
Muun with an eyebrow raised.
"I'm sure I wouldn't like to do that," said Solongo with
a twisted smile that expressed a measure of disgust at the
very idea.
Muun puffed his pipe a coulple of times and observed,
"I don't believe you, but that doesn't matter. Can they ride?"
Solongo tried her best to maintain an impassive
expression, but a slight bit of color came to her cheeks.
Muun noticed, but Delger didn't. "Tyla, the girl, rides quite
well. From what I've heard, the boy has been on a horse
before, but not for a long time."
"Hmmm. I hope he's a quick learner. Delger, please
gather everyone concerned for a meeting in this hut first
thing tomorrow after breakfast. Solongo. please bring your
shagai when you come. Oh, you can come to my hut and
warm up an old man's bones tonight, if you want." He
grinned at her.
Solongo laughed as she stood up. "Muunokhoi, I'm
afraid your bones would be nothing but ash in the morning
if I did." She gave him a wicked smile and swirled her
skirts as she went out.
That night everyone in the compound had pleasant
dreams, perhaps for the last time in a long time.
After a simple breakfast in the main ger of mutton
soup, dried cheese, chai and airagq, a selected group of
people met in another ger. This one was almost empty of
furniture, but a small open fire burned in the central, sandy
pit. The men sat on the left side of the entrance and the
women on the right. In the north was a low table. On the
left, starting at the table, sat Keoki, Delger, two of Delger's
younger brothers named Naranbaatar and Altanchimeg, and
Muun. On the right was Solongo, Tyla, and the matriarch,
Dzoldzaya. All wore extra clothing to ward off the chill of
the morning.

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 Muun began with a prayer and Solongo whispered to
Keoki that it was to honor all the spirits and ask for their
help. However, she didn't say help for what, and that left
Keoki as confused as he was when he was asked to attend
the meeting.
The prayer finished, Muun changed the tone of his
voice and began speaking in a conversational mode, his
eyes on the fire. In a low voice, Solongo translated for
Keoki.
It was the story of how, after the death of Chinggis
Khan, a special society of shamans formed by the Khan
himself took on the responsibility for guarding a secret so
precious that extraordinary measures had to be taken to
prevent it from falling into ignorant hands. Some members
of the society buried the Khan in a way and a place that
could never be found. Some built and guarded a false
monument designed to distract any seekers. Some went to a
prepared hiding place to carry on the work of the secret,
and some guarded an object that held the knowedge of that
secret and many others.
Muun stopped to drink some chai before continuing.
His family, he said, was part of the group that guarded the
object. After many, many years the object was stolen by a
Chinese blacksmith, but after many more years Muun's
grandfather was able to steal it back. It was kept secure by
Muun's family until ten years ago when Muun's younger
brother, stole it from where it had been kept and tried to
sell it to pay off some gambling debts. Word of the object.
and the secret it led to got out to people who tried to steal it
from Muun's brother, who fled into the mountains...
Keoki thought the story was fairly interesting, but he:
was beginning to have a hard time keeping his attention on:
it. The ger was getting warm and the sound of Muun's:
voice became a drone, and even Solongo's whispering was
losing its attraction. Keoki closed his eyes, drifted, and was:
about to fall asleep when something shot through to his:

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consciousness and jolted him back into a wide awake state.
A glance at Tyla showed that she, too, was paying more
attention to what Muun was saying.
",..in the form of nineteen human skulls carved out of
mammoth ivory," Muun was saying. "Each skull contains a
portion of the knowledge, but that knowledge can only be
accessed by someone with a unique talent. Someone to
whom the skulls will be willing to speak. And when the
way is shown, the object will lead that person to the hiding
place of the secret."
The old shaman-blacksmith paused, then went on to say
that the world had changed greatly since the death of the
Great Khan. The original intention of the Khan was to
guard the secret until a ruler of the Mongols appeared who
was wise enough to use the secret to carry on the plans that
the Khan had for the world. For a while it was thought that
the Great Khan's grandson, Kublai Khan, would be the one,
but he was unable to unite the Mongols and turned away
from the Great Khan's plans toward a Chinese political and
cultural system. And after that, there was no one.
Muun lifted his chin toward Solongo, giving her the
floor, so to speak.
"We know the general direction that Muun's brother
took," said the young woman. "We have a probable
location for the object. We are asking Keoki to go with us,
because we believe the object will speak to him. We are
asking Tyla to come with us also, because we know she is
working for Interpol and we may need her help if we have
to cross the border into Russia."
Oh, good grief! thought Keoki. /'m not ready for this.
How am I supposed to... And then something very strange
happened. Keoki suddenly felt as if he were made of very
hard stone—basalt was the word that came to mind—and a
hurricane was swirling madly around him. There were
faces in the storm. No, more than faces, there were, they
were, pieces of him. Rather, they were him, only not him at

199
the same time. It was as if there were multiple versions of
himself, each with different personality traits, different
skills, different knowledge, and yet they all were part of the
same whole self. At the same time, he was the rock, but the
rock wasn't Keoki, nor was it any of the versions. It was all
of them and far, far more. It was—dizzying—is what he
heard. Just before getting sick he became the rock alone.
He had no personality, no history, but what he did have was
choice. Out of that storm he could choose any version of |
himself to live through. It was something like modeling
Gramps or James Bond, but much more profound. He
realized in that moment that he was not any of the versions
of Keoki that spun around him, but that they belonged to
him and they were his to use or misuse, to adopt as is or to.
serve as a foundation for creative innovation. In short, it:
came to him clearly that he was ma ka’'e, at the brink of a.
major decision. He could go back to being the self-:
doubting, insecure Keoki that he was so used to, or he:
could reach into the hurricane and fully incorporate a Keoki.
who accepted his shamanic heritage and vocation without:
reserve. He teetered on the edge of a pali — a cliff, with ai
safe, dark, forest behind him to hide in, and a wild,,
unformed ocean in front of him to dive into. He leaped.
Only seconds had passed. "I'll go with you," Keoki said|
calmly, surprising those who thought they knew him.
What an opportunity, thought Tyla during those same:
seconds. Their logic is faulty. I'd be no help at the border..
But I can't pass this up. And if Keoki quibbles, as he?
probably will, I'll have to do everything I can to persuade?
him to go. Keoki's immediate agreement stunned her, but!
she quickly said, "I will go, too."
That was surprisingly easy, Solongo mused. Tyla I cant
understand, but what is Keoki's motive? "Good," she said!
out loud. "Then we have preparations to make.
Muun smiled to himself. So, the boy grows into a man,,
the hidden warrior becomes a true shaman, the heros

200
trembles no more. "And the first of the preparations is to
question the spirits about our enterprise."

201
THIRTEEN: SHAGAI
Se drew a small leather bag from the inside of
her deel. It was plain brown with an embroidered
design in gold and darker brown that looked very Celtic to
Keoki's eyes. With ease she lowered herself to the floor,
opened the bag, and poured out four odd-shaped, ivory-
looking objects into her hand.
"I'm going to do a casting that we call Durven berkh,
which can be translated into English as "Four Difficulties,"
she said to Keoki and Tyla. Solongo knew that Keoki
would be interested, so she decided to give him more
details than she would ordinarily. The shamaness held up
the objects in her hand. "These are ankle bones of sheep.
When I toss them, one of the four sides will be face up and
that's what we read. Each of the four sides is different, and
we name them after four of the most common animals in
Mongolia: horse, camel, goat, and sheep. The bones
themselves are called shagai. In a toss, then, there are all
kinds of combinations of animals that are possible, and the
combination gives us the answer to our question."
"Where do the spirits come in?" asked Keoki.
"Each bone is an ongon—a spirit house for a shaman
spirit. When we ask a question and toss the bones the spirits
get together and form the right combination."
Keoki thought that was a clever explanation, even
though he didn't agree with it. Then he realized that it was
consistent with other Mongolian ideas about spirits that he
had heard, and he could almost hear Gramps saying, 'Our
explanation is only an explanation, too.'
"What do the sides mean, other than being related to the
animals," Tyla asked.
The shamaness smiled slightly. "It's the quality of the
animals that forms the basis for the reading," she said.
"Horses are good for success, because they go fast and
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 straight to a destination. Camels are almost as good as
horses for the same reasons, but they may wander or stop a
bit. Sheep are followers and usually reinforce the other
bones. Goats wander all over the place and usually
represent difficulties. So, I will do the toss." She spoke in
Mongolian then, "Muun, will you ask the question?"
The old blacksmith took a long swallow of vodka,
burped, closed his eyes, and scratched his thin beard.
Suddenly he opened his eyes and said something quickly.
Solongo looked surprised, and displeased. Without
looking at anyone she said, "The question is, 'Will everyone
who goes on this journey come home." She held the bones
in both hands and shook them for a long time before
releasing them onto the floor. The bones scattered and it
looked like the side of one had a hump and the other three
had indentations. "No!" she cried when she looked at them.
Muun looked at them and shook his head. The he said
something else.
"Muun says..."the young woman began in a shaking
voice, then took a moment to compose herself. "Muun says
that there is no use hiding the fact that this may be a very
dangerous undertaking. The casting shows three goats and
a sheep, which means that something cannot be done. In
other words, it says that some who go may not return."
"But that isn't fixed as an outcome, is it?" asked Keoki,
remembering what Gramps always said about the future.
"No," said Solongo, "but it's not a very good omen to
have at the beginning of a venture. We do know some of
the dangers and I'll make them clear before we ask you to
commit yourselves." Muun spoke again, and Solongo
added, "Muun has asked another question, whether or not
the purpose of the venture will be fulfilled, so I will toss for
that now."
Again she shook the shagai for a time and tossed them
onto the floor. This time it looked like each side facing up
was different. "We have a horse, a camel, a goat, and a

203
sheep. One of each. That's a very fortunate omen. Success
is highly likely."
"But at what cost?" said Tyla. "You said there were
dangers. What are they?"
Solongo was silent for half a minute, as if gathering her
thoughts. At last she said, "We will be going into the
mountains on horseback, following trails that have not been
used for a long time. There is always the possibility of one
of the horses or one of us getting injured in a fall. We are
nearing the end of summer, so storms are possible. Even
with compasses, one or more of us might get lost. There are
rumors of bandits near the Russian border, and we might
encounter them. There are bears and leopards in some of
the places we might have to go." She paused for a while
until Muun said something in a sharp tone of voice. After a
big sigh she went on. "And there are those who may oppose
us or attack us in this world or the Other."
"The Other?" inquired Tyla.
"She means that there is at least one shaman and maybe
more who want what we are looking for and are willing to
kill for it," said Keoki. "The 'Other' means that it could
happen in a dream or on a shamanic journey."
Tyla and Solongo looked at him in surprise, Muun
merely smiled knowingly, and the others had no
expression, because they didn't understand what he said.
"You know that for a fact?" asked Tyla finally.
"Yes," said Keoki, without any further explanation. He:
felt more, well, solid than he ever had in his life. He could.
feel remnants of the Keoki he used to be hanging around!
him, like old clothes that he intended to give away, but:
what he was 'wearing' now fe/t right—and comfortable.
"So we may as well accept that as one of the conditions:
of doing this. However, before we go further, I'd like to do)
a casting of my own, if no one minds." There were no)
objections, so Keoki pulled out his bag of stones from his:
pouch and poured the stones into his hand, including the:

204
purplish pebble he had picked up at the picnic by the river.
Like Solongo, he shook them for a while and then tossed
them out onto the floor in front of him. "I asked for a
symbol of who or what might oppose us," he said, looking
down. "From my point of view this looks like a bolt of
lightning. Does that mean anything special to anyone?"
Solongo sucked in her breath and Muun looked
interested. The blacksmith said something in Mongolian to
the other men, who suddenly looked troubled, and then to
Solongo, who looked resigned. "There is a shaman, actually
a Tibetan lama, who follows what you might call the 'dark
side' of Tantrism. His name is Badzar, which means
lightning bolt. We know he hasan active interest in what
we seek." Solongo began to gather up the shagai and put
them back in their sack.
"I think I've met him," said the Hawaiian, who got
stared at again. "In Kahiki, and maybe Milu, places in the
Inner World. He seems to have a lot of power." A part of
Keoki's mind marveled that he had actually acknowledged
that out loud to these relative strangers, but it was a small
part, already fading. In fact, it seemed to resemble the way
someone else thought that he used to know. He fiddled with
the stones on the fioor, subtly altering the shape of the
lightning bolt to look more like a stairway. When he
finished, he held both hands over the new pattern as if he
were giving it energy. "If we are clever enough, and very
lucky, we may be able to use his power to help us get what
we want."
Tyla's feelings were in a turmoil. What happened to the
boy-man I seduced who seemed afraid of his own shadow,
even after that profound spiritual experience on the
steppes? Can I still manipulate him to do what I need him
to do?
This is the real shaman showing through, thought
Solongo as she held the sack of bones. /s this temporary,
oris he here to stay? And if he is, what if he has plans that

205
are different from ours?
The blacksmith nodded his head as if he were agreeing
with someone. kh sonin bain! — Very interesting! This
youth may just turn out to be the leader of our little
expedition.
The three other young men had their own thoughts,
which were very similar. This is a strong man. I would be
glad to follow him.
My grandsons will be in good hands, thought
Dzoldzaya simply.
Keoki waited a full minute for someone else to say
something, and when no one else did, he did. "All right,
what do we have to do to get ready?"
The rest of the day was spent doing just that, getting
ready. Dzoldzaya, her daughters, and her granddaughters -
prepared and packaged the food that would be needed for
the journey. Tyla offered to assist with that and her help
was gladly accepted.
For her first task she was paired with a granddaughter '
to unpack, sort, and repack enough borts to provide one:
meal a day for seven people for two weeks. As aj
Mongolian she had heard of borts, but as a city girl she had!
never seen or tried it. Borts, it turned out, was meat, yak in:
this case, that had been stripped of its fat, cut into strips;
about an inch thick and a foot long, and dried for five:
months. After that, when needed, it would be cut into)
smaller strips and soaked in water, which would expand it!
to more than twice its size. Then it would be cooked by’
boiling or steaming for fifteen to twenty minutes..
Dzoldzaya's family had quite a large supply, because it was:
standard fare for outlying herders during the winter months..
Once enough borts was ready, Tyla helped with the:
bagging of aaruul—dried curds of goat milk, and!
eetsgii—dried cheese made from mare, yak, and cow milk.
Naranbaatar, Altanchimeg, their fathers and youngert
brothers all worked together on getting the horses ready..

206
 This meant going out to the herd and selecting which two
would serve as pack animals, and which ones would be
most appropriate for each of the riders. The Mongolian
horse—aduu—is a separate breed, thought to be unchanged
since the time of Chinggis Khan. They stay outside with no
enclosures in the high heat of summer and the very serious
cold of winter, foraging for their own food the whole time.
They are tough, with a stocky build and hooves so strong
that few ever feel the touch of horseshoes. All of this makes
them ideal for rough mountain travel. Even better, once
accustomed to having a rider, they become friendly, calm,
and reliable.
When the right horses were selected, the men prepared
the saddles and the rope bridles. The traditional saddles
used by Dzoldzaya's family had a wooden frame and very
tall fronts and backs. Because of this it was usually the
horse, and not the rider, that chose the gait. Given the
possibility of spending two weeks or more in the
wilderness, every bridle and saddle had to be carefully
inspected and repaired or replaced if needed.
Meanwhile, Keoki, Solongo, and Delger organized and
packed all the other little things that would be needed on
such a trek, like clothing, and cookware, bedding, tents,
waterskins, fire-making tools, compasses, first-aid gear,
maps, and on and on. The only surprise for Keoki was
when he noticed that the tents were modern, though well-
used, Coleman back-packing tents. Solongo told him that
they were given to Delger by a group of tourists who didn't
want to bother taking them home.
Muun, all on his own, prepared the pistols, knives, and
rifles.
Nothing was done in a rush, yet all was done by the
time the sun had set and all the family and guests had
gathered in Dzoldzaya's ger for the last full meal before
leaving. Along with the same kind of stew that had been
served the previous evening, the women had prepared a

207
special dessert out of the very few traditionally served in
Mongolia: fresh-baked poppy seed buns, all hot and
buttery.
There was very little conversation. Most of what
needed to be said had been said during the day. When the
meal was over everyone went to their own sleeping areas.
As Tyla and Keoki were exiting the door to return to their
ger, Dzoldzaya slipped a note into Tyla's hand.
Inside their ger, Keoki noticed that a good supply of
firewood had already been stacked by the central stove.
Without giving it any more thought, he went to his cot and
shrugged off his jacket and dropped his hat on the bed.
When he sat down to take off his boots, he saw that Tyla
was still standing, reading something that she held in her
hand. As he looked at her she smiled and walked over to
him. "Dzoldzaya gave me this note as we were leaving her
ger and I just read it.”
"What does it say?" asked Keoki, starting to pull off a
boot.
"It says, 'The ger is yours. Tonight you will not be
disturbed."
"Ahhh," said Keoki.
There were many dreams had by all that night, some
pleasant, some not, some unremembered. Tyla was awake
for a long time, wondering at the fact that, for the first time
in quite a while, someone had made love to her instead of
the other way around. Her dreams were mixed.

The morning of departure was clear and cloudless.

Tenger—Sky Blue Heaven—ruled the world, for a while, at
least. By the time the sun had lifted itself above the horizon
people had washed and dressed and breakfasted, horses had
been gathered and packed or saddled and assigned, tearless
farewells had been said, and a group of intrepid adventurers
rode out of the wide valley, mostly two by two, toward an.

208
 unknown destination.
Delger was far in the lead, already out of sight, armed
with a powerful 9 mm Gyurza pistol popular with Russian
Special Forces and capable of penetrating 8 mm of plate
armor at twenty yards, as well as a Chinese-made SKS
assault rifle. It would be his role to find or make a trail,
mark it, and ride back into sight every once in a while to
make sure the others were going the right way. He would
also choose the campsites.
Muun and Solongo were in the lead, talking softly
together as they kept their horses to a slow walk. Both had
Tokarev semi-automatic rifles used for hunting in cases
attached to their saddles. Tyla and Keoki followed, with the
Interpol officer giving the Hawaiian tips on horseback
riding that he tried to remember and put into practice. Each
carried a Russian-made Makarov semi-automatic pistol,
along with a good supply of 9.3 millimeter cartridges.
Keoki had never fired a pistol in his life, and in spite of his
newfound confidence he was somewhat nervous about
carrying it, and even more about possibly shooting at
someone with it. Tyla was assigned to teach him the basics
of using it when they had the time.
Naran and Altan, as they were called by family
members and friends, rode behind. leading the pack horses
and carrying Russian 7.62 double-action Nagant revolvers,
remakes of the original 1895 version, handed down through
the family from World War II. They also had Tokarev rifles
like Muun and Solongo.
The whole party wore almost identical clothing, all
colored brown so as not to stand out: guful, boots designed
for riding, with boltog, soft high-heeled boots for walking
stored in the packs; a dee/, which could also serve as a
blanket if need be, wrapped with a multi-use sash; warm
jackets of different styles and materials, but brown
nevertheless, kept rolled up on the saddle bags; and a /ouz,
the regular hat with furry side flaps to tie down or up,

209
depending on the weather.
They rode at an easy walk across the steppes until they
were well away from the horse herds. Then Muun and
Solongo lightly kicked their horses into a canter—halfway
between a trot and a gallop, the favorite gait of Mongolian
horses—and all the other horses picked-it up.
Keoki fell behind everyone, for which he was grateful,
because he was hanging on for dear life, bottom bouncing
up and down on the saddle and legs flapping against the
sides of his horse, fearing that he was going to be tossed off
at any moment. Fortunately, he was able to stay mounted
until they all slowed down to a walk again, but he had a
strong sense that his horse had lost all respect for him.
When he was back beside Tyla and she told him that
the horses loved to canter, he realized that he was going to
have to do something radical or he would become a serious
burden on this little expedition. Tyla's tips helped a bit, but
she assumed he knew more than he remembered. The
Hawaiian racked his brain for a solution, but when nothing
came to mind he relaxed and mentally asked his aumakua,
a sort of animal spirit guide in the form of an owl, for
inspiration. Something popped into his mind immediately,
and he almost laughed out loud.
As part of his research for gaming graphics he had
spent a lot of time watching Western movies to get a good
sense of horse and rider movements, and his favorite rider
was John Wayne, who rode a horse like he was part of it.
So Keoki filled his mind with scenes of John Wayne
galloping and told his body to "be" John Wayne with all his
skills of horsemanship, in the same way that he had merged
with the patterns of James Bond and Gramps. In moments
he felt his legs tighten against the sides of the horse, his
body raise itself up in the stirrups slightly to move more
easily with the horse instead of against it, and his hands |
hold the reins with more assurance. He even felt the horse '
behave differently, and once it looked back in surprise as if’

210
 to say, "Who's this new rider on my back?" And the next
time they all cantered he was no longer inexperienced
Keoki afraid of falling, he was John Wayne enjoying the
ride and feeling very good about it.
It took several hours to cross the steppes to the foot of
the mountains where Delger was waiting in the shade of
some birch trees by a tributary of the Tuul River. Following
his lead, everyone dismounted and, John Wayne or not,
Keoki's legs were already aching. Delger said something
and Solongo repeated it for Keoki.
"We'll stop here for a little bit to water the horses and
rest ourselves, and also give everyone an idea of what we'll
be doing next."
Each member of the party found a place to sit and
Delger and Muun took turns speaking, pausing so Solongo
could translate.
Solongo took a map out of her saddlebag and opened it
up on the ground. "This is about where we are," she said,
pointing with a stick to an area on the map that looked a lot
like every other area. "We'll be heading generally northwest
into the mountains through parts of Gorkhi Terelj National
Park and the Khan Khentii Protected Area, which is where
Chinggis Khan was originally from." She waved the stick
around. "The terrain is all mountain taiga, which means
mostly forest and swamp and ridges and narrow valleys
with patches of steppe-like hills. Our first destination is
here," she pointed to a spot on the map that seemed like a
long ways away, "which Muun says is a Deer Stone site
that no one else knows about. From there we may or may
not have to cross the border. It depends on Keoki."
"Is that where the object is?" asked the Hawaiian.
_ Muun and Solongo exchanged a glance. "No," said the
young woman. "We don't know exactly where the object is.
We are hoping that in a place of power you will be able to
communicate with the ongon spirits of the object and lead
us to it."

