"You killed Sagacious?"
"I took what became mine at the moment he knelt in the grass and consumed my bounty."
"Why toast him-I mean, why claim him?"
"Because I saw in you greater purity. He claimed to be things he was not, but you possess a pure spirit. I knew with Brother Karl's return to the earth you would lift the thunderbug to greater world consciousness. And I have been proven correct."
"You got that right," said Theodore Soars-With-Eagles, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. If this Eldress is whatever she's claiming to be, how come she doesn't know I'm a Latvian from Pittsburgh? he wondered.
"Anything I can do for you; Eldress?" he asked, just to test the waters.
"I have given you the thunderbug and you have done well with it. Now I have something greater to bequeath upon you."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"I hold it in my hand in a small box of ivory and rosewood and I give it to you freely, for what is in the box means wealth and power beyond measure."
"You want me to come out and get it?"
"No, but I will pass it in to you. But you must close your eyes, for to behold the Eldress is to have one's eyes shrivel as the grass beneath my feet."
"You're responsible for this drought too?"
"No. But if it were my wish, the rains would come in plenty."
"Hey. California is parched. I do a mean rain dance. We could clean up."
"Are your eyes closed?"
"Yes," lied Theodore Soars-With-Eagles.
The flap of the tepee shook and a hand came in. The hand was dark. There was enough light coming in for him to see it clearly. It was a thin woman's hand, with tapering nails. And the fingers clutched a small box, not much bigger than a matchbox, and covered with decorative ivory inlays.
Theodore took the box. The hand withdrew.
"Open the box," commanded the thin voice.
Theodore did. The lid lifted and in the dimness of the tepee he saw a dark shape against the white velvet that lined the box interior. He had a penlight and used it.
He saw what appeared to be an ant. Rusty red with a weird bulbous head set at the end of a long bristly neck. It reminded him of a wooden match.
"What is this?" he muttered.
"A gift to mankind greater than what you call the thunderbug," promised the Eldress.
And as he watched, the bulbous head of the strange insect split in two from tip to neck. And like matched straight razors, curving black thorns unfolded from each half.
Chapter 15
"Basically," Remo was saying as he drove back to Nirvana West, "the people who call themselves politically correct are down on American culture."
Chiun frowned at the twisting road ahead. "And what is wrong with that? American culture is junk."
"Not all of it."
"It's true the so-called soap operas this nation once produced soared to magnificent heights. But in recent years they have sunk to abysmal depths of perversion. Now all your culture is junk."
"Western culture, I mean. They're down on Western culture."
"It is not as good as Eastern culture," Chiun allowed, "specifically Korean culture, but it is not as bad as French culture, which celebrates eating snails and imbecilic actors like Larry Jewish."
"I think you mean Jerry Lewis, Little Father, and for your information, French culture is part of Western culture."
"It is not. Even their language is debased. It is to Latin what the patois the black people of your magnificent ghettos speak is to English."
Remo looked doubtful. "Magnificent ghettos?"
"Show me a Somali who would not give all he owns to live in the worst of them."
"Show me a Somali who owns anything."
Chiun beamed. "My point is proven."
Remo rolled his eyes.
"Look," he said, "let's table this until after we've talked to Magarac."
"Not that all Eastern culture is good," Chiun went on as if his pupil had not spoken. "Hindus are considered Eastern by some and they eat with one hand because the other is perpetually unclean. Have I told you why that is, Remo?"
"Only once, but believe me the memory is going to be hard to shake."
"Even the women do this. Alluring as they may seem to innocent white eyes, they are no more clean than Hindu men."
"Leave Nalini out of this. We have a date for tonight."
Chiun frowned darkly and pretended to rearrange his kimono skirts. "You will need five condoms, then."
"Five?"
"One for each of the fingers of her unclean left hand and one for the unsanitary thumb. This is, if I correctly understand the purpose of this date."
"Which is?"
"To hold hands long into the night, so as to judge the suitability of this woman for matrimony."
"We might hold hands, yeah," said Remo. "On the other hand, we could just skip preliminaries and go all the way."