The old man coughed. His breath came in spasms, swelling the features of his face. "Chiun?" He raised his trembling hands. "Chiun, my son."
H'si T'ang struggled to speak, but no words came. In time, the withered hands stilled, and the ancient parchment-skinned face sank into blankness.
After several moments, Chiun spoke, in a quavering voice, the benediction for the death of his teacher: "And so it came to pass that in the spring of the Year of the Tiger did the Master of Sinanju die, as was foretold in the legends of ancient times. And thus did the Master become one with the spirit of all things."
Jilda led Griffith away. "What was H'si T'ang trying to say?" the boy whispered. Remo left, too, to leave Chiun alone with his grief.
"They walked slowly back toward the pit where Remo had left the Dutchman. "He's got to be dead," Remo said, hurrying.
"Of course he is," Jilda answered. "I saw him myself. There's no need to go back to that awful place."
Oh, yes there is, a nagging voice inside him said. He ran ahead, stopping at the edge of the pit.
"Well, we have to do something with ourselves, I suppose," Jilda said.
"I want to see the snakes," Griffith said.
"The snakes were gone. There was only . . . only ..." She walked around the open pit. There was nothing inside but some scattered bones.
"He is dead," Remo insisted, furious. He stared at the
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bones as if he believed he could make the Dutchman materialize out of them.
Jilda lowered herself into the hole and prodded the earth with her toes.
"This is another trick of his," Remo said. His voice was harsh and rasping. He clenched and unclenched his fists, opening the congealed wounds in his hands. "He's there. We just can't see him. He's-"
"He is gone, Remo," Jilda said. She uncovered a hole beneath a large, flat rock. The hole was big enough for a man to crawl through. "That's where he went."
"No!" Remo shouted, shaking with anger. He vaulted into the pit and worked his way through the freshly dug tunnel as fast as he could. "No!" he called from inside the earth. "No!" at the tunnel's mouth beside the ocean's rocky shore.
There was nothing ahead of him but a clear expanse of blue water.
It had been a waste, all of it-H'si T'ang's death, Jilda's suffering, Chiun's humiliation, his own efforts. He had failed them all. The Dutchman was still alive and would spread his poison around the world. He had lived because Remo had been too weak to die with him.
"Why didn't you take us both?" he screamed into the empty, indifferent sea.
There was no answer.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Remo took a long time returning to the cave. Inside, Chiun, Jilda and Griffith kept watch over the body of H'si T'ang. A single candle lit the features of the dead man.
The three of them watched Remo enter, his shoulders stooped. "He's gone," he said. He walked to the far corner of the cave and sat on a heap of fallen rock.
Chiun and Jilda were silent. Only Griffith stood up. He walked to the center of the cave, to a spot where the afternoon sun poured through a hole in the rock. The light illuminated his dirty face. Without speaking, he raised his battered arms to shoulder level, palms up. In the sunlight, his wounds seemed to disappear.
Remo rose slowly. They had disappeared. The boy's skin was as smooth and brown as seasoned wood.
'"How in the-"
The boy silenced him with a look. His eyes were glassy and faraway, and carried in them an innate authority far beyond his years. Chiun motioned Remo abstractedly to sit down.
"My spirit do I bequeath to this child," Griffith began in a voice unrecognizable as his own.
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"H'si T'ang," Chiun whispered. "He lives."
"Only my spirit lives, the essence of what my life has been. The boy's soul and mind shall always remain his own. My knowledge only is added to what he already possesses. He has always had the Sight in some measure, and so will use the gift wisely and well, if he is taught correctly. Tell him, when I have finished, of his legacy, for he cannot hear my words, and will be afraid of his powers. I beg you, do not permit him to grow like the Dutchman, fearful and lonely."
"I will not," Jilda said.
"My fierce and beautiful warrior," the voice inside the boy said to the woman. "You have risked much, given much. Your courage has not gone unnoticed. Be strong, Jilda, for just a short time longer. Much will depend on you."
She nodded, too overcome to speak.
Griffith turned his strange, unseeing eyes on Chiun. "You called me your father, and that I am. For though you are not my natural son, you have pleased me beyond my expectations. For you, Chiun, are the greatest of all the Masters of Sinanju who have walked this earth. It was for this reason that the charge of Shiva was placed upon you."
Chiun's eyes welled.
"It was this that I tried to tell you while I was still among you. But I was weak, and the Void called irresistibly to me. And so I tell you now. I could not have found a better son if I searched all the world until the end of time."
"Father," Chiun whispered.
Finally, the boy turned to Remo. "And you. Do you yet know who you are? What you are?"
Remo turned his head. "I've failed," he said.
"You have failed only to alter the course of destiny." H'si T'ang spoke angrily through the boy. "Is your arro-
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gance such that you believe you can control even the forces of the universe?"
"What? No," Remo stammered. "No. It's nothing like that. Only-"
"Then you must realize that even Shiva does not possess the power to take a life before its appointed time to die."
Before its-"
"The Other lives because you must live. Yin and yang, light and darkness. Both must exist. There is a great destiny before you, Remo. Have the courage to fulfill it."
"I ... 1 ..." The boy's eyes seemed to bore into his very soul. He fell silent.
Griffith's face grew gentle. He stepped close to Remo. "You have fought well, son of.rny son." He touched Remo's hand. The knife wounds disappeared.
Remo examined himself in amazement as the boy went to Jilda and caressed her face. The bruises and cuts healed instantly. He unwrapped the bandage around her hand. Beneath it the flesh and bones and skin were once again perfect.
"And now I speak my last words to you all, for I shall not appear again," Griffith said feverishly. "Go back to your lands in peace. Keep in your hearts the balance of the universe. Live your lives in honor and wisdom."
Then the boy sank to the floor, unconscious.
Jilda cradled him in her arms. "You will not fear this gift you have, little one," she said. "The Lady of the Lake will see to that."
Chapter Thirty
Since the start of the Master's Trial, spring in Sinanju had changed almost imperceptibly into summer. Crickets and tree frogs called endlessly through the warm night, and the air was fragrant with the scent of ripening plum blossoms.
Remo lay with Jilda on a bank of cool moss. In the distance was music. Chiun was playing his belled instrument near the graves of H'si T'ang and Emrys. The melody was the same one he had played for Remo's Ritual of Parting so long ago, before the Dutchman came. Now its notes rang again, serene and beautiful, in another ritual of parting.
Remo kissed the smooth skin at the nape of Jilda's neck, still flushed with passion. Making love, even with Jilda, had never been so good as this last time, beneath the open night sky. There had been an urgency about her caresses, a hunger that she had needed him to satisfy. "You make me very happy," he said, lifting her chin. Her eyes were filled with tears. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, drawing her hand over her
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face. "I am happy, too. I never thought I would find you. I mean, someone like you," she added.