"They go into a wood box, and that goes into the ground."
"Your barley must taste like corpses," said Lobsang Drom.
Remo looked blank.
Kula said, "The Bunji Lama always sits in state until his next body is discovered, with his face turned to the south, which is the direction of long life. This is a form of respect for the old body, and there have been times when the old body will help point the way to the new."
"It is said that the body of the previous Dalai Lama turned his dead face to the northeast after he had been in state for ten days," offered Lobsang. "And it was to the northeast that the new Dalai Lama was discovered."
"Imagine that," said Remo.
"We will ask the Bunji Lama if the oracle has truly revealed his present body," announced Chiun.
The others came to their feet. Remo watched carefully.
Lobsang Drom faced the mummified remains of the forty-sixth Bunji Lama and said, "O, Light That Was. If the oracle reveals to us the Light That is Coming, as the Master of Sinanju has said, give us a sign, Thrice-Blessed One."
The old Bunji Lama sat mutely, the shifting colored light from the TV set making shadows crawl in his hollow eye sockets.
From the TV came the voice of Squirrelly Chicane, "My guru told me that I have a better chance of discovering my true mission in life after I turn sixty."
"Why is that, child?" asked Poopi Silverfish.
"Because sixty is the age when a woman becomes a crone."
"You mean like a witch?"
"That's just superstition. Throughout history the crone has been a symbol of female wisdom. Upon my sixtieth birthday, I will become wise."
"Honey," laughed Poopi, "if you look as good then as you do now, they're going to have to put a whole new picture next to the word 'crone' in the dictionaries!"
And covered by the laughter emanating from the TV, the Master of Sinanju surreptitiously swept a hand into the black steamer trunk and swept it out again.
The head of the Bunji Lama toppled off his dried stalk of a neck and rolled across the floor to come to a rest under the television set just as Poopi Silverfish said, "Squirrelly Chicane! Girl, I do believe you're gonna find your mission in life."
"Hark well," cried the Master of Sinanju, "the Bunji Lama has spoken."
"The Bunji Lama on the screen or the Bunji Lama whose head is on the floor?" asked Remo.
"Both," cried Chiun. "By rolling his head on the floor, the last Bunji Lama has revealed the long-hidden truth to the incredulous."
"Incredulous is right," said Remo.
Quivering from head to toe, Lobsang Drom faced Chiun, bowed once deeply and said, "Master of Sinanju, I should never have doubted you."
And the Master of Sinanju bowed back, the better to conceal his beaming face of triumph. Tibetans were so gullible.
"This is a great scam," Kula said reverently, brushing at a tear. "Perhaps the greatest of my life."
"No argument there," muttered Remo.
Chapter 6
The next morning Remo Williams awoke with the sun. He rolled off his sleeping mat, stretched his limbs and went to his walk-in clothes closet. The T-shirts were up on wooden hangers on one side, and his pants on the other. They all looked brand-new, which they were. When one of his T-shirts got dirty, Remo threw it away-if it was a white one. If it was black, he might save it for a rainy day. He only wore black or white T shirts. Plain. No dippy sayings or decorations.
His pants occupied the other half of the walk-in closet. Remo wore chinos almost exclusively with a preference for tan, gray or black, although the black ones tended to pick up lint and therefore, unlike the black T-shirts, were usually thrown out after a day's use.
Remo selected a white T-shirt and a fresh pair of black chinos. Remembering that before he had turned in for the night, Chiun had announced that they would seek out the living Bunji Lama on the morrow, he switched to a black T-shirt and gray chinos. No telling when they'd be back, and Remo didn't feel like packing for what might turn out to be only a day trip.
Clothes on his arm, he walked across the hall to his private bathroom. From behind the closed door came the sound of someone moving around.
Remo knocked and asked, "Who's in there?"
A boisterous voice cried, "It is I-Kula!"
"Water warm enough for you?"
"It is wonderfully cold."
"You shower cold?"
"I was speaking of the well water. It is very cold and sweet when one plunges one's face in it."
"For an extra thrill, pull the silver handle," said Remo, annoyed that his private bathroom had been usurped. Still, there were sixteen units and each had a bathroom. Finding an unoccupied shower wouldn't be hard.
Scraping sounds came from the next bathroom. The door was open and Remo peered in.
Inside, the Most Holy Lobsang Drom Rinpoche was seated beside the bathtub, stark naked, using one of Remo's spare toothbrushes to abrade caked dirt off the skull and shoulders of the dead Bunji Lama.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Lobsang Drom stuck out his tongue at Remo in greeting and said, "I am making the old Bunji Lama presentable so that he may meet the new."
"After you're done, don't forget to clean the tub."
The Tibetan. looked injured. "You are the servant here, not me."
"Fine. I'll clean the tub if you agree to bathe."
"I will bathe when the proper time comes."
"When will that be?"
"When the new Bunji Lama sits on the Lion Throne. For I took a vow that I would not bathe until that glorious day arrives."
"You took a vow of nonbathing?"