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down was a tiny, dirt-smeared face, its eyes wide and alert, searching in all directions.
"Graaagh," Remo yelled, snatching the boy by the scruff of the neck.
The boy screamed and kicked, his grimy limbs dangling in midair. "Let me down, you great filthy beast."
"Look who's talking," Remo said. "They can smell you in Albuquerque."
"Fight me fair, and I'll kill you, Chinee." He looked at Remo, puzzled. "You are the Chinee, aren't you?" '
Remo lifted him until his face was level with his own. "How Chinee do 1 look?"
The boy's mouth set defiantly. "Well, you musta used magic to cover yourself up, like. Swine of a yellow Chinee, I know who y'are. Set me down and fight like a man."
"Oh, jeez," Remo said. He dropped the boy, who rolled a few feet in the moss like a dirty leather ball, then righted himself, his fists high. "Go on, fight me, villain."
Remo tapped him on the stomach with one finger.
"Oof." The boy fell backward. "Lucky punch, that was. Do it again. Dare you, pig."
Remo tweaked his leg. The boy somersaulted onto his back.
"I'm not down yet, Chinee," he panted, staggering to his feet. He blew a lock of unruly black hair off his forehead.
"Look, before we continue this fight to the death, suppose you tell me why you threw that rock into my windshield and cut up my tires."
"Fool. Had to get you to stop, didn't I?" He put up his fists.
'' You could have asked.''
The boy snorted. "And let you run away from me like the ruddy yellow coward y'are?"
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"We all have to take our chances," Remo said. "How do you think I'm going to get out of this place?"
"You're not leaving alive, if that's what you have in mind."
"Oh, that's right. I forgot. You're going to finish me off here and now."
"That's right. There's nought but one winner in the Master's Trial."
"Prepare to die."
The boy lunged. Remo swept him up under his arm. Now things had really gone too far. Fighting a dwarf had been bad enough. But if Chiun expected him to murder a ten-year-old kid, he could take his traditions and shove them up the old archives.
"You've got to be kidding," he said.
"By the gods ..." The boy was flailing for all he was worth. Remo let him wear himself out. After a long, wild bout, the boy drooped exhausted, suspended by his midsection, twitching occasionally and sniffling. "By the gods, you'll not kill my father," he squeaked.
Remo set him down.
The boy wiped his nose with his sleeve. "I will fight ya," he said, his tears cutting little white rivulets down his cheeks. "Just need a minute to get m'strength back."
"Sure," Remo said gently, putting his arm around the boy. He didn't resist. "Suppose you tell me who your father is."
"Emrys ap Llewellyn," he said, digging his fists into his eyes. "Son of Llewellyn. I'm Griffith. Griffith ap Emrys. Son of Emrys."
"So that's how it works."
"Who're you?"
"Remo ap nobody, I guess. I'm an orphan."
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The boy nodded. "I'm half an orphan. My ma's gone. Remo don't sound like a Chinee name."
"Griffith doesn't sound like the name of a killer."
"A man's got to fight, if he's a man. That's what my da says."
"Only if he's got no choice."
"What about you? You never even met my da, and you come all this way to kill him."
"I'm not going to kill your father. I've come here to tell him that."
"You're lying."
"Cross my heart."
The boy looked hopeful for a moment. Then his frown returned.
"But you'll fight him."
"Nope. Not unless he attacks me."
The boy squirmed. "Da's a funny man," he said.
"How's that?"
"He might attack you. It's the Trial Riles, you know, to fight. But he can't kill you."
"Why not?"
The boy scrutinized Remo suspiciously. "Maybe I shouldn't say. It'll be giving you unfair advantage."
Remo couldn't argue. The kid was a dirtball, but he was no dummy.
"Unless you promise not to kill him, no matter what."
"Okay. That's a deal."
"No, a real promise. With this." He produced a pocketknife.
"Exhibit A," Remo said.
"Come on, hold out your finger."
"Oh, no you don't. I can't stand the sight of blood."
"It'll just be a prick on your finger. To promise." The boy waited expectantly.
"Well, all right. But not too deep."
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The boy gave him an expert stab on the end of his index finger. "Okay, now swear you won't hurt my da."
"1 swear."
"Swear by all the ancient gods, by Mryddin and Cos and the Lady of the Lake-"
"All right, all right already," Remo said. "Why won't your father kill me?"
The boy leaned close to Remo's ear and whispered: "Because he's going blind."
Remo straightened up. "Are you serious?" .
"It's my fault. Last year, during the Midsummer Eve Feast, I climbed up a tree and couldn't get down. I was scared, you see. I'm a weak one, really, not like the other boys. I was showing off, to prove to my da . . ." His voice trailed off in shame.
"Hey," Remo said, hoisting the boy onto his lap. "Everybody gets scared. You wouldn't be normal if you didn't."
The boy stared hard at the ground, his cheeks red. "So my da came after me," he continued softly. "I was stuck on a high branch, and it was a long way down. It wasn't so strong. When my da climbed up on it to get hold of me, the branch give way. While we was falling, he put me on top of him so's I wouldn't hit ground. His head struck a great rock. He was like as dead for a fortnight or more. I prayed to all the gods there are to make him well, and he come out of it, but his eyes ain't never been the same again. And lately they been getting worse. You see, it's my fault."
"Griffith-"
" 'Tis! And now, if he fights you, he'll die sure. Don't you see, it'll be like me killing him myself. The gods are pointing at me for being a coward that day in the tree. They're going to take my da from me, like they took my ma, and then . . . And then ..."
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"Shh," Remo said, rubbing the boy's head.
"That's why it's me that's got to fight you. If you kill me, I'll deserve it. But not my da."
"Nobody's going to kill anybody, okay? There's not going to be any fight. I gave you my promise, didn't I?"
Griffith took Remo's finger and examined it. "Your sacred promise. Witnessed in blood."
"The most sacred. Now how about taking me to your dad so we can talk things over."
Griffith eyed him worriedly, "T'was your most sacred-"
"I get it, okay?"
The boy smiled. "I'll get you a horse in the morning. They're wild in these parts, and they're better than cars. I can tame them quick."
"I'd appreciate that," Remo said.
Chapter Fifteen
The boy took Remo into a green valley in the deepest part of the forest. There, tucked beneath a cluster of massive trees, stood a cottage with a newly thatched roof. Remo had to stoop to enter through the low arched doorway.
A man was inside, sharpening a knife on an oilstone. Even though he was sitting down and his back was to the door, he was a giant of a man.
"Da?" the boy said.
Emrys turned, smiling. "Well, I thought those goblins you're always talking to had ate you right this time." His smile disappeared when he saw Remo. In the dim light of the cottage, Remo could see that the man's eyes were clouded and mottled.
"Da, it's-"
"I know who it is," he said, rising. He nodded curtly to Remo. "There's but one who'd be coming to the valley now."
"He's not a true Chinee," Griffith said hopefully. "Y'see, Remo here has promised-"