Chiun looked down. It was a lock of dark brown hair tied by a blue ribbon.
"Do you recognize whose hair this is?" Fang Yu asked.
"No," Chiun said coldly.
"My teacher has certain demands. One, that you come with me to Sayn Shanda. And the other, that the Chinese fugitive Zhang Zingzong accompany you."
Zhang caught up with them at that moment. He caught the end of the conversation. His slit eyes glared at Fang Yu. Fang Yu smiled cruelly.
"Ze-me le, Zhang Zingzong?" she asked mockingly.
Zhang spun on the Master of Sinanju.
"Kill her!" he hissed. "Do not let her take me! She is an evil person!"
Chiun lifted a commanding hand. "Silence," he said.
To the Chinese woman he said, "Your teacher . . . perhaps he is known to me. Speak his name. I might meet with him if his reputation for wisdom promises enlightenment."
"I cannot speak his name, for it is unknown to me. But he is known to you as Wu Ming Shi."
Chiun's beard trembled in a manner that was not caused by the wind. Boldbator noticed this, but none of the others did.
At length Chiun said, "I know him. I will go with you."
"And him," Fang Yu said, pointing to a nervous Zhang Zingzong.
"He will come too. Await me here."
Zhang protested. Chiun nodded to the Mongols. They seized Zhang roughly.
"How can you do this?" Zhang said angrily.
"Silence!" Chiun thundered in a voice greater than his wispy frame could possibly contain. "Have our ponies saddled. We ride. And let the word go out. We ride alone. No one follows us."
Boldbator looked to the Chinese woman and the retreating Master of Sinanju, his face stricken. He followed Chiun.
"I do not understand."
"Hush, son of the steppes," Chiun whispered. "After I have gone with this woman, prepare your horse Mongols. If I do not return by daybreak, surround Sayn Shanda and ransom me if you can."
"Ransom?" Boldbator croaked. "But you are the Master of Sinanju."
"And he is the Nameless One," Chiun hissed.
He went directly to his ger and removed the teak box from his traveling trunk. He presented it to Boldbator.
"With this, and nothing less, you will ransom me. Will you do this if necessary, Boldbator Khan?"
"My life is yours," swore Boldbator Khan, kneeling.
Chapter 31
Remo Williams thought he was dreaming.
He dreamed he swam in a dark void of warm ink. The ink filled every wrinkle in his brain, covered his eyes with impenetrable blackness, and clogged his nose and lungs with a rose-petal perfume that reminded him of a woman.
He couldn't remember the woman's name, no matter how hard he tried.
Then his eyelids came open. They felt sticky, the lashes matted as if with clotted honey.
As his vision cleared, Remo found himself staring at a fan of red-lacquered bamboo rods that formed a ceiling. His eyes flicked down. He saw the toes of his bare feet. His eyes flicked left. A blank wall. Right, and he caught a rustling movement beyond his peripheral vision.
A man in a blue silk robe bent over a table. He held a syringe in one hand. The other balanced something round and flat and flesh-colored on the tip of one finger.
The finger was long and pointed and blue. It gleamed like a metal talon.
When he turned his head to see better, Remo's neck sent shooting pains into his brain, so he never completed the action.
His slight movement caught the attention of the tall robed man as he finished pumping a poisonous orange solution into the round skinlike pad.
An incredibly wrinkled face turned in Remo's direction. Eyes like obsidian chips regarded him with reptilian steadiness.
The dry mouth parted. Words like the rustling of a viper through autumn leaves reached his ears.
"Please do not attempt to rise," the voice said.
And to his surprise, Remo obeyed. He didn't know why. He wanted to get up very much. Instead, he watched helplessly as the tall man-he was Asian, Remo saw as his face hovered over him with clinical detachment-reached behind one ear.
Remo heard a ripping sound and wondered if those blue talons were tearing at his skin.
Then the other hand reached behind his ear and the warm ink swept over his brain again.
He seemed to see in his mind's eye rills of black liquid collect in his brain crevices. They looked evil-like spreading black veins. But he knew this was impossible. How could he see his own brain? It was behind his eyes, not in front of them.
Wasn't it?
Chapter 32
The first thing the Master of Sinanju noticed, as his pony topped the rise and the provincial capital of Sayn Shanda lay revealed, was the activity in the gers studding the surrounding pastureland.
Mongols moved between the tents, grooming their horses for battle. Chiun's hazel eyes narrowed.
"What transpires here?" he demanded of the Chinese woman.
"The Mongos have been incited by foreign elements," Fang Yu told him in a disinterested voice.