6. The Land of Eternal Youth

It took Hightower and me another month before we hit anything resembling civilization, at which time we found ourselves in Katmandu, which has a real exotic name but truth to tell ain't a lot different from Boise or Dubuque, except that it's a hell of a lot colder in the summers, and hardly any of the locals speak English.

Still, mathematics is a universal language, and I soon replenished our coffers in a series of friendly little contests involving pasteboards and various combinations of the number Twenty-One. It was only after a couple of disgruntled losers started complaining thatmy deck added up to a lot more Twenty-Ones thantheir decks did that I decided it was time to hit the road again.

“Where are you heading?” asked Hightower.

“Someplace warm,” I said. “What's south of here?”

“India.”

“Then that's where I'm heading.”

“I can't go with you,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“From everything I hear, India's a pretty crowded place,” he answered. “And the bigger the crowd, the more I stand out. I'll be much safer finding a nice little village in Nepal and settling down here.”

“Guido Scarducci's probably forgot all about you by now,” I said.

“Have you ever known a bookie to forget a debt?” he asked.

Well, I didn't have no quick and ready comforting answer to that, so I bid him good-bye, packed enough food for a month, and lit out of Katmandu just in time to avoid a tedious discussion about the laws of statistical averages with some of the locals. I made pretty good progress for a week or so, but then a major league blizzard came up, and by the time it ended two days later all the roads and trails were covered, and within another week I was forced to admit that I was about as lost as people ever get to be.

Then one day I came to a pass that led to a winding trail down a mountainside, and suddenly it wasn't so cold anymore, and before long the snow vanished and I was walking on grass. I could see a great big green valley stuck smack in the middle of the mountains, and I decided to head on over to it to see if I could rustle up a hot meal and maybe a friendly game of chance or two.

Just before I reached the valley I came to a rickety wooden bridge leading over a stream, and on the other side of it were a bunch of guys who looked kind of Chinese lining a path that led up to this enormous white temple, which in turn was surrounded by a batch of little white houses.

Well, they just stared at me without saying nothing, so I put on my friendliest smile and crossed the bridge and was about to introduce myself when the strangest damned thing happened: the second I got to their side of the creek, they all got to their knees and bowed their heads, which could have meant anything from them all being ready for a friendly game of craps to this being the quickest mass conversion in my experience as a man of the cloth.

Then a tall thin man came out of one of the houses and walked up to me.

“Greetings,” he said. “I am Tard.”

“Me, too,” I said. “This place take a heap of getting to.”

“You misunderstand me,” he said. “Tard is my name.”

“And I'm the Right Reverend Doctor Lucifer Jones at your service,” I said. “Group weddings and funerals done cheap.”

“We have been waiting for you, Doctor Jones,” said Tard.

“You have?” I said.

“Yes,” he replied. “Welcome to the kingdom of Shali-Mar.”

“I don't recall seeing anyplace called Shali-Mar on any of the maps of the area,” I said.

He just kind of chuckled at that. “You must be tired and hungry after your journey. I will have your rooms prepared while you are eating.”

“Well, that's right neighborly of you, Brother Tard,” I said.

“It is my job to serve you,” he answered. “If there is anything you want, anything at all, you have but to tell me, and it shall be arranged.”

“You act like this to all your guests?” I asked.

“You are our first visitor in almost two hundred years,” he replied.

“Probably just as well,” I said, admiring the sight of some young ladies walking through the fields with water pitchers on their heads. “If the travel agents ever find out about this place, they'll ruin it. Still,” I added, “I don't know how you could have been expecting me. This little stopover wasn't exactly on my itinerary.”

“Nonetheless, we have been expecting you, Doctor Jones.” He paused. “Doesn't it strike you as unusual that everyone has knelt down the instant they have seen you?”

“Truth to tell, I been mulling on it, Brother Tard,” I admitted. “I finally figured that they'd just never seen such a good-looking white man before, and didn't know quite what else to do about it.”

