Dorje gestured impatiently for silence.
"Bermiag Rinpoche should not have been so quick to underestimate me. Had he allowed the Treasure Texts to go with me, it is conceivable that I might have been able to do something, even from exile, to salvage the fortunes of the Reich."
"Bermiag Rinpoche did not agree." Lutzen's tone was without any audible shift in emotion. "When you were sent to safety, all of us believed the war could still be won - that though our beloved Green Gloves was not yet fully restored to us in function, some other worthy might be found to unlock at least a part of the Treasure Texts' secrets.
"Sadly, that did not prove to be the case. When it became clear that nothing could save our German patron, Bermiag did his best to place the Texts beyond the reach of our enemies by sending them out of Germany by submarine."
"And in so doing, he placed them beyond my reach as well!" Dorje retorted. "The messenger who brought the news of the sub's launch should likewise have been entrusted with the vessel's intended destination."
The old monk shrugged again. "There was always a danger that the messenger might have been captured. Bermiag Rinpoche had more than once encountered interference from Adepts at work in the Allied camp. Those most senior amongst them would have had sufficient power to force a full accounting of the facts from almost any prisoner under interrogation."
"Perhaps that is true," the abbot conceded. "As it stands, Bermiag's caution has cost us valuable time. The search might have gone on indefinitely if Sidkeong had not undertaken to locate the submarine by dowsing. And the effort cost him his life."
"I have not forgotten, Rinpoche," Lutzen said. "The lives of the Irishmen were justly forfeit by way of recompense."
"Recompense is not yet complete, and finding the submarine only continues the quest," Dorje stated, his lean features like a carving in marble. "The cargo still must be retrieved - and for that, we shall need outside assistance. You know what is required, Lutzen. Have you made adequate preparation to perform the necessary exercise with the kyilkhor"
The elderly monk gave an inclination of his hairless head. "I am quite prepared, Rinpoche. I am confident that the oracle will yield us the guidance we are seeking."
"Excellent." Dorje's tone was one of dispassionate approval. "In that case, let us proceed."
"As you command, Rinpoche."
So saying, the aged monk turned his attention to the lacquerwork box in his lap, swiftly shifting a succession of trick panels embedded in the box's lid and sides. The box opened to reveal two compartments within, the first containing a sheaf of rice papers, a bamboo brush pen, a small ink flask of pale green jade, and a piece of rock crystal in the shape of a pyramid. The second, larger compartment held several closely packed stacks of square lacquered tiles.
Taking out the brush and the ink flask, the monk proffered them to his superior, along with a square piece of rice paper the size of his palm. Accepting these three articles, the abbot lapsed briefly into silence, his expression intense and abstracted, as if he were attempting to identify some curious object glimpsed at a distance. After a long moment, he roused himself to unstopper the ink bottle and dip the pen, after which he swiftly wrote out an inscription in Tibetan. Seen by the amber light of the butter lamps, the writing fluid showed up not black but a dull shade of dark red. The abbot paused briefly to contemplate his work before handing it over to his subordinate.
"As the diviner, it is for you to read what has been written," he told the old monk.
Lutzen took the page and held it up to the light. Signalling his comprehension with a curt nod, he carefully placed the paper on the carpet in front of him, then removed the crystal pyramid from the lacquerwork box and set it on top of the paper with a finely judged precision that indicated the importance of its placement. This done, he returned to the box and began lifting out the layers of lacquerwork tiles.
There were sixty-four in all, each tile having one side blank and the other inscribed with a symbolic pictograph. Lutzen turned all the tiles blank side up on the carpet before giving them a randomizing shuffle. Satisfied with his preparations, he folded his palms together and touched his joined fingertips to his forehead, throat, and breast. Then, raising his eyes to the vault above his head, he spoke.
"Hail, Shinjed, Lord of the Dead and Devourer of the Living. We who are initiates sworn to your service do pray that you will look with favor on our present enterprise. We ask that, being secured of your guidance, we may recover the treasures our forebears hid, receiving like them earthly power in exchange for feasts of slaughter."
Lowering his gaze, he turned to Dorje. "The pattern lies within your grasp, Rinpoche" he said, indicating the strewn array of tiles. "May Shinjed guide your hand."
Dorje reached out and plucked a tile from the midst of the pile. Turning it face-up, he placed it on the floor next to the crystal pyramid. While the old monk looked on, he chose a second tile, overturning it with a flick of his wrist and setting it directly opposite the first, on the other side of the crystal. A further six tiles were added in turn, arranged in opposing pairs so as to leave an octagonal space at the center of the configuration - the pattern known to practitioners of this form of divination as The Lotus Wheel. When all eight tiles were in place, Lutzen leaned in to scan the array of symbols displayed there. After prolonged consideration, he drew a deep breath and began to expound, tracing lines of association as he did so.
"The Stranger and the Fortress," he intoned. "Taken together, they point to a man outside our immediate fellowship, yet sometimes under our protection. The Gambler - here - indicates one who is both ambitious and desirous of material wealth. The companion symbol, however, is the Broken Ox Cart, signifying a recent reversal in fortunes."
Dorje's blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "An interesting combination. The man we require evidently has prior associations with this order. It would appear that he is someone who has tasted disappointment in the not-so-distant past. So much the better if his fortunes need mending. If he is hungry, he will rise the more readily to any bait we offer him. Continue."
Lutzen bent his gaze on the pattern again. "As for the formative elements of the future, we have first the Serpent and then the Hunter. These symbols denote agencies in opposition. The Serpent is guileful and defends itself with venom. The Hunter, for his part, is a reader of signs and a tireless pursuer. These two elements can never be reconciled. I read the interference of a longtime adversary who must be killed if he cannot be eluded."
This revelation drew a frown from Dorje. "An inauspicious complication. What of the remaining signs?"
Lutzen returned his attention to the Lotus Wheel. "Success is denoted by the Fruitful Vine. But it is paired with the sign of the Fool, indicating random influences at work. Whether those influences will manifest themselves as a person, an object, or an event is beyond my ability to determine. All that can be said at this time is that a successful outcome to this venture is probable, but not certain."
"Then we must proceed with great caution," Dorje said. "Until this enterprise is safely concluded, nothing must be left to chance. In the meantime," he continued, "there is still this morning's work to be completed. Let us see what final sign the oracle will show us."
Dorje bowed his head over the pattern of tiles on the floor and focused his eyes on the crystal pyramid at its center. His breathing slowed, and with it his heart rate, as he lapsed into trance with the ease of long practice. The meditation room, with its gilded hangings and jewelled mosaic ceiling, faded into obscurity. The pyramid correspondingly seemed to expand to fill his vision, blotting out everything else until he could see nothing but the cone-shaped crystal.