211
 Keoki chased away a part of him that wanted to say,
What! What are you talking about? How am I supposed to
communicate with map spirits. I can't do that! Instead, he
said out loud, "Supposing I am able to lead you to the
object. What then?"
"Then you communicate with the object and lead us to
whatever is hidden."
Still with a bit of a feeling of surprise, Keoki only
nodded. Even with his newfound confidence he couldn’t
help wondering about that. So, first I’m supposed to locate
spirits I’ve never met who live in ivory skulls, and then I’m
supposed to persuade them to give up secrets that they’ve
kept hidden for at least seven centuries. I can’t wait.
Naran spoke up then, asking a question.
Solongo answered him and then translated as she folded
up the map. "Naran asked about our route. We'll be keeping
to the forests as much as possible, avoiding any tourist
camps and trails. If we have to cross any open areas we'll
do it at night if we can. Normally, we will start out at dawn,
take a mid-morning rest break, have a short cold lunch, take
a mid-afternoon break, and stop to camp at sundown."
"And if we're attacked?" asked Tyla.
The shamaness smiled at her. "Then we defend
ourselves. With guns if it's a physical attack, with shamanic
weapons if it's a shamanic attack. Everyone has guns if
needed. Muun and I," there was the slightest pause, "and
Keoki will take care of any other shamans."
Keoki put his hand on the pistol he carried. I'd better
start practicing a merger with John Wayne's gunfighting
pattern, he thought. But how do I fight another shaman?
Like I did with the dream bear, I guess.
The Interpol officer shook her head slowly. "This seems
like a very dangerous and even foolish venture, depending
as it does on powers and abilities that aren't even real."
Solongo got up to put the map away in the saddlebag_
and turned back to Tyla with a broader smile than before.

212
"This is the best place to turn back if you want to. I'm sure
you can find your way back to Dzoldzaya's ger, and
someone there can take you back to town."
Altan said something then and all the men laughed.
"That was a Mongolian proverb," said Solongo. "Do not
start if afraid, once begun do not be afraid."
Tyla's face got hard. "I'm not going back. I'm just
stating how I feel about it."
They left the broad valley, moving slowly upward away
from birch groves and into fairly dense woods of mostly
Siberian pine and larch. Occasionally they would cross
narrow, rushing streams splashing noisily down steep
slopes until their soft roar disappeared as the riders rounded
the next ridge.
Apart from the sounds they carried with
them—crunching hooves, creaking leather, snuffles and
spits, random farts from horses or humans, brief clinks of
metal on metal, and infrequent low conversation—there
was little else to hear other than a rare bird or two and the
wind waves caressing the upper branches of the trees.
There was no room for cantering here, and the horses
plodded on, obviously bored, but loyally patient and
persistent.
Morning break, the brief lunch of hard cheese and
water, and the afternoon break came and went and were
forgotten. Shadows were long and the air was a lot colder
when Delger appeared out of nowhere and led them all to a
small meadow where they set up camp.
Everyone seemed stiff from the ride, so Keoki didn't
feel too ashamed of his aches and pains. Before anything
else the horses were unsaddled and unpacked, rubbed down
with meadow grass, watered, and tethered to trees where
they could reach grass for grazing. Only then was attention
paid to human comfort.
Keoki helped Altan and Naran retrieve the three
Coleman tents from the baggage. They were set up very

213
quickly with the entrances facing south, and Keoki noticed
that one was larger than the other two. There followed a
rapid and almost heated discussion between all the
Mongolians that lasted for about ten minutes and ended
when Tyla threw up her hands and stomped off toward her
saddlebags and Solongo, grim-faced, headed for her own.
The Hawaiian just stood alone and puzzled until Muun
came up and spoke to him in broken English. "Women
upset. Men decide you need protection. No success without
you. Solongo protect you from Badzar, Tyla protect you
from soldiers. You sleep in middle. No problem. Solongo
also protect you from Tyla and Tyla protect you from
Solongo." Muun laughed heartily and patted Keoki on the
shoulder. " My English bad, others have none. Also, men
afraid of Solongo and do not trust Tyla. Maybe you lucky,
maybe not." He laughed again and went to get his gear to
put in the tent he was going to share with Delger. Keoki
remained where he was. He wasn't going to move a muscle
until he was sure that Muun wasn't playing a joke on him.
He watched Solongo put her gear away in the bigger
tent and then go off toward the food bags. Then he watched
Tyla put her gear away in the same tent and walk straight
toward him. Unsmiling, she said, "Your gear goes in there,"
and pointed to the tent she had just left. When she turned
and went toward the cooking gear, Keoki finally moved
and put his gear away. Inside the tent, which was not very
big, there was a space in the middle at the north end that
had to be for him. A couple of blankets had been laid down
to provide some degree of padding. He suppressed his
normally highly active imagination and went out to help
Muun prepare the firepit. Meanwhile, the brothers had dug
a trench latrine and were now gathering firewood while
Delger was patrolling.
Supper was a small amount of boiled borts, dried
cheese, and hot tea. Muun passed around a small skin of
vodka for everyone to sip after he had flicked an offering to

214
the spirits of the sky, forest, and earth. Everyone was too
tired to sit around and talk, so after cleaning up and taking
care of personal needs, they all went to their assigned tents.
Keoki lingered outside the bigger tent after Solongo and
Tyla had gone in. Remembering Gramps’ teachings in
Heidelberg and after, he extended his /a‘a kea, his "aura" as
some would call, it to surround the tent with a pattern of
strength—physical, emotional, and mental. He knew that
some people would try to do something similar with a
pattern of protection, but he had learned from his
grandfather that "protection" almost always implies fear,
and that fear drains strength instead of helping it. Keoki
thought of the /a‘a kea as a field of energy, something like
an electromagnetic field, that he could create, focus, and
"program" with his mind. He didn't need to give it a color
or a sound to make it seem more real, though he sometimes
did anyway. It was sufficient to have a feeling sense that it
was there.
Once that was set in his mind he projected a larger field
to fill the whole camp and programmed it to serve as a kind
of psychic warning device to let him know if anyone was
mentally or energetically trying to influence them from a
distance. He was aware that even a couple of days ago he
would have worried and doubted and questioned during the
whole process, but now he just did it. Finally—and here he
had to struggle to push away the worry, doubt, and
questioning—he gathered his courage and entered the tent.
The space inside the tent looked even smaller now.
Solongo was on the left, lying on her right side and facing
outward and apparently asleep. Tyla was on the right, lying
on her left side and facing outward, and also apparently
asleep. Their boots were stuffed in the front corners and
each had spread her dee/ on top as a blanket. In the
cramped space Keoki sat in the middle and took off his
boots, then removed his dee/ and lay down, pulling it over
him as the others had done with theirs. Also like them, he

215
used his hat as a pillow. Even though he was on his back,
with his arms pulled in and his hands crossed over his
stomach, there were still points of contact with both
women's bodies and he didn't think he would ever go to
sleep.
He did, though, almost instantly. At least he assumed he
was sleeping, because he remembered the somewhat
discomforting pleasure of lying between Solongo and Tyla
and at the moment he was experiencing the highly
discomforting displeasure of being bound tightly from
shoulders to knees with leather ropes while hanging
suspended over a wide pit of boiling lava inside a gigantic
cavern of black, jagged rock. He was thirty or forty feet
above the pit and he could feel its heat, hear the bubbling
and snapping and cracking of the lava, smell the sulfuric
fumes, and see the glints of red reflected from the sharp
edges of the rock walls and ceiling.
Gradually a whitish form appeared on the far side of the
pit, seemingly far off in the blackness of the cavern. Slowly
it grew in size, becoming larger and larger until it filled that
side of the cavern and looked more like a cloud. Within the
cloud lights flashed in different places, exactly as in a
lightning storm, creating reddish glows and dark shadows
that gave the impression of great depth. Along with the
lights came the sound of low, distant thunder.
Without warning a bolt of lightning flashed out of the
cloud and struck Keoki full in the chest, causing him to
spin around. Moments later there was a very loud crack of’
thunder, only instead of just noise, it was a monstrous voice
that spoke to him.
"Foolish, foolish human!" it thundered. "You dare to
challenge the gods! Your doom is upon you! You are weak,
helpless, pitiful! Die now in pain and despair!" Another:
bolt of lightning struck the rope from which Keoki was.
suspended and split it in two.
The Hawaiian was impressed. The special effects were

216
as good as anything he'd seen in a movie. This guy is pretty
good, he thought as he plunged downward toward the pit of
molten lava, still leather-bound. A little heavy on the
psychological intimidation bit, but five stars out of ten, at
least. Just before he hit the lava he thought to himself, /
wonder how well he does against butterflies? and turned
himself into a Vanessa tameamea, otherwise known as a
Pulelehua.
As part of an ecology course he had taken during his
studies at the University of Hawaii Keoki had learned about
endemic Hawaiian flora and fauna, which included insects,
and one that attracted him most was one of only two native
butterflies, the Kamehameha Butterfly, named after the first
Hawaiian monarch because it resembled the Monarch
butterfly of North America. Found nowhere else in the
world, its origins were a mystery, and that was one of the
things Keoki liked about it.
In the cavern setting, obviously created by the one
called Badzar, the butterfly fluttered free of the ropes and
flew directly into the cloud as the leather hit the lava,
splashing and sizzling. Lightning flashed and thunder
roared all around the butterfly, but it was untouched.
Finding no core to the cloud—if you are going to be a
cloud I guess you have to be a cloud all the way, it
thought—the butterfly decided to become even bigger than
the cloud. Then it spoke to the cloud, telepathically, of
course. "Poor little cloud. Here come the trade winds to
break you all up." And it flapped its enormous wings, first
causing the cloud to disintegrate and then making the
cavern itself fall apart and let in sunlight and fresh air. As
the butterfly landed on a branch of a koa tree it could hear
very faint, angry screams.
Keoki woke up to sound and movement. His opened
eyes saw nothing but blackness, but there was a
murmuring, almost whimpering, sound in his left ear, and
something was bumping his right knee. Breathing slowly

217
and carefully, he extended his awareness and called on his
memory of where his physical body lay.
It was Tyla who was whimpering in her sleep. She was
turned toward him with her left arm on his chest and her
hand clutching his shirt. He could feel one of her legs
pressed tightly against his. On his right side, Solongo was
also turned toward him. One of her knees was bumping
against him like she was trying to run in her sleep, and she
had his right arm gripped in both her hands and pulled up
against the shirt covering her breasts.
Keoki breathed even more slowly and carefully,
controlling his thoughts and his body reactions as best he
could, then filled the tent with a soft blue Ja'a kea. For him,
the blue represented calm confidence, and since it was the
color of Tenger, the Mongolian Sky Father, it would
hopefully help the women feel the same way. Soon Tyla
stopped whimpering and Solongo stopped trying to run.
When both women relaxed their grips and moved slightly
away from him Keoki fell asleep again, into a long dream
of sailing an outrigger canoe on a copper sea and looking
for islands shaped like skulls.
The shamaness was gone when Keoki woke up to early
morning light and Tyla was sitting up and putting on her
boots. "Sain bainuu — How are you?" she said.
"Fine, I guess," said Keoki, sitting up in his turn. "How
are you? You were sort of talking in your sleep."
Tyla shrugged. "Did I say anything interesting?" When
Keoki shook his head she said, "Then I must be fine. See
you at breakfast."
After Tyla left the tent, Keoki pulled on his own boots,
put his deel and sash back on, and went outside. He saw’
Solongo first, unsmiling, sitting at the ring of rocks and.
tending the fire. Her rifle was on her back. Muun was;
walking toward her from the latrine area, also wearing his:
rifle. The brothers were by the horses, armed as well, and|
Delger with his rifle was standing at the edge of the:

218
meadow, drinking something from a cup. Then Tyla came
in from the woods and he could see that she was wearing
her pistol, too. Everyone looked at him.
"Uh, don't go anywhere without your weapons, right?"
Only Muun smiled. So Keoki went back inside the tent to
get his pistol belt and put it on.
What passed for breakfast consisted of tea, cold borts,
and dried cheese. After everyone had their share, Solongo
made them all sit in a circle around the firepit, which was
down to embers by then. This was to become a daily ritual,
when conditions permitted. Everyone had to share whatever
dreams they could remember. These were discussed and
analyzed for meaning, with particular attention paid to
anything that might bear on the current journey.
Solongo began with a dream of being chased by wolves
until a snow leopard appeared, grabbed her by the back of
her deel with its teeth, and hauled her up to some rocks for
safety. She took this as a possible attack which she
survived with spiritual help. Delger dreamed of shooting a
grouse for supper. Naran dreamed of herding horses, and
in Altan's dream he lost a wrestling match, but won a prize
anyway. Tyla could only remember something unpleasant
with no details. Muun told of three dreams: a storm cloud
hovering over distant mountains; a strong wind blowing
across the steppes; and a small, colorful bird singing in a
tree. He interpreted the first as there being no immediate
danger from Badzar, the second as meaning that someone
with strong hiimori — psychic energy, was going to help
them, and the third to mean that some unknown danger had
been overcome. When Keoki related his dream it caused all
kinds of consternation. Solongo seemed especially upset
that she wasn't a part of it. Muun was the only one who
appeared pleased with it, nodding his head with a smile at
each segment of the tale.
With that over, the party began a routine that lasted for
five more days and nights. Every morning, after a simple

219
breakfast, they would share dreams (no one had any more
significant ones during that time), break camp, ride through
the forest uphill and downhill over ridges and through
gulches, take a rest, eat lunch, take another rest, set up
camp, eat, sleep, and wake up again. Some things modified
the routine a bit. Delger actually did shoot a grouse that
made a fine dinner, the inhabitants of the big tent became
more comfortable sleeping together (although a certain
degree of sexual tension remained), and Tyla managed to
turn Keoki into a reasonably effective marksman (with a
little help from John Wayne).

220
 FOURTEEN: DEER STONES
OO: the fifth night they were camped by a small
mountain lake that reminded Muun of Lake
Khuvsgul, “The heart and soul of Mongolia—our Great
Mother,” as he called it. Keoki had only seen photos of it
from the Internet, and he knew that it was one of the very
few freshwater lakes in the world whose water was pure
enough to drink directly. But he had to ask Muun why he
called it a “Great Mother.”
That made Muun very pleased. He shared vodka around
the fire and began talking in Mongolian. Delger, Altan,
Naran, and even Tyla all crowded close to listen. Solongo
translated for Keoki.
“Many years ago,” Muun started in a storytelling voice,
“Lake Khuvsgul was just as beautiful as it is today, at least
until the ogre came. Ogres hate beautiful things, as you all
know, so this one drank up all the water and ate all the
living creatures and the whole area became a desert.
“Ages later, an old woman was crossing the dry lake
bed and she came across a tiny little boy no bigger than her
_ thumb. They became a family and wandered in search of a
home for many days. Finally, they spotted a large rock and
the old woman lifted it up. Crystal clear water appeared
underneath it, so they built a well there, but because the
water would not stop coming up they had to cover it every
night with a rock.
“One day a beautiful girl arrived, which made the boy
very happy, and so the family grew. After a few years,
however, they were having so much fun together singing
and dancing that they forgot to cover up the well and the
valley was flooded. This attracted another ogre who started
to drink up all the water. However, the little boy had grown
into a tall, strong man, so he killed the ogre and covered
him up with a mountain top.
221
 “Water was still pouring from the well, though, so the
old woman dove far down and replaced the rock cover.
This stopped the lake from getting any bigger, but the old
lady drowned on her way back up to the surface. That’s
when the boy and the girl began to call the lake “mother,”
in honor of that brave old woman. Today you can still see
the mountain top that covers the ogre, except that it looks
like the biggest island in the lake now. And the smallest
island is the rock that covers the well.”
While the others praised Muun and thanked him for the
story, Keoki smiled and said to himself, And that’s how we
know the story is true, a favorite story ending to Hawaiian
legends that Gramps loved to use.
Keoki was highly energized that evening. For five
nights he had been sleeping between two beautiful women,
one of whom he was already having a torrid affair with
before this trip, and the other who had been an object of
fantasies ever since he first met her. Until now, the only
thing that had kept him sane at night had been the
exhaustion of travel. Tonight, though, he didn’t feel
exhausted, he felt unbearably aroused. He had tried
relieving himself in the woods, but as soon as he came back
to camp and saw Solongo bending over her pack and a
flash of Tyla’s leg as she pulled her skirt away from a bush
it got caught on, he was aroused all over again.
The two women had already gone into the tent and it
was getting colder outside. Keoki considered the other two
tents, but they were way too small for three men to fit in
together. Then he considered sleeping outside, but.
everyone would think he was crazy, and it was a stupid
thing to do besides. There was nothing to do except try and.
fall asleep as quickly as possible.
Keoki went into the tent, took off his boots, and.
crawled between the two women, underneath his extra deel'
that served as a blanket. He was still fully clothed, and the:
extra clothing made it a tight fit. He was ultra aware of the:

222
 bodies on either side of him and did his best to remain
perfectly still. Nevertheless, something, maybe his energy,
ome him away. Tyla shifted her position and turned toward
im.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered. “You’re about as
tense as a rock.”
“That’s not a good metaphor,” he whispered back.
There were a few moments of silence, and then he
heard her whisper, “Oh.” Tyla shifted again and he felt a
warm touch in an intimate place.
Then Solongo shifted position to face toward him and
he felt a second warm touch in the same intimate place.
“Two hands are better than one,” she whispered. “We are
both responsible for the well-being of this man.”
The good part was that Keoki slept soundly for the rest
of the night.
The next day of riding through the seemingly endless
forest brought a brief, but refreshing, rain shower and
somewhat colder temperatures. This time Muun took the
lead and spent the whole morning guiding the party up a
ridgeline rather than over it. As they came to the top of the
ridge the trees thinned out and they lunched on borts and
dried cheese in a park-like setting. Several hours of more
level riding followed until they entered into a steppe-like
meadow of gently rolling hills, and in a kind of saddle
between two of these there came into view an area of about
an acre, nearly filled with upright slabs of stone, many
engraved with carvings of reindeer rendered as if they were
moving straight up into the sky.
“This is the place we have been looking for.” Muun
spoke again in Monglian and Solongo translated. “I know
my brother passed near here, and when I came last no one
else had been here, but I don’t know if anyone has come
since then.”
“Do you really think we’ll be able to get any
information about the artifact here?” asked Tyla.

e245
 “That will be mostly up to Keoki,” said Solongo.
Keoki grunted. “Well, let’s go on and find out.” He was
both happy and irritated that neither Tyla nor Solongo acted
as if anything unusual had happened the night before.
They halted at the treeline on the edge of the open field
and dismounted. Delger, Naran and Altan immediately
hobbled the horses and remained by them. Muun stood
right where he had landed and when Solongo was off her
horse she glided gracefully onto the edge of the field
without hesitation and gazed over it. Tyla held onto the
reins of her horse as if she needed some familiar connection
and her expression was a mix of curiousity and anxiety.
Keoki ached in every part of his body during the dismount
and after, when his legs felt so rubbery it took determined
willpower to remain standing.
When the Hawaiian took a better look at the grassy,
rock-strewn area with the others, though, the aches and
weakness receded into the background of his awareness.
All of his attention was centered on the fascinating scene:
before him.
Scattered randomly over gently rolling open Pe |
were about fifty slender, upright stone slabs and poles, ,
most of them leaning to one side a bit. At first glance it:
resembled an abandoned cemetery. That impression was}
strengthened by the almost complete silence of the place, ,
made more eerie by the faint sound of wind in the treetops...
Even the birds, which had been their nearly constant:
companions for the whole journey, could not be heard|
beyond the woods.
After some moments of looking, Keoki, who had been}
extremely interested in the Deer Stones he had seen at the!
museum in Ulaanbator, started forward, but Muun reached!
out and held his arm.
“Not yet,” said Solongo, turning back as if she knew’
what was going on behind her. “This is a place of great and!
ancient power, but it’s available to anyone who knows how)

224
 to use it. We must be careful and check it for traps and
ambushes.”
Automatically, Keoki looked at the ground for any
signs of camouflaged dangers, but he couldn’t see anything
that he could recognize as such. Maybe some of the rocks
on the ground were booby-trapped.
As the Hawaiian scanned the area, Muun opened a
small leather pouch, stepped forward onto the grass,
seemed to smell the air, and tossed a bit of powder from the
pouch then watched as the light breeze carried it away. It
took Keoki a moment to remember where he was and
whom he was with, and to realize that Solongo meant
shamanic traps and ambushes, not the physical kind.
While Muun walked along the edge of the treeline with
his pouch and powder, repeating what he had already done,
Solongo went into a kind of trance doing only she knew
what as she stood just outside of the treeline. Tyla, Delger,
and the brothers waited patiently, soothing the horses.
Keoki figured he might as well be useful, so he extended
his /a’a kea and tried to sense something in the area that
felt out of place, but he didn’t get anything like that. What
he did feel was was a sense of tremendous energy that
began to affect him like a caffeine high, similar to what had
happened at the museum. Meanwhile, Muun had moved out
among the upright stones, wandered among them in sort of
a circle for fifteen minutes casting his powder occasionally,
and came walking back just as Solongo returned from her
trance.
The shamaness asked Muun a question. He replied, and
she replied back, then turned to the rest of the group.
“Muun says the place seems to be untouched since his last
visit, and my spirits aren’t giving me any warning signals.
Keoki, did you check in any way?”
“Yes,” answered the Hawaiian. “I couldn’t sense
anything out of place.”
“Fine,” said Solongo. “Let’s camp close to the stones,