He shook his head. “This is their traditional way of greeting the High Lama.”

“He looks a lot like me, does he?” I asked.

“He has been dead for one hundred and thirty-four years,” answered Tard. “But according to our legends, the day would come when a pale man from a distant land would cross over the bridge to Shali-Mar, and he would become the High Lama.” He turned to me. “And now the legend has come true.”

“Well, now, that's right interesting, Brother Tard,” I said. “What does the job pay?”

“I don't think you understand, Doctor Jones,” said Tard. “The High Lama is the absolute ruler of Shali-Mar. He is our physical master, and our conduit to God.”

“The absolute ruler, you say?”

“That is correct.”

I looked at a couple of nubile young maidens who were coming out of the temple and winked at one of ’em, who blushed and got down on her knees right quick. “The High Lama is your conduit to God?”

“That's right.”

“And anything the High Lama says, goes?”

“Of course.”

“Well, Brother Tard,” I said, shooting him a great big smile, “your prayers have been answered. Talking to God is one of the best things I do, me being a man of the cloth and all.” I pulled a cigar out of my pocket and lit it up while surveying my kingdom. “Why don't you join me for lunch and explain some of the intricacies of the job?”

“I am merely your chief administrator,” said Tard. “It would be better for the High Priestess to discuss the more esoteric details of your position with you.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “I've always had a soft spot in my heart for High Priestesses.”

We entered the temple, and I found myself face-to-face with a big golden statue of a lion which had rubies the size of golf balls for eyes and a bunch of diamonds for teeth. As I looked around, I saw a bunch of other little gem-covered trinkets that put General Chang's collection of jade knick-knacks to shame.

“Doctor Jones?” said Tard, after I'd spent a proper amount of time appreciating them. “Please follow me.”

He led me through a batch of rooms, each bigger and finer than the last, and finally we came to one that had a huge table in the middle of it. At the center of the table was an ornate silver bowl filled with fruit.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” said Tard. “I will go fetch the High Priestess.” He walked to a doorway and turned to me. “She will be so happy to know that you have finally arrived, Doctor Jones. She has been waiting seventy years to instruct you.”

“She's seventy years old?” I asked.

“No, she's much closer to one hundred and ten,” answered Tard. “But she's only been the High Priestess for seventy.”

Well, as you can imagine, this kind of dampened my enthusiasm, but I didn't see no way out of meeting with her, so I just pulled an apple out of the bowl and started munching on it, and about the time I was done I looked up and there in the doorway was this voluptuous young lady with long black hair and big brown eyes, all done up in a white silk outfit that didn't hide anywhere near as much as she seemed to think it did.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Jones,” she said in the sweetest voice I ever did hear.

“It's getting better by the minute,” I agreed. “What's your name?”

“Lisara,” she said, giving me a great big toothy smile.

“Well, Lisara, honey,” I said, “I got to meet with some wrinkled old High Priestess in the next couple of minutes, but once I get rid of her, what do you say to coming up to my room for an intimate little dinner for two?”

“Iam the High Priestess, Doctor Jones,” she said.

“I guess the thought of meeting with the High Lama was too much for the last one, huh?” I said. “Send my regrets to her family, and remind me to bring a wreath to the funeral.”

“I have been the High Priestess for seventy years,” she said.

“Come on,” I said. “You can't be much more than nineteen or twenty years old.”

“I am one hundred and eleven.”

“You're kidding, right?”

“No, I truly am one hundred and eleven years old.”

“Then how come you look like you do?” I asked.

“I avoid all fats and starches,” she said, “and I jog five miles every morning.”

“And that's all there is to it?”

“Well, that's why I lookfit ,” she explained. “As for why I lookyoung , it is because I live in Shali-Mar. This is the Land of Eternal Youth: no one ever ages here.”

“Come to think of it, I didn't see no old codgers on the path up to the temple,” I said.

“There aren't any,” said Lisara. “The oldest of us all is Tard; he was alive when the last High Lama died.” She paused. “It is something in the air, I think.”

