Kat Out of the Bag Chapter Thirteen By Steve Rudd

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I remembered the ring simply because it wasn't the type of ring that a man would usually choose to include in his pro-macho jewellery box. The rare stone at its heart shone like a bewildering beacon demanding attention in the pits of hell, while its subtly alluring design was elaborately detailed yet delicate. To all intents and purposes it looked like a lady's bridal ring, and thus the plot thickened.

A logical set of scenarios rushed through my head as the cutting wind whipped clean through one ear and out the other. Having settled for the night in Kyangjin, the much-needed respite from trekking in the presence of my 'captors' allowed time to think things through more thoroughly. Clearly the disappearance of the local girl was becoming a growing concern by the minute, and the father of the child naturally appeared haggard with grief and mental torment, racking his brains as to what could have become of his beautiful offspring.

I wonder to what extent the scenarios that I was entertaining differed from those that the father forced himself to endure. Long after his two friends had settled for the night, after a bowl full of nourishing noodle soup each to revitalise the nervous system, the father was still sat near the raging fire of the village tea-house in which we'd stationed ourselves: mutually thinking, and wondering, and hoping.

The 21st Century has hit even the most remote of regions in the world, yet there are still pockets of relatively isolated civilisation and small communities that don't have the so-called luxuries of modern living. Some such communities have the chance of utilising electricity, for example, but scoff at the thought of making life easier for themselves. I guess life can become too easy, and once life becomes too easy, then people get lazy... and (in an ironic twist of fate) even less gets done than before the infernal aid arrived. So we sat and prayed by devilishly flickering candlelight, the father in his shadow-strewn corner and I in mine.

I knew for sure that was no reason to fear these men (thank God they weren't Maoists like I initially presumed), and I truly hoped that I could help them. They wouldn't have enlisted my help if they thought it was to be of no use. For this reason I assumed they were exceptional judges of character

Even here, in the upper reaches of the Langtang valley, and closer to the fabled border with Tibet than ever, there were still a few tourists around, staying in Kyangjin for the night before either trekking a little further North-East into the highest reaches of the valley, or prior to negotiating the ground over which we'd passed during the day - back down first through Langtang, then past the smart mid-trek lodgings at Lama Hotel, and on towards Syabru.

Kyangjin is the highest permanent settlement in the valley, yet there are a fair few stone buildings scattered further up-valley that aid herders contain their yaks for example. God knows where we were going to go from here, but I didn't want to worry about something that didn't really need to be worried about. Come dawn I would discover soon enough the plans for the proceeding day, and like the obliging gent that I'd already proved myself to be I'd follow. I'd listen to any orders that might be barked and comply.

Continued..... Next Page

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