"Over Illyria."
Remo consulted a map on his lap. "I don't see any Illyria."
"Country names are transitory. Find the Ishm."
"Right. Oh, here it is. We're over Tiranë. Capital of Albania. I'd better go talk to the pilot."
When Remo came back from the cockpit, he told the Master of Sinanju, "The tower offered him a pile of gold to land us here."
"He has been properly chastised?"
"The copilot can handle things while the pilot's fingers are out of commission."
Finally at the Skopje airport, Remo stepped out first. From the air Skopje looked like Athens. But Chiun had pronounced the river to be the true Vardar.
There was an honor guard, but the uniforms were a different shade of green, though just as bold. A trumpet and drum fanfare began.
When Remo appeared, the artillery salute commenced and a red carpet unrolled like a frog's tongue seeking a fly. When the gold-fringed end reached the bottom of the air stairs, it exposed the sixteen-point golden Sun of Vergina that Remo remembered from the official stationery of the Macedonian government.
Remo called back into the cabin. "We're here!"
Only then did Chiun stride majestically out, his chin up, his hazel eyes agleam.
He took a deep breath that puffed out his chest.
"Yes, this is Macedonia."
"How do you know?"
"The air smells of the Vardar. It smells correct."
"I'll take your word for it," said Remo, who smelled goat cheese and grape leaves and other odors he associated with Greece.
An erect man in a plain business suit wearing a red tie with the Sun of Vergina on it came striding up to meet the Master of Sinanju. His thick silvery gray hair lay close to his skull, as if a flatiron had tamed it.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Chiun eyed him haughtily.
"I am who summoned you," the erect man said.
"No one summons the Master of Sinanju, lackey. Where is the king of Macedonia?"
"King?"
"Yes. I will treat with him and no other."
"But I am he."
"Where are your robes, your crown, your scepter of gold?"
"This is the twentieth century. We have no more of these things. I am the president."
Chiun's face collapsed.
"Democracy," he spit. "If Sinanju is to serve your land, you must appoint a proper king."
"That is all it will take?"
"That and gold."
"We have gold. Some. Yes, if the House requires a king, then I shall be your king."
Then and only then did the Master of Sinanju bow his respects to the ruler of Macedonia.
On the way to the black limousine sporting decals of the Sun of Vergina on the hood, trunk, door panels and hubcaps, the ruler of Macedonia regarded Remo warily and asked, "Are you Greek?"
"No."
"Good," said the ruler of Macedonia.
"He is my apprentice," said Chiun.
"A Westerner? Does he have Macedonian blood in him?"
"Definitely not," said Remo.
"Possibly," said Chiun. "He is unfortunately a mutt. There is no telling what ichor befouls the purity of his Sinanju-blessed veins."
"I resent that," Remo declared.
"Better a mutt than a cur," said the ruler of Macedonia as the limo door was opened for him.
He graciously allowed the Master of Sinanju to enter first. Then he stepped in, closing the door on Remo's hurt face.
Remo took a step back and kicked the rear tire flat. The limousine settled, and amid a flurry of retinue and aides, a backup limo pulled up, looking less like the Batmobile than the first.
This time Remo was allowed to climb in first. Next to the chauffeur.
At the presidential palace the ruler of Macedonia excused himself while Remo and Chiun were seated on plush floor pillows and serenaded with lyre and zither music. Songs were sung. All in praise of Aleksandar Veliki—Alexander The Great.
Chiun sat serenely through it all. Remo yawned a lot.
The ruler of Macedonia showed up within the hour, wearing scarlet robes trimmed in ermine. On his silvery head perched a heavy crown of gold adorned with emeralds. The gold looked like gilt, and the emeralds lacked luster and had collected visible scratches.
On the chest of the newly renamed king of Macedonia glowed the Sun of Vergina. Remo was reminded of Captain Marvel and, for lack of something better to occupy his mind, began wondering if they still published his adventures. Remo had liked Captain Marvel as a kid. He was a lot more fun than Superman, who was stuck with that pesky Lois Lane. Though Captain America had his qualities, too.
"And now we will feast!" proclaimed the king of Macedonia in an expansive voice. And all raised glasses of plum brandy in toast to the return of the Master of Sinanju.