"There were others?"
"Yeah," Remo admitted.
"A few." Chiun's eyes became slits.
"How many?"
"Oh, five or sex-I mean six."
"So many!" Chiun demanded hotly. "You have lain with five or six maidens in three nights?"
"Actually, I'm just counting tonight. I don't know how many there were on the other nights."
"Aiieee!" Chiun screeched. "Are you mad? Have you given no thought to the diseases these girls may carry?"
"Little Father," Remo said gently, "we're on an island with maybe two hundred inhabitants, tops. And with the way these girls behave, one sexually transmitted disease would have wiped everyone out long before we got here."
"I cannot believe you."
"Hey, this is an island. No radio. No TV. No place to go that doesn't look like every other place here. I'm bored. Besides, it was their idea. They keep sneaking in through my window."
"You could have turned them away," Chiun huffed.
"I'm entitled to a little fun."
"And did you have it? This fun?"
"Well, I'm not sure. It's interesting, but you know how it is with sex when you're a Master of Sinanju."
"Yes, you do it properly and get it out of the way so that you can go on to important things."
"That's been my problem with it, all right. I get up to step two in the thirty-seven steps to sexual fulfillment and the party of the second part has been to cloud nine and back twice while I'm left waiting for the fireworks that never come. So to speak."
"Sex is a drug. It is better to be the supplier than the imbiber. "
"I used to like imbibing. But you know what's strange, Little Father?" Remo's voice sank into a hushed tone, no longer testy.
"Many things are strange, you most of all."
"These island girls are just like I always imagined they would be. Except for one thing. Sex is like chewing bubble gum to them. Once it's over, zoom, they're out the window. Wham, bang, thank you, Remo. I don't even get to ask if it was good for them too."
"I told you American women would be more to your taste. Unlike Moo girls, they are raised to think of sex as a forbidden riddle. They spin webs of magic and mystery around the simple act itself. No wonder they spend more of their time talking about it than doing it. No wonder all your Western songs are dirty."
"That's a gross generalization. Which songs are dirty?"
"'I Wanna Hold Your Hand' is a prime specimen."
"That's not dirty."
"It always starts with hand-holding," Chiun snapped. "Come, the High Moo awaits. Say nothing of your night escapades to him."
"I was hoping I could ask him a few questions about Moovian courtship practices."
"Such as?"
"Why the marks on my arm, for one thing."
Chiun skidded to a stop. He examined Remo's extended arms.
"These marks are redder than before," he murmured. "They should be fading."
"The octopus-sucker marks are fading," Remo pointed out. "These are fresh marks."
"I do not understand."
"They're ... uh ... bite marks."
"Bite?"
"That's what I'm talking about," Remo said excitedly. "They don't kiss. They bite. I can't figure it out."
"Who bites? Which has bitten you?"
"The girls. All of them. They don't seem to know what kissing is. I hope this isn't some kind of savage engagement ritual, because if it is, look out, I'm betrothed to half the female population of Moo."
"The peasant girls bite?" Chiun repeated. He turned Remo's arms over. The rose-colored marks were everywhere. Even under Remo's armpits, he saw with revulsion.
"The Low Moo does it too," Remo told him.
"You slept with the Low Moo!" Chiun demanded, his nails digging into Remo's arms.
"Not yet," Remo said, extricating himself from Chiun's clutch. "I mean, no, I haven't. But when we were on the junk, she nipped me a couple of times. I think she likes me."
"There is no mention of biting in the records of our house."
"Must be new."
"Come," Chiun ordered curtly.
"If only," Remo sighed.
"Must you turn everything into a dirty joke?"
"Let me remind you, in case it's slipped your mind, that I wouldn't have come along on this one if you hadn't dangled the promise of a bevy of bare-breasted maidens."
"I did not promise you the use of them. Only the sight."
"That's how it always begins," Remo said. "Even before the hand holding."
"And do not let me catch you making eyes at the Low Moo, Remo. You must respect the royal family. Marriage is another matter. But dalliance creates problems. She is, without doubt, a virgin."
"No wonder she's so revered," Remo remarked dryly. "They're practically an extinct species around here." They found the High Moo in his bedroom, straddling the injured assailant. He was twisting the man's broken arm cruelly. The man screamed. He was crying over and over that he knew nothing more.
The High Moo twisted again, and the screams would have scraped rust off an old tin can.
Finally the High Moo gave up.
"He says he knew not the other ones," the High Moo told Chiun. "He admitted his intent to slay me. The others also desired my life, but he claims he was not with them. Obviously he lies."
"He speaks the truth," Chiun intoned. "I can tell by the fear in his voice. And the pain was enough to impel truth from him, but I will try."
The man cringed and whimpered as Chiun approached him. To his surprise, the Master of Sinanju touched a wrist nerve and the pain fled from his broken arm. Chiun knelt beside him. He carefully forced the protruding bone into place. He set the bone with sure fingers.
As relief flooded the man's face, Chiun pinched him by an earlobe. The man knew true pain then. He bit back his screams.
"Speak! Speak!" Chiun called. "The quicker you speak, the sooner the pain goes away. Who were the other plotters?"
"I did not see their faces. They were not with me. I do not think they were together." His face was a grimace of agony, and tears leaked from his squinched-shut eyes.
"Lies!" spat the High Moo.
"No," said Chiun. "Not lies. One more question. Are you an octopus worshiper?"
"Never. I swear by Kai, god of the holy sea."
Chiun let go of the man's earlobe. He rose grimly and faced the High Moo.
"I have proven to you that the octopus worshipers are not behind this."
"Perhaps," the High Moo said grudgingly.
"But the danger to your throne is greater. Other plotters are at work. And they are not working together. Your enemies are many, and therefore more difficult to deal with. "
"Double your payment if you expose them all," the High Moo suddenly roared.
"Done," said Chiun. "Now I will dispose of this carrion."
"No!" said the High Moo.
"No?" Chiun was aghast.
"I have lost many subjects since your arrival."
"Enemies all."
"But still my subjects. I need every hand to work my mines. And to tend the fields. This one will be put to work when his arms heals."
"A serpent that is not crushed knows no gratitude. His fangs are forever a danger."
"You have performed good service for the night. Now leave me. All of you. I will sleep."
"Remo and I will stand guard outside your door."
"Ixnay, Chiun," Remo hissed. "I haven't had a wink of sleep since I got here."
"Is that my fault?" Chiun said in English. He reverted to Moovian and told the High Moo: "We will be without your door should you require us."
But the High Moo was no longer listening. He had lain back on his sleeping pad and was already snoring.
The Red Feather Guard dragged the assailant out of the room by his ankles. The last to leave, Chiun closed the rattan door behind him.
When they were alone, Remo asked. "Mind if I pop back into my room for a second?"
"Have you forgotten something?"