“Then why do you keep this place such a secret?” I asked. “You could put Miami Beach and the Riviera out of business.”

“We have everything we need,” she replied. “We have no desire to be overrun by outsiders.”

“You could at least send a team to the Senior Olympics and clean up making side bets on ’em.”

She shook her head sadly. “Once a citizen of Shali-Mar leaves, the aging process accelerates. Before he passes beyond the mountains that surround us, he is a gnarled and withered travesty of a human being.”

“Yeah, I can see where that might present a problem or two,” I said. “Especially in the sprints and high hurdles.”

“But we have no wish to leave,” she continued. “Our life here has been idyllic, and now that we once again have a High Lama, it will be perfect.”

“Well, now that you brought the subject up,” I said, “just what does the High Lama do?”

“You are our spiritual leader,” she explained. “It is your job to probe the eternal verities.”

“I can think of a lot of ’em that need probing,” I agreed, getting into the spirit of it. “Like why do elevators all arrive at the same time? Or why does it always rain right after you wax your car? Why does traffic always move faster in the other lane?”

“Those are not precisely the ones I had in mind,” she said.

“Why don't you come up to my room tonight?” I said, “We can discuss what you got in mind, plus a couple of things I got in mind.”

“Oh, I couldn't do that, Doctor Jones,” she said.

“Well, if it's a problem, I could come to your room,” I said agreeably.

She shook her head. “The High Lama must avoid even the appearance of impropriety.”

“What's the point of being the High Lama in the first place if I can't pay a social call on a lovely young lady when I'm of a mind to?” I asked.

“It simply isn't done,” she said. “You are our spiritual leader.”

“No reason why I can't do both,” I said. “I always set aside Sunday mornings for saving souls.”

“You do not understand, Doctor Jones,” she said. “The High Priestess must forsake all earthly pleasures.”

“That's kind of a rigid job qualification, ain't it?” I said.

“No one ever said that being the High Priestess was easy,” she answered.

I made up my mind then and there to issue an executive order, or whatever it was High Lamas did, to the effect that it was okay for the High Priestess to indulge in a little hanky-panky from time to time, and was about to mention it to her when a couple of Lesser Priestesses arrived with lunch, and since I hadn't seen no cooked food for almost a month I sat right down and started eating away.

Tard came in just when I was finishing up dessert, and told Lisara that he had to prepare me for the inauguration or coronation or whatever gets done to them what is elected High Lama, and that she could continue talking to me at dinnertime. She bowed and left the room, and Tard sat himself down next to me.

“You will officially become our High Lama in a ceremony this afternoon,” he said. “I think it would be best if you shaved and bathed before it begins. I'll have a couple of servants prepare your bath.”

Well, you can imagine my disappointment when I found out that the servants were of the masculine persuasion, so I scrubbed right quick, shaved off three weeks’ growth, and got into this white robe they'd laid out for me. I'd barely had time to light up a cigar when Tard came by and ushered me down to a huge open courtyard in the middle of the temple. It seemed like the whole town was there to greet me, all of ’em young and beautiful except for them what was young and handsome, and pretty soon Lisara showed up, looking better than ever, and started talking at me in some unfamiliar language, and then she and everyone else seemed to be waiting for an answer, so finally I said “I sure do!” and she put this gold amulet around my neck and then everyone knelt down again and suddenly I was the High Lama. I figured at least we'd have a few drinks to celebrate, and maybe do a little serious dancing, and I was already preparing a speech about how I was gonna clean up all the mistakes of the previous administration and lower taxes and put a chicken in every pot, when they all kind of wandered off back to their houses, and I was left alone with Tard and Lisara.

“That's it?” I said.

“It is accomplished,” said Tard.

“Ain't there even no Inauguration Ball?” I asked.

“It would be anticlimactic after your investiture,” said Tard.

“Are you trying to tell me that there little ceremony was the high point of the day?”

