Chiun nodded to signal that the morale of the story was delivered.
Remo knitted his brows. “Peace broke out?”
“Exactly. Cho-gye was dismissed.”
“Without a fee?” Remo asked. “I don’t believe it.”
“You think I lie? You, who have never known me to speak a dishonest word?”
“I didn’t literally mean I don’t believe it,” Remo said. “I just mean, it’s an amazing thing that Cho-gye allowed it to happen and more amazing still that he wrote about it in the scrolls. Wasn’t he humiliated?”
“Of course. To lose a commission is a transgression by a Master upon all of Sinanju. The winter was very cold that year. There would have been great sorrow in the hearts of the people, for they are always aware that their old acquaintance starvation might come again at any moment to visit them, and once again they would be forced to execute the ritual of sending their babies home to the sea.”
“Uh-huh,” Remo said. “If I remember my Masters like I know I do, Cho-gye’s first assignment was also something worth putting in the scrolls. Didn’t he bring home a fortune of a thousand coins of gold from the king of an Indonesian island?”
Chiun didn’t confirm or deny.
“Well, am I right?” Remo asked. “Don’t answer. I know I’m right. So, this business with the Japanese peaceniks couldn’t have left the village destitute, unless Cho-gye had frittered away all the coins. Did he?”
“No.”
“Maybe he liked the whores in Hamhung. Is that where all the gold coins went?”
“Of course not! The coins were not frittered.”
“Not to mention all the other fees he had earned since then, and that doesn’t take into account the piles of gold from the Masters before him.”
“Perhaps the threat of starvation was less immediate than what you perceived I was implying,” Chiun declared icily. “Did you take away anything of meaning from this valuable lesson or was it all wasted breath?”
Remo considered that. He didn’t answer the question, but asked, “What happened next?”
“For a man who insisted on such forethought on paper, Cho-gye acted rashly when he was informed that the war had been canceled. Thinking he could not return to Sinanju empty-handed, he hurried north, overland, until he found another conflict, where his services were purchased. It was only on his way home that he overheard rumors among the soldiers that Hawa and Agumi had become friends over their shared misfortune of having endured the negotiations of the Master of Sinanju. It was then, and only then, that Cho-gye understood that he had caused himself to lose a substantial gold payment.”
“Uh-oh. Did he go on a rumor-killing spree like Yeou Gang the Younger?”
“This never even occurred to him. He returned home in shame, but his shame changed him. He left his obsession behind him. No longer did he insist upon extended negotiating sessions. He accepted employment on honor, not paper documents. Even his writings in the history became efficient to the extreme.”
“I guess he learned his lesson,” Remo said.
“But have you learned Cho-gye’s lesson?” Chiun probed.
Remo concentrated on that for a moment.
“Sorry, Little Father. I’m trying to figure it out.”
Chiun shook his head slightly.
“I know it doesn’t have anything to do with writing stuff down. I don’t even use sticky notes.” Remo sounded genuinely distressed.
“It is simple, Remo,” Chiun said, but said it more gently. “There are tasks that appear constructive, but in truth they are obstacles. Sometimes, this truth only becomes plain when the obstacle has not just stumbled us, but has stopped us. Or rather, you.”
Chapter 18
The bird. Okyek Meh Thih awoke from his trance with a start. Why had he not thought of it before?
The old man looked around, disoriented, until he recalled that he was inside the cave still, high in the mountain, and the plea for enlightenment still droned from his lips. He had been in a meditative state when the memory of the bird returned to him.
The bird had been a gift from his grandfather on the very day they left the cave. In fact, it was in obtaining that gift that the grandfather suffered his fall.
“This is for me to do,” the old man said, dismissing his grandson’s offer to climb the tree.
“I will go,” the young Okyek Meh Thih said, laughing at his grandfather’s joke. But it wasn’t a joke.
“Only I know what to find in the tree. I have seen it in my dream.”
“Grandfather, direct me to it. I fear for you should you climb the tree.”
“Gather our People as I commence to climb.”
The boy was astounded.
“Do as I ask, Grandson.”
The boy flew away on feet that seemed to have wings. He didn’t know what the old man intended to do, but he hoped the presence of the others would help talk sense into the old man. Chak Meh Neh was too old to be climbing great trees that reached high into the canopy of the rain forest.
The People heeded the calls of the boy and within an hour they were gathered around the base of the tree. By then, their Caretaker was high above them.
“You will care for our People,” the old man called down.
The People were amazed—the man was performing the rite of the Caretaker from high up in a tree. Why?
“I will care for our People,” the boy replied, voice proud and carrying up to his grandfather and even higher into the tops of the high trees.
“You will ease their suffering of spirit, of body, of mind,” the old man called.
The boy repeated the famous words, and then came the final line of the oath, which now had new meaning to the boy.
“You will carry out your duties as you have sworn to carry them out.”
The old man was high up in the tree now, and the boy spoke his words with great emphasis. He wanted the old man to feel his sincerity.
“I name you Caretaker of the People,” the old man said, and he continued climbing until he could not be seen. They heard him call once. “I have found my gift to you. It shall be in my pouch.”
The attack came about then. The cries of the angry creatures were raucous, but the old man never made another sound. The people were weeping and the new Caretaker started up the branches in a rush, in defiance of the old man’s order. But it was too late. The attackers caused the old man to lose his perch, and down he came, careening off a hundred branches before striking the jungle floor.
The new Caretaker saw that the old man was broken. Weeping, he ascended. He found his grandfather’s pouch dangling from a branch. The attackers fled, not knowing what had become of their precious nest, but knowing it was now gone.
The newly appointed Caretaker descended slowly, taking great care of the pouch and its fragile contents, which he tied close to his warm stomach.
When he came to the ground again, the old man was still, and the sad procession returned to the village, where the new Caretaker performed his first official rite.
Now, three hundred months later, he felt his bitterness fade away. His memory had reawakened his resolve to keep the duties his grandfather assigned him. The man was wise and compassionate, and he would not have given this charge to Okyek Meh Thih unless there was a grave reason. So the Caretaker continued to speak his Plea of Enlightenment to the god who would not hear him.
Chapter 19
The gift inside the pouch was a clutch of two eggs, which Okyek Meh Thih tended constantly.
One of them was spoiled but one of them hatched finally, and for weeks he cared for the chick, mashed up larvae and nuts for it to eat, held its quivering body next to him for warmth. The People were delighted with the present. Surely, they said, they had not lost their wise old Caretaker at all.