225
then.” However, the horses were strangely reluctant to go
out into the open, so Delger and the brothers tied them with
long lines to the trees so they could reach some grass at
least. “They probably sense the power here and it makes
them uncomfortable,” said Solongo.
They set up camp within a few yards of the first stones,
placing the tents in the usual triangle with the campfire
space in the middle. Muun busied himself with camp
chores since he was already familiar with the place. Delger
wasn’t interested in the Deer Stones, so he helped Muun
gather rocks for the campfire and dig a latrine back in the
woods. The brothers circled the entire site warily, gathering
firewood along the way. They were curious enough to look,
but fearful enough not to want to disturb any spirits that
might take offense, so they did not enter the field. Solongo,
Tyla, and Keoki went in among the stones, each exploring
in their own way.
Solongo was talking to the spirits in the stones and
asking questions, spending a few minutes with those that
seemed to merit her attention. Tyla went into the field like
there was nothing better to do. She had been to the museum
several times and had visited some of the sites closer to the
city, so she was mildly intrigued by the large variety and
number of the stones. Keoki was delighted to be in such
close contact to these stones. He had felt a strong attraction
to them at the National Historical Museum in Ulaanbator,
and wished he could spend more time with them, and now
here he was in a whole field of them in their original
setting.
Keoki let his /a’a kea, his aura, spread out and into the
stones, greeting them as individuals and offering
friendship. Unlike Solongo, who in the context of her
beliefs was communicating with various kinds of spirits
who inhabited the stones, Keoki, in the context of his
beliefs, was connecting with the stones as spirits
themselves, manifesting in a way that could be seen and

226
touched by others. More than just a different interpretation,
each approach by the two shamans opened up different
avenues of communication and information.
The shamaness thought of the stones as ongon,
dwelling places where the spirits of deceased shamans had
taken up residence, so the information she received had to
do with the knowledge, abilities, and powers of shamans
who had lived in the general area from as little as a decade
ago to many centuries past. The Hawaiian, on the other
hand, took the point of view that the stones themselves
were alive, aware, and responsive, and could tell him where
they came from, why they were made, and who erected
them in this place.
The stones didn’t talk to Keoki in words, but rather in
flashes of awareness and memories and feelings. But first,
he had to put himself into a state in which such
communication could take place, the way Gramps had
taught him to do to connect with ancient temple sites on
Big Island.
Everything has its own ana oe, its own “sound pattern”
or “vibration pattern” or “energy pattern,” his grandfather
had told him. The English words didn’t quite capture the
whole of what ana ce meant, but you could sort of, kind of,
get some idea from the way voice recognition software
worked. The best kind could recognize a person’s voice
whether he or she spoke high or low, spoke in a different
language, or spoke haltingly, because the recognition
process included a wide range of speech data specific to a
particular individual. In a somewhat similar way, ana oe
referred to the overall energetic pattern that made anything
recognizable as distinct from any other thing.
Fortunately, the practice was easier than the
explanation. Keoki picked one Deer Stone to start with. He
still thought it was curious that all the stones in one of these
areas were called “Deer Stones” even when they didn’t
have any deer images on them, but he guessed it made it

224
easier for archeologists to talk about them. Regardless,
Keoki picked one that actually had deer on it.
He began by extending his /a’a kea out to include the
stone, and then slowed down his breathing and imagined
the vibration of his aura slowing down to match at least the
upper reaches of this particular stone’s frequency range. He
didn’t know if this was what was really happening, but
Gramps had said that if a metaphor worked, go ahead and
use it, and this one did, for Keoki, at least.
Soon Keoki could feel the presence of the stone more
clearly. Details stood out more sharply, and it was as if he
were actually touching the stone and sensing its texture,
even though he was still a couple of feet away from it. At
this point the Hawaiian did no more than lightly hold a
desire for more information in his mind. And information.
came, with a suddenness that startled him.
The stone he had picked was taller than him, standing
straighter than most of the others. It was a square column, .
roughly a foot on each side. Only one side had deer on it.
There were three of them, apparently rising into the sky,
and they were light tan in color, seemingly carved into a
surface of darker brown. Each deer had its legs in a running:
position and had long, wavy, spiky antlers extending over
its back with an almost beak-like snout projecting forward..
The top deer was missing its head. The other three sides of
the column were an even lighter tan, not brown like the:
background the deer were on.
What startled him most, however, was something so’
obvious that he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t noticed
it right away. This stone, like many others in the group,
was cut off at a sharp angle on the top. That in itself might
have been done by vandals, but it was odd that only the
head of the top deer would have been taken. On closer
examination, Keoki could see that parts of the other two:
deer were missing, too. Part of its snout on the right side
and part of its antlers on the left were missing from the:

228
 bottom one, and the tail stump was missing on the middle
one. While the deer were done with great skill, the edges of
the column were very rough. The overall effect was that it
seemed as if someone had chiseled this out of a larger
structure, like a wall. As soon as Keoki noticed that, he
received a flash image of a frieze oriented horizontally on
the wall of a city of some kind.
Quickly, the Hawaiian moved to another stone with
deer on it, trusting that he’d be able to maintain the
connection level. This stone was much smaller, even more
roughly edged, and curved to the left rather than straight.
On this one, the deer were very similar, and also missing
parts. A third and a fourth stone with deer on them showed
the same thing. Another insight came to him. None of these
stones were made by the people who erected them. They
were loot, carted away from the ruins of some great city
and erected in all the various areas to commemorate the
tribal or family members of nomads who had died in...
in... Keoki calmed down and held the desire for more
information, and it came to him in another flash image.
They had died in a huge battle, a very long time ago! And
the deer were not flying, they were running horizontally in
their original state of being part of a huge frieze on city
walls.
Keoki was tingling all over for some reason, almost as
if this were important to him personally in a strange way.
Now very curious as to what else he might discover, he
moved around to other stones without deer on them. Some
of them had obviously been intended to stand upright. Of
those, one about the size and shape of a gravestone, only
thicker, was rounded on top and on the edges, made of a
white stone, and simply decorated with a straight band
carved all around near the tip, the outline of a circle below
that, and circular depressions carved all around the stone in
a band below that. Keoki’s impression was that it was a
monument to an event of some kind and the circles were

229
intended to indicate a date. Another one, looking at first
like a complete though slender column with a human face
in relief at the top, proved on closer inspection to also have
strong indications of having been cut out of a large
structure, because the decorations seemed incomplete. All
the rest, regardless of shape or decorations, appeared to be
pieces of something larger.
Sitting down on a smooth “Deer Stone” that had fallen,
Keoki let his mind dwell on the idea of the great ancient
city that had come to his mind. The young Hawaiian used a.
technique that his grandfather had called nalu. Keoki knew:
that nalu was a word that meant “wave,” and he was very
familiar with the phrase he ’e nalu, “wave sliding,” that was
used to mean “surfing.”” However, Gramps had pointed out.
that it also meant “to meditate” (and Keoki had verified that
with his Hawaiian dictionary). Gramps had said something
about thoughts being like waves of energy that carried
information and the roots of the word nalu carrying a sense:
of peaceful togetherness, but Keoki was more interested in
the technique.
Basically, according to his grandfather, it consisted of!
gently holding the thought of something in your mind as an)
idea, short verbal description, or an image, with a kind of
effortless background intention to know more about it, and!
then waiting for information about the subject to come:
flowing into your mind from some source or other. Gramps
wasn’t very clear about that part, in Keoki’s opinion. And
Keoki had a lot of trouble grasping the concept until
Gramps had described it as being like setting an open:
calabash or bowl on a bed of ti leaves. The bowl itself was
the thought, he’d said, the open space was for the
information to come in like someone you couldn’t see!
pouring poi or fruit into it, and the ti leaves were like your
passively held intention. Keoki had tried this numerous:
times, and was amazed at how consistently it worked for
everything from developing creative story ideas to insights

230
on how to fix a computer problem. It had a touch of
uncomfortable “spooky stuff’ about it, but it worked so
well and so often that Keoki ignored the connection. Now,
with his new sense of self-awareness, there was no
discomfort at all.
As he meditated in this fashion, Keoki got streaming
images, sometimes with sound, but all jumbled like a series
of video clips on different topics strung together without
any continuity. There were scenes of fast-riding mounted
archers; women dipping pots at a well that had a stone post
in the center like one of the Deer Stones he had been
looking at; a noisy market place; massive walls decorated
with deer and other animals; people on their knees being
beheaded; others jumping from towers; a boy hugging a
goat; children throwing flowers at each other; some kind of
religious-looking ceremony involving human skulls...
Keoki stopped, shook his head, and stood up. This was
too much. He felt like all the stones were trying to tell him
their stories at the same time. It was interesting in a way,
but it didn’t have anything to do with why he was here. To
clear his mind he walked away from the open field and into
the woods where he just touched the trees, smelled their
bark, and listened to the sounds: birdsong, leaves being
rustled by a breeze, and his own footsteps. He was
pleasantly engaged in present-moment focus when he heard
his name being called. He entered the clearing again and
saw Tyla waving at him from the campsite and he was
surprised to see that it was nearly dark. When he
approached the camp his stomach growled at the smell of
roasting meat.
Delger had bagged a white antelope—Keoki hadn’t
even heard a shot—and its remains were hanging high in a
net bag between two trees well away from the camp to keep
it from any wandering bears. Naran and Altan were already
cooking the best parts of the animal on several damp sticks
angled over a fire, namely the filets, the heart, the tongue

231
and part of the rib. The wonderful aroma of roasting meat
was enhanced by the fact that it had been rubbed with wild
thyme before cooking. The rest of the meat would be
covered in aluminum foil and slow-cooked in the embers
overnight to make it last for at least a couple more days.
Anything they couldn’t use or take with them would be
buried as an offering to “the earth mother.”
Fresh water from the last stream they had crossed made
into tea, a few end-of-summer blueberries, and some
musty-smelling mushrooms accompanied the feast. Keoki
chewed and swallowed the juicy meat with a great deal of
pleasure. The mushrooms didn’t have much taste, but his
share of the berries—two—were a nice treat to finish the
meal with. Curious, he thought as he licked his fingers,
how really good something so simple can taste when you
haven’t had much of anything for so long.
When appetites were sated, Muun pulled out his flask,
flicked an alcoholic gift to the local spirits and poured
everyone a shot of vodka into small brass cups. “A toast for
having made it this far,” he said in Mongolian and English
before putting the flask away. Solongo, Tyla, and Keoki
sipped at theirs, while Muun and the other men tossed
theirs off in one gulp. For a short while there was only the
sound of the crackling fire and the ever present sighing of
the wind in the tops of the trees.
The Hawaiian was the first to speak. “Did you learn
anything from the stones, Solongo?”
She took another small sip of vodka before replying.
“The shaman spirits in the deer stones have been very
lonely. We are the first to visit this place in many years,
more than they can count. But they learned from the wind
and the trees of the passage of Muun’s brother some... let’s
say miles from here, although they don’t know the
direction. More importantly, they heard the sounds of “iron
birds”—what we would call helicopters—not far from here
a few days ago. There is no way to tell whether it was just a |

232
 routine military overflight, or someone looking for us. In
either case, we must be extra cautious from now on. They
couldn’t give me any information about our particular
quest, though. What did you learn, Keoki?” she asked as
she raised her cup to her lips for another sip.
The eyes of the others were focused on him with such
intensity that it felt like a physical pressure. For just a
moment, Keoki got the old urge to quibble about his
experiences in order to avoid commitment to a point of
view that might result in objections or rejections from
others, but he was able to put that aside so easily that it still
surprised a part of him. “I found out that these stones were
put here to commemorate warriors who were slain in a
huge battle to conquer a large city in the south. The people
who put them here cut them out of the walls of that city or
tore them from their pedestals and carried or dragged them
here and all the other places they can be tound as tokens of
victory.” He paused to look at the shocked faces of Solongo
and Tyla, and to wonder at the broad smile on Muun’s face.
Delger and the brothers didn’t understand what he said, but
they still looked intensely interested.
“T also got a sense that a lot of, well, sorcery was
practiced in the city and that somehow this destroyed the
city more than the battle did. I saw a ceremony involving
skulls...”
“The skulls we are looking for?” interrupted Tyla.
“T don’t know. Maybe I can get more on that tomorrow.
Anyway, there was also something about treasure and
about a caravan going east. I was getting so much so fast
that I had to take a break, and that’s when Tyla called me to
dinner.”
When Keoki finished, Muun took out his flask and
poured the young man another shot of vodka. “Well done,”
he said.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” objected Solongo.
“Everyone knows...”

Pe
 Muun held up a hand for silence. He spoke in
Mongolian for a couple of minutes.
“He wants me to translate for him,” said Solongo,
looking a little upset. “I don’t necessarily agree with him,
but here goes.”
“What everyone knows are lies, guesses, and half-
truths,” Solongo said on behalf of Muun. “Everyone knows
that the Deer Stones were erected by the Evenki people,
whom the Russians call Tungus, because they ride reindeer,
because most of the stones are found in the area where they
live, and because archeologists say so. But these stones are
far older than the Evenki, far older than the Buryats, far
older even than the Huns or the Chinese.”
“There is a very ancient story about a great city in the
south called Khara Hot, the “Black City of Death,” and I
will tell you the truth about that city.” |
Delger said something and all the Mongolians laughed, —
even Muun.
Still smiling, Solongo said, “Delger just recited a
Mongolian proverb: There are as many versions of a story
as there are tongues to tell it.”
Muun said something and gestured for Solongo to
continue with her translation.
“Be that as it may,” the shamaness translated, “here is |
the truth of the story. Most people who tell the story place
the city in the far south of the Gobi, but it was much farther
north than that. It was in the middle, in Dundgobi District, _
in Ulaan Suvraga, a place like the badlands of Wyoming in -
America.
“And it was a great city, the greatest of its time. It had
high walls, beautifully decorated inside and out with rows -
and rows of friezes depicting animals—including —
reindeer—and flowers and trees and weapons and battles
and many other things. Inside the walls were temples and
palaces and residences for nobility and royalty, with many
wells and fountains fed by abundant springs. Open markets

234
surrounded the city and beyond that lay the villages and
farms of the common people.
“The Khan of the city was Khara Baatar, the most
powerful and feared man of his time, because he was what
you would call a black magician. To maintain his power he
not only had a large army of fierce and deadly warriors, he
had a force of one hundred sorcerers to rain lightning down
upon his enemies and all those who displeased him.
“Because of his terrible temper and his terrible
punishments and his terrible greed, the day came when his
enemies far outnumbered those who still obeyed his
commands. Even with that he might have survived, but his
evil was so great that it drove his enemies to unite and lay
seige to the city.
“Fighting like our ancestors the Huns and the Mongols
of Chinggis Khan, the enemies of Khara Baatar completely
defeated his armies in spite of the sorcerers who assisted
them, destroyed the farmlands and the villages, and camped
at the very walls of Khara Hot. By then the city itself was
inhabited only by the royals and nobles, a small force of
guards and sorcerers who had not died on the battlefield,
and the remaining servants and slaves.
“As the armies outside the walls prepared for a very
long siege, Khara Baatar decided to escape with his fabled
hoard of treasure. Knowing there were spies inside the city,
however, he spread the rumor that all of his treasure would
be buried in several wells throughout the city. To reinforce
the rumor, he actually did have small amounts of
unimportant treasure buried by servants who were guarded
by warriors, and he made sure that they were seen by the
spies.
“Over the course of several days the remaining
population was evacuated in small groups, under cover of
darkness and concealing magic, along with the treasure.
Some say all the treasure went north, some think it went
south, and others believe it was split up among the

9)
evacuees. There are those who even claim that the treasure
of Khara Hot was found and used by Chinggis Khan to
finance his conquests.
“Before leaving himself, Khara Baatar gathered his
sorcerers and used the blackest magic to dry up all the
wells in the city and in the surrounding land, and to create
ghosts—including one that looked like his favorite
daughter—to walk the walls and make it seem like the city
was still inhabited.
“Desperate for water, the surrounding armies launched
a furious assault and breached the walls, only to find the
city uninhabited, the wells dry, and all of the treasure
except for a few trinkets gone. The angry soldiers looted
what they could and razed the city to the ground, but many
died on the way home before they could find water. These
deer stones you see were taken from Khara Hot and used as
monuments to commemorate the fallen comrades of the
survivors.
“As for what happened to Khara Baatar, his sorcerers,
and all the others who escaped the city, no one knows
anything at all.”
Muun poured a self-congratulatory shot of vodka,
downed it in one gulp, and went silent.
After a few minutes of continued silence, Keoki asked,
“So, what does that have to do with the skull artifact?”
The old shaman shrugged. “I do not know. Perhaps you
will find out tomorrow.” Then he smiled. “Or perhaps —
tonight.”
“Well, the only way that will happen is if we get some
sleep and get up early,” said Solongo.
Tyla, who had been quiet for so long that Keoki had —
almost forgotten her, said, “Is it my imagination, or is it.
getting colder?”
Muun looked at the starry sky, closed his eyes for a bit,
opened them again, and said, “Weather is changing. It will
get colder.”

236
 Keoki noticed it now and shivered. In spite of the fire,
he was feeling the cold more than he had been earlier,
especially on his back. “I’m ready for bed now,” he said.
“Are you two coming?” He looked at Solongo and Tyla.
Solongo replied. “You go warm up the bed, Keoki. I
want to talk to Tyla.”
Oh, great, thought Keoki. That can’t be good.
“May you have interesting dreams,” Muun called out as
the Hawaiian left the campfire.
Keoki went into the big tent, wondering what Solongo
and Tyla could be talking about. Him, no doubt, but what
about him? He took off his boots, tucked them into his
assigned corner, and left everything else on as he crawled
into the three-person sleeping bag they had made up. It was
definitely getting colder, almost by the minute. As he
settled in on his back he did some special breathing to relax
his body and increase his circulation. Then he filled the bed
with his /a’a kea, giving it the intense glow of a hot furnace
with his imagination and feeling. In moments he felt warm
and cozy and smiled with pleasure. Thanks, Gramps, he
thought just before he fell asleep.
Solongo and Tyla continued their conversation until
long after everyone else had retured to their tents. Keoki
had only been partly right. They did talk about him, but
they talked more about Tyla herself.
“You fear very much for the safety of a child,” said
Solongo at one point.
“How can you possibly know that?” gasped Tyla.
The shamaness simply smiled. “Whether you like it or
not, or accept it or not, we do have access to sources of
information that are beyond technology.”
“And do you have the power to make that child safe?”
“We will try, that I promise you.”
With a truly puzzled look, Tyla asked, “Why?”
Solongo paused before answering, twirling the hawk
feather that hung at her neck with her fingers. “We face a

237
danger far greater than you can imagine. If we cannot put
aside our differences and support each other, neither one of
us will survive. This I know without a doubt. Please believe
me.”
“And Keoki?”
The other woman grimaced. “That I-don’t know. I can’t
see it clearly. But I know that he will need our help if he is
to accomplish his mission. Will you cooperate with me to
help him—and help ourselves to survive—for the rest of
this journey?”
Tyla sighed. It wasn’t helping her own mission to keep
thinking of this woman as an enemy, or a rival. “I will
cooperate with you, for the good of Keoki, for your good
and mine, and for the good of the whole party. You have
my word.”
Unlike the men, who probably would have shared snuff
after such a conversation, the women merged their hands.
Tyla held out her left hand as if for a handshake, Solongo
pressed the back of her right hand against it, Tyla pressed
her full right hand, palm to palm against Solongo’s, and the
shamaness covered the back of her right hand with her left.
A squeeze, a smile, and the pact was made. Then the two
women got up to join Keoki in the tent.
The Interpol agent still didn’t think it was necessary to
mention the tube of lipstick that she carried.