“For most of our people, it was the high point of their lives,” said Lisara.

“Well, I can see we're gonna have to make some changes around here,” I said.

“That might not be a wise idea,” said Tard.

“I'm the High Lama, ain't I?” I said.

“Yes.”

“As I understand it, that means that any idea I got is a quality idea.”

“But you are supposed to spend your life in serene contemplation,” said Tard.

“I been contemplating non-stop since I got here,” I said. “I spent half the afternoon contemplating what that gold lion would be worth on the open market, and I spent the rest of it contemplating how much rent I could save the government by having Lisara move in with me.”

“I don't think you understand your position, Doctor Jones,” he said. “You are the High Lama of Shali-Mar.”

“Right,” I said. “And that means what I say goes.”

“Within limitations,” said Tard.

“Nobody ever mentioned no limitations for me when I applied for the job.”

“Aren't you aware of the fact that you just took vows of poverty and celibacy in front of the entire community?” said Tard.

“I didwhat ?”

“It's true, Doctor Jones,” said Lisara. “That's what you agreed to at the end of the ceremony.”

“I thought I was agreeing to be the High Lama!” I said.

“You were,” she said. “And the High Lama is penniless and celibate.”

I took off the amulet and handed it to Tard. “That being the case, I hereby resign from the High Lama business.”

“You can't,” he said.

“I just did.”

“I urge you to consider the consequences of your actions,” said Tard. “If you are not the High Lama, then you are just an intruder from the Outside World, and it is our obligation to kill you.”

“Why?” I demanded. “What have I ever done to you?”

“We must keep our location secret, or we will be overrun with adventurers who will steal our women and loot our treasures.”

“Let's calm down and be reasonable, Brother Tard,” I said. “I can see why you don't want no foreign devils messing with your women or your trinkets, but it seems to me that a naturalized devil who also happens to be the High Lama ought to have a little more leeway.”

“That's out of the question,” he said, and then held out the amulet in one hand and drew his sword with the other. “You can be the High Lama, or you can be put to death. The choice is yours.”

“Well,” I said, staring at his sword, “I can see now that I may have been a little hasty in my previous decision. I suppose there's worse things than being the High Lama.” First and foremost of which was the thought of getting cut up into fishbait.

Tard reached over and placed the amulet around my neck again. “You are young and hot-blooded and impetuous, as I once was,” he said, putting his sword back in its sheath. “Fortunately, it's a phase that only lasts for two or three centuries.”

“Well, that's a definite comfort, Brother Tard,” I said glumly. “I think I'll take a walk around the kingdom and mull over everything you've said.”

“Certainly, Doctor Jones,” answered Tard. “Dinner will be served at sunset.”

“Lisara, why don't you come with me to make sure I don't get lost?” I said.

“I am yours to command,” she said. I must have looked right approving of that, because she quickly added, “Within limitations.”

We started walking through the fields, and everywhere I went people kept kneeling down the second they saw me, and I tried to imagine a couple of centuries of seeing nothing but the tops of peoples’ heads.

“Try not to be disappointed, Doctor Jones,” said Lisara. “You will soon adjust to the contemplative life.”

Well, truth to tell, for the past five minutes the only contemplating I'd been doing was how to get out of Shali-Mar with maybe a few diamonds and rubies for my trouble, and perhaps a handful of Lesser Priestesses for warmth and companionship of a cold winter's night, but Lisara was going on so rhapsodically about the pleasures of the mind that I figured that this probably wasn't the most propitious time to share my thoughts with her.

We got back to the temple just in time for dinner, and afterward Lisara went off to wherever it was that the Priestesses hung out, and Tard came up and asked me if there was anything he could do for me before I turned in.

“Well, now that you come to mention it, Brother Tard,” I said, “I still got some questions about this whole set-up.”

“Yes?”

I nodded. “Like, for example, nobody ever grows old or gets sick here, right?”

“That is correct.”

“Then what did the last High Lama die of?”

