Tulkn of the ~ompa (monastery)， then a meal of tea，<br > roast lamb， and mixed vegetables， with the Tulku and a<br > dozen other ecclesiastical dignitaries， each of whom was a<br > lama.1 Only Karni Padme Hum and Dumvar Gatze-Ding，<br > another lama， spoke English; yet the conversation did not<br >lag， mainly because Foster Cross and Loren Eaton， two of<br > the Black Berets who were conversant with Dzongkha，<br > talked， not only with the lamas but with the four<br > Bhutanese soldiers， after which Cross and Eaton translated<br > to Camellion and the others.<br > There had been religious music， the small orchestra<br >consisting of two gyalings (a kind of hautboy， or oboe)，<br >two ragdongs (huge Bhutanese trumpets)， and two ket-<br >tledrums. A bell striking a special rhythm peculiar to<br >Eastern temples was sounded as a prelude. After a few<br >moments silence the deep-toned ragdongs rumbled for a<br >while， then the gyalings by themselves sang a slow<br >musical phrase supremely moving in its simplicity. They<br >repeated it with variations， supported by the bass notes of<br >the ragdongs， which finally joined the kettledrums that im-<br >itated roiling thunder in the distance. The melody flowed<br >as smoothly as the water of a deep river， without interrup-<br >tion， emphasis， or passion， yet producing a strange， acute<br >sense of distress， as ff all the suffering of the beings wan-<br >dering from world to world since the beginning of the ages<br >was breathed out in this weary， desperate lamentation.<br > At the time， the Death Merchant had felt very uneasy，<br >his intuition in high gear. Hostile forces had seemed to<br >gather around him， and he had had the feeling of being<br >possessed by invisible beings who urged him to leave the<br >country， who warned him that he would not be able to<br >advance any farther， that his search for the fabled<br >Shambhala would only result in dismal failure. <br ><br >