238
FIFTEEN: CITY OF DEATH
Ko woke up from a very strange dream, took
pleasure in the luxurious feel of silken sheets
below and above him, and rolled over to stroke the equally
silken arm of one of the two dancing girls that he was
sleeping with to experience more pleasure and...
Dancing girls?
The young man sat up quickly and looked around. He
was in a large bed in a large room and sunlight was
streaming in through a large window. No, not a window
exactly, a large opening without any glass. And sleeping on
either side of him were two ivory-skinned young women,
both brunettes, although one of them had reddish tints in
her hair. He couldn’t see their faces, but from what he
could see of their bodies they were both naked and very
nicely shaped. A flash of memory with all their limbs
entwined began to arouse him, so he reached out...
Wait a minute!
As he pulled his arm back, Keoki looked at it with
surprise. It wasn’t his. Well, it was his, but not the one he
was used to. For one thing, it was darker, deeply tanned. It
was also more muscular. So was his whole body, which
was naked as well. He looked around more intently.
Aside from the bed, with its red and orange sheets,
there was not much other furniture in the spacious room. A
low table and some cushions on one side with what might
be clothing scattered around. On the other side, near a door,
was another table with pitchers and cups and the remains of
a meal. Neatly piled next to it was what looked like armor
of some kind.
Keoki climbed out of the bed, noting that the girls were
still in deep slumber, and stood at the foot, facing the
opening. Standing up made him feel dizzy, like he had had
too much to drink, and a memory of a drinking bout with
the girls came to him clearly. A little unsteadily. he walked
239
over to the opening and leaned on the sill, looking out.
He was on the second or third floor of a complex of
buildings composed of domes, flat roofs, roof gardens,
walkways and courtyards. The word “palace” came to
mind. Heavy, flowery scents filled the warm air, along with
birdsong, distant shouts, and an odd kind of rumbling that
reminded him of car tires over cobblestones in Germany.
But at the same time he knew that it was the sound of
cartwheels rolling on flagstones.
That was odd in itself. Paying more attention to his
thoughts, he realized that he had two completely different
sets of memories. There were his “Keoki” thoughts of
having gone to bed last night in the tent that he shared with
Solongo and Tyla, although he didn’t remember them
coming to bed after him, and there were his thoughts of...
who? A name came that he understood like a translation,
and yet like a name in a language he had never heard that
he also understood. The sense of it was “Desert Tiger,” and
it came to him along with a memory-feel of himself garbed
as a warrior with sword and spear, wearing the skin of a
tiger-like animal as a cloak. There was also the memory of
having slain that tiger himself with only a knife, of
recovering from terrible wounds, of terrific pride in himself
for what he had done, and of... He looked back at the bed.
A clear memory of the girls dancing at some feast and of
them going to bed with him last night after more partying
and of... He stopped that line of thought.
The point was, he told himself, that this was a very
unusual dream. He picked up a piece of clothing from the
floor and felt it. It was soft and cool and he could make out
the fine threads, knowing without knowing how he knew
that it was linen from a distant kingdom far to the
southwest. The details in this dream were remarkably sharp
and consistent. He could remember few dreams that were
this “real.” And the memories of this... persona, were as
clear and consistent and extensive as any of his own. That

240
was also rare. What was totally unique, however, was that
he was so completely aware of being Keoki at the same
time, with all of his memories of Hawaii and his family and
friends, of Gramps and Ari, of having been in Europe and
of now being in Mongolia with Solongo and Tyla and
Muun and... Only he wasn’t there, he was here, and he had
no idea where “here” was.
He was startled by the muted sound of a horn outside
the door to this room, then the opening of the door, the
tinkling of bells, and the entry into the room of a rather
large man “wrapped” in clothing. He was bald with a
straggly moustache and he had the officious air of a
bureaucrat. Keoki/Tiger understood what he said with no
problem, and the Tiger part had no sense of embarrassment
at being seen standing naked in front of the window
opening.
“Ah, Your Highness,” said the man that Tiger knew as
Selka, “‘you are already up. That is good. The Khan wishes
to see you as soon as you are ready.” Selka clapped his
hands sharply three times. The dancing girls woke up,
leaped out of bed, and ran naked from the room without
gathering up any clothing.
Keoki/Tiger couldn’t help watching them go, but he
said nothing and didn’t move. Selka clapped his hands
twice more and two other pretty girls, wearing very little
and obviously servants, ran into the room, gently took hold
of Keoki/Tiger/s hands, and led him into another room
where a pool of steaming water awaited him. There a whole
team of naked women, ranging from cute to beautiful,
bathed him, scraped him from head to toe—including his
tongue—and bathed him again before dressing him.
First came a white linen wrap, much like a Hawaiian
malo, loincloth, then a skirt-like piece of blue silk that
went from his waist to his knees, a vest-like wrap of red
silk that covered his back, shoulders, and most of his chest,
and finally a white silk sash around his waist. Both the skirt

241
and the vest were fastened with clasps made from tiger
claws. After that came a heavy necklace of gold links with
a jade pendant carved like the head of a tiger, gold earrings,
flowers in his hair, leather slippers, and a belt of gold disks
from which was suspended a long dagger with a handle of
tiger bone in an ivory scabbard. Apparently, the Tiger part
of Keoki/Tiger wanted to make absolutely sure that
everyone remembered who he was and what he had done.
Keoki didn’t know how long this preparation had taken,
but a horn was blown again and a small troop of
bodyguards came to take him away. Keoki was both
amused and puzzled to see that all the bodyguards were
women. Quite attractive, but very tough-looking women
dressed in black and silver and carrying what seemed to be
lots of hand weapons. Was everyone here girl-crazy, or was
it just Tiger?
The leader of the bodyguards was a tall, cold-faced
woman with icy blue eyes, an oriental cast to her features,
and—to Keoki’s great surprise—very reddish hair. Then
Keoki remembered having read somewhere that Chinggis
Khan was supposed to have looked like that, too. Tiger, of
course, was not surprised at all. In fact, Keoki was aware of
a combination of irritation and admiration coursing through
his Tiger body. “Greetings, Lan Ko,” said Keoki/Tiger
with a cheerfulness that wasn’t really felt. “And how are
you this fine day?” That was very strange, too. The Tiger
part just went ahead and spoke, without any decision on
Keoki’s side. Keoki didn’t believe in it, but he couldn’t
help wondering if this were some sort of possession
experience, or at least a multiple personality syndrome.
He’d read about that in Psych class, but it really didn’t
seem to fit the situation.
Lan Ko neither spoke nor smiled. She made a gesture
and the troop split up to surround Keoki/Tiger, one in back,
one on each side, and Lan Ko herself in front. Once
organized, they led Keoki/Tiger along myriad hallways and

242
 stairways.
As they walked, Keoki experimented and found that he
could induce memories from Tiger with a brief act of will.
The guards were all tightly wrapped in a way that was
flexible enough to allow freedom of movement without
leaving any loose bits of clothing that might be snagged or
grabbed. It also showed off their bodies wonderfully well.
So Keoki allowed Tiger to appreciate Lan Ko’s backside
while he “remembered” that these guards came from a tribe
far to the north where women were trained from childhood
to be extremely effective and dangerous assassins.
Somehow Tiger’s father, the Khan, had persuaded these
four to guard his son instead of kill him. There was no clear
indication in Tiger’s memory of how this had happened,
but there was a feeling that sorcery was involved in some
way. Tiger’s irritation came, Keoki found, from the fact
that these women would only invite a man into their bed if
he had bested them in hand-to-hand combat. Of course,
Tiger would only attempt to beat and bed the leader, but he
had tried three times and failed miserably each time.
After what seemed like a great amount of walking, they
came to a large chamber, well lit with indirect sunlight
from large openings on three walls and many small
openings around the sides of a kind of extended roof above.
A gentle breeze sweeping through the openings kept the
room comfortable, and somehow Keoki knew there was
enough space along the sides for a lot of fan-waving
servants when necessary. The women guarding
Keoki/Tiger moved to the side of the entry and let him
enter alone.
In the center of the room was a big square table with a
_ three-dimensional, very realistic scene of a miniature
walled city in a desert landscape. Right in front of
Keoki/Tiger as he entered was a tall, thin, bald man
wrapped in black silk with his back to the entrance. His
name was supplied by Tiger’s memories: Kartoosh, Master

243
of the Sorcerer’s Guild. Keoki could feel a sense of fear
and loathing coming from Tiger’s emotions. On the left
side stood two warriors dressed like Tiger: Kirti, General of
the Armies, who evoked a warm sense of admiration in
Tiger, and Nander, Chief of Spies, whom Tiger regarded
with respect. On the right side were two women. One was
Massa, High Priestess of the Waters, and the other was
Tiger’s twin sister, Nelta, Archpriestess of the Waters.
Keoki got the sense from Tiger that this was a type of
religion that practiced beneficial magic, and that there was
a rivalry between it and the work of the Sorcerer’s Guild.
The women were wrapped in blue and white silks, and both
could be called beautiful, but the older priestess had a cold
and haughty look, while Nelta had a warm smile for
Keoki/Tiger when she saw him.
On the opposite side of the table stood a man whose
aura fairly crackled with charismatic energy, and who
aroused very mixed feelings in Tiger. He was taller than
anyone in the room, his black hair and beard carefully
curled, his black-browed eyes seeming to shine with an
inner light, and his red and orange silks wrapped around a
broad-shouldered, muscular frame. Unlike the others, he
wore no jewelry at all, as if to make it clear that he needed
no enhancements of any kind. He was talking to the
warriors in a sonorous, authoritative voice, and he paid no
attention to the young man’s entrance. This was Khara
Baatar, Khan of the city-state of Khara Hot.
Keoki/Tiger passed around the left of the table behind
the warriors and knelt on one knee with his head lowered
beside the Khan. His father kept talking to the warriors for
a while, then made some comments to the women. When
he said, “Look here, Captain,” Keoki/Tiger knew that this
was the signal to stand up and participate. It was so like the
man to call his son by his official rank and to accept his
obeisance as a natural thing.
The scene on the table was the same, but when the

244
Khan made a very small movement of his right index
finger, the sorcerer waved a hand over the table and
suddenly a multitude of camps filled with soldiers appeared
on the hills and in the valleys surrounding the walled city.
Tiger was interested, but Keoki was amazed, mostly
because it was live action in real time. This was not a
simulation, it was a bird’s eye view of what was going on
at the moment. There were even villages burning and what
looked all too much like piles of corpses. Keoki was very
glad that it didn’t include sound and smell. Even so, it
reminded him a lot of the clairvoyant technique he had used
to locate his real (real?) mother and sister in Hawaii after
they had been abducted by Nazra. Only this was far, far
beyond that.
“Your armies were obviously unprepared for this kind
of attack, General,” said the Khan in a neutral tone.
“Yes, Mighty Khan. Never before have so many tribes
united against us. We went forth to battle three armies, only
twice our number, and found ourselves surrounded by eight
armies and forty times our number. They simply appeared
out of nowhere as we were fighting the three we knew
about. We had no time to regroup before they were upon
us. Not even the sorcerers could help us much with their
lightning strikes and other magics, because they were
specifically targeted by formations of archers who seemed
to have that as their only task. It was a total disaster, and I
only escaped with the help of your personal guard, led by
your son. I am ashamed and | take responsibility.” He
lowered his head and looked as ashamed as a defeated
general should. “My head is yours, Mighty Khan.”
“Of course it is,” said the Khan, still neutral, “and I will
consider it, but you cannot take responsibility for what you
cannot control. Tell me, Nander, how is it that your
network of spies could not forewarn us of this strategy on
the part of our enemies?”
The spy chief spoke in.a raspy voice. “I can only guess

245
that many of our spies were subverted by torture or bribery,
Mighty Khan.”
“Many of them?”
“It would seem so. I am having a dozen of them
tortured at the moment to identify the others.”
“This was your responsibility and you allowed it to
happen. Do I then have your head as well?” There was a
shift in tone from neutral to a shading of irritation.
“Mighty Khan, I have taken measures...”
The Khan interrupted. “Measures after the fact are like
trying to draw water from a well that you know is dry. If
many of our spies have been subverted, how do I know that
you have not been as well”
Nander looked shocked. “Mighty Khan! I have served
you loyally for many years...”
“But perhaps not any more. Kartoosh?”
The sorcerer in black extended the fingers of his left
hand toward the spy chief, hard, long, pointed nails forming
a circle from which a soft beam of greenish light reached
out to touch and penetrate Nander’s forehead. The chief of
spies broke out in a sweat, his eyes squeezed shut, and his
jaw clenched tightly. Then his face suddenly relaxed, his
mouth opened, and out came a rush of words. “A tribe of
my own, a whole tribe of my own with a rich territory to go
with it. This is what I was promised. I betrayed you, my
Khan. I betrayed you and I deserve to die.”
“And so you shall,” said the Khan, back to neutral. He
made a gesture as if swatting away a fly. Nander stiffened,
clutched his chest with both hands, and fell down dead.
“Take him away, General, and stay in your quarters until I
call for you.”
Keoki felt strongly how it always unnerved Tiger when
his father displayed his magic like that. Behind that
reaction was the fear that the Khan would do something
like that to him if he ever made a big mistake or failed at
some task he had been ordered to do. Even though he was

246
 an only son, he could be swatted out of existence just like
Nander at any time. Keoki, however, was not unnerved. He
was completely stunned by a death so quick and so casual.
When the general had left, dragging Nander’s body out
of the room behind him, the Khan smiled a false smile at
Kartoosh. “And now, Master Sorcerer, why were you not
able to foresee this?”
“The future is not a fixed thing,” said Kartoosh calmly,
“and there was counter-magic at work. I know now that
spells of Jin magicians were used at secret meetings of
tribal leaders to block eavesdropping of any kind. And, as
the general said, there is no record of there ever having
been a gathering and joining of so many tribes against a
common foe. It is extremely difficult to predict new
patterns without some prior knowledge of the possibility.
Your great power has created something new in the world,
O Mighty Khan.”
Khara Baatar laughed a genuine laugh. “I can always
count on you to pour honey on bitter melon, Kartoosh.”
“So what do we do now?” asked Massa, speaking up
for the first time since this meeting started.
“First, we assess our resources. Captain, how many
warriors do we have left?” The Khan turned toward his son.
Keoki/Tiger didn’t hesitate. “Thirty guardsmen, plus
the general and myself.”
The Khan gave a rueful smile. “Wonderful. Are there
any archers among them?”
This time Keoki/Tiger hesitated. “Well, we all know
how to use a bow and arrow, but none of us were trained as
archers.”
The Khan turned toward Kartoosh. “How many
sorcerers are left?”
“Nineteen, including myself.”
“How long will the wards hold?” He was speaking of
the magical spells that surrounded the city with a belt of

247
energy that induced debilitating fear among those who tried
to cross it.
“A week, perhaps two. The sorcerers maintaining it
grow tired, and even the most fearful tend to tolerate fear
when they are exposed to it frequently over time. Our
enemies keep testing the wards three times a day and we
continually modify them to keep the fear as fresh as
possible.”
“Population in the city?” the Khan asked Massa.
“Five hundred nobles, twelve hundred merchants and
commoners, two thousand servants and three thousand
slaves. All the foreigners have fled, and no villagers had
time to reach the city before they were killed,” the high
priestess answered.
“Food and water?”
Nelta answered him. “Food for about a month, even
with rationing. No supplies have reached the city since our
troops left to do battle. Our water supply will last
indefinitely, of course, since it is fed by underground
springs.”
The Khan gestured toward Kartoosh. “Show me the
springs and wells.”
The high priest swept his hand across the table and the
scene changed to a view of the area inside the city walls,
with springs marked by blue squares and wells by blue
circles.
Pretty good, thought Keoki. A simulation on top of a
relief. I wonder ifthat could be done on a computer.
The Khan studied the map in silence for long minutes,
his face unreadable by the others. When he did speak it was
to shock everyone from their scalp to their toenails. “We
must prepare to abandon the city in the next week.”
For a very short time there was a mixed babble of.
voices expressing protest, anger, fear, disbelief, and
confusion. All of this was stopped instantly when the Khan
raised one hand.

248
 “That is the only feasible solution.” No one dared to
speak the obvious. Because of the Khan’s tyrannical rule
and depredations carried out on surrounding tribes and
cities, there were no allies to call upon for help. “With our
food supplies and water we could endure for two months,
supposing that all of our combined magic was used to
sustain the wards. After that our enemies could wait until
we ran out of food, then storm and take the city with no
opposition. I will not be starved into submission like a bear
trapped in its own cave. So we will leave long before that
can happen and frustrate all of them.”
In the following silence, one voice broke the stillness.
“What is your plan, father?”
The Khan gave his son a rare approving glance.
“Captain, half your force under General Kirti will dress the
nobles, their families and personal servants and slaves, and
all of my wives and concubines and their children, personal
servants and slaves as warriors, and have them man the
walls.”
Keoki/Tiger thought that this was the craziest thing he
had ever heard, but he merely nodded his head in
obedience. One did not, ever, question the Khan’s orders.
But he had no idea what good it would do to have women
and children man the city walls when they didn’t even
know how to fight. And what about the other half of his
men?
“Massa, you and your priestesses will organize the
preparation of durable food and water in jugs for one
thousand people for a month for transport in carts, not
wagons. I want one thousand carts that must not be higher
than your waist, nor wider than an armlength—your
_armlength. Make them two of your bodylengths long and
arrange them to be pulled by people, not animals. All of
this must be done in the strictest secrecy, so use the
appropriate spells to mask the activity and ensure the
silence of everyone—priestesses, servants, and slaves

249
included. Use the Temple grounds for this.”
“But I don’t under...” The High Priestess choked off
the rest of her sentence as she felt the burning glare of the
Khan.
“Nelta,” the Khan addressed the Archpriestess, “you
will begin diverting water from the three temple wells. I
want them and the great cavern below dry by tomorrow
night. Then you will do the same for the southern and
northern public wells.”
The Archpriestess nodded obediently.
“Captain,” the Khan continued, “you and your men
have a number of tasks to perform. First, you will see to the
making of ladders long enough to reach the bottom of the
wells I have just mentioned. One each for the temple wells,
and they shall be made in sections so they can be taken
down from below. Four sturdy rope ladders for the southern
public well only. Next, you will organize the movement of
all the treasure from the treasure rooms into the Temple
grounds, where it will be lowered into the Well of Peace
and loaded onto carts as soon as they are made. A sorcerer
from the Guild will ensure that the movement will not be
detected. Then you will have all the minor treasures from
the palace and the houses of the nobles gathered and
dropped down the northern public well when it is dry and
cover it with rubble, just enough so that it cannot be seen
from above. Finally, by the time the southern well is ready,
General Kirti and your guardsmen under him will be
finished with their first task and they can supervise the
descent into the well of all the merchants, commoners, city
servants and city slaves, along with three day’s supply of
food and water. They can surrender to the enemy after we
have left. Once that is done all your guardsmen and the
general will join together under your command. Be
prepared for further orders when I give them.”
“Now, Kartoosh,” the Khan addressed the Master
Sorcerer, “I want you and the Guild to prepare simulacrum

250
spells, and a major Spell of Binding. while you continue
with your other duties.”
The usually impassive sorcerer blinked twice. “The
simulacrum spells will be easy. but a major Spell of
Binding will require sacrifices, 0 Mighty Khan.” The idea
of a sacrifice didn’t bother him. What bothered him was
that a major Binding required one or more major sacrifices,
and a major sacrifice meant someone very important. And
the most important people of the realm were in this room
right now.
“There will be sacrifices,” said the Khan in his neutral
tone, “and they will be appropriate.” He turned to his
daughter. “Nelta, meet me at the Temple of Waters after the
noonmeal to discuss more details of the water diversion.
The rest of you, make your plans and carry them out.” With
that, the Khan disappeared. Just disappeared, without any
warning or special effects.
No one seemed very surprised at that. Keoki certainly
was, but he quickly learned from Tiger’s memories that this
was a favorite spell that the Khan liked to use for dramatic
effect. No one knew how he did it. but he did it often
enough that those who knew him well took it in stride. Now
in just a moment...
The Master Sorcerer also disappeared, but he hid
whatever he did with a puff of greenish smoke. Funny,
thought Keoki, but even in this time green was afavorite
color of sorcerers.
The High Priestess left immediately after, and Nelta
was about to, when the Tiger part of Keoki/Tiger touched
her arm and said, “Sister, I need your help. Can you stay a
few moments?”
“What is it, brother?”
Keoki was aware that Tiger was feeling a mixture of
anger and anxiety., but what came next stunned him again.
“Since I woke up I have been having strange thoughts,
thoughts that do not seem to be my own.™

251
 “Are they trying to control you?” was Nelta’s first
question.
“No, and that’s strange, too. It’s like... it’s like... I
don’t know how to describe it. It’s like it’s me, with
memories that are mine, but they’re not mine. Things like
islands I’ve never been to, buildings like I’ve never seen,
carts and wagons that move on their own... They don’t
intrude on my thoughts, but they are there, and I can follow
them if I choose. I don’t think an evil spirit has possessed
me; it doesn’t feel like it. But I don’t know what to do.”
Nelta looked concerned. Then confused. Then calm.
“Keoki?”
The young warrior straightened up. “I know that name!
But...” Inside, Keoki was more surprised than when the
Khan had disappeared.
“It’s all right, Tiger,” said Nelta. “There is no evil
spirit. It is simply a part of your own spirit from a future
incarnation come to visit.” She touched her brother’s arm
tenderly. “You can learn a lot from each other. But for now,
relax into the present as I’ve taught you, and let this part of
you speak.”
Tiger took a deep breath, Keoki/Tiger could feel his
whole body relax into a pleasant state of pure awareness.
“Is that you, Keoki?” asked Nelta in English.
After extending his energy through Tiger’s body and
concentrating on the desire to speak, Keoki managed to
whisper, “Yes. Who are you?”
The archpriestess smiled. “I am Nelta. And I am
Solongo. We are managing to merge our spirits
comfortably while maintaining our separate identities. It’s
something like being an actor playing a role, and keeping
those two together, but separate at the same time. Only in
this case, the actor can become the role and the role the
actor.”
“I sort of understand that,” Keoki said with a little more
strength, aware at the same time that Tiger was ‘listening.’

252
“I’ve done something like that with John Wayne, but I
don’t think John Wayne ever thought of playing Keoki.”
“You'll never know,” chuckled Solongo. “I don’t know
how this happened, or what will happen as a result, but
while we’re here we need to help our...”
“Alternate spirits?” suggested Keoki. After what
Solongo—as Nelta—just said, there was no point in asking
how and why they got here and how they would get back.
Anyway, this was probably just a dream. Everything is a
dream, he remembered Gramps saying, and rolled his eyes
inwardly.
Solongo gave a little grin. “I admire the flexibity of
English. We have no equivalent for this in Mongolian. So,
yes, we need to help our alternate spirits do what they have
to do. And to help them best, we need to recede into the
background, and provide help with our memories,
knowledge, and skills whenever it’s appropriate.”
“T’1l agree to that,” said Keoki. “But first, are there any
others from our group here?”
“Only one that I know of so far.”
Keoki managed to raise Tiger’s eyebrows.
“Tyla is Lan Ko. She came to me early this morning
because of the strange thoughts she was having.”
“So she knows about you?” Keoki could feel the
beginnings of restlessness in Tiger’s body.”
“Yes, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell her about
you. As Lan Ko she came here with her team to assassinate
you and our... I mean, the Khan. He has them under his
control by a spell, and I don’t know what will happen if
that breaks for some reason. So for now, let’s keep it a
secret, okay?”
“Agreed.”
And so, for the time being, Keoki and Solongo receded
into the back of the minds of Tiger and Nelta, and became
additional resources for them, ready to come forward only
when called.

253
 Hours later, General Kirti and his troops had recruited
all the nobles with any battle experience, regardless of age,
to help him get the rest dressed for war. The male nobles
who protested or resisted too strongly were beaten with
switches until they obeyed. The women and children of the
nobles who resisted were stripped naked and threatened
with public exposure unless they obeyed. This was such a
powerful incentive that after the first twenty had been
stripped, including grandmothers and toddlers, all
resistance stopped. Only children too young to walk were
spared from donning military gear. From the servants and
slaves, of course, there wasn’t even any thought of
resistance, and some wondered if this might even lead to
better food. As this was going on, Tiger set about his tasks
with the rest of the men.
Massa and her priestesses had gathered everyone who
was needed to carry out the Khan’s wishes in a large
storehouse on the Temple grounds and sealed all the
entrances but one with spells. She herself cast a spell of
silence, so that no sounds from inside the storehouse could
be heard outside its walls. Then began the work of
constructing the carts and gathering the food. For this,
Massa and certain priestesses cast cloaking spells that,
although not making anyone or anything invisible, did.
allow small groups to go about their tasks without drawing
any notice. Those servants and slaves who were not needed
for construction and gathering were ordered to continue the:
routine maintenance work of the city.
In the Temple of Waters, the Khan met alone with
Nelta at the Wellspring of Life where, according to.
tradition, cool, clear, water had filled the well to the brim.
for over a thousand years. Together they shared a very
ancient drinking ritual.
When they had put their golden cups down on the rim,
the Khan said, “That will be the last time we do this.”
“What do you mean, Father?” Nelta was allowed that.

