A few villagers made a show of spitting on the ground when they heard that.
"His heart was Korean," Chiun repeated. "A miracle! After all these years without an heir for the Master of Sinanju, I dared to hope that I had found a worthy successor. I trained him and trained him, lo these many years, breeding in Sinanju, and erasing the filthy white habits of the land of his birth, until the proper hour. That hour has now come. I present him to you, my adopted son, Remo."
The faces of the villagers of Sinanju regarded Remo with stony silence. Remo fidgeted.
"Tell them," Chiun hissed.
"Tell them what?"
"Of our decision. Quickly, while the crowd is with me."
Remo stepped forward.
"I am proud to be Sinanju," Remo said simply.
Stone silence.
"I am grateful for everything Chiun has given me."
Nothing.
"I love him."
The faces of some of the women softened, but those of the men grew harder.
Remo hesitated.
Chiun grabbed at his heart. "I hear nothing," he said under his breath. "It must be that I am failing."
"And I want you to know that I am prepared to assume the responsibilities as the next Master of Sinanju," Remo said suddenly.
The villagers cheered wildly. They stamped their feet. They danced. Those in costumes cavorted around Remo like he was the maypole. The dragon dancer kept getting in Remo's face.
"This is crap," Remo said angrily. "They hated me until I promised to support them."
"They were merely waiting for you to prove your Koreanness," Chiun said. "And now you have. I am proud."
"Hogwash," said Remo, and stormed off.
Chiun called but Remo did not respond. He kept walking, and the look in his eyes caused the crowd to part. All except the dragon dancer, who followed him at a careful distance, not really dancing, but certainly not walking normally.
Chiun slipped to the ground, taking again to his throne.
"What is this?" asked the caretaker, Pullyang.
"It is nothing," said Chiun. "He has looked forward to this great moment all his life. He is merely overcome with emotion." But Chiun's eyes were pained. "Perhaps we will postpone the great investment ceremony a few days," he said doubtfully.
Chapter 10
Remo struck out to the north, not noticing where he was going. He just wanted to get away.
For the last few months Remo had been haunted by the need to find out who his parents were, and why they had abandoned him as a baby. It meant, really, discovering who he actually was. It had all seemed so important. But now that Chiun was dying and Remo faced the ultimate test of where his loyalties lay-with America or with Sinanju-it wasn't relevant any more.
What would happen, Remo wondered, when Smith didn't hear from him? Would he assume Remo was hurt, or killed? Would he send the U.S. Marines in to find out? Or would Smith even care, now that CURE operations were winding down?
But CURE operations never wound down. Remo knew Smith had been deceiving himself. This was just a lull. Soon, some crisis would rear its ugly head, and it would be back to business as usual. When the call came to return to America, what would he do? Remo wondered.
Remo looked back from a low hill. Sinanju lay below, with its tarpaper and wood shacks, pagoda roofed houses, wooden sidewalks, and the magnificent treasure house. It looked like an Oriental's version of a Wild West town, and nothing like home. Not Remo's. Not Chiun's. Not anyone's.
Remo felt suddenly very, very tired. He had walked off to be alone with his thoughts and his frustrations, but now all he wanted to do was find some nice warm place-indoors-where he could nap.
Remo found such a place almost immediately.
It was a modest house by itself in a little vale, far from any other houses. By American standards, it was just down the road from Sinanju proper, but by the tightly knit standards of Chiun's village, the house was an outpost.
There were no signs of habitation as Remo approached. No bowl of radishes drying outside, no strings of noodles hanging in the sun. Maybe the occupant had died. Remo couldn't remember having seen the house in any of his previous visits to Sinanju. He decided that if no one wanted it, he would take it.
Remo pushed the door in. It was unfastened. Only a little light entered with Remo. It was very dark inside. That was good. He would sleep better in the darkness.
Remo's foot touched a floor mat. He lay down on it, starting to relax almost as soon as his spine felt the hardness of the floor under it.
"Maybe I'll wake up back home," Remo said wishfully.
"Who is it?" a small voice asked in the darkness. The voice spoke in Korean.
Remo shot to his feet. His eyes dilated automatically. Someone else was in the house, sitting in the darkness of one corner, sitting without light or sound. "Hello?" Remo asked, embarrassed.
"I do not recognize your voice," the voice said. "Is there something that you want?"
The voice was light, lilting-a woman's voice.
"I thought no one lived here," Remo said. "I'm sorry."
"Do not be," the voice said sadly. "No one visits me."
"Why do you sit in the dark?"
"I am Mah-Li," the voice said. "By Sinanju law, I must abide in the darkness, so that no one will be offended by my ugliness."
"Oh," said Remo. He could see her, a shadowy figure in a yellow high-waisted dress. Her traditional Korean bodice was white and airy. One hand covered her face protectively while the other reached into a pocket and extracted something filmy. When she took both hands from her face, she was wearing a heavy gauze veil behind which liquid eyes glinted. He felt sorry for the girl. She must be deformed.
"I am sorry to disturb you, Mah-Li," Remo said in a small voice. "I was looking for a place to rest." He started for the door.
"No," Mah-Li called, reaching out. "Do not go just yet. I hear celebration in the village. Tell me, what transpires?"
"The Master of Sinanju has come home."
"This is welcome news. Too long has he dwelt in far places."
"But he is dying," said Remo.
"Even the mightiest tide ebbs," Mah-Li said softly. "But the flowing back to the sea is a sad thing nonetheless." Remo could tell she was deeply affected. It was the first hint of true feelings anyone in Sinanju had expressed about Chiun.
"You are sorry?" Remo asked.
"The Master of Sinanju is a candle that has illuminated the world since before the days of the great warrior king Onjo, who built the first castle in Korea," Man-Li said thoughtfully. "It is a shame that he dies without heir. It will break his heart."
"I am his heir," said Remo.
"You? But your voice is strange. You are not of Sinanju."
"Not of the village," said Remo. "But I am Sinanju. Chiun has made me Sinanju."
"It is good," said Mah-Li. "The traditions must be kept. Some of them, anyway." And she touched her veil self-consciously.
"You live alone?" Remo asked.
"My parents died before I had memory. I have no one. The men will not have me because of my ugliness. They called me Mah-Li, the beast."
"You have a lovely voice," Remo said, not sure what else to say. By American standards, the ordinary women of the village were unhandsome. He wondered how much worse Mah-Li was. Maybe she was like the Elephant Man, all covered with knobs and tumors.
"Thank you," Mah-Li said simply. "It is good to talk to someone who has a kind heart."
Remo grunted. "I know what you mean. Chiun's people aren't high on compassion."
"They are what they are."
"I'm an orphan too," Remo suddenly blurted out. He wasn't sure why he said it. It just popped out of his mouth.
"It is a terrible thing, to be alone."
Remo nodded. A silence passed in the room. Remo felt like a teenager at his first high-school dance, uncertain of what to say or do next.