Analog, JulyAugust 2002 by Dell Magazines

Author:Dell Magazines
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction/Fantasy
Publisher: www.Fictionwise.com
Published: 2001-03-09T22:00:00+00:00

Rumors that Vilakruna was coming to visit began almost a year before the great sage actually arrived.

In the tiny Tibetan village of Barwa in the shadow of that mighty mountain, Namcha Barwa, rumor was better than news. With rumor, it was easier to imagine miracles and wonders. Tsenshap, youngest yak-herder in the village, fancied that Vilakruna was levitating eastward in stately dignity all the way from his reputed home in Northern India. Sometimes instead, the boy fantasized that Tara, Goddess of Compassion, was carrying the sage with infinite gentleness in a soft green hand larger than any mountain.

Tsenshap's vivacious imagination only failed when it came to visualizing Vilakruna's face. No one in Barwa, not even ancient Sogyal Shaman, had met the holy man or met anyone whose claim that they'd met him rang unmistakably true. However, again according to rumor, Vilakruna was extraordinary in every way.

Ten arm-spans tall and dripping wisdom so thickly it dampened the ground at his feet, according to Jamjang who was the village expert on everything. Atisa the Foolhardy, who'd once climbed distant Chomo Langma on a dare, maintained that the great sage was virtually a living skeleton who'd gone beyond any need for physical sustenance. One passing traveler had stated with great sincerity that the wise man's eyes weren't mere flesh but brilliant emerald cabochons.

Tsenshap was fascinated by such claims and found them perfectly reasonable. After all, he himself bore a mystical peculiarity of the body. He'd been blessed with a birthmark on one shoulder that looked to everyone like a painting of Tara done in shades of brown. This gift had always strengthened his connection with the Goddess.

The yak-herder wouldn't have been surprised if the wise man proved to be ten arm-spans tall and a living skeleton. But Tsenshap was even more intrigued by Vilakruna's fabulous mystic powers. No one could say exactly what powers these were (although Jamjang never let ignorance bar his mouth), but everyone agreed the wise man had them in abundance.

The part that really made the boy's eyes glisten and his chest swell was why Vilakruna was coming. This could only be to investigate the Great Chariot. Nothing less would bring such a renowned holy man to such an ordinary little village. And who had found this chariot? Why, Tsenshap himself! In a sense, Vilakruna was coming because of him!

* * *

Fall passed and the winter was a bitter one. But then, Tibetan winters are naturally cruel. Trees do not thrive at such elevations and villagers survived the long nights as they always had, huddled around fires of dried yak dung, sipping salted butter tea and telling stories in voices loud enough to be heard over howling winds. Some were doing their huddling in small buildings made of stone and clay, but the poorer community members like Tsenshap and his family still lived like their ancestors in large, square tents made of black yak wool and insulated mainly by ice and snow. During winter, everyone had to be on their guard, for tigers had been known to prowl the village searching for food.

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