254
 liberty in private, although Tiger was not.
The Khan’s eyes had a distant look, as though he was
gazing at something only he could see. “Beginning now,
we are going to dry up all the springs and wells of this land,
both outside and inside the city.”
Nelta looked puzzled. “I... I don’t understand.”
Her father’s gaze came back to rest on her. “The city
and all its holdings are going to fall to the enemy. I cannot
prevent that. But I can prevent them from getting any
benefit from their conquest. This land thrives only because
of the water. Without water it will quickly become a
wasteland, and that is what I wish it to be.”
But...”
He would not have tolerated a questioning of his order
from anyone else. Besides, he needed her help. “It is my
wish, priestess!”
The rebuke went deep. Nelta bowed her head. “Yes,
Mighty Khan. What shall I do?”
“Stop the waters. I don’t care how you do it. I want the
Temple wells completely dry by tomorrow night, and all
the springs and wells outside and inside the city within
three days after that. We will use these wells and their
common source as an escape route for myself and my
servants, the noble families and their servants, and the
priestesses and their servants. And for the treasure, of
course. With that treasure I will create a new domain, a
new city, a new army, and rise up to destroy my enemies
completely.”
That statement raised a lot of questions, too many to
ask without another rebuke, but some things had to be
known. “Shall I retain at least one well for the needs of the
- city until we depart?”
“No!” answered the Khan. He put a clenched fist in
front of her face. “I want al/ the water stopped. You will
order slaves to start storing enough water in cisterns to last
for three days. And enough for you for three more days.”

255
 “That means I will still be here when you have left.”
“Yes” The Khan took hold of Nelta’s shoulders and
looked down at her with apparent affection. “As the Master
Sorcerer said, there will have to be sacrifices. You will be
saving many lives.” He dropped his hands and turned away
without any more sign of affection.. “Beginning tomorrow
morning and evening, and every morning and evening
thereafter until the enemy enters the city, you will perform
the water ritual on top of the western city gate where my
enemies can see you. In a week they will be maddened with
thirst and the fear wards will be gone, but the walls will
appear to be fully manned, so they may delay an attack for
a few more days. By then we shall be far away.“
It was very clear that when the Khan said “we” he was
not including Nelta. “Will there still be nobles on the
walls?”
“Of course not!” Her father looked at her
contemptuously. “All the nobles and the soldiers will be
with me. The sorcerers are using the nobles now as patterns
for simulacrums who will be able to perform very simple
soldier-like movements. Some will even look like archers,
although they will not be able to shoot. You will be needed
to put on a show that is too complex for simulacrums.
Besides you, the only ones left in the city will be in the
southern well, and they do not matter. We can always get
more of them when we need them.”
Nelta’s entire world had fallen apart so quickly that she
was numb. The only thing that kept her from fainting was a
feeling of supportive warmth that she knew came from
her... visitor. Now her father—no, she would only think of
him as the Khan from now on—was lost in his plans, not
even looking at her. “I shall now go and prepare to carry
out your plan, Mighty Khan.”
“Do so,” he said without even turning around.

256
 SIXTEEN: WATERWAYS
Nt walked swiftly from the chamber and into a
small courtyard within the temple grounds. There
she sat on a stone bench and trembled violently for long
moments. When enough tension had been released, she
took a deep breath and turned her mind to the sound of a
small spring coming out of a natural rock formation at one
corner of the space. She smelled the fresh water, mingled
with the sweet fragrance of yellow flowers that she had
never bothered to learn the name of. More moments passed
until her body relaxed and her mind cleared. How can I do
this? she asked herself. I can speak to the Mother of
Waters, but will she listen? It is wrong to stop the flow of
her essence! My life has been dedicated to bringing water,
not stopping it! Nelta put her face in her hands.
{May I make a suggestion?} came Solongo’s voice from
inside her mind.
vege;
{This is a terrible situation, but something has to be
done or everyone in the city will be killed by your enemies.
Can you speak to the water spirits themselves?}
{Yes.}
{Then, instead of trying to stop them from flowing, can
you ask them to flow somewhere else where they can help
and heal other people?}
There was silence inside Nelta’s mind as she let that
thought find its own pathways and connections. Finally a
reply was formed. {This could work! We would have to find
a place for them to go to...
| {...we can ask the lus, the water spirits, to find one or
more of their own choosing...}
{...and we will have to find a strong energy source to
empower them to make the change. You have a name for
empowered water, I think.}
257
 {Arshaan. And the best source of power would be Sar,
the moon.}
{Of course! The moon is waxing toward its fullness. Let
us prepare the ritual and begin tonight.
At mid-morning the next day Nelta and Tiger were
sharing water on the city wall above the main gate. They
made an elaborate performance out of it so that there would
be no doubt in the minds of their enemies about what they
were doing. Earlier, Nelta had briefed her brother on the
Khan’s plan, but had not mentioned that she alone would
be left in the city after the nobles had escaped. Already,
simulacrums were beginning to appear on the walls, much
to the amusement of the children and the consternation of
the adults. To the enemy it must have seemed like more
troops had been quartered in barracks inside the city. Tiger
and Nelta were alone on this part of the wall, except for:
Lan Ko and the other bodyguards who stood at a discreet.
distance away from them.
“The farthest wells and springs have already been
diverted,” said Nelta when they had finished the sharing.
“The ritual that my visitor and I performed last night was.
very successful, and its power will grow as the moon does.
in the coming days, so the diversions will take place more:
and more quickly. By tomorrow evening most of the city’s,
water supply will be gone.”
“And the nobles will begin leaving by the Temple wells:
whose sources lead far to the east.” Tiger looked grim.
“When the nobles and their goods and the treasure have:
passed through, the General will block the wells from:
below. Slaves are already collecting the rubble to do that..
Even the false treasure well will be covered in rubble so as:
not to make the enemy suspicious. Of course, they will
already be suspicious when they find that there is no one in|
the city above ground but us. And I am to lead the:
remainder of the population to the southern well and tell!
them to wait in the cavern there.” He looked disgusted..

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 “And then I am to remove the ladder from above and join
you in doing the water ritual until the enemy makes the
final assault.
Nelta touched her brother’s arm. “So you are also to be
_ one of the sacrifices?” Tiger nodded and his sister shook
her head. “We must do what we must do, but I can’t help
feeling sorry for the others who will be left behind. Fa...
the Khan says they don’t matter, but they are still people
with spirits and souls like the rest of us.”
This time Tiger grimaced. “Don’t let him hear you say
that. To him they are just simulacrums that you have to
feed. And you and I are just tools to make his plan work.”
“Perhaps, but I don’t have to like it.” At least her
brother would be with her at the end, she thought.
Tiger shrugged. Since there was nothing that could be
done about it, there was no reason to get upset. He picked
up his helmet and spear. “After I look to my guardsmen I’m
going to see how the slaves are doing and return to the wall
to pretend that I’m leading an army. Would you like an
escort to wherever you are going?”
His sister gave him an affectionate smile. “Naturally.
I’m going back to the Temple to soothe some of the older
water spirits that are upset about the change.”
The warrior let Lan Ko and one of her women precede
him as he walked side by side with his sister down the
stairs. The other two women followed behind.
Down at street level, they crossed a broad, empty
market square, then took the narrow Street of Jewels that
twisted its way toward the Temple Square near the center
of the city. On a part of the street so narrow that they had to
walk single file, death fell upon them from above.
One moment they were strolling along peaceably, and
the next they were fighting for their lives. Six figures
dressed in black dropped on them without any warning
from the low rooftops. At the first touch on his back, Tiger
crouched as he whipped out his dagger, turned and drove

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the blade under the breastbone of his attacker while his
other hand blocked the attacker’s own dagger thrust.
Without stopping his movement he pulled out his blade and
thrust it into the neck of an attacker behind him who had
just killed the woman guard closest to him. Seeing in an
instant that the guard bringing up the rear was holding her’
own against her attacker, he spun back around to see his.
sister pinned against the wall by her throat from another '
figure who seemed about to stab her, but who suddenly
collapsed, revealing a bloody dagger held in his sister’s.
hand. Still without ceasing to move, he turned forward and.
leaped on the nearest assassin, one of two who were in.
combat with Lan Ko, and dispatched her quickly by cutting ,
through her spine. At almost the same time, Lan Ko:
finished off her opponent with a series of fast fist blows to:
the woman’s head.
It was all over in less than what Keoki would call a:
minute. The four survivors stood panting for a few:
moments, looking at the six dead assassins and two guards:
lying on the ground, some of them still twitching in their’
death throes. The assassins were all women, dressed!
exactly like Lan Ko and her group, except for bands of!
black silk that covered their mouths.
Tiger went to his sister and saw that she was already:
bandaging a deep cut on the arm of the last guard, even:
while she herself bled from a shoulder wound. “It willl
heal,” she said, brushing his hand away from her shoulder..
“See to the others.”
The only other guard alive was Lan Ko, who had!
shallow cuts on both arms. Tiger looked at her:
questioningly. She nodded curtly. “Yes, they were of my:
tribe.”
“How did they get through the fear wards?” He did not!
doubt their ability to climb the walls once through.
Lan Ko smiled grimly. “Such wards are as nothing to’
those who have been raised to have no fear at all.” Her face:

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 became solemn again. “I must see to the care of my sister,
Ka Lu, but I cannot, because of the spell that compels me to
guard you.”
The warrior answered her unasked question. “I cannot
release you. I would if I could, but the spell was cast by the
Khan and I do not...” A strange thought came to him.
{If you really are willing to release her, would you let
me try something?} It was Keoki.
{Are you a sorcerer?
Keoki felt a shudder of disgust pass through Tiger’s
body. {No, I’m a shaman.}
Tiger’s body relaxed. {Ah, I have heard of those. Your
kind live in very distant tribes.}
{Very distant. May I try?}
Knowing that Lan Ko would probably try to assassinate
him immediately once she was released, Tiger also felt that
it didn’t matter, since he was going to die soon anyway.
With a mental sigh, he thought {Go ahead.}
By now, Keoki had discovered that he was able to
connect with all of Tiger’s senses, even the more esoteric
ones that the warrior was barely, if at all, aware of. So
Keoki extended his/Tiger’s la’a kea to merge with Lan
Ko’s field and asked for a symbol of the spell that bound
her to Tiger. Quickly, an image appeared of a round ball of
metal with projections that made it look like a harbor mine,
almost exactly like the featured futuristic device in a quirky
TV western series he’d seen called “Brisco County, Jr.” As
he recalled, the device was made unstable by removing the
projections, which were like glassy cylinders. So that’s
what he did with mental fingers. As each projection was
removed the ball glowed brighter and brighter with a
whitish light until it exploded into nothingness when the
last one was taken away.
In the outer world, Lan Ko staggered and almost fell
before catching her balance. She shook her head as if to
clear it, and stared hard at Tiger. As he expected, her hands

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blurred and she was holding two throwing knives. Nelta
gave a little cry and Tiger waited passively for death. But to
everyone’s astonishment, including her own, Lan Ko’s
hands blurred again and the knives were once more hidden.
“Well?” asked Tiger, unable to hold his tongue.
Lan Ko looked down at the bodies on the ground, then
up again. “I am truly free, to kill... or not to kill. I don’t
know how, but you saved my life, and that of my sister.
The assignment to kill you was given to another, who
failed. My sister and I no longer have any obligation to take
your life.“
Keoki, immensely relieved at not having to experience
Tiger’s death, and possibly his own as well, was also
unable to hold his tongue. Through Tiger he said in
English, “I’m very glad to hear that, Tyla.”
Lan Ko nearly staggered again. Her features changed
slightly and Tyla spoke. “K...Keoki? What’s happening?
And why? Nelta, or Solongo, couldn’t or wouldn’t tell
me!”
“I don’t know, Tyla,” said Keoki in Tiger’s voice. “But
we have to help each other while we’re here. Let’s stay in
the background until we can do something useful.”
Apparently all three of the visitors did this effectively,
because the next voice to speak was Nelta’s. “Please, can
we leave this place now? The sight and smell of death is
making me sick.”
Tiger helped Lan Ko to carry her sister assassin and the
four continued, cautiously, on their way to the Temple of
Waters. Once Nelta and Lan Ko had arranged to take care
of the wounded woman, Tiger left them to check on his
own responsibilities.
First he went to see how General Kirti was faring. The
general raised his eyebrows when he saw all the blood on
Tiger’s clothing. “An assassination attempt that failed,” the
young warrior said dismissively. “How are the, uh, new
troops doing?”

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 “As well as can be expected for civilians,” Kirti
grimaced. “There is no point in even attemping any kind of
discipline. This is obviously just for show.”
“General...” Tiger’s voice had a hint of compassion in
it. It had to be a terrible thing to be a general who had lost
his entire army and been reduced to organizing a military
farce.
Kirti raised his hand to keep Tiger from saying any
more. “I’m alive, at least. For the time being. anyway. Who
knows what comes next?”
Tiger grimaced in his turn. “I do. Escort duty. The
sorcerers will be using the nobles on the walls as patterns
for simulacrums. When that is done you will escort all the
noble families to the Temple.” On seeing the general’s
expression he added quickly, “The Khan has ordered the
evacuation of the city. I°Il let you know more details when I
have them.”
The general wanted to ask a lot more questions, but he
knew he shouldn’t. Although still a general in name, his
real role was that of a lower officer under Tiger’s
command. “I'll make sure they stay on the walls until you
give the word,” he said instead.
“Thank you, General,” answered Tiger, feeling
awkward at giving orders to a superior officer. “And there
will be more escort duty after that. I just don’t know when,
yet. Now I have to see to my other tasks. Blood and glory,
General.”
“Blood and glory to you, Captain.”
Tiger spent the rest of the day organizing the movement
of the treasure. It took quite a while, because he had to do it
by foot. All the horses left in the city had already been used
for food. Without regular supplies from the countryside, the
city of almost seven thousand was running out of food
faster than expected, especially since so much was being
hoarded for the escape.
The wells were already drying up, as Nelta said they

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would. By tomorrow evening, even the temple wells would
be without water, but all the people knew was that there
was water in the cisterns and that there were wards to
protect them. Those who bothered to think about it at all
assumed that regardless of who won, the wells would flow
again as they always had. None of them knew or even.
guessed that the water was gone forever. Tiger’s only
thought about the people to be left behind was that they:
would probably not be killed by the conquerors , because:
they would be too useful to use as beasts of burden for loot.
In the late afternoon, Lan Ko showed up alone and took:
up her regular position as guard. “My sister is healing well,.
and I think it is good to continue as if I were still under the:
spell,” was all she said.
At the end of a long day and a meal that would have:
seemed sumptuous by any standards except those of a city)
noble, Tiger was eyeing the servant girls to see which ones:
might make good bedmates when a messenger arrived at!
his table and handed him a scroll. It was from the Khan,.
and it ordered that he report at once to the Sorcerer’s Guild:
Hall.
People ate late in the city, so the stars were bright in the:
black sky as Tiger and Lan Ko walked away from the:
palace. They took the most narrow and twisting streets they;
could to minimize the danger of attack from hidden spears
and bows. Even if there were no more assassins from Lam
Ko’s tribe, there were undoubtedly still enemy spies among:
the servants and slaves who could still turn into assassins if
paid enough. For whatever reason, though, their journey to
the Guild Hall was uneventful.
The Sorcerer’s Guild had its headquarters near the Gate
of the Awakened Sun in the eastern part of the city. Unlike
all the other buildings of the city that were highly decorated
with friezes and arches and artistic elaborations, and were
often two or more stories high, the Guild Hall was a large.
squat, one-story square of dark blue basalt that appeared at

264
 night like a black hole to another dimension. The effect was
fostered by the fact that there were no windows and the
single doorway that faced on the street was not rectangular,
but skewed, as if the stonemaker who made it was drunk or
_ cross-eyed at the time. Above the angled lintel a large eye
of white alabaster with a pupil of deep red cinnabar was set
into the blue-black basalt. The eye was also skewed, and
the effect on any observer was deeply disturbing.
There were neither steps nor a door nor any lights at the
entrance. Just a void that seemed even blacker than the
outer surface. As Tiger approached the threshold, a soft,
deep, toneless voice said “Only the son of the Khan may
enter.”
This was the first time that Tiger had ever gone inside
the Guild, but the command was not unexpected, so Lan Ko
stepped smoothly aside to take up a guard position beside
the doorway. Tiger went on in without a comment, but he
did feel a deep chill in his bones the moment he stepped
inside. Probably just a spell to enhance the effect, he
reassured himself.
It was impossible to see anything, but Tiger felt a
presence and he was not startled when a hand lightly
touched his forearm and guided him forward. There were
stone steps inside going downward and a faint glow in the
distance gave him a sense of direction. From far below he
heard a low rumbling, like voices in conversation. The
descent took a long time with the glow getting gradually
brighter until his eyes had adjusted enough so that when he
came into a large, square room it seemed as clear as a
heavily overcast day.
The first thing he noticed was his father, clad in the
black wrappings of a sorcerer, but wearing a circlet of
silver and a heavy silver chain around his neck that held
some kind of black stone inset with the same skewed eye
that adorned the doorway outside. The Khan gave no verbal
acknowledgement, but simply pointed to a spot on the floor

265
about a pace to his right. Tiger went to that spot and knelt.
At a touch of his father’s finger on his head, Tiger stood up
and looked around.
In line with the Khan and himself there was a circle of
nineteen sorcerers, all that remained, standing around the
rim of a well. The one who had guided him was just taking:
his place in the circle. Now Tiger realized that the rumbling |
he heard had been the sound of chanting from the sorcerers.
To the young warrior’s right stood Kartoosh. He was also:
chanting, but the words and the intonation were different,
so that the whole sound was one of dissonant harmony, if!
there could be such a thing. The Khan was also chanting,,
but soundlessly. His eyes were closed and only his lips:
were moving.
Then Tiger noticed the well. In place of water it was:
filled with dark, roiling clouds, like a thunderstorm seen:
from above, or at least what he thought a thunderstorm seen:
from above would look like. There even seemed to be:
flashes of lightning deep inside the clouds. For some reason)
that made him look around and realize that he couldn’t see:
any source for the light in the room. There were no lamps:
or torches or even anything that glowed. The light was justi
there, like it would be on an overcast day.
And finally, Tiger wondered why he was there and!
what was going on.
No sooner did he have that thought than the Khan’s:
voice seemed to resonate, not from the person next to him,
but from deep within the well. YOU ARE HERE TO
WITNESS, NAY, TO PARTICIPATE, IN THE
GREATEST BINDING THE WORLD HAS EVER
KNOWN, WHEREIN NINETEEN SOULS SHALL JOIN
TO CREATE AN ARTIFACT OF IMMENSE POWER.
BEHOLD!
On his father’s left, a sorcerer held out his left hand.
Tiger could see that it held a miniature skull that looked
like it had been roughly carved out of ivory. The little skull

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 levitated out of the sorcerer’s hand and floated to a point
right in front of the Khan, about a handslength above the
inner edge of the well’s rim. From his father’s physical
mouth came the word “Eka!” spoken with such force that it
stirred the clouds in the well to boil even more. Intensely
blue lightning came out of the clouds and struck the skull.
which lit up like a white hot coal. From the skull another
lightning bolt struck the sorcerer who had released the skull
between the eyes. There was a loud CRACK! and the entire
body of the sorcerer seemed to collapse into the point
where the lightning had struck him as his clothing fell to
the floor. Then the lightning itself drew back into the skull,
which glowed blindingly for a moment, and the lightning
from the clouds simply dissipated, leaving only a brilliant
after-image that faded quickly.
Next the sorcerer on Kartoosh’s right extended his left
hand and a skull went from it to settle at the opposite end of
the well. This time it was the Master Sorcerer who uttered
the word, “Dvi!” with force. The lightning struck as before
and the sorcerer disappeared into the skull with only a pile
of cloth to show that he had ever existed.
Tiger watched with horrified fascination as, one by one,
to shouted words by the Khan and the Master Sorcerer in
turn, the other sorcerers loosed tiny skulls that took their
bodies and formed an arch over the well until there were no
sorcerers left except the Master and the Khan and eighteen
ivory skulls merging toward the center.
At this point, Tiger seemed to be in a waking trance,
unable to move or to think. But Keoki was still alive,
aware, and responsive. He had a strong intuition that Tiger
was there to complete the binding, that his would be the
‘nineteenth life that would hold the rest together. He racked
Tiger’s brain for some idea, some memory that could help
to prevent that in the very short time that remained.
The Khan reached over to raise Tiger’s left hand. There
was no thought of regret for what he was about to do. Tiger

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was needed to accomplish his purpose, and so Tiger would
be used. For the Khan, this was no different than sending
the young man out to battle his enemies.
Kartoosh reached over with his right hand and placed a
small skull into Tiger’s open left palm. For him, Tiger was
simply a necessary sacrifice in a ritual that would provide
him with power to equal the Khan’s.
The Khan and Kartoosh both wrapped their hands
around Tiger’s, concentrated for a moment, then released
their hold to watch the skull float up into the final position
in the center like a keystone supporting a bridge. Together
they cried, “Navadasa!”
Lightning came out of the clouds and struck the last
skull, which glowed like the ones before it. Then lightning
came from the skull and headed for Tiger.
Keoki had found a source of power in Tiger’s memory.
It was in his encounter with the animal whose name he
bore. In that intense struggle, with death so close, Tiger had
felt and thought nothing other than an all-consuming desire
not only to survive, but to win!
Drawing that memory in all its fresh detail to the
forefront of Tiger’s mind, Keoki amplified it with all the
energy at his disposal, and reinforced it by causing Tiger to
hold up his pendant so that the lightning met the jade
tiger’s snarling, defiant face. “STOP!” shouted Keoki with
Tiger’s voice. It was not a shout of fear. Not a shout of
desperation. It was a shout of unqualified, irresistible
command.
The lightning neared the pendant, seemed to hesitate,
then split in two. One bolt hit the astonished Khan. The
other smote the unbelieving Master Sorcerer. Before either
could react their physical essences had joined in the
nineteenth skull.
Once this occurred, Keoki/Tiger watched as the skulls
formed a circle above the well and lightning flashed
through the center of each, as if threading them on a cord of

