The three of them spent most of the remainder of the day in Bart's garden, sitting on thick pillows under the Trees of Heaven.
"I'll call that tree Annie," Bart said after hearing Romelle tell about the trip to Martinique.
 He pointed to a Tree of Heaven in the grove. "I feel a living tree is a more fitting monument to the memory of a loved one than any slab of marble might be. Ideas about such things are so different here from those in the West. Mongols do not generally bury the dead. They are cremated.
However, an ancient mountain custom is to cast the body on the back of a cart and then to drive at full speed over the rockiest terrain, hoping that the corpse will fall off. One never looks back, or the spirit of the dead will follow and haunt the living. A person is considered to have lived a good life if the animals and birds devour his flesh quickly, and a bad life if the body wastes away too long a time. So don't be frightened if you come across a skull or bones lying in the hills."
Romelle told him about the skulls on the border marker, which Brad followed with a lively account of her panic over the silver-lined skull she drank from.
Bart could not suppress a groan. "That reminds me of the shivers I used to get when I first came out to Mongolia and heard stories about lamas stealing children and killing them for their bones! You see, they are used for making small drums, trumpets, cups, and bowls, and the most coveted Lamaist rosaries are made of a hundred-and-eight beads, each cut from a different skull. The kidnaping stories are still told, but they aren't true. The mountains are littered with such bones, from children who died natural deaths. Lamas, especially the old female ones, simply gather them up. It is considered holy work."
Romelle grew thoughtful. "Father, Philo told me you left Paris with Doctor Dash for some secret reason, but he would never tell me what it was. I'm not asking to be told something I should not know, but...would it be asking too much...if you told me...why...you...didn't come back...why you didn't even want to see me....."
"Why I abandoned you?" Bart asked plainly.
He looked pained, but before she could speak again, he continued. "That's not an unreasonable question, darling. I've been waiting for it since you got here. There were so many factors involved. I suppose I ought to just tell it as it happened, and hope you'll understand.
"Dash was my closest friend. The night I received the news your mother had been killed, I was in such despair I would have thrown myself from the window of Philo's study if Dash hadn't stopped me. Later, he received word that his wife was being held hostage by the Manchus because Prince Dayan had gone to England while Dash was still there. The Manchus feared that father and son would foment revolution. Dash had to come back here to save her. Romelle, I owed him my life. I had to help him, and I truly believed that you could be better cared for, as a small child, by Ardie and Irene."
Brad shifted uncomfortably on his pillow. Romelle sensed his discomfort and quickly moved closer.
"Father," she said, "you were right to think that. Uncle Ardie was dear to me, and Brad was the best brother a girl could have. I don't blame Irene. She was a sick woman. I have long since forgiven her in my heart. She was Brad's mother, and he grew into a wonderful man."
Bart saw the way Brad looked at Romelle. He was deeply moved by the love he saw there.
"That Tree of Heaven, the one nearest Ardie, has no name," he said quietly.
Romelle got to her feet, pulling Brad by the hand. She led him to the unnamed tree. Lifting his hand to one feathery leaf, she touched another.
"We christen thee Irene," she whispered, and then threw her arms around the Marine.
He returned the embrace gently. "Thank you, Romy, with all my heart."
Bart continued his story. "Dash's father had become the High Priest at Dragon's Heart, and Dash had become Khan in his place. When we got here, the Manchus would not produce his wife. We looked everywhere. Time passed - one year, two, then three. Dash refused to give up. He was like a thorn to the Manchus. Everywhere he went, people rallied to his cause. He developed a following that began to look like an army.
"Finally, after five years, the Manchus confessed that she had been accidentally killed. The news came direct from the Forbidden City at Peking, with a personal apology signed by the Emperor himself. Of course, we knew that was a lie. The actual power behind the throne was Old Buddha, the Emperor's aunt, a wicked woman who nearly destroyed China."
"Yes, we have heard Damba speak of her," interjected Brad. "His sister was her favorite."
"Princess Shabara," said Bart, "is considered one of the most beautiful women in China, but Damba is ashamed of her marriage to a Manchu prince. The husband has spent a lot of time in Japan on diplomatic missions. He is European educated, and is quite progressive. I would consider him a 'good' Manchu, but Damba cannot be convinced.
