The dusk darkens to reveal a tangerine moon. The day at Chamdo market has come to an end. Crackling fires light the market square’s stalls, from which the shouts of the traders push the last of their day’s produce onto the folks drifting back to their dwellings and inns at the edge of town.
“Good to see you youngsters.” Dendup’s cheerful voice echoes over the clatter of our horses’ hooves as we rush into the courtyard. He must have been waiting for us, for he’s already hopping out of the doorway as soon as we’ve turned the corner of the yard.
“Here, let me,” he says and takes my horse’s lead as I dismount. “You go inside. You must be tired.” He sounds a bit out of breath, and a remarkably fresh smell of citrus surrounds him.
“Well, thank you,” I say, happy to hand him my horse—my thr
