Downtime - Marc Platt [19]
She decided to press every available monk for an opportunity to speak to the abbot. Plainly his vow of silence existed only outside his monastery, so surely he would now reveal to her what was happening. He might even explain the dreams that had drawn her back to this forsaken place.
There was a light knock at the door. When it opened, the abbot himself was standing there dressed in his full robes and crested saffron hat. His voice was frail. ‘Miss Waterfield, please may I speak with you?’ Without waiting for a response, he started to edge his way into the room and she saw that he was without his staff.
She took his hand and guided him to a chair.
‘I think that perhaps we already know one another,’ he whispered as if he was afraid of being overheard.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think so too.’
He reached forward with his gnarled fingers and she let him run them gently over the contours of her face. ‘Are you really the same Victoria who came to Det-sen so long ago?’
‘Yes. I was here fifty years ago, when the monastery was attacked by the Yeti and the Great Intelligence.’
The old man groaned. ‘And I was little more than a novice.’
‘You were very kind and brave,’ said Victoria and she started to feel tears welling in her eyes. On a sudden impulse, she reached into her bag and produced the chocolate that Charles had given her. She broke off a piece and put it into his hand. ‘It’s all I have to give you. I hope it’s not against your vows.’
He sniffed at the chocolate and then popped it into his mouth. As he chewed a smile crept across his wizened face.
‘The books tell that your companion the Doctor returned to us after a gap of three hundred years. And now you return and time has not touched you either.’
‘Well, not much anyway,’ she murmured. ‘But what’s happened here? Why is the monastery so neglected? And the other lamas. What’s happened to their sight?’
He was silent for several seconds. In the distance, Victoria could hear the tinkling of tiny bells.
‘You are still too inquisitive,’ he muttered. ‘Some things are better left unseen. We follow our disciplines.’
‘You can’t mean you’ve willingly gone blind? That’s horrible!’
His voice was grave and quiet. ‘Victoria Waterfield, what do you seek?’
‘I’m looking for my father. Is he here?’ It was the first time she had admitted as much to anyone. It had frightened her for years. Now that she spoke the words, they seemed flat and hopeless.
‘What makes you think he is at Det-sen?’
‘Please, you must tell me.’
The Abbot Thonmi sighed deeply. His every action seemed part of a weary task. ‘You should not have come. Det-sen is no longer a welcoming place. We do not deal with outsiders. Our disciplines must be maintained.’
‘Why?’ she said. ‘You’ve cut yourselves off. What do you have to hide?’
‘Much,’ he replied.
‘And my father. Is he really here?’
Thonmi slowly shook his head. ‘If you still appear so youthful, how old must your father be?’
‘Please. Just tell me.’
‘You must leave here in the morning.’
She studied him for a moment, unsure of what to believe.
‘You could have stopped me coming here days ago. And if you don’t speak to outsiders, what were you doing in Lukla?’
She suddenly thought he might have come to meet her.
He smiled grimly. ‘Life is a journey, my child. The Thonmi you once knew lived in the light, but his path led into darkness. It is an eternal battle. The Great Wheel turns. The flame gutters. Sometimes the light is only seen when we stand in the shadows. That is our journey. Not yours. Yours goes on from this place and time.’
‘I don’t know,’ Victoria said. ‘I was certain...’
‘Do not seek him here