Tulkn of the ~ompa (monastery)， then a meal of tea，
roast lamb， and mixed vegetables， with the Tulku and a
dozen other ecclesiastical dignitaries， each of whom was a
lama.1 Only Karni Padme Hum and Dumvar Gatze-Ding，
another lama， spoke English; yet the conversation did not
lag， mainly because Foster Cross and Loren Eaton， two of
the Black Berets who were conversant with Dzongkha，
talked， not only with the lamas but with the four
Bhutanese soldiers， after which Cross and Eaton translated
to Camellion and the others.
There had been religious music， the small orchestra
consisting of two gyalings (a kind of hautboy， or oboe)，
two ragdongs (huge Bhutanese trumpets)， and two ket-
tledrums. A bell striking a special rhythm peculiar to
Eastern temples was sounded as a prelude. After a few
moments silence the deep-toned ragdongs rumbled for a
while， then the gyalings by themselves sang a slow
musical phrase supremely moving in its simplicity. They
repeated it with variations， supported by the bass notes of
the ragdongs， which finally joined the kettledrums that im-
itated roiling thunder in the distance. The melody flowed
as smoothly as the water of a deep river， without interrup-
tion， emphasis， or passion， yet producing a strange， acute
sense of distress， as ff all the suffering of the beings wan-
dering from world to world since the beginning of the ages
was breathed out in this weary， desperate lamentation.
At the time， the Death Merchant had felt very uneasy，
his intuition in high gear. Hostile forces had seemed to
gather around him， and he had had the feeling of being
possessed by invisible beings who urged him to leave the
country， who warned him that he would not be able to
advance any farther， that his search for the fabled
Shambhala would only result in dismal failure.
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