"And Masters of Sinanju," added Chiun.
"Yes, and Masters of Sinanju. But you're Korean. You can get away with it. But the work we do for Smith and America requires that I sometimes go undercover. I can't have long fingernails. I'd stick out. It would defeat the whole purpose. You can understand that?"
And the Master of Sinanju surprised Remo by saying a simple, "Yes, I understand perfectly."
Remo's concerned expression relaxed. He nodded when Chiun held up a steaming ladle. Remo's bowl came up again. This was the fifth bowl, but the soup was so light that Remo felt as if he could drink it all night.
As he dug in again under Chiun's approving gaze, Remo thought of another question.
"One other thing puzzles me, Little Father."
"Yes?"
"I thought we couldn't eat eggs."
"We cannot. But egg-lemon soup is different."
"Oh. I seem to remember you telling me that even the white of the egg was poison to us. The yolk would turn our dead bones to powder."
"And so it would. But this is egg-lemon soup."
"Its lemony, all right. But I don't seem to taste much egg."
"It is there. The lemon simply masks its taste."
"And these crunchy things," said Remo, looking at the dark specks floating in his spoon. "What are they? Almond slices?"
"No," said Chiun quickly.
"Seeds, then? They're very hard."
"No."
"Then what?"
"They are the precious egg bits." Remo blinked. He looked at his spoon.
"I don't get it. Eggs aren't hard and crunchy." He looked closer. He noticed that the specks were shaped like tiny shards of glass. Some were white. Others a dark brown. He jiggled his spoon and noticed that some of the brown ones were white on the opposite side. What did that remind him of? Remo wondered.
"How do you get an egg to be this hard?" he asked.
"It is simple," Chiun replied. "You take the raw egg, and you break it over a bowl. Then you place the shell in another bowl."
"Yeah," said Remo. He was hanging on every word.
"And there you are," said Chiun, beaming.
"Did I miss a step here?" Remo asked.
"You wish to know the recipe?"
"If that will explain the egg part, yeah."
Chiun shrugged. "It is simple. In a pot you have the lemon broth simmering."
"Right. Lemon broth."
"Then you take the bowl with the eggshells and the bowl with the inedible eggs' hearts."
"That means the whites and yolks. Yeah. Go on."
"Then," said Chiun rapidly, "you pour the first bowl down the sink and the second bowl into the broth, first taking care to crush the eggs into small edible pieces."
"The shells!" Remo roared. "I'm eating eggshell soup!"
"Egg-lemon soup," Chiun corrected, his face stung. "And a moment ago you were raving about it."
"Raving. I'm hysterical!" Remo snapped. "Why didn't you tell me these were shells? I wouldn't have eaten them!"
"But they are good for you. Did you not enjoy your first five bowls?"
Remo's face calmed down. "Well, yeah, actually I did. But now that these are eggshells, it's a different story."
"That is the recipe. Had I used the hearts of the eggs, you would have been dead after your first bowl."
"Yeah, but-"
"I do not understand, Remo. If it was delicious when you did not know its ingredients, why is it not still delicious after you know these things?"
"It is delicious," Remo said defensively, and Chiun's face softened.
"Then eat," Chiun implored. "There is plenty."
"You're still on your first bowl," Remo observed.
"At my age, it is better to eat in moderation. But you are young yet. Come, fill your stomach. This is a happy day. "
"Okay with you if I skip the shells?"
"But they are the best part. And you would not spoil this auspicious day by not eating what I have slaved over all day?"
"I won't chew them, then."
"If that is your wish," Chiun said sadly.
"Okay, I'll chew," said Remo. "See?" His teeth went crunch-crunch against the bits of eggshell.
Chiun beamed. He looked like a wrinkled little angel. When the meal was over and Remo had cleared the table, he asked:
"So what do we do now?"
"It is time for Copra Inisfree. We will watch her show."
"Okay," said Remo, but only to be polite. He had no interest in the talk-show hostess whom Chiun found so fascinating.
But when the Master of Sinanju settled on his reed mat before the living-room television, the picture that greeted his eyes sent his happy face into shocked dismay.
"What is this?" he demanded querulously. "Where is Copra the Clown?"
Remo looked. "Guess she's been replaced. This guy is the new hot thing."
On the screen was the name "Horton Droney III" inside a graphic designed to resemble a shouting mouth. The image dissolved into a shot of a cheering studio audience. Then a casually dressed man jogged down the studio aisle, giving high fives to enthusiastic greeters. In the background, Remo noticed that security guards were dragging other audience members away. One took a switchblade away from a black man. Others shouted epithets to the man who, once on the stage, appeared not to notice that not all the commotion was in his favor. He shot the audience a huge smile. His teeth were so big and white the smile made his face seem suddenly dirty.
"Tonight's guests-and I use the term loosely-are a quack and a fraud," said Horton Droney III in a too-loud voice. "The quack's here to plug his book, The Hidden Healing Powers of Cheese." A hardcover book flew into Horton Droney's hands. He pretended to flip through the pages. "And a piece of Swiss it is too." He threw the book over his shoulder. It knocked over a standing spotlight. The crowd cheered wildly.
Chiun turned to Remo. "Explain this creature to me."
"Where do I start?"
"With the answer to a simple question. Why does he have a Roman numeral for a last name?"
"Actually, he doesn't. The number III means 'the third.' He's Horton Droney the Third."
Chiun's wrinkles smoothed in surprise. "You mean there are two more like him?"
"Not exactly. It means his father is Horton Droney II. Probably his grandfather was the First."
"How long will this go on?"
"As long as there are women willing to bear little Horton Droneys, I guess."
"Shhhh," Chiun said suddenly. "He speaks."
"Shouts," Remo corrected. Chiun's hand shot up.
"Now I know you're going to give these New Age hucksters exactly the welcome they so richly deserve," Horton Droney III proclaimed. A blood howl rose from the audience. "Here they come, Shane Billiken and-get this-Princess Sinanchu."
"Hey, did you catch that name? It sounded almost like-"
Remo's words were literally pinched off by Chiun's fingers. He tried removing Chiun's fingers from his lips. They were locked like pliers. Remo decided to sit quietly. Chiun would not let go until he was ready.
A square-faced man in black leather clothes and wraparound sunglasses stepped out. He led a small golden-skinned woman by the hand. She wore a short white costume and seemed frightened by the roar of the audience. Even after they were seated, the man, whom an on-screen tag identified as "Shane Billiken, New Age Guru," continued holding the girl's hand, as if afraid she would bolt at any second.
"This, I take it, is Princess Sinanchu?" Horton Droney III sneered.
"That's right," said Shane Billiken. "And you can scoff all you want. But this woman is what I call a perpetual channeler. Unlike other channelers, she does not need to go into a trance in order to access her spirit guide. She is permanently locked into the consciousness of Princess Sinanchu, a warrior queen from prehistoric times, when technology was more advanced than ours."