"Anyway, Dash's father had a stroke upon hearing of his daughter-in-law's death and begged Dash to bring his grandson home from England. He wanted to see Dayan before dying. It was too dangerous for Dash to leave the valley. The Manchus would surely have killed him, and would have called that an accident, too. He sent me instead, and with me, the ruby. Dash's father told me to take the stone far from Mongolia, where the Manchus would never find it. He said it held the key to Mongolia's future.
"As soon as I left, Dash went into hiding. The Manchus apparently thought he had fled the country and set their vast spy network in motion. The ruby was not, after all, a total secret. Someone at the top of the network in Peking knew of it. They understood it to be of tremendous psychological value to the Mongolian people. That's what led to Ardie's death on the Thistle.
"Even then, neither Dash nor I, nor his father, realized the Manchus were after the ruby. I simply recognized the danger of my association with them, and believed the best protection I could give you and Philo was to stay away, no matter how much I wanted to see you. It was Hell for me, Romelle. I loved you, and wanted to be near you, but I feared a step toward you might put you in great danger. Our enemies were rich and powerful and were represented all over the world. I dared not think of going home.
"I returned to Mongolia with Prince Dayan by a secret, difficult route. When we got here, Dash's father had already died, and Dash charged me with spiriting Dayan away to Japan, where he might be safe. I did that, and then returned. It was in Japan that Dayan met Damba."
"Aha!" cried Brad. "Chavadzy was right! Damba has spent time in Japan, maybe at the secret training camps for Mongolian revolutionaries."
"Chavadzy knows about those camps?" Bart asked in surprise. "Chavadzy has always been what you might call a 'mixed bag' when it comes to what you might expect of him. Dash never quite trusted him, even at medical school in Edinburgh, saying Chavadzy was particularly bigoted toward Asians, even Asian Russians. Dash said he could feel it, could see it in his eyes. Yet it was Chavadzy whom the Empress Eugénie approached to get Prince Dayan to England. Dash has always been kind to him, but he never wanted Chavadzy to know he was the High Lama of Dragon's Heart."
"How did that happen, Father?" asked Romelle.
"Well, as I told you, Dash's father was the High Lama, and Dash was hiding from the Manchus in the lamasery up there on the cliff. He stepped into his father's shoes as the new High Lama."
"Just as you have dedicated yourself to the holy service of doctoring," added Romelle. "The Living Buddha spoke of the thousands of lives you have saved. And then, of course, there is the Tsarevich. Alexis and his family are full of love and gratitude for you, Father."
A worried look crossed Bart's face. He stood up from his pillow and walked over to the wishing well.
"I love the well, Father," she said, rising to join him. "It's like something out of a fairy tale. Oh, look, Brad, it really works. Look! The bucket comes up when I crank it....."
She lifted the bucket to the stone edge of the well and took a ladle hanging from the frame to taste the water. "How cool and fresh! It's almost sweet!"
Romelle let her hand fall on Bart's. "Why did you look worried when you came to the well? Did I say something that troubled you?"
He walked away from her, his eyes turned toward the sundial at the center of the garden. "Actually, you did. You mentioned Alexis. He is much on my mind these days. His time is slipping away."
The shadow on the dial marked mid-afternoon.
"He is so young," Bart mused, "but unless I can solve this problem, he may not live to succeed his father on the throne. This is another reason danger is always at my back. The Manchus are highly suspicious of my connection to the Tsar. They don't understand it, but it makes me a thorn in their side.
"The Magic Wine is concocted of many parts, but there is one primary ingredient which serves as the catalyst. It supplies the 'magic.'"
Bart returned to his pillow and sat down. "Without that one element, it is useless to Alexis. And now it is nearly gone. I have not been able to find more, and no replacement exists. I have enough for one more batch of Magic Wine. After that, Alexis' salvation will be exclusively in the hands of a vicious priest who passes himself off as a starets, a Russian holy man. His name is Father Grigory Rasputin. The Tsar does not care for him, nor do I, but the Tsaritsa believes in his spiritual power.
"It worries me terribly, I must confess. Yet what can I do? Oh, Romelle, will you pray for me to find what I am looking for? I must, for the sake of Alexis, of the Tsar, of Russia. If it takes a miracle, then that is what we must have."
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