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light. When this had happened, the clouds were replaced by
a table top. The skulls fell onto it. looking like a set of
oversized prayer beads held together with red silk cord,
intricately threaded in an unusual way. Nine skulls right
side up on the left and nine skulls right side up on the right
were joined at the top, the thread from each side going
through its center and finished above with a complicated
knot.
Keoki/Tiger picked up the circle of skull beads and felt
a tingling sensation. Without bothering to think about it, he
thrust them into his sash and looked for the way out. The
light was rapidly fading, and the room seemed eerily silent
after all the chanting and lightning strikes. He looked down
at his father’s clothing and felt nothing, at least for now. It
was a long, slow, careful climb to the surface and he didn’t
encounter anyone. Apparently the sorcerers had no servants
or slaves. At the top, only the blinking of stars revealed
where the entrance was. With Lan Ko leading the way, the
warrior and his shaman visitor went back to his quarters to
think, to sleep, and to dream unremembered dreams.
It was the second morning after the Spell of Binding.
Tiger, Lan Ko, and her bandaged but mostly healed sister
reached the top of the main gate to find Nelta already there,
looking older than she ought to. Without speaking, brother
and sister performed the water ritual together for the enemy
to see. Then Tiger took Nelta to a corner of the rampart
where they could not be seen or overheard.
Before Tiger could say anything, Nelta spoke. “The
water spirits are leaving faster than I expected. The main
wells are already dry and the springs no longer flow. Only a
very few wells at the eastern end of the city have any water
left and they are draining quickly. Massa has everything
ready for the evacuation, but she has received no orders
from the Khan. I didn’t see you at all yesterday. Shouldn’t
you be getting ready to oversee the evacuation?”
It was easy to see that Nelta was under a great strain

269
from working all night and watching her beloved waters
depart. Before replying, Tiger held her in his arms until he
could feel her tenseness ease up and she released a held-in
sigh. Then, “The evacuation has already begun, because the
Temple wells are dry and everything has been prepared. I
gave the order on behalf of the Khan before coming here,
and I ordered the general to gather all the people in the
market square and tell them to kneel in a position of
submission when the enemy enters the gates. Then he and
the guardsmen are to join the evacuation. Look around,
Nelta.”
The archpriestess looked at the city walls and gasped.
She hadn’t noticed before, but now she could see that the
simulacrums were fading out. Not all at once, but gradually
here and there, as if some had been formed by sorcerers
with more power than others. She looked outward, toward
the fear wards, and saw that their tell-tale shimmer had
greatly dimmed. “What is happening, Tiger?” she asked
anxiously. “Why aren’t the sorcerers maintaining their
spells? This should not happen until tomorrow. And where
is father... | mean, the Khan? He was supposed to break
fast with me this morning.” She stepped back and took a
hard look at her brother. She was no longer a tired, strained,
anxious young woman. She was back to being the calm,
confident, Archpriestess of the Waters. “You know where
he is, don’t you?”
“I know,” said Tiger. His warrior’s eye could see that
the enemy army was stirring, knowing that something had
changed, but not sure what. In a fatalistic tone, he told his
sister what he knew. “The night before last there was a
secret ritual held in the Sorcerer’s Guild to which I was.
invited. Actually, it was intended that I be one of the
sacrifices required for a special Binding spell.” Nelta put
her fist to her mouth in shock. “Somehow,” continued
Tiger, “the ritual did not turn out as expected, and as a.
result, I survived, but the Khan, Kartoosh, and all the other:

270
 sorcerers are gone.” A now-familiar voice in Tiger’s mind
said, Wow! (whatever that meant) You should be a
professional diplomat!
Nelta quickly recovered her composure. Children of
_ khans never panicked or lost control. They just responded
to sudden changes in circumstances with changes in plans.
“Then I have no need to remain here as a sacrifice to give
the Khan and his treasure time to get away.”
“Massa told me that the Khan meant to leave you here
to help buy time for the evacuation. Unfortunately, it is still
necessary that someone do that. By noontime many more
simulacrums will have faded away and the wards will be
practically worthless. Then the enemy will probably attack
in force.” Tiger hugged his sister once more and let her go.
“General Kirti is going to seal the entry to the cavern at the
bottom of the main wells as soon as everyone gets through.
You still have time to make it. Lan Ko will take you...”
The archpriestess put a hand on her brother’s shoulder.
A distant roar could be heard from the enemy camps as the
soldiers built up their courage. “Solongo, my ‘alternate
spirit,’ as she calls herself, made a suggestion that I carried
out, but I never intended to follow through with it. Now it
turns out to have been an excellent idea.”
“Well?” said Tiger as his sister seemed to be thinking
something over.
“The suggestion was to prepare an escape route, in case
I had time to flee at the end. At the time she made the
suggestion it seemed reasonable, then later I decided it
wasn’t. Now it is not only reasonable, but exceedingly
good. Come with me.”
Nelta led the way down the stairs. Tiger glanced toward
the enemy camps and saw that the armies were starting to
organize. Another glance showed him that the city walls
were emptying more quickly than he had expected. He
hoped that the general and Massa were able to get the rest
of the nobles into the cavern in time. He signaled Lan Ko

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and Ka Lu to follow him.
A short distance from the bottom of the stairs to one
side of the gate was a small well two arm spans wide that
was there for the use of the soldiers who manned the walls.
Like all the others it was dry, but instead of simply being
empy it had a stout ladder inside.
“But...” started Tiger.
“No time for talk!” said Nelta. Sounds of horns and
hundreds of running feet could be heard through the gate.
Nelta climbed over the edge of the well. “Follow me down,
quickly!”
Lan Ko followed the archpriestess down, then Tiger. As
Ka Lu set her foot on the ladder something crashed against
the gate with a great BOOM! and dust and dirt from above
fell all around them. They could hear the crashing and
splintering of the gate all the way down to the bottom of the
well. Once there, Tiger and his bodyguards immediately
began pulling the ladder apart section by section. By the
time the ladder had been reduced to a pile of sticks, Nelta
had lit a lamp that revealed a natural, smooth-sided tunnel
barely high enough to walk in. Without speaking, she led
them away from the well bottom for about a hundred paces.
Then she stopped and pointed to a rope on the ground.
Tiger instantly recognized what it was, because the
evacuation wells had been rigged in the same way. He and
his guards pulled on the rope and they heard the rumble of
falling rocks designed with skill to block the passage
completely. Only a little rock dust made its way to where
they were standing.
Nelta then led them along another fifty paces or so to a
cart like the ones that had been prepared for the evacuation.
It was filled with dried food and jugs of water. Hanging
from the sides were more lamps and pots of oil. “I never.
thought this would be used,” she said.
The air in the tunnel was fresh, indicating an opening to
the surface somewhere ahead, but it held no trace of

272
dampness. Tiger blinked several times, struggling to adjust
to this new situation in the face of all that had happened so
recently: the defeat of their army, the death of Nander, the
orders of the Khan to evacuate, the drying of the wells, the
strange ritual of the skulls and the death of his father and all
the sorcerers, the horrific skull beads that tingled at his
waist, and now the assault of the enemy and their
unexpected escape through a well ... even though he was
the child of a khan, it was almost too much to deal with.”
“TI had planned to carry out the Khan’s wishes and
remain until I was captured,” said Nelta. “Then I would
have been able to claim it was his magic that emptied the
city, and this would have given him more time to get
farther away. With him gone, however...”
“Where does this tunnel lead?” asked Lan Ko. “Does it
join the others?”
“No,” said Nelta. “The others join in a great cavern that
goes east and then narrows again until it opens into what is
now a dry lake. It should take the people three days of
steady walking to get there. Our tunnel stays narrow like
this and comes out under a pool at the base of what used to
be a waterfall in the foothills. We can reach that place in a
day and a half.”
“And then what?” Ka Lu spoke for the first time.
Nelta shook her head. “And then I don’t know. Tiger?”
The warrior had resolved his confusion by refusing to
think any more about the past or the future. “I don’t know,
either,” he shook his head as well.
“We will go north to our tribe,” declared Lan Ko,
touching her sister on the arm. “You, Tiger, saved both our
lives in the street, and you, Nelta, saved both our lives by
bringing us down here with you. Now we shall save your
lives. My sister and I have discussed this, in case an
opportunity should ever arise. We shall adopt you as kin so
that our tribe will accept you as members. I shall adopt
Tiger, who will have a place among us as a warrior, and Ka

273
Lu will adopt Nelta, who should work well with our
shamans.”
“I would like that,” said Nelta. “It pleases the visitor
within me as well.”
“Does that mean...?” Tiger left the question hanging.
“Yes,” answered Lan Ko, laughing. “It means that you
and I will never be lovers, even if you should ever be lucky
enough to beat me in a fight. Curious, my visitor, as you
call her, seems happy about that.”
“Mine, too,” the former archpriestess said, her eyes
twinkling. “And embarrassed as well. How strange.”
Tiger grunted. “Mine just seems embarrassed.”
“T will just share the happiness,” spoke up Ka Lu, “for I
have no visitor that I know of, and Tiger will not be my
brother.”
Then it was Tiger’s turn to be embarrassed, but he
couldn’t have said why.
The simple ceremony of adoption was done with
daggers and thumbs and a formal exchange of a bit of dried
meat and water. After that the new family group headed
along the tunnel with Nelta leading, Tiger pulling, Lan Ko
pushing, and Ka Lu guarding the rear.
When they had started it was still early morning. They
walked all day, with only a brief stop for a small amount of
food and water. Nelta had the ability to connect with the
spirit of any water on the surface of the land, and thereby
was able to get a sense of the time of day. When she
deemed it was evening, and that everyone was tired
enough, they stopped and added dried fruit and more water
to their meagre diet. Then they huddled together on the
floor and went to sleep, eager for the new life that would
begin the next day.
Lan Ko dreamed about a beautiful mountain lake. Ka
Lu dreamed about Tiger. Nelta and Solongo both dreamed
about shamans, though of different ones. Tiger dreamed
about ivory skulls. And so did Keoki.

274
SEVENTEEN: TREASURE?
\ \ J HIIIING!

Keoki woke up with a start, and a strong burning

sensation on his right shoulder. A quick glance there
showed torn cloth and oozing blood. As he looked at his
shoulder, chips of stone and wood showered over him,
followed by a zinging sound. Rough hands dragged him
backward, below a log that leaned against a boulder.
His total disorientation lasted only a few moments.
Forcing thoughts of Tiger and the tunnel out of his mind, he
brought all his senses to bear on the present moment. He
was on his stomach, lying on leaves and dirt in a forest. It
was Delger who had dragged him backward, out of sight of
whoever the shooter was, and it was Delger who thrust a
rifle into his hands. To his right he could see Tyla
crouching behind another boulder, looking dazed, but firing
her own rifle at someone. On the left, Naran was shooting
from behind a tree, and downslope a short distance away
Altan was binding a tourniquet around a bleeding left leg.
Looking briefly behind, Keoki saw Muun and Solongo
huddled together beside an apparently dead horse with their
eyes closed, as if in prayer.
Keoki flicked the safety off his rifle and looked back up
to the log where he had been shot. Going back to that spot
would be suicide. For about two seconds what he really
wanted to do was to get up and run like hell, but he
clamped down on that thought with a fierceness that drove
out any trace of the old Keoki. He had never had any
military training, had never shot at anyone, but he knew
that some part of him had. Besides, he had seen a whole lot
of movies about it. Ordinarily, that would have been
laughable, but this was not an ordinary situation. This was
life and death reality. Someone, or several someones, were
trying to kill him and his friends. He might be killed, but he
275
wouldn’t dwell on that. It was time for action. John Wayne
and James Bond help me out, he thought, ignoring the pain
in his shoulder.
Without any further hesitation, he rolled over to the end
of the log, crawled up quickly to aim over it, and shot at
something moving by a tree about thirty of forty yards
away. Immediately, he pulled back and rolled as far as he
could to the other side, barely aware of someone crying out
from the direction he had fired on. Bullets chewed bark off
the log where he had been just as he raised up on the other
side, fired at another movement, and backed down to
change position again.
Guns from both sides were sputtering all around. The
Hawaiian didn’t notice that the wind was picking up and
the temperature was dropping quickly. He was fully
focused on shooting, taking cover, moving, and shooting
again. He was on his way to back up Delger when the
Mongolian hunter made a dash for another tree and
suddenly spun around and fell backwards. Keoki could see
the blood spurting from his right arm as he went down.
Altan slid over to help him in spite of his injured leg, and
Keoki leaped to the other side of the tree that Naran was
shooting from.
Now the shaman did notice that something was
happening besides a firefight, because the wind was
growing in strength and blowing light snow across his line
of sight. He fired anyway, and scrambled behind another
tree. Someone cried out over on the right and he knew that
Tyla must have scored. Someone else sounded like he was
cursing mightily. It was getting increasingly harder to see
as the wind got stronger and the snow got more dense. A
touch on his leg almost caused him to smash Naran with his
rifle butt, but he recognized the herder in time and realized
he was signaling for Keoki to descend with him into the
vale below.
There was enough snow on the ground to make it

276
slippery going, and he could barely see Naran ahead of
him. Finally, they reached a natural shelter of thick larches
where the snow was less and so was the wind, but the
lowering temperature was more evident. Tyla came right
behind him. Naran spoke briefly to her before going out
again.
“He’s going to get Altan,” she said, almost shouting
because of the moaning wind.
Moments later Muun and Solongo arrived with Delger,
and a few minutes after that Naran came back with Altan.
Altan spoke to Solongo and she translated, “The bullet
went straight through my thigh without hitting any blood
vessels or bone. It should heal up fairly quickly with proper
care.”
Delger was very pale, obviously in great pain. “I’ve
bound his arm and stopped the bleeding, but it looks like
his upper arm was shattered by the bullet,” said the
shamaness. “My remedies are out there somewhere in the
storm.” As if responding to her mention of it, the moaning
of the wind rose to a howl, and the snow fell every more
thickly.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” shouted Keoki over the
wind, “will someone tell me what’s going on? I just woke
up.”
Muun spoke and Tyla translated while Solongo did her
best to ease Delger’s pain. “We couldn’t wake the three of
you up after that first night by the Deer Stones. When two
days had gone by and you still would not awaken, we cut
branches and made travois like I’ve seen in your American
westerns. We dragged you through the forest on as level
ground as we could find for another day and a half until we
were fired on by Tuva bandits. We are close to the Russian
border, and sometimes they raid across it. But we are so far
in the wilderness that I strongly suspect Badzar is behind it.
He has apparently given up on sorcery and is resorting to
the tried and true method of assassination.”

27
 “It is definitely Badzar,” broke in Solongo angrily.
“Fortunately, our brave companions were able to get us
behind cover before anyone was killed. Also fortunately,
those bandits are poor marksmen, but sometimes get lucky
in spite of that.” She looked at Delger and Altan with a
mixture of sadness and anger. “Tyla and I woke up about
fifteen minutes before you did, Keoki.” Muun said
something and she translated with a slight smile. “Muun
says that you did well, for a Hawaiian without any battle
experience.”
Keoki nodded in appreciation, giving silent thanks to all
those memories and parts of him that did have experience.
“So now what? Looks like we’re going to be completely
snowed in very shortly.”
In spite of the situation, Muun laughed and spoke at
length. Solongo translated. “The blame for that lies with
two powerful shamans who got carried away. There was a.
snowstorm nearby and we both called on it and raised it to
a blizzard. And now it’s growing on its own into something ,
worse than that.”
“At least it will give us cover,” said Solongo.
“And probably cover us up!” added Tyla. Then she:
noticed Keoki’s wound. “Keoki! You’re hurt!” She scooted.
closer to examine it.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” said Keoki, turning to look at his,
shoulder again, and wincing as Tyla probed it with her’
finger. “Thanks to Delger I didn’t get shot in the head.”
“It’s only a graze,” Tyla remarked after baring his:
shoulder, “and thanks to the cold the bleeding has stopped.”
She pulled his dee/ and jacket back up over his arm. “So:
now what?”
Solongo had to raise her voice against the wind. “The:
storm is going to get much stronger. Now is the time to get:
away from here as fast as possible, and that means downhill!
with as many horses as we can find. I don’t think the:
bandits, or whoever they are, will be able to follow. We'll

278
have to find a village and get medical help for Delger and
Altan right away.” She repeated that in Mongolian for the
others.
Muun spoke in his limited English. “The adventure is
over. Not finding anything in this storm. Sorry, but lives
are more important.”
“IT don’t think so,” said Keoki. Those who understood
looked at him in surprise. “I mean, the adventure isn’t
over,” he continued. I know where the skulls are, and I
know how to get there.”
A sudden gust forced silence on the group. When it had
died down a bit, Tyla spoke up. “But how? You didn’t
know anything when we were at the stones. How could you
know now?”
Keoki took a deep breath. “I still have Tiger’s
memories. He was there when the skulls absorbed the
spirits of the sorcerers, and he was carrying them in the
tunnel.”
Tyla looked confused, as if she didn’t know what he
was talking about. Solongo looked puzzled.
“That name... I remember it from somewhere,” said the
shamaness. “It was in a dream...”
“Don’t either of you remember Khara Hot?” exclaimed
Keoki. “We were there together!”
“No,” said Tyla, shaking her head. “I know I dreamed
while we were asleep, but I don’t remember any of it.”
“Vaguely,” said Solongo. “Bits and pieces of a city, and
a war, and something about water.” Her brow wrinkled.
“That’s strange. Usually I remember dreams in much more
detail.”
Muun looked at the Hawaiian with excited eyes. “You
were there!” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” said Keoki, “and I remember all of it.”
“No time for talk now,” declared Muun, with a tone of
regret. “I take Delger, Altan, Naran, Tyla to village.
Solongo, you, Keoki continue. No more talk. Get horses

279
now!”
“But...” Tyla’s protest was ignored, so she shrugged
and helped to find the horses.
After an hour of slogging through the rising snow, they
managed to find two riding horses-and the two pack
animals. There was no sound or sign of the bandits, if that’s
what they were. The party moved a short distance downhill
to a natural glade formed by fallen trees that partly
sheltered them from the wind, but not from the increasing
cold. That’s when the arguments began.
Delger, Altan, and Naran had nothing to argue about.
They knew exactly what they needed to do and what was
needed to do it, so they prepared themselves and three
horses for the ride to the village, trusting Muun to know
where it was.
Muun, however, wanted Solongo and Keoki to take the
second pack horse, insisting that that they would need it to
survive, and that he could double up with Delger while
Tyla rode the first pack horse.
Solongo and Keoki insisted just as strongly that Muun
needed all the horses for his group to survive, and that she
and the Hawaiian could carry supplies on their own backs.
Solongo added the argument that Muun would be going
away from the storm, and that she and Keoki would be
heading into the worst of it. Because of that the last horse
had the best chance of surviving by going with Muun. At
this point she still thought she could reduce the intensity of
the storm without too much trouble.
Tyla really wanted to get back to civilization, but she
didn’t say that out loud. The thought of sharing a cup of
espresso in one of the high-end bars of Ulaanbator was like
a deep craving that urged her to run back to the city as fast
as she could. But she couldn’t do that. And neither could
she let Keoki go off alone with Solongo to get the skulls,
partly because of her orders and partly, she admitted to
herself, because she just didn’t want him to be alone with

280
Solongo. With a discipline born of both necessity and
desire, she made it known that she would be going with the
shamaness and the shaman on foot. giving as her reason the
fact that they would need her police skills for protection in
case they ran across the bandits again.
Of course, no one could argue against that, so the two
women and Keoki took one of the smaller tents and as
much food, ammunition, and other supplies as they could
manage in three makeshift packs. They only kept their
pistols, lightening their load by letting Muun take the rifles.
It was a case of choosing one risk over another.
Muun and the other men mounted the horses and
headed downhill through the falling snow. with the old
shaman promising to do yabdal, a shamanic journey,
through the spiritual part of the middle world as often as
possible to keep watch over them.
Keoki, Solongo, and Tyla watched the men disappear
into the snowfall. Solongo pulled out a length of yellow
nylon rope from the supplies and tied everyone together
about three feet apart. Then the three of them turned and
trudged off in almost the opposite direction, with the
Hawaiian in the lead.
Keoki did know which way to go. because in the short
time between reaching the glade and making the decision to
go on, he realized that he still had a connection to Tiger
and, very weird though it seemed, he could remember what
happened to the warrior and the others long after their
escape from Khara Hot.
Tiger, Nelta, Lan Ko, and Ka Lu did reach the
assassins’ tribe after many adventures. Because of her skills
with water spirits, Nelta was accepted as a shaman and
learned the tribal ways. Tiger fought in several battles on
behalf of the tribe, but the spirits of the skulls were coaxing
him into deeper and deeper knowledge of magic and
sorcery. There was a strong influence toward using it for
personal power like his father and Kartoosh had done, but

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Tiger was strong enough to resist that temptation.
Nevertheless, the knowledge had to have an outlet, so
Tiger, ever practical, apprenticed with a blacksmith,
eventually became a master smith himself with the ability
to forge weapons and shamanic objects with magical
powers, and in his old age he trod the very ground that
Keoki was now trodding to live out the rest of his life in a
cave as a habatai boo, a shaman with great magical ability,
who made domtoi, special power objects, for those who
could find him. When he died he was forgotten, and so was
his cave. But Keoki remembered.
Even in the raging blizzard, with fresh snow covering
everything, Keoki could feel the pull of the skulls leading
him toward their location. He was there, as part of Tiger,
when they were filled with the spirits of the sorcerers. Now
it seemed like they wanted him to find them so they could
live through him, if they could. Perhaps the old Keoki
would have succumbed to them easily, but the new Keoki
had Tiger’s strength of will as well as his own. At the
moment he didn’t know what he would do with them or
about them when he found them. No matter. He trusted
himself to do the right thing, whatever it turned out to be.
In spite of being sure about the direction in which to go,
there was still the snow, the wind, and the cold to contend
with. For the first two hours they traveled in the partial
protection of the trees and that wasn’t too bad. When it
came time to cross one of the large mountain meadows,
however, the going became more and more difficult. Keoki
himself fell across some hidden rocks and bruised his shins.
Tyla slipped into a crevice several feet deep and had to be
laboriously pulled out. Within two more hours the already
heavy snowfall had increased significantly, the wind had
risen even more, and the temperature had plummeted far:
below zero degrees. All three travelers were exhausted and.
could not go on much farther.

