Fifty Degrees Below - Kim Stanley Robinson [200]
And in fact it was the Buddhist holiday celebrating Dorje Totrengtsel, as it turned out. To celebrate it, and perform a dedication ceremony for their new home in the country, the Khembalis had scheduled a big party for that very day.
Possibly some of those they invited did not make it, because of the meteorological or political complications; but a couple hundred of them did. They gathered in a big crowd under a large unwalled pavilion tent, set up next to the old farmhouse, still empty and in need of renovation.
It took well over an hour for the Quiblers to drive out to the farm, Charlie at the wheel of their Volvo station wagon inching along, Anna in the back with the boys. Joe declaimed a long monologue remarking on the snowy view, and his displeasure that they were not stopping to investigate it: “Look! Stop! Look! Stop the car!”
When they got to the farm they found Frank was just arriving himself. They parked next to his van and walked around the farmhouse.
Drepung and Rudra were out back on the snowy lawn, steam pouring from their mouths and noses. They were kicking patterns of frosty green out of the thick flock of new snow on the grass. At the center of this improvised mandala stood a blocky shapeless snowman with a demon mask hung on its head, grinning maniacally into the wind. Before it lay a lower block of snow, like the altar stone at Stonehenge. On the flattish top of this mass some of Joe’s building blocks were stacked, in two little towers. Two red then green, two red then yellow.
The two men waved cheerily when they saw the Quiblers. They pointed at their handiwork, and watched with pleasure as Joe in his thick snowsuit and boots trundled over ahead of the rest to investigate. They lifted him between them the better to see the two towers his blocks now made. He kicked reflexively at the stacks, and Rudra and Drepung laughed and swung him back and forth, each holding with both hands one of the toddler’s mittened fists. When he kicked over one of them, they put him down with many congratulations. “Ooooh! Karmapa!”
Frank went inside to check on lunch, and came back out carrying two paper cups of a hot mulled cider that he reported had no yak butter in it. He gave one to Anna, who wrapped her hands around it gratefully. Charlie sniffed the steam pouring off it and went in to get one of his own. He spent a while in there talking to Sridar, his old lobbying partner, who had taken on the Khembalis as a client the year before, and was now representing them to Congress and other powers in the capital, with some success and a great deal of amusement. They exchanged the usual sentiments on the election taking place, shaking their heads in the attempt to pretend they did not hope very much.
When Charlie went back outside, he felt again how frigid the day was. Anna huddled against him, nearly shivering despite her bulky coat. The Khembalis and Joe did not seem to mind. Now they were walking around the snow figure in a little march, chanting nonsense together, a string of syllables followed by a big “HA,” repeated again and again. Joe stomped into the snow as deeply as Drepung, his eyes ablaze under his hood, his cheeks bright red.
“He’s getting too hot in his suit,” Charlie said.
“Well, he can’t take it off.”
“I guess not.”
“They’re having fun,” Frank observed.
“Yes.”
“Joe must be heavy the way he sinks into that snow.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “He’s like made out of lead.”
Frank saw Nick standing off to one side and called, “Hey Nick, do you want to go down to the river and see if there are any beavers or anything?”
“Sure!” They took off down the lawn, talking animals.
Now Rudra stood still, facing Joe. Joe stopped to peer up at him, looking surprised that their march had halted. “Ho,” he said.
Rudra leaned down and gently rubbed a handful of snow in Joe’s face. Joe spluttered and then shook his head like a dog.
“Hey what is he doing?” Anna demanded.
“He’s helping him,” Charlie said, holding her arm.
“What do you mean helping? That doesn’t help him!”
“It doesn’t hurt him. It’s part of their little