“He tried to cross the bridge and leave Shali-Mar, and so I was forced to kill him,” answered Tard.

“Was he a visitor, like me?” I asked.

He nodded. “So were the three before him.”

“Let me guess: you killed them all for trying to leave?”

“Curious, isn't it?” said Tard. “That so many High Lamas would want to leave our little paradise?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” I said.

“Was that all you wished to know, Doctor Jones?”

“I got a few more questions, if you got the time to answer them.”

“Certainly,” he said.

“Just out of curiosity,” I said, “is there anything a High Lama can do that constitutes a firing offense, as opposed to a killing offense?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he said. “As long as you obey your vows, you are virtually all-powerful in Shali-Mar.”

Which was like telling me that as long as Exterminator didn't break no legs, he was a fair-to-middling racehorse.

“Is there anything else you wish to know, Doctor Jones?” he asked.

“No, I guess that's about it.”

“If you need anything, just send for me,” he said, bowing. “I am your servant.”

Which was just when the Lord suggested to me that there was more than one way to skin a cat.

“Just a minute,” I said.

“Yes, Doctor Jones?”

“Who appointed you my servant?”

“We areall your servants.”

“Okay, then—who made you the chief administrator?”

“I have been chief administrator for more than three hundred years.”

“But if I was to make an official pronouncement that you'd be better fit to clean the royal stables, you'd show up for work there tomorrow morning with a broom and a shovel, right?”

“Have I displeased you in some way, Doctor Jones?”

“Not a bit, Brother Tard,” I said. “But I just did my first serious visualizing of the Cosmic All tonight, and for some reason I keep seeing you sweeping up behind horses.”

“Why am I being demoted?” he asked.

“Don't view it as a demotion at all,” I said. “If I was you, I'd consider it an opportunity to get back in touch with the common people—them what don't hold their noses and run the other way when you approach.”

“Is this change in my status temporary or permanent?” he asked, kind of frowning.

“Well, seeing that no one ever gets old here, I think you can view it as temporary,” I said. “I figure six or seven hundred years ought to do the trick.”

He swallowed hard.

“One more thing,” I said. “As your last official duty, pass the word that I'll be interviewing potential chief administrators tomorrow morning.”

He stared at me and didn't say nothing, and since I'd said everything I had to say, I gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and went up to my room.

Tard showed up maybe half an hour later. “Perhaps I was mistaken,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“The High Lama is incapable of making an unwise decision,” he said. “And since it is patently unwise to send such a qualified person as myself to work in the stables for the next five hundred years, you perforce cannot be the High Lama.”

“I do believe you've hit the nail on the head, Brother Tard,” I said.

“Therefore,” he continued, “the best thing to do is sneak you out of here under cover of night.”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to come around to that conclusion,” I said.

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” he asked.

“I've been all packed for the past twenty minutes,” I told him.

“Where is your luggage?”

“Right there on the bed,” I said, pointing to my backpack.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, and started rummaging through it. It was after he'd pulled out the fifteenth and last of the statues that he turned to me and said, “Did you plan to leave usanything ?”

“These are just little keepsakes to remind me of the pleasant hours I spent here as the High Lama,” I said. “I mean, it ain't as if you got any picture postcards I can take with me.”

“The amulet,” he said, holding out his hand.

Well, his other hand was perched on the handle of his sword, so I sighed and took it off from around my neck and tossed it onto the bed.

Then I followed him down to the main level of the temple, out the door, across the fields, and over to the bridge. All the guards took one look at me and immediately knelt down and bowed their heads, and I was across the bridge before anyone looked up. They hooted and hollered a lot, but I knew none of ’em would cross the stream to come after me as long as doing so would qualify ’em for a quick trip to the old age home.

As I headed toward India, I decided that the Land of Eternal Youth wasn't all it was cracked up to be, especially since it seemed to go hand-in-glove with eternal poverty, and I redirected all my more serious contemplating toward rounding up a grubstake and building the Tabernacle of St. Luke.