Edgar thanked him and Carroll nodded to one of the boys, who brought a silver teapot and filled his cup. Another boy set plates of food on the table: small cakes of rice, a bowl of crushed peppers, and an unopened jar of marmalade that Edgar suspected had been brought out only for him.

The Doctor took a cheroot from the tin and lit it. He took several puffs. Even outside, the incense was thick and pungent.

Edgar was tempted to ask the Doctor more about the music, but decorum told him it might be improper to discuss this before they became better acquainted. “Your fort is impressive,” he said.

“Thank you. We tried to build it in Shan style—it is more beautiful, and I could use local craftsmen. Some of it—the double stories, the bridges—are my own innovations, necessities of the site. I needed to stay close to the river, and hidden below the ridge.”

Edgar looked out over the water. “The river is much larger than I had thought.”

“It surprised me as well when I first came here. It is one of the largest rivers in Asia, fed by the Himalayas—but you must know this already.”

“I read your letter. I was curious what the name meant.”

“Salween? Actually, the Burmese pronounce the word ‘Thanlwin,’ whose meaning I have yet to ascertain. Than-lwin are small Burmese cymbals. Although my friends here insist that the river is not named for the instrument—perhaps the tone of the words is different—I think it is rather poetic. The cymbals make a light sound, like water over pebbles. ‘River of light sound’—a fitting name, even if it is incorrect.”

“And the village… Mae Lwin?”

“Mae is a Shan word for river. It is the same in Siamese.”

“Was that Shan that you spoke last night?” Edgar asked.

“You recognized it?”

“No…No, of course not. Only that it sounded different from Burmese.”

“I am impressed, Mr. Drake. Of course, I should have expected as much from a man who studies sound…Wait…quiet…” The Doctor stared at the opposite bank.

“What is it?”

“Shhh!” The Doctor raised his hand. He furrowed his brow in concentration.

There was a faint rustling in the bushes. Edgar sat up straight in his chair. “Is someone there?” he whispered.

“Shhh. No sudden moves.” The Doctor spoke quietly to the boy, who brought him a small telescope.

“Doctor, is something wrong?”

Peering through the telescope, Carroll lifted his hand to ask for silence. “No…nothing…don’t worry, wait, there…Aha! Just as I thought!” He turned and looked at Edgar, the telescope still raised.

“What’s the matter?” Edgar whispered. “Are we…are we being attacked?”

“Attacked?” The Doctor handed him the telescope. “Hardly…this is even better, Mr. Drake. Only one day here, and already you get to see Upupa epops, the hoopoe. It is a lucky day indeed. I must record this—it is the first time I have ever seen one here at the river. We have them in Europe, but they usually prefer open, drier country. It must have come here because of the drought. Wonderful! Look at the beautiful crest on its head, it flies like a butterfly.”

“Yes.” Edgar tried to match the Doctor’s enthusiasm. He peered through the telescope at the bird across the river. It was small and gray, but otherwise unremarkable from this distance. It flew away.

“Lu!” Doctor Carroll called. “Bring me my journal!” The boy brought a brown book, bound with a string. Doctor Carroll untied it, put on a pair of pince-nez, and scribbled briefly. He handed the book back to the boy, and looked over his glasses at Edgar. “A lucky day , indeed,” he said again. “The Shan would say that your arrival is propitious.”

The sun finally broke over the trees that lined the bank. The Doctor looked up at the sky. “It’s so late already,” he said. “We must get going soon. We have quite a long way to go today.” “I didn’t know we were going anywhere.”

“Oh! I must apologize, Mr. Drake. I should have told you last night. It is Wednesday, and every Wednesday I go hunting. I would be honored by your company. And I think you would enjoy it.”

“Hunting…But the Erard…”

“Of course.” The Doctor slapped his hand on the table. “The Erard. I have not forgotten it. You have been traveling for weeks to repair the Erard, I know. Don’t worry, you will be tired of that piano soon enough.”

“No, it is not that. I just thought I should look at it at least. I am hardly a hunter. Why, I haven’t handled a gun since a hunt in Rangoon. A long and terrible story…And then on the way here—”

“On the way here, you were ambushed. Khin Myo told me. You were quite a hero.”

“A hero, hardly. I fainted, I almost killed the pony, and—”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Drake. It is rare that I even fire a gun when I go hunting. Perhaps I will shoot a boar or two, provided we have enough riders to carry them back. But that is hardly the purpose of the trip.”

Edgar felt weary. “I suppose then that I should ask what the purpose is.”

“Collection. Botanical mainly, although this often means medical as well…I send samples to the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew. The amount there is to be learned is astounding. I have been here twelve years and haven’t even begun to exhaust the Shan pharmacopoeia. Regardless, you should come simply because it is beautiful, because you just arrived, because you are my guest, because it would be rude for me not to show you the wonders of your new home.”

My new home, thought Edgar, and there was another rustling in the branches across the river as a bird took flight. Carroll reached for his telescope and squinted into it. Finally he lowered it. “A crested kingfisher. Not rare, but still lovely. We will leave inside an hour. The Erard can survive one more day out of tune.”

Edgar smiled weakly. “Might I at least have a moment to shave? It has been days.”

The Doctor jumped to his feet. “Of course. But don’t worry about washing too carefully. We will be filthy within an hour.” He set his napkin on the table and spoke again to one of the boys, who ran off through the clearing. He motioned Edgar ahead. “After you,” he said, dropping the cheroot in the sand and grinding it with his boot.

When Edgar returned to his room, he found a small basin of water on the table with a razor, shaving cream, brush, and towel resting at its side. He splashed the water on his face. It briefly relieved him. He didn’t know what to think of Carroll, or of the postponement of his work to go look for flowers, and he found himself troubled by vaguer doubts. There was something disconcerting about the Doctor’s manner, about how to reconcile the legends of physician-soldier with the affable, even avuncular man who offered tea and toast and marmalade and became so excited about birds. Perhaps it is because this is all still so English, he thought, After all, a stroll, if that is what this is, is a proper way to greet a guest. Still, he was bothered, and he shaved gingerly, pulling the blade over his skin, and raising his palms to feel the smoothness of his cheeks.

They mounted a pair of Shan ponies that had been saddled in the clearing. Someone had tied little flowers in their hair.

Soon Nok Lek trotted up on another pony. Edgar was glad to see him again, and noticed that he carried himself differently than he had on the journey; the youthful confidence seemed more subdued around the Doctor, more deferential. He nodded to the two men, and Carroll motioned for the boy to lead. He nimbly turned his pony and bounded off.

They rode out of the clearing on a trail that paralleled the river. By the sun, Edgar reckoned they were heading southeast. They passed through a small grove of willows that stretched up from the riverbed. The foliage was thick and low and Edgar had to duck his head to keep from being knocked from the saddle. The path turned uphill and slowly rose above the willows, giving way to a drier brush. On the ridge that sheltered the camp, they stopped. Below, to the northeast, a wide valley stretched out, covered with small bamboo settlements. To the south, a small series of hills pushed up through the slope of the land, like the vertebrae of a disinterred skeleton. In the far distance, higher mountains were barely discernible for the glare of the sun.