282
 This was much worse than Solongo had planned for.
The storm spirit was out of her control or influence.
Through her inner senses she discovered that Badzar,
unable to kill them with physical weapons and blinded by
the blizzard conjured up by her and Muun, had simply
taken over the storm and was using it now against them.
Since she was not able to prevent that, she would have to
come up with some way to keep them from freezing to
death. An idea did come to her from memories long put
away. At first she dismissed it as being too repugnant, but
as their situation became more desperate she realized that it
might be a necessity. With an effort of will she extended
her senses to try and locate an ezen, a grouping of rocks or
trees inhabited by ezed, nature spirits, that might help them.
There! A rocky outcropping twenty or thirty yards in front
and to the left. They had to make it to that place.
Keoki felt a series of short tugs on the rope tied to his
waist. Looking back, he could barely make out Solongo
pointing repeatedly toward the left while tugging on the
rope at the same time. What is she doing? That isn’t the
right direction. He shook his head and pointed in the
original direction. Solongo shook her head vigorously,
pointing in the direction he wanted to go and then making a
slicing motion across her throat with her gloved fingers.
Well, that isn’t hard to understand. We keep going forward
and we die. But why does she want to go left? Better trust
her. He nodded and headed in the direction she had
indicated, letting himself be guided by her tugs on the rope
to correct his course. He didn’t mind, really. It was all
going to end soon anyway. He knew he was moving
forward, but he could no longer feel his legs or his arms or
his face. What he really wanted to do, now that he thought
of it, was to just lie down and go to sleep.
A very sharp tug on the rope and a hard poke in the
back made Keoki aware that he had stopped moving and
was in the process of sinking to his knees. He straightened

283
up. What was he supposed to be doing? Another hard poke
reminded him. Oh, yes. Keep moving.
What seemed like a long time later Keoki walked
straight into a tall boulder and the impact made him
wobble. He looked back and saw- that Solongo was
dragging Tyla. His helpful instinct kicked in and he worked
with the shamaness to pull Tyla around the rock and into a
space between that one and two others. Strangely, the
snowfall was less dense and the wind less loud in this
space. More strangely still, it was a bit warmer here, too.
Keoki watched with amazement as ice crystals on
Solongo’s furred hood began to melt. His amazement
increased when she took off her gloves and began pulling
off his as well. Passively, he let her do that, and when she
held his hands in hers he was more amazed still to feel
warmth emanating from her so strongly that his hands were
coming alive again with no pain.
“T cannot do this alone,” said Solongo in a normal voice
that could now be heard because the sound of the wind had
diminished so much. “The rock spirits are helping, but it is.
still not enough to keep us alive through this storm. I need
your help as well.”
‘“‘What do you want me to do?”
“First, begin conjuring up heat, as much as you can, any
way you can. If you are wearing the ochir my father gave
you, then holding onto it while you conjure will help
tremendously. In fact, if you do have it, hold onto it no
matter what else we do. Second, take off your clothes. And.
third, help me undress Tyla.” Solongo was already starting
to take off her own clothing.
“What! !?”
“Trust me. To survive all three of us have to do a ritual,
one that you will probably think is very bizarre. Some
might think of it as a left-hand form of Tantra, but it is far,
far older than that. I learned it... let us just say I learned it
and swore never to use it, but if you want to live, do as I

284
say! The stone spirits are already weakening. Please,
Keoki!”
The Hawaiian had a strong urge to ask a lot more
questions, but he clamped his mouth shut. Early in his
training his grandfather had told him that the best time to
analyze a technique was after you had done it, not before.
So he put aside all his doubts, took hold of the ochir gifted
to him by his Mongolian brother, and pulled it off over his
head. Still holding it in his left hand, he extended his Ja’a
kea into the space between the boulders and filled it with
Pele’s fire, using all the mental and emotional intensity he
could muster. Then he undressed, awkward as it was while
holding onto the ochir.
When both he and Solongo were naked, they joined in
undressing Tyla. By then the air in the little space was
definitely chilly, but not freezing.
Tyla regained consciousness when her clothes were
halfway off. “Wha... what is going on?” she asked groggily
in Mongolian.
“Do you want to live?” replied Solongo firmly. Tyla
nodded. “Then do what I say without question.” Tyla
nodded again and cooperated with the effort to undress her.
It was an indication of how far gone she was that she
cooperated so willingly. When all three were naked the
temperature began to drop again. “We must start the ritual
now!” said Solongo.
Quite innocently, it all began with a kiss.
*

Keoki woke up to the song of a bird. When he opened

his eyes he could see dim sunlight filtering through the
snowbank that enclosed them. It was as if they were
huddled in a bubble of warm air about the diameter of both
his outstretched arms. The ground they were on, covered
with soft, crushed brown grass, was dry as a bone, as were
their clothes piled close by. The two women still seemed to

285
be asleep or in deep trance, so Keoki disentangled himself
without disturbing them and got dressed. Then he passed
through the bubble without disturbing it, either, and clawed
his way to the surface of the snowbank.
It was, as he had suspected, early morning. The sky was
clear, the sun not yet visible above the surrounding
mountains. The air was cold, but probably in the high
forties. The snow, thick as it was, would no doubt melt
away as the sun rose. Keoki did not know how long the
ritual had lasted. At some moment he had lost conscious
awareness and only drifted in a state of warmth,
acceptance, and... something he could not define. His
memory of the ritual itself was hazy, except for a few parts
that were ultra-clear and that would probably never be
forgotten. It was, at one and the same time, the most intense
experience of his life and one that he would never want to
repeat. However, and that was a huge however, they were
all alive and they would not have been without Solongo’s
ritual, whatever it was called, whatever was involved and...
well, whatever.
The sun was just lifting the top of its round head above
the mountain peaks and reaching out with sunray fingers to
pull itself up all the way when Tyla and Solongo emerged
from the snowbank, fully dressed with packs on their
backs. By that time, Keoki had his pack on already and had
traced out the direction in which the skulls lay. Then
something caught his whole attention.
“Your eyes are blue! Both of yours!” And they were,
the intense blue of a mountain lake under an open sky. Both
women smiled.
“We already noticed,” said Tyla.
“I’m sorry, I forgot to mention that there might be side
effects,” added Solongo. “And you, Keoki, I think you have
a permanent tan.”
The Hawaiian hadn’t even realized it. He took off a
glove and looked closely at his hand. Ordinarily a light tan,

286
it was now a dark bronze, like a full-time Waikiki beach
boy. “And my eyes?”
“A little more sparkly, maybe, but about the same
color,” grinned Tyla.
“Wow! We sure generated some heat.”
“We did that,” said Solongo, unsmiling. “Now, which
way to the skulls?”
Perhaps due to the ritual, none of them needed any
private time, so Keoki started off with the women
following, each of them chewing on pieces of borts. After
about a quarter mile of walking single file, they stopped to
tie themselves together again, not because the snow was too
deep and they couldn’t see, but because the slope was
getting steeper and the runoff from the melting snow was
making it slippery.
They had gone some five miles in eight hours over
ground that was becoming increasingly rough. All traces of
the blizzard were long gone. They spent their time crossing
meadows, passing through patches of forest, resting briefly
by streams to slake their thirst, and now picking their way
over broken rocks lying in clumps of grass, across loose
scree, and around pillars of sharp-edged crags that thrust
upward like the knives of giants trying to break out of an
earthen prison. On a small ridge between two such spires,
Keoki stopped and pointed. It was late afternoon and the
sky was still clear.
Directly in front of them the slope fell away for
thousands of feet to a forest-covered valley, but on the left,
where Keoki pointed, a narrow ledge formed a path to a
dark hole. “That’s the cave where Muun’s brother brought
the skulls to. They’re waiting for us.”
Tyla looked at him oddly, and Solongo suppressed a
worried frown, but both women followed him along the
rocky ledge.
The entrance to the cave was well-worn and almost
polished, by feet across the threshhold and hands that had

287
touched the sides over many, many years. The interior was
very dark, but the moment Keoki stepped on the threshhold
and put his hand on the smooth edge of the right side, an oil
lamp lit the interior and a raspy voice croaked, “Sain
bainuu!”
From behind Keoki Solongo called back, “Sain. Ta
sainbainaa?
“Sain bainaa! Sanin saikhan yuu bain?
Solongo answered, “Taivan bain.” The voice inside
rattled with laughter. Whispering to Keoki, she said,
“Those were ritual greetings. When the voice asked
‘What’s new?’ and I answered ‘It is peaceful,’ whoever is
in there thought it was funny.”
“Yorooloor bolog!” came the voice again.
“That’s another ritual phrase,” said Solongo. “It’s a sign
for us to enter, but it means ‘I hope your wishes come true.’
That would be nice.”
Even with the light from the oil lamp it was dark inside
the cave. Lani had taught Keoki a trick of purposely
dilating his pupils when going from a lighted area to a dark
one, so it didn’t take him as long as the others to adjust.
What he saw was someone who looked unbelievably old
sitting in a chair that was marvelously inlaid with gems and
metals in designs that made his head spin if he looked at
them for more than a few seconds. The chair itself glittered
as if it were covered in gold leaf—or perhaps was actually
made of gold. The person’s face was more wrinkled than
Muun’s, and they were all crinkled now in a friendly smile.
Wearing a Mongolian-style hat and what could be a deel,
Keoki couldn’t tell if it were a man or a woman. He or she.
appeared to be Asiatic, if not Mongolian, and shrunken to:
the size of a boy or girl about twelve years old.
On the person’s left was a table that might or might not
have been made of solid gold with inlays, and on the table:
was a small chest that shone like silver. On the floor to the
person’s right was a body, lying on its face. Both arms

288
were stretched out and one hand was clutching a vial.
Farther to the right, in the shadows, were objects, including
an anvil, that looked like they belonged in a blacksmith’s
shop.
When the old one spoke, Solongo had to translate. She
also translated the other way when Keoki spoke.
“This mountain is getting crowded. My last visitor
arrived only ten years ago.” The old one rattled off another
laugh.
Keoki couldn’t help himself. He pointed to the floor.
“Ts that him?”
Again the old one laughed. “Yes. I’ve not been a good
housekeeper since my brother died. Go ahead and take your
packs off. You are welcome here.” Then the old one spoke
more seriously. “I know you, young man. Or I did know
you. Or I don’t know you. Which is it?”
“T don’t know, said Keoki, surprised that he was even
having such a conversation. All he expected to find was a
cave in which the skulls would be hidden somehow. He
never thought there would be anyone here, especially like
this one. “I guess it depends on who you are.”
This brought on a gale of croaking laughter that took
some time to subside. “As to that, I have had many lives
and many names. I may or may not be the one who found
you here when I first came. Or I may or may not be the one
you gave the string of skulls to before you died. Or I may
or may not be the one who gave the skulls to you to give to
my brother. Or I may or may not be the one who is going to
give you the string of skulls again. The last name I
remember is Temuge, sister of the Great Khan, but I’m not
sure of that any more. When you get old enough, it all gets
very confusing.”
Keoki could believe that. He was already very confused
himself. To get back to some semblance of reality, he
asked, “Who is that man on the floor?”
“Ah, him,” said the old woman, nudging the body with

289
his foot. “He’s just a bag of bones now. He used to be a
very ambitious young man. Wanted to trade me the string
of skulls for everlasting life so he could conquer the world
like my brother tried to. Heh, heh. Instead, I traded him the
Golden Elixir. Didn’t seem to do him much good. He must
have been allergic to it. Heh, heh.”
“What is the Golden Elixir, Grandmother?” asked Tyla,
using a formal term of respect in a tone full of awe. Could
this really be the Great Khan’s sister? That would make her
around seven hundred years old!
The old woman looked at her keenly. “Hmmm. I
remember that my brother used to like pretty things like
you, but I don’t remember why. Heh, heh, I learned that
joke from a Samarkand merchant a very, very, very long
time ago. So,” she went on, “what is the Golden Elixir?
Well, it’s an elixir. But it’s not golden. Heh, heh. It helps
some people live longer and some people live shorter, and
there’s no telling what it’s going to do to whoever drinks it.
It’s made from a combination of alchemical ingredients,
including the breath of a purified person, whatever that
means. Purified of what? Of greed, envy, ambition? Of
passion, compassion, love? Sometimes it works, sometimes
it doesn’t, sometimes it doesn’t seem to have any effect at
all. It all depends on what is inside the one who drinks.”
She paused for a while, then added, “I can’t say I’m sorry
for what it did for me, though. I take pleasure in learning,
and I’ve learned oh so much. And I’m still learning, about
life, and spirits, and people.”
“And what of the skulls, Grandmother?” Solongo spoke
on her own behalf and she remained skeptical of the old
woman’s claim.
“Skulls? Ah yes, the string of skulls.” The old woman
reached behind herself, brought out the string of skull
beads, and held them up. “They belong to this young man
here. Or, rather, he should be the one to take care of them.”
“But they belong to the Mongolian people! They are

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part of our heritage!”
There was the sound of a snort. “Bi zovshoorokhgui! |
don’t agree! They were made and ensorceled long before
the Mongolian people ever existed. This man’s suns soul
was present when that happened, and of all of you, only he
has the possibility of controlling them. The vast knowledge
they contain is not evil in itself, but the spirits in them have
such a lust for power that they will always seek to attract
similar spirits if they are allowed to. No, this island man is
the best one here to guard the world against their lust, and
perhaps someday he might learn a thing or two from them
as well. As for myself, I am weary of their company and
want them away from here.” The old woman drank from a
flask that was on the table beside her, as if that much talk
was more than she was used to, and shook the skull beads
in front of Keoki.
“T can...” Solongo began with a determined expression.
“Dear, sweet, ugadan, ” said the old woman as she put
down the flask. “You have a strong spirit and a good heart,
but this is not the task for you. A path lies before you that
you will probably take, one that will turn you into a great
leader for your people. The skulls would be a great burden
and distraction on that path. Let your pride fade away and
think no more of it. Here, islander, take them.”
With obvious reluctance, Keoki took the skulls from the
old woman’s hand. They were heavier than he expected,
and he could feel a definite tingle run up his arm.
For the second time since entering the cave, Tyla spoke
up. “The skulls will not necessarily be safe with this man
Keoki. There are others who would do anything to possess
them.”
The old woman smiled at her. “Yes, young warrior, that
is true. We cannot control the fate of anything, but when a
time comes to act and we act out of love for those closest to
our heart, fate has a tendency to act kindly, also. I cannot
foretell the future, but I can learn much about it from the

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present. I see the signs of a deep bond between the three of
you, and that tells me a lot about what you will probably do
when a need arises to make a choice between loyalties.”
Solongo and Keoki were too involved in their own
thoughts to notice how Tyla flushed under the old woman’s
gaze.
After a few moments of silence, the old woman said,
“Now it is time for parting gifts.”
“But we have nothing to give you, Grandmother,” said
Solongo.
“A gift is not always something you can hold in your
hand. Sometimes it is a gift of service. Open that chest.”
She waved a hand toward the silver chest on the table.
The shamaness went to the table and opened the chest.
It contained a dozen vials filled with silver liquid. She
looked at the old woman questioningly.
“My gift to you is one vial each, to be drunk before you
leave. Your gift to me is to take the rest away and give
them to whoever wants them. I am not going to make any
more, and there is no point in just letting them sit here.”
“You want us to drink that stuff?” burst out Keoki.
“Look what it did to that guy!” he pointed back to the floor.
Without even glancing at the body, the old woman said,
“Well, yes, I admit there’s a risk.”
“A risk? Eternal life or sudden death is not a risk, it’s
madness!”
“T never said it would give you eternal life. In fact, I’m
not sure what the effect will be on you three, considering
what you’ ve been through recently. I’m pretty sure it won’t
be sudden death, though.”
“I am not going to drink it,” said Solongo, closing the
lid of the chest, “and you cannot force me to.”
The old woman chuckled. “I would never dream of
forcing you, but if you break the rules of hospitality you
can simply stay here and keep me company for the rest of
your life.” |

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 “What rules of hospitality?” said Tyla, angrily. “It’s not
a gift when you give someone something they don’t want
and then blackmail them into taking it.”
“Oh, those are my rules,” the old woman replied. “I’m
an old woman, but I never claimed to be a nice old woman.
Heh, heh. I see it as an alchemical experiment. I suggest
you see it as an opportunity for self knowledge. Or not. In
any case, you cannot leave until all three of you have drunk
a vial of the elixir.” She waved a hand at something behind
the visitors, and when they turned to look the cave entrance
had disappeared and all they could see was a solid wall of
rock.
Thinking it might be an illusion, Keoki went and put his
hand on the wall. “It feels like rock,” he announced.
“There is no purpose in staying here any longer,” said
Solongo. She picked up a vial and removed the stopper.
“Whatever happens will happen.” With no hesitation she
quickly swallowed the entire contents. “It tastes a bit like
honey.”
Tyla and Keoki were looking at her like they were
waiting to see if she would fall down dead, show signs of
poisoning, or sprout wings. When nothing like that
happened after five minutes of waiting. Tyla shrugged, took
a vial from the chest, and drank the silver liquid. “More
like airaq,” she said.
Both women stared at Keoki until he threw up his hands
and went to the chest. “All right, all right! But if this kills
me | want to be cremated and my ashes spread in Hanalei
Bay.” He picked up a vial. As with the skulls, it was
heavier than he expected. Suppressing any fears or doubts,
he unstoppered the vial and let the elixir slide down his
throat. “I think it tastes like Bailey’s Irish Cream,” he said
in a surprised tone.
The old woman waved her hand again and the cave
entrance reappeared. “Thank you and goodbye. Don’t
forget to take the chest with you. I'll be interested in

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checking on your lives once in a while to see what
happens.”

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EIGHTEEN: FAREWELL
Ge Mae the cave, packs loaded on their backs, the
three travelers made their way along the ledge to
the small ridge they had crossed over earlier. Just before
leaving the ledge, Keoki looked back. There was no sign of
a cave at all.
On the other side of the ridge, all three stopped and
looked at each other.
“It looks like it’s morning again,” said Keoki
wonderingly.
“We can’t have been in the cave that long!” exclaimed
Tyla.
“Nothing is impossible,” declared Solongo, “especially
if it has already happened. Here we are and it’s morning. |
don’t know how, although I could invent some reasons.
Nevertheless, here are we and it’s morning. Now what?”
“Now we go home,” said Keoki simply.
“If we can find it.” Tyla wasn’t sure they would make it
even if they knew which way to go.
Solongo laughed. “At last I get to use my exceptional
shamanic abilities to lead us out of the wilderness!” As the
others waited for a magical effect to happen, she reached
into her dee! and pulled out something that looked like a
small remote controller, only it had a gray screen on it.
“What’s that?” asked Keoki, looking at it with great
interest.
The shamaness held it out for him to see it better. “It’s a
Garmin eTrex GPS device. Very new. My father gave it to
me for my last birthday.”
Tyla was also very curious. “I’ve heard of GPS, the
Global Positioning System, but I’ve never seen a device
like that for civilian use.”
Solongo pressed a button and the screen lit up. “This
has a battery that lasts for weeks on standby and a full day
295
of continuous use. It tunes into any satellites overhead and
produces a simple map of where you are and where you
want to go.”
Keoki watched as indicators on the screen showed dots
representing satellites, and a few minutes later a very
simple black and white map appeared showing latitude and
longitude. “Why didn’t you use this earlier?”
“Because we didn’t know where we wanted to go. Now
we do.” Solongo busied herself locating a destination large
enough to be mapped as Keoki looked on.
Tyla busied herself with her own thoughts. This was
when she was supposed to push the button on the lipstick
tube. This was when she was supposed to betray her
companions. No, not companions. Her friends. No, that
wasn’t right. Not friends, and not lovers, either. Nor’
brother, nor sister. How do you describe a relationship that:
is more than any of those? And how do you betray them
anyway?” Because she had to betray them. The sharing of
energy was not as important as the sharing of blood, no
matter how much more profound it felt. She looked up.
Solongo was pointing westward and smiling. Tyla sighed.
Well, it doesn’t really have to be right now.
*...Lake Khovgul,” Solongo was saying. “The same:
one as in Muun’s story. It’s a long distance by foot, but.
there are many good-sized villages and towns before it that
I’ve seen on maps, and we should be able to get.
transportation to Ulaanbator in one of them.”
“Then let’s get going,” said Keoki. “Are you ready,
Tyla?”
“Yes!” she answered, smiling as brightly as she could.
They walked for many long hours under Tenger Etseg,
Eternal Blue Heaven, back over jagged rocks, clumps of
grass, scree, and into the fringes of pine and birch forests.
Clear streams provided water and also music, accompanied
by songbirds and gentle winds. They rested when they were
tired, munched on borts when they were hungry, and hardly

296
ever spoke a word.
When the shadows of tall trees stretched like dark blue
fingers into the open areas, they looked for a place to spend
the night. Finally, they chose a large, fairly flat ledge of
rock that stuck out over a deep valley where they could see
the sun dipping toward a snow-topped mountain range at
the far end. The area was about two acres in size,
surrounded on three sides by forest. It was mostly grassy.
with occasional small, stony outcroppings. They pitched
their tent in the center and gathered firewood for a cookfire
surrounded by small rocks several yards in front of the tent.
The tent was one of the smaller Coleman models,
designed for two people. Solongo circled the tent and the
fire, doing a serjim ritual to invoke the protection of local
spirits by scattering offerings of puffed rice candy from one
of her many little tonog, shaman equipment, bags. Keoki
stood beyond the fire and laid a /a’a kea of harmony over
the area. Tyla busied herself with boiling water for borts
and suutei tsai, the traditional Mongolian mix of tea, milk,
and salt, only tradition was flouted by using packets of
powdered milk and salt. For a treat, Tyla added sides of the
last of the eetsgil, chunks of dried cheese.
After the meal, during which there was very little
conversation, the three set their packs close to the tent,
undressed completely, and spread their clothing on the
bottom of the tent for padding. Then they squeezed into the
tent together, wrapped themselves around each other, and
generated enough heat to be comfortable all night long
without any eroticism at all.
Tyla dreamed of the mountain glade again, only this
time she was the Jama and the space in front of her was
filled with disciples. The towering snowbanks were still
there, but instead of a blizzard there was sparkling
sunshine. Beside the quiet pool sweet-smelling flowers
bloomed and she was teaching her listeners about the many
paths to enlightenment.

