Their singing was markedly unpleasant; Colt, who enjoyed the discords of Ernest Bloch and Jean Sibelius found them stimulatingly revolting. The choir droned out a minor melody, varying it again and again with what Colt construed to be quartertone chords, split-interval harmonic variations on such old friends as C Major and B Flat Minor. He found he was listening intently, nearly fascinated by the ugly sounds.
"Why are they doing it?" he asked at length.
"It is their way," she said with a shrug. "I see you are interested. I, too, am interested. Perhaps I should not discuss this before you have had the opportunity of making up your own mind. But as you may guess, the caravan below us there, where they make the noises, is Bad. It is a sort of marching gallery of demons and the black in heart. On the other hand, the caravan with which you found yourself previously, is Good—basically kind and constructive, taking delight in order and precision."
Colt, half-listening, drew her down beside him on the rock. He uncorked the bottle. "You must tell me about yourself," he said earnestly. "It is becoming difficult for me to understand all this. So tell me about yourself if you may."
She smiled slowly. "I am half-caste," she said. "The Russian revolution—so many attractive and indigent female aristocrats, quite unable to work with their hands. . . many, as you must know, found their way to Shanghai.
"There was a Chinese merchant and my mother, a princess. Not furstin—merely a hanger-on at court. I danced. When I was a small child already I was dancing. My price was high, very high at one time. I lost popularity, and with it income and much self-assurance. I was a very bad woman. Not bad as those people there are bad, but I was very bad in my own way.
"Somehow I learned mathematics—a British actuary who knew me for a while let me use his library, and I learned quickly. So I started for India, where nobody would hire me. I heard that there was a country to the North that wanted many people who knew building and mathematics and statistics. Railway took me through the Khaiber and Afghanistan—from there pony and litter—till I died of exposure seven months ago. That is why we meet on High Pamir,"
"Listen," said Colt "Listen to that." It was again the mega-therial voices, louder than before. He looked at the woman and saw that her throat-cords were tight as she stared into the black-velvet heavens.
Colt squinted up between two fingers, snapped shut his eyelids after a moment of the glaring word across the sky that followed the voices. He cursed briefly, blinded. Burned into the backs of his eyes were the familiar characters of the lightning, silent and portentous.
"It doesn't do to stare into it that way," said the woman. "Come with me." He felt for her hand and let her pull him to his feet. As sight returned he realized that again they were walking on rock.
"And there's the Good and holy caravan at evening devotions," said the woman, with the same note of bedrock cynicism in her voice. And they were. From his coigne of vantage Colt could see Raisuli Batar solemnly prostrating himself before a modestly-clad, well-proportioned idol whose face beamed kindly on the congregation through two blue-enameled eyes. There was a choir that sang the old German hymn: "Ein Feste Burg."
"Shocking," said the woman, "yet strangely moving to the spirit. One feels a certain longing. . ."
Bluntly Colt said: "I'd like to join them. You're holding me back, you know, I wouldn't see you as a comrade again if I sang with them." He hummed a bar of the hymn: "On Earth is not his e-qual—"
"Girding their loins for the good fight," said the woman. She chuckled quietly for a moment. In a ribald tone that seemed barely to conceal heartbreak she snapped: "Do you care to fall in with the ranks of the Almighty? Or may it be with the Lord of Nothing, Old Angra Mainyu of the sixteen plagues? Pick your sides in the divine sweepstakes! It's for you they do it and of a great love for the soul in you. They want you black and they want you white—how in blazes do you know who's right?
"It seems clear," said Colt doubtfully.
"You think so?" she exploded. "You think so now? Wait and see—with them tearing at your heart two ways and you sure that it'll never hold out but it's going to rip in half, and it never doing that but you going on through the night thirteen thousand meters above the world of men and never a soft bed and never a bite of real food and never a moment of closing your eyes and sleeping in darkness and night!"
She collapsed weeping into his arms.
Chapter III.
The long, starless night had not lifted; three times more the voices had spoken from the heavens and silent lightning scribbled across the sky. The two in-betweeners had chanted back and forth sacred writings of Asia, wretchedly seeking for answers:
"I will incline mine ears to a parable: I will open my dark sayings upon the harp. Wherefore should I fear in the days of evil when the iniquity of my heels shall compass me about?"
"O maker of the material world, thou holy one! When the good waters reach the left in-
