right hand. They have a reputation for being bloodthirsty, ignorant, and superstitious,” she informed her grandson and Nadia.
She added that during the fight for India’s independence the sect had done the dirty work for the British troops, torturing and murdering their compatriots. Though they were widely despised, the men of the scorpion sect were still employed today as mercenaries, because they were ferocious fighters, famous for their skill with knives.
“They’re bandits and smugglers, and they also kill for hire,” Kate informed them.
Alexander then told Kate what he and Nadia had seen in the Red Fort. If Kate was tempted to scold them for having done something so dangerous, she contained herself. On the trip to the Amazon, she had learned to trust the two young friends.
“I have no doubt that the men you two saw belong to that sect. Leblanc says in his e-mail that the members wear cotton tunics and turbans dyed with the indigo plant. The dye rubs off on their skin and over the years becomes indelible, like a tattoo, which is why they are known as the Blue Warriors. They are nomads, and they spend their lives on horseback. They have no belongings except for weapons, and they aretrained to fight from the time they are children,” Kate explained.
“Do the women have blue skin too?” Nadia asked.
“It’s strange that you should ask, child. There are no women in the sect.”
“How do they have children if there are no women?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they don’t.”
“If they’re trained for war from the time they’re small, children must be born into the sect,” Nadia insisted.
“Maybe they steal them, or buy them. There’s so much poverty in this country, so many abandoned children . . . And many parents just sell their children because they can’t feed them,” said Kate.
“I’m wondering what business Tex Armadillo can have with the Sect of the Scorpion,” Alexander mused.
“Nothing good,” said Nadia.
“You think it has anything to do with drugs? Remember what he said on the plane, that marijuana and opium grow wild in the Forbidden Kingdom.”
“I hope that man doesn’t cross our paths again, but if he does, I don’t want you to have anything to do with him. Do you understand?” his grandmother ordered firmly.
The friends nodded, but the writer happened to catch the look they exchanged, and guessed that no warning of hers would restrain Nadia and Alexander’s curiosity.
One hour later the group from International Geographic assembled at the airport to take the plane to Tunkhala, the capital of the Kingdom of the Golden Dragon. They ran into Judit Kinski there, who was taking the same flight. The landscape architect wore boots, a white linendress and a matching coat, and she carried the scuffed purse they had seen before. Her luggage consisted of two suitcases of a heavy, tapestrylike cloth, expensive but badly worn pieces. It was obvious that she had traveled a lot, though the general effect of her clothes and her suitcases was anything but shabby. In contrast, the members of the International Geographic expedition, with their stained and wrinkled clothes, their bundles and backpacks, looked like refugees fleeing some cataclysm.
The prop plane was an old model with a capacity of eight passengers and two crew. The other two travelers were a Hindu who had business in the Forbidden Kingdom and a young doctor who had graduated from a university in New Delhi and was returning to his country. The travelers commented that their little plane did not seem a particularly safe way to challenge the mountains of the Himalayas, but the pilot smiled and replied that there was nothing to fear: In the ten years he had been flying that route he had never had a serious accident, even though the winds between the precipices were often very strong.
“What precipices?” asked Joel González, uneasy.
“I hope you can see them, they’re magnificent. The best time for flying is
She added that during the fight for India’s independence the sect had done the dirty work for the British troops, torturing and murdering their compatriots. Though they were widely despised, the men of the scorpion sect were still employed today as mercenaries, because they were ferocious fighters, famous for their skill with knives.
“They’re bandits and smugglers, and they also kill for hire,” Kate informed them.
Alexander then told Kate what he and Nadia had seen in the Red Fort. If Kate was tempted to scold them for having done something so dangerous, she contained herself. On the trip to the Amazon, she had learned to trust the two young friends.
“I have no doubt that the men you two saw belong to that sect. Leblanc says in his e-mail that the members wear cotton tunics and turbans dyed with the indigo plant. The dye rubs off on their skin and over the years becomes indelible, like a tattoo, which is why they are known as the Blue Warriors. They are nomads, and they spend their lives on horseback. They have no belongings except for weapons, and they aretrained to fight from the time they are children,” Kate explained.
“Do the women have blue skin too?” Nadia asked.
“It’s strange that you should ask, child. There are no women in the sect.”
“How do they have children if there are no women?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they don’t.”
“If they’re trained for war from the time they’re small, children must be born into the sect,” Nadia insisted.
“Maybe they steal them, or buy them. There’s so much poverty in this country, so many abandoned children . . . And many parents just sell their children because they can’t feed them,” said Kate.
“I’m wondering what business Tex Armadillo can have with the Sect of the Scorpion,” Alexander mused.
“Nothing good,” said Nadia.
“You think it has anything to do with drugs? Remember what he said on the plane, that marijuana and opium grow wild in the Forbidden Kingdom.”
“I hope that man doesn’t cross our paths again, but if he does, I don’t want you to have anything to do with him. Do you understand?” his grandmother ordered firmly.
The friends nodded, but the writer happened to catch the look they exchanged, and guessed that no warning of hers would restrain Nadia and Alexander’s curiosity.
One hour later the group from International Geographic assembled at the airport to take the plane to Tunkhala, the capital of the Kingdom of the Golden Dragon. They ran into Judit Kinski there, who was taking the same flight. The landscape architect wore boots, a white linendress and a matching coat, and she carried the scuffed purse they had seen before. Her luggage consisted of two suitcases of a heavy, tapestrylike cloth, expensive but badly worn pieces. It was obvious that she had traveled a lot, though the general effect of her clothes and her suitcases was anything but shabby. In contrast, the members of the International Geographic expedition, with their stained and wrinkled clothes, their bundles and backpacks, looked like refugees fleeing some cataclysm.
The prop plane was an old model with a capacity of eight passengers and two crew. The other two travelers were a Hindu who had business in the Forbidden Kingdom and a young doctor who had graduated from a university in New Delhi and was returning to his country. The travelers commented that their little plane did not seem a particularly safe way to challenge the mountains of the Himalayas, but the pilot smiled and replied that there was nothing to fear: In the ten years he had been flying that route he had never had a serious accident, even though the winds between the precipices were often very strong.
“What precipices?” asked Joel González, uneasy.
“I hope you can see them, they’re magnificent. The best time for flying is
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