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     The head monk returned. His manner was now conciliatory, but Sigourney couldn’t shake the feeling of danger surrounding him. He ordered a young monk to take them back to the sleeping quarters, where she was shown to an empty room with a simple bed and chair. The bedding looked old and heavily used. She cringed at the idea of sleeping on it, but she was much too tired to debate the subject. Before she undressed, the young monk returned with butter tea, meat and tsampa. She had been so focused on her meeting with the Karmapa, she’d forgotten all about her hunger, but when she saw the food, her stomach turned summersaults. She devoured the food like a starving refugee and collapsed on the bed without removing her clothes.
     She was about to drift off when she remembered the manuscript’s warning, and she forced herself to get up and look around the room for a safe place to hide the valise. Nothing looked promising, so she removed the manuscript and slid it between the thin mattress and rope webbing under her bed. Then, she placed the valise on a wood stool next to the bed and lay back down. Soon, she entered a dreamless void that was so dark and silent, she couldn’t remember anything about it the next morning.