The Master of Sinanju brushed past him and stormed into the dark tunnel.
Remo had to duck to get through the entrance. Ahead of him, Chiun walked tall and defiant. The High Moo's accusation had stung him, and Remo knew that the would-be killer faced a terrible fate once Chiun laid hands on him.
Remo crouched as he walked. His hands brushed the loose tunnel walls. They were dry and gritty like pumice. Probably volcanic residue. The tunnel meandered like a snail track, as if the burrowing Moovians had followed the metal deposits as they found them rather than systematically working the mine. The moisture increased the deeper they went, and Remo realized they were below sea level.
The tunnel ended in a cul-de-sac of mud. The floor was a brown puddle and the lower walls were mud. And squatting in the water was a young Moovian with hunted eyes.
He bared his teeth at Chiun's approach.
"You have committed a foul deed against the House of Moo," the Master of Sinanju told him.
"I will no longer work the mines," the Moovian spat. "All my life I have worked in the mines. And all the coins end up in the High Moo's treasure house. None for his workers. None for the people." He felt his hair. His hand came away sticky with blood.
"You are not an octopus worshiper, then?" Chiun asked.
"No." he sneered. "I am Ca-Don-Ho, slayer of kings."
"The High Moo lives, and after you have repeated your words for him, you will die," Chiun promised gravely.
"Wait a minute, Chiun," Remo put in. "Let's hear this guy out. I think he has some valid complaints here."
"He is a hater of royalty. I know his ilk. I will listen no more." And so saying, the Master of Sinanju stepped into the mud to retrieve the man for his emperor.
Ca-Don-Ho uncoiled like a spring. His hands sought the Master of Sinanju's wattled throat. But the Master of Sinanju was quicker still. He struck the man in the side of the head. Ca-Don-Ho went down. He shook his head angrily.
And then, reaching for a knife tucked in his loincloth, he attacked the mud wall. He threshed and splashed, causing the Master of Sinanju to withdraw hastily-but only to avoid having his kimono soiled by mud.
"He is mad," Chiun whispered in English.
"I don't think so," Remo said, jumping for the man. Remo was too late. The muddy wall suddenly crumbled and a torrent of water surged over the man. He went down, laughing wildly.
Remo backpedaled. Chiun was already ahead of him. They ran swiftly, whipping around twisting corners just ahead of the wall of water that chased them all the way to the surface.
Remo and Chiun shot out of the mine as if propelled. They kept moving. The water crested and collapsed. The ground soon drank it up. The body of the would-be king slayer floated out with the last blurp of water and was deposited on the wet turtle grass.
Remo walked up to him.
"Guess he won't be telling the High Moo anything."
"You were witness to his words," Chiun said. He gave the dead man's ribs a vicious kick. The splintery sound that it brought was muffled.
"The High Moo may not buy it, you know."
"And why not?"
"Because he thinks I'm a slave."
Chiun said nothing for a long time. He kicked the dead man's ribs again. "Bring this bag of meat."
As Remo stopped to pick him up, something glinted in the water-disturbed soil. He plucked it up,
"Hey, I found one of the High Moo's coins."
"Good. We will return it to the High Moo."
"Why? I found it."
"All coins belong to the High Moo. This is why his face adorns them."
"That's what this guy said. But what good is money if you don't spread it around?"
"It is power," said Chiun, putting out his hand.
"I say it's mine," Remo countered. He looked at the coin again. "Check this out, Chiun, it's got a different High Moo's face on it."
Chiun snatched the coin away. "All the more reason to return it promptly. All coins are melted down and recast when a new High Moo ascends the throne. This one bears the face of an earlier High Moo. It will soon bear the profile of the High Moo we serve . . ."
Chiun's voice trailed off. He lifted the coin to the light. "Don't tell me it's counterfeit," Remo said.
Chiun frowned. The coin disappeared up one voluminous sleeve.
"Pick up the dead one," he said, starting off. "And say nothing about this coin to anyone."
"Yeah?" Remo remarked lightly, hefting the body over his shoulders. "Do I smell a mystery?"
"It is probably your socks," Chiun said haughtily. "They reek. "
Chapter 26
The High Moo would have none of it.
"He confessed to being lazy," Chiun insisted. "He did not like to work in your mines, the ingrate. But he was no octopus worshiper. He told us so. Tell him, Remo." Chiun pushed Remo before the High Moo like an idiot child about to recite an important school lesson.
"It's true," Remo said. "I heard him say so."
"You bring me a dead body and the word of a mere slave?" spat the High Moo.
"Told you so," Remo whispered to Chiun in English. He couldn't resist throwing in a knowing grin.
"He is dead. The last octopus worshiper is no more," Chiun went on in an agitated voice.
"He is not dead enough," said the High Moo, who then took up his hardwood club and proceeded to beat the body into a shapeless bloody lump. He took his time about this, working around the body methodically. He saved the head for last.
Remo, watching the High Moo at work, said, "I'm cutting out. This isn't my thing."
Even the Master of Sinanju was sickened.
The Moovians watched stonily. They neither turned away nor seemed ill-at-ease. They looked, if anything, resigned. Only the Low Moo looked away. She was plucking hibiscus blossoms. She discarded them carelessly until she found one she liked. Then she put it in her hair over her left ear.
When the High Moo was finished, he stood on bowed and sweaty legs.
"Take this thing away," he ordered his Red Feather Guard. "Boil the traitorous flesh from his leg bones and I will have them for swords. They will remind all plotters of their fate."
The body was carted off by four guards, each lugging a wrist or ankle.
"I speak the truth," Chiun told the High Moo after he had sunk back onto his Shark Throne. The High Moo wiped sweat off his brow. His underarms exuded a sweaty stench that made Chiun's nose wrinkle distastefully.
"We will soon know," said the High Moo. His chest heaved from his exertions. "For if no one harms my person between now and the next moon, I will allow you to take away your full payment."
"One who is protected by Sinanju need fear nothing," Chiun said flintily.
"I look around me and my stomach is uneasy," the High Moo said pointedly.
Chiun clapped his hands. The thunder sent birds winging from distant trees.
"Why are you all standing around?" he cried. "Your emperor is safe. Get you to your work. The rice fields need tending. The mines are empty. Be gone, you lazy sons and daughters of the greatest empire of ancient times."
Moovians scattered in all directions. Children fled for the safety of their mothers. And Chiun, seeing the effect of his words, turned to the High Moo and bowed once, formally.
"See that my kingdom runs smoothly," said the High Moo through heavy-lidded eyes, "and I will reward you handsomely upon your departure."
The Master of Sinanju did not observe the cunning smiled that wreathed the High Moo's face as he took his leave.
Chiun found Remo walking along the eastern shore. The sun beat down on Remo's bare chest and the Master of Sinanju noticed that the red sucker marks on his arms and chest were very red. Remo's face was tight and troubled.
"Nice emperor you serve," Remo remarked acidly when Chiun padded up beside him.
"We serve," Chiun corrected. But his bell-like voice was subdued.
"Not me. I'm just a lowly slave. And an orphan." Chiun said nothing. The sun was setting and the shadows lengthened along the white beach. They walked together, Chiun's hands inside his belled sleeves. Remo rotated his thick wrists unconsciously. It was a habit that surfaced when he was preoccupied.