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 Solongo found herself in the form of a hawk, perched
on a turge tree at the foot of a rainbow. She knew that this
rainbow led to the home of Manzan Gurme Toodei, mother
of all the western tenger, sky spirits, and ancestress of all
the spirits called upon by shamans. To journey to her home
was one of the highest of all Mongolian shaman
aspirations, and she had never before felt ready. Even now,
because of what she had recently done, she did not know if
she would be welcome, but something deep inside told her
that this was the moment to try.
Before leaping upward to follow the rainbow, Solongo
chanted an invocation to the great spirit mother:

O Grandmother Manzan Gurme Toodei

You who swaddled a thousand protector spirits!
O Grandmother Manzan Gurme Toodei
Who rocked ten thousand shaman spirits in their
cradles!
Come to this place as I honor you
Bring your sacred silver cup,
Come reveal yourself to me,
Bless me with the silver cup!

Then she pushed herself off from the tree, lifted her:
wings, and flew up and up and up.
At the end of the rainbow, in the high heavens. Solongo |
in her hawk body plunged into a majestic cloud and flew:
for centuries, until at last she burst into a vast mountain:
valley with a perfectly circular lake in the center as deeply
blue as her own eyes.
This must be the sacred cup of the Mother! thought
Solongo, then suddenly realized that the lake was not the
cup itself, but the container for the magical arshaan that the’
Mother used for her blessings. Instantly a vision appeared
above the lake. It was the gigantic, translucent head and
face of a beautiful woman, constantly changing form and

298
features. As Solongo watched in awe. the sharp peak of one
of the ice-covered mountains broke off and floated down to
the lake. As it turned over, the shamaness could see that it
was hollow. It dipped into the lake, filling itself with the
mysterious liquid, and rose to a position above the hovering
hawk.
“Be blessed, my daughter.” sang a great, soft voice,
“for you have blessed others and will bless many more,
again and again.” The mountainous cup then poured its
sacred contents over the hawk. Solongo felt a brief moment
of supreme pleasure and then lost all awareness until
morning.
Keoki dreamed that he was surfing in Hawaii, or at
least some inner world version of Hawaii. He had just
crossed over the crest of a mountainous wave, riding a
twenty-foot long koa board like one of the heroes of
legend. With the speed of a powerboat he slid down the
face and managed to turn a couple of somersaults before
letting the remnants of the wave wash him ashore, right up
to the edge of a tiki bar where.... What? Who?
“There you go Kanoa, showing off again.” Sitting at the
bar was a smiling, dark-skinned teenage boy sipping a
maitai.

At the sound of his true Hawaiian nickname, Keoki

remembered. And for the first time in conscious awareness
he liked the sound of his Hawaiian name. At least the
nickname part of it. He stepped off his board and walked to
the bar. “Howzit, Lani?” He shook the boy’s hand.
“Howzit yourself? What’ll you have?”
“There’s no bartender.”
“Whoops! Slipped my mind.” The boy set down his
drink. “Hey, Leilani!”
Instantly, a very lovely young blonde woman with very
blues eyes in a very skimpy bikini appeared behind the bar.
“What’ll you have, sailor?” she asked in a very sexy voice.

299
 Keoki couldn’t help laughing. “A double zombie,
sweetheart,” he said. “C’mon, Lani. Aren’t you a little old
for this kind of fantasy?”
“In this body I sure don’t feel old,” said the teen. “So,
you like blue eyes, do you?”
“Don’t start. Necessity is the mother of something or
other.” He reached for the drink that the blonde had set oni
the bar, took a taste, and changed it to a margarita. “Why'
are we meeting like this?
“Just giving you a heads-up, Kanoa, so you don’t freak:
out too much back on Earth Prime when you hear about
your next adventure.” The lady bartender had disappeared.,
but Lani-as-a-boy was still drinking his maitai.
“I’m not so sure I’m freakoutable any more,” said!
Keoki/Kanoa.
“Giving up the game of self-deception?”
“Not completely. It’s curious, Lani, but when I allow
myself to learn something for the first time that I already;
know well, the re-learning goes deeper and grows new
connections.”
Lani smiled. “I know what you mean, but I never went
as far as you did. What effect do you think the elixir will
have?”
The surfer rolled his eyes. ““Whatever effect I want it ta
have, I guess. We both know how dream stuff works.”
“Okay, okay,” the boy chuckled. “Are you going back
to being the same old wimpy Hawaiian?”
Keoki/Kanoa chuckled in turn. “I’m giving up the
wimpy part, but not the part that loves to learn and be
surprised.”
“Good for you!” Lani raised his glass. “See you soon
and somewhere interesting.” Keoki/Kanoa gave a farewell
salute with his glass and started to fade away. Just before
he was totally gone, though, he faintly heard Lani call
“Hey, Leilani!”
*

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 Tyla was up and dressed early. The others were still
sleeping, but she knew they would wake up soon. The air
was still and there were no live embers in the fire ring, so
she knelt down and carved up some tinder with her Swiss
Army knife. Then she built a nice little pyramid of kindling
around it. Finally, she took a magnesium fire starter out of
a jacket pocket, scraped off a small pile of shavings onto a
flat wood chip, set that next to the tinder, and used her
knife again on the flint side of the little magnesium block to
create sparks that fired the magnesium shavings that fired
the tinder that fired the kindling. When the campfire was
going well, she placed a pot of water in it for tea and went
for a walk.
The big ledge was still in deep shadow, but she was
watching the dawn make the distant snowy peaks look like
they were topped with molten gold. Overhead, a few stars
reluctantly faded away. It was very chilly up here in the
mountains, but she still retained enough heat that it didn’t
bother her.
What did bother her was whether or not to press the
button on the lipstick tube now or later. This would be an
ideal spot for a pickup and there might not be another
nearly as good before they came to the first villages. On the
other hand, she had no idea what would happen when the
helicopter arrived. Her superior had said that a helicopter
would arrive “for the pickup.” He hadn’t actually said that
she would be picked up. And what about the others? Would
they all be left to find their own way home? Or would
they...? She really didn’t want to think about other
possibilities.
Light was very slowly crawling across the long valley
toward them as the sun rose higher and Tyla walked around
the ledge, trying to make up her mind. She looked up as
Solongo came out of the tent and pulled her jacket on over
her deel. The shamaness bent over the fire that Tyla had
started and used a glove to pick up the little pot of boiling

301
water already there and poured herself a cup of milk tea.
She straightened, sipped, looked around, saw Tyla, smiled
and waved. For some reason that small gesture of
connection helped Tyla to decide what course to follow.
By the time the Interpol officer got back to the fire,
Keoki was also out of the tent, dressed, and sipping tea. He’
handed her a cup when she was close enough to take it.
“I have something to tell you,” Tyla said, after drinking
some tea and putting the cup down. She showed them the:
gold-colored tube that she had taken out of a pocket.
“When I press this button on the bottom,” she turned the
tube so they could see it, “it will signal our location and a:
helicopter will come here to get the chest and the vials,
maybe even the skulls. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you
before.” When neither Solongo nor Keoki reacted with
shock or anger, Tyla almost did. “It doesn’t seem to bother
you that I’ve betrayed your trust!”
“Don’t think of it as betrayal,” said Solongo gently.
“Tt’s your job.”
“You knew?”
“T guessed.”
“I didn’t know or guess, but I’m not surprised,” said
Keoki calmly. “You were really good, but you tried toa
hard to make me want you. All I knew was that there had ta
be some reason for it.”
“I’m so sorry!” Tyla looked miserable.
“I’m not,” smiled Keoki. “It was a once in a lifetime
experience.” He looked at Solongo. “All of it.”
The shamaness touched Keoki on the cheek in ar
affectionate way, then touched Tyla in the same way. “Tel:
us about it.”
Tyla sobbed and hugged Solongo, then hugged Keoki
then stepped back, wiping away tears. “My superior pickec
me for a special assignment, to... to seduce Keoki anc
make him feel a strong bond between us. When I refused a
first, he hired some local bandits to threaten my

302
 family—parents, brothers, and sisters—so I would agree,
which I had to do. Later, he gave me this tube and told me
to send a signal when you had found whatever the artifact.
the skulls, would lead you to. That would obviously be the
elixir. But what do we do now? I don’t know what will
happen if I give the signal and the helicopter arrives. I don’t
know if they’ll let us go... or what.”
“That’s true,” said Solongo. “You don’t know and we
don’t know. What we do know is that your family will be
hurt if you don’t give the signal. We will just have to deal
with whatever else happens when it happens. Push the
button, Tyla.”
“The two of you could give me the skulls and the chest
and hide while I wait,” Tyla suggested.
“For the rest of our lives?” asked Keoki. “And besides,
I don’t think they’d treat you or your family very well if we
weren’t with you when they arrived. I think it would be
best if we seem to be your prisoners, and it looks like you
have taken the chest away from us.”
“And if it seems like we don’t have any idea what those
vials are for,” added Solongo.
“What about the skulls?”
“Maybe they won’t be interested in them,” said Keoki.
“Or, if they are, I’ll just give them up so they can be put
back in the museum. I don’t know what I’d do with them
anyway.”
Solongo decided not to tell the Hawaiian that the skulls
had never been in the museum in the first place and
caressed Tyla’s cheek again. “We all have to trust in the
protection and help of the spirits. Push the button, Tyla.”
Keoki nodded in assent.
So Tyla pushed the button. There being not much to
say, each one of them wandered off a short way to think
their own thoughts. On impulse, when the others were fully
absorbed in themselves, Tyla went to her pack, took her
Makarov pistol out and slipped it into her jacket pocket.

303
 It was a little less than an hour after the button was
pushed that they all heard the distant sound of an
approaching helicopter. Louder and louder came the sound
until they saw it fly over a hill and hang in the air above the
valley, perhaps a thousand yards away from where they
were all waiting for it to land.
As soon as the first sound of the helicopter reached
their ears, Solongo placed the silver chest at Tyla’s feet and
sat down on the ground a couple of yards away with her
hands clasped behind her head. Keoki handed Tyla the
skull beads and sat down next to Solongo in the same
position. Tyla completed the charade by drawing out her
pistol and covering them with it.
The helicopter hovered for a minute or so, its occupants
taking in the scene that clearly showed Tyla in charge and
the two shamans as her prisoners.Then it slowly
approached to within fifty yards and settled on the ground,
its starboard door facing the people by the tent. The
helicopter was black, with no markings at all. Tyla
recognized the make as a McDonnell Douglas MD-900
Explorer, a five-blade model with a protected tail rotor
system, capable of holding seven passengers and popular
with many police departments around the world.
As the pilot cut the engine and the blades started to
slow down, three men jumped out of the open door. Two
were dressed in black jumpsuits. One of those, the one
wearing a holstered pistol and walking with authority, Tyla
knew as her superior. The other one, carrying an automatic
rifle at the ready, she didn’t know. She didn’t know the
third one, either. He was wearing a dark blue deel
embroidered with silver thread, a wide leather belt with a
big silver buckle, and a hat made of silver fox fur complete
with tail. Of the three, he was the only one grinning hugely.
Solongo recognized him instantly. “Badzar!” she said,
spitting out the name like a curse.
The ataatai buu, evil shaman, who had given them so”

304
 much trouble grinned even more widely as he stopped in
front of her with his feet well apart and his arms crossed
over his chest. “Ahh! The little hawk has had her wings
clipped,” he said contemptuously. “This will teach you not
to try and fly where the lightning strikes,” he added,
making wordplay on the meaning of his name. “Where are
the skulls? Did this teneg gadny khun, stupid stranger, find
them or not?”
Since all the speech was in Mongolian, Keoki had no
idea what they were saying.
“Forget the skulls!” roared the supervisor, who was
now standing in front of Tyla. “What is this?” he asked,
pointing to the chest.
“I hope it’s what you wanted,” said Tyla, still pointing
her gun at the seated shamans.
“Put that thing away,” he ordered. “Nyamsuren will
watch them. Open the chest!”
Tyla put her gun back in her jacket pocket and bent
down to open the chest. The vials of silver liquid were
neatly arranged inside.
“What are those?” demanded the supervisor.
“T don’t know.”
“Pick one up and show it to me.” Tyla did so, but the
supervisor did not take it right away. He examined it
visually for some long moments. “How many are there?”
“Nine.”
“Did you take any?”
Tyla looked him in the eye and said, “No, I did not.”
And that’s the truth, she thought to herself. 7 was given one.
The supervisor pursed his lips and looked at the far
horizon, as if he were thinking something over. “Put that
one back and give me the chest,” he said suddenly.
Tyla did as she was told. Fortunately, he didn’t seem
interested in where the chest came from. She wondered if
Solongo or Keoki—or both—had anything to do with that.
“And my skulls?” asked Badzar in a tone that was just

305
short of a whine. “That was our agreement.”
“You did not do much to earn it,” said the supervisor
with a grimace of disgust. “You were supposed to capture
the Hawaiian and force him to work for us. Instead you
nearly killed him and then lost him.”
“I separated them and I weakened them. That should
count.”
Shrugging, the supervisor turned back to Tyla. “Do you
have them?”
“Yes.” She removed them from her other jacket pocket
and held them out. They seemed surprisingly heavy.
“Give them to him and let us get back to the city.”
Badzar’s eyes glittered with anticipation as he took the
beads from Tyla’s outstretched hand and caressed them
lovingly, muttering a chant of some kind under his breath.
“What about these two?” asked Nyamsuren, gesturing
toward the seated shamans with his rifle.
“Leave them,” ordered the supervisor over his shoulder |
as he strode off toward the helicopter. “They are of no
further interest.”
Shrugging in his turn, the rifleman followed his boss.
After a brief glance at her traveling companions, Tyla went,
along behind Nyamsuren.
Badzar stayed for a few moments to gloat. He held up:
the skulls in front of Solongo’s face. “With these I will.
become the most powerful shaman in the world!” When:
there was no reaction from the shamaness and the Hawaiian |
just looked at him blankly, he satisfied himself with simply'
cursing them and walked away behind the others.
Keoki heaved a big sigh of relief and brought his hands:
down slowly to his lap. Solongo did the same. As long as:
the helicopter was in sight, both of them thought it was best!
not to aggravate anyone by moving just yet.
On board, though, after the helicopter had lifted up:
about twenty feet, the supervisor ordered the pilot to hover..
“I’ve changed my mind. Nyamsuren, take them out.”

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 “Yes!” cried Badzar gleefully.
On the ground, Solongo and Keoki saw the rifleman in
the doorway, kneeling and taking aim at them. Then they
heard three loud pistol shots. The helicopter wobbled,
steadied, and the shooter had disappeared back inside. Tyla
then appeared at the doorway. She tossed something out
and it landed in a clump of grass. She waved as the
helicopter veered away and headed across the valley.

307
POSTSCRIPT
hen the disappearance of the supervisor of
Mongolia’s Interpol office had not been |
resolved after two months, Tyla was promoted to take over |
his position. The unpaid bandits went away to find more
lucrative employment, leaving her family unharmed and
safe at last. Oh, yes, Tyla also sent a package to an address
she found in her former supervisor’s private files.
Baatarsaikhan announced his intention to retire from
public life, and Solongo was appointed by the government
to take his place as the “official” representative of the
shamanic community. She moved into the State-supplied
ger and immediately began working with Gansukh to
organize a shamanic political party.
Cholon realized his dream of initiation and acceptance |
as a full-fledged shaman.
As for Keoki... |
The customs agent in Honolulu was pawing through|
Keoki’s carry-on bag, which was stuffed full of Mongolian ||
and Korean souvenirs, when he came across a very strange:
object that looked at first like a necklace, except that it was)
too small to fit over an adult’s head and too gross for ai|
child to wear. “What is this?” asked the agent. |
“Oh, those are Mongolian prayer beads,” said the}
Hawaiian with a straight face. “made of yak bone. A gifti|
from an old Mongolian shaman.” ;
The agent looked skeptical. Why would anyone want to}
pray with such ugly skulls? On the other hand, who knew]
what Mongolians believed in? He put the beads back andl
let Keoki zip up his bag and take it with him.
When he got home to his apartment, the young:
Hawaiian dropped the skull beads in a small, rectangular
gift box made of Jauhala, pandanus leaves, that someone
had given him as a birthday present and filled with long-
308
 gone Big Island Candy Company shortbread. He didn’t
notice that the eyes of the skulls glowed redly as he put the
cover on the box and placed it in the back of a closet shelf.
On their first date after his return, Keoki took Ari out to
dinner at Duke’s Restaurant on the beach at Waikiki. After
enjoying the excellent salad bar, Keoki told her a very
edited version of his adventures in Korea and Mongolia as
he pleased his palate with Lime and Chili Roasted Ahi, and
she with Sauteed Mac Nut and Herb Crusted Mahimahi, all
washed down with Kona Brewing Company’s Firerock
Pale Ale. For dessert, they decided to have cocktails. Keoki
chose something called “Hawaiian Salt,” made from local
Ocean Vodka with lemonade, passion fruit juice, and /i
hing mui, plum powder. Ari was happy with a
“Shorebreak,” composed of Strawberry-flavored
Stolichnaya Vodka, passion fruit juice, and strawberry
puree.
During this unusual dessert, Keoki presented Ari with a
spoon made of golden-colored wood. The deep bowl was
decorated with leaves, and the handle was a beautifully-
carved horsehead. Ari thanked him profusely and gave him
a big kiss right there in the restaurant, even though she
didn’t know what she was going to do with it. Later..., but
that’s nobody’s business but theirs.
At their first breakfast after Keoki’s return, Kimo got an
“T Love Mongolia” keychain, a postcard with several
scenes plus a map of the country, and a CD with lots of
pictures of beautiful Mongolian girls that Keoki had
downloaded from the internet. Kimo was very happy.
On his first visit to his family on the Big Island,
everyone got a blue or white silk scarf that they admired
and praised and didn’t know what to do with. For Gramps,
he had reserved something very special: a bottle of
Chinggis Khan vodka, made from Mongolian grain and
Mongolian spring water.
“Where is Gramps?” he asked his mother.

309
 “Who knows?” she replied. “You know how he is. Oh,
this came for you.” She riffled through a pile of mail,
pulled out a yellow envelope, and handed it to him.
It was a Western Union telegram, dated two weeks
previous. “To: George McCoy. Your grandfather needs
you. Stop. Urgent I speak to you in person. Stop. Come
soonest. Stop. Edgar O’Malley, Commercial Attache, U.S.
Embassy, Lome, Togo.”

Oh boy.

310
EPILOGUE
forest, quiet, evergreen branches bent with several
inches of snow, faint scent of pine, occasional
crack of wood being split apart by expanding ice, no breeze
at all.
Mid-morning, overcast, so dark that everything looks
black and white, except for bluish shadows of rabbit tracks
on the snowy ground.
A massively built lodge in the center of a clearing,
twelve to fifteen inches of snow on the sloping roof, large
icicles hanging from the eaves, empty flower boxes under
the windows. Inside, a raging fire in a huge fireplace made
of big pieces of riverrock. Hints of animal heads in the
upper shadow, fiery reflections glint off displays of hunting
weapons. The atmosphere is overwarm. A large table of
thick mahogany bordered by comfortable chairs and
comfortable occupants.
“Success!” An aged voice. Satisfaction.
A nervous voice. “There is no doubt?”
“No doubt. An eyewitness.” Confidence.
Sound of something heavy being placed on the table.”
A third voice, nonchalant. “Silver, | suppose.”
“What else? What does it matter?” Mild irritation.
“And the expendable?” Edgy, sound ofa cough.
“Wasn’t necessary. What does shat matter?”
The third voice. “Now what?”
“Appropriate distributions have been made.” Officious.
“Now it is our turn.” Complacent.
Clinking sound of filled glass containers being moved.
Soft sound of stoppers being removed.
lo. Lifel”
“To Life!”
Lo Lite!
Sound of drinking.
Stillness.
311
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Serge Kahili King, Ph.D. is the author of many works
on Huna and Hawaiian shamanism, including "Urban
Shaman" and "Changing Reality." He has a doctorate in
psychology and was trained in shamanism by the Kahili
family of Kauai as well as by African and Mongolian
shamans. His first published novel, Okora Mask, was set in
West Africa, and his second novel. Dangerous Journeys,
also featured Keoki McCoy and was set in Hawaii and
Europe.
Dr. King is the Executive Director of Aloha
International, a non-profit, worldwide network of
individuals who have dedicated themselves to making the
world a better place. He lives on the Big Island of Hawaii
with his wife and computers and has created an island for
learning and gathering in the virtual world of Second Life.
For more information on Dr. King and his work visit
www.huna.org and www.huna.net.

312
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CPSIA information can be obtained at www.ICGtesting.com

LVOW07s0325090816

499612LV00001B/15/P
9 "78 1890 85026
5 5
is yt el +ae Mein) oa
 Keoki McCoy, the young Hawaiian apprentice shaman who
went with his grandfather to Eutope and learned a lot more
about his craft the hard way in Dangerous Journeys, is back
again on a new adventure into the heart of Mongolia.

Centered around a string of ivory beads carved in the likeness

of human skulls, this adventure begins with the life and death
of Chinggis Khan and the secret of his lost treasure. From there
it takes us to the life and death of Ah Sing, a Chinese black-
smith in the Hawatian kingdom of the 1800s.

Keoki’s part in the tale starts in Honolulu in the mid-1990s

and takes him from there to the top of Mauna Loa on the Big
Island where his grandfather teaches him the art of casting
stones, among other things.

Shortly after that he is sent by Interpol to Mongolia to find an

ancient artifact--skull beads, in fact--and from then on he
plunges into a shamanic journey that crosses the borders of
time and space.

Serge Kahili King, Ph.D. is the author of well-known non-

fiction books such as Urban Shaman, Instant Healing, and
Huna: Ancient Secrets for Modern Living. This is his third
novel after The Okora Mask and Dangerous Journeys. Dr.
King lives in Hawaii where he teaches and writes and often
goes off to exotic places. More information can be found by
visiting www.huna.org and www.huna.net.

ISBN 9174-1-890850-2b-5
90000 HUNAWORKS
US$9.99 il PO Box 426
Volcano HI 9678 —
[email protected];
81890"850