‘From a man called Talonor. He visited Kedarnath thousands of years ago - the priests told him about the Vault, and showed him the key.’ She indicated the replica amongst their confiscated possessions.
He picked it up, holding the faces of the gods to the firelight. ‘Where did you find this?’ The question was accusing, as if it had been taken from him personally.
Nina decided to simplify the explanation. ‘Talonor pressed the key into a sheet of gold - this is a copy made from it.’
‘A copy?’ He tapped the dense plastic. ‘It is not the real key?’
‘No, it - wait, you don’t have the real key?’
‘It was lost long ago,’ he said, glowering.
‘Hold on,’ said Eddie. ‘You mean you’re guarding the Vault of Shiva . . . but you can’t get into it yourselves?’ He laughed sarcastically. ‘How do you even know there’s anything in it?’
‘Nobody can enter the Vault without the key,’ Shankarpa said angrily. ‘The doors have been closed for over a thousand years - and no outsiders have ever lived to reach them. Until today.’
‘But now you have the replica, can you open it?’ asked Nina.
Now his dark expression had a hint of shame. ‘That secret . . . is lost too.’
‘Well, that’s one way to keep the place safe,’ Eddie said mockingly. ‘But if the bad guys find it, they’ll just blow the doors open.’
‘We will protect the Vault,’ Shankarpa insisted. ‘We have watched over it since Lord Shiva placed his sacred possessions here.’
‘How can you have been here all this time?’ asked Kit. ‘There are no plants to eat, no animals.’
‘No women,’ Eddie added. ‘You’d have to be pretty bloody dedicated to spend your lives up here.’
‘They are,’ said Girilal, leaning on his stick. ‘The guardians come from the villages around the mountain - it is our great secret.’ Shankarpa said something in Hindi, a clear order for him to shut up, but the old man shook his head. ‘Not everybody knows, only a trusted few. We - they watch the children of their village for those worthy of the honour of protecting the Vault of Shiva. If they are willing, they are trained by the other guardians, and spend the rest of their lives here.’
‘You said we,’ Eddie noted. ‘You’re one of them?’
‘I was. No more.’
‘Why not?’ asked Nina.
‘I made a mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing, but . . .’ He sighed, shaking his head sadly. ‘I hurt someone I loved, took away the thing that was most important to her. I have tried to seek forgiveness, but do not think I can ever find it. So I wander between Kedarnath and Gaurikund as a mad old man, ignored . . . or insulted.’
‘Your own penance,’ Nina realised. ‘But for what?’
Girilal turned to Shankarpa, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘For him, Dr Wilde. Shankarpa’s real name is Janardan. Janardan Mitra. He is my son.’
Night fell outside, the rumble of the storm fading. In the underground chamber, Girilal had persuaded Shankarpa that the three visitors should be allowed to live.
For the moment. The guardians’ constant looks of suspicion as they ate told them they were still only one barked order away from death.
‘Where do they get the food?’ Nina asked Girilal. ‘We saw some ground on the way up that looked as if it might once have been cultivated, but it can’t have been used for hundreds of years.’
‘The villages provide it,’ the yogi explained. ‘A few times each year, some of the guardians come to Kedarnath, dressed as pilgrims, to collect it.’
‘It’s not exactly a feast,’ said Eddie, looking at the meagre bowls of vegetables and rice. ‘What do you do if you run out of food and the weather’s too bad to get down the mountain?’
‘Lord Shiva gives us the strength we need to survive,’ rumbled Shankarpa.
‘Maybe, but I’d take a can of beans over faith any day.’
‘Eddie,’ Nina warned. The last thing they needed was to antagonise their captors. ‘Girilal, you said you hurt someone you loved. I’m guessing you meant Shankarpa’s mother.’
He nodded. ‘It was my own fault. I thought it was right to tell my wife about the Vault, and that she could be trusted to keep the secret. She could - she is a better person than me. But my mistake . . .’ He looked at Shankarpa. ‘My mistake was also telling our son. Our only child. He was young, he was headstrong, and he thought a lifetime of serving Lord Shiva as a warrior would be better than living in a poor village.’
‘And it is,’ said Shankarpa firmly. His English had already become less stiff, the mere act of speaking it unlocking old memories. ‘Would you rather I carried tourists up the mountain on my back for a few rupees?’
‘There is no shame in serving others,’ his father told him, before addressing Nina again. ‘He had made up his mind. When he was old enough, I agreed that he could join the guardians. He gave up everything to serve Shiva, and I was happy for him. But there was someone who was not.’
‘His mother,’ said Nina.
Girilal lowered his head. ‘Yes. I did not discuss it with her until the decision was already made. I thought she would feel like me, that she would be honoured to have Janardan chosen for such a great task. I was wrong.’
‘She was losing her son.’
‘Yes. And she hated me for it. I took away what was most precious to her, without even thinking. After that, she . . . she did not want to speak to me again. She left me.’ He looked up; Nina saw that his eyes were glistening with tears. ‘I hurt her more than I could have imagined. That is why I became what I am - I gave everything I owned to her. But it was not enough. Nothing I could give her could ever replace her child. I sought forgiveness . . . but I will never get it. I do not deserve it.’
Shankarpa was unmoved. ‘She never understood what it means to serve Shiva. She was weak.’
‘Do not speak of her like that!’ Girilal snapped. The other guardians reacted with surprise at the challenge to their leader, and even Shankarpa was taken aback by the anger in the old man’s voice. The yogi took a breath, then continued more quietly. ‘I am sorry. I did not mean to shout. You made your decision, as I made mine. The difference is . . . you did not regret it.’
‘No, I did not.’ His dark eyes flicked across to Nina, Eddie and Kit. ‘What do we do with you, hmm? My father thinks you can be trusted. But why should I?’
‘Protecting secrets is part of what we do,’ said Nina. ‘We stopped a catastrophe that would have killed billions of people, and kept it a secret to prevent global panic.’
‘And this guy Khoil and his wife,’ added Eddie, ‘they’ve got a catastrophe of their own in mind, and they’re dead set on getting hold of what’s behind that statue up there before they kick it off.’
‘If the Khoils can’t get the Shiva-Vedas, they might not go ahead with whatever they’re planning.’
‘If it is Shiva’s will,’ said Shakarpa, ‘who are we to stop it?’
‘But it isn’t Shiva’s will,’ Nina replied. ‘It’s the Khoils’ will - and they’re very definitely not gods. They don’t want to destroy the world so it can be reborn. They just want money and power for themselves. I doubt Shiva would approve.’
He nodded slowly. ‘If you are telling the truth about these people, what can we do to stop them?’
‘Nothing,’ said Eddie. ‘If they find this place, first thing they’ll do will be airlift in mercenaries. Lots of ’em. With lots of guns.’
Shankarpa sat back, mulling their words over before speaking in Hindi to his companions. The discussion went on for some time, varying degrees of disagreement emerging.
‘What’re they saying?’ Nina asked Kit.