"What do you mean?"
Remo wagged a finger in Chiun's face. "You forgot my ten percent. You made a big production of trying to give it to me back at the monastery. I have witnesses."
"All dead," Chiun retorted. "And I only said that to deceive Wu Ming Shi. Besides, I referred to the television show reward, not the magnificent treasure of Temujin."
"Hey, if I don't get my commission, I won't let my Mongols play with your Mongols. No happy jaunt to Karakorum."
"Then I will get eighty-five percent!" Chiun crowed.
"Not if my Mongols beat your Mongols to Karakorum," Remo pointed out. "That's a big group you got there, Little Father. All those camels and wagons and yurts. I don't think they can ride as fast as my guys."
Chiun pulled at his hair. "This is blackmail!" he shrieked.
"No, this is horse trading," Remo shot back. "I hear it's an honored Mongol tradition."
"What do you know of Mongols?" Chiun said indignantly.
"Not a lot," Remo said, gazing over the sea of felt tents spread before them. He grinned. "Maybe ten percent worth."
"Done," Chiun clucked glumly. "Now, let us set out for Karakorum."
Remo cupped his hands around his mouth. "Ai yah! Let's ride!" he shouted.
Dozens of Mongols jumped to their mounts like Sioux about to raid a rival village.
The rest looked to Chiun with the blank expressions of a sky full of yellow moons.
"Your turn," Remo said lightly. "I think these slow guys are yours."
Two days' ride later, they were camped on the plains of Karakorum. Mongol tools were prying up the earth's crust as Remo and Chiun, perched on the stone tortoise, watched over them.
"Ai yah!" The cry came from what had become a crater large enough to hold a three-ton meteor.
A rotting chest was passed from hand to hand until it was deposited at the Master of Sinanju's feet.
Chiun fell on it, flinging open the lid. His eyes widened at the piles of emeralds and rubies and pearls heaped within.
"Look at this, Remo!" Chiun squeaked. "Is it not fabulous?"
"It's a start," Remo said nonchalantly.
All through the night, more chests were hauled up, along with other trophies-golden gongs, jade figurines, and personal mementos of Genghis Khan. Chiun let the Mongols divide up these last, telling Remo, "It means so much to them."
"Bull," Remo countered. "You know it's not as valuable as gold or jade or any of this other stuff. Except to a museum. Actually, to a museum it would be worth more than gold."
After that Chiun insisted upon his rightful share of the Khan of Khan's personal effects.
The treasure made a huge pyramid in the middle of the plain.
"Rich! I am rich!" Chiun cried to the star-dazzled Mongolian sky.
"I don't see what you're so excited about," Remo put in soberly. "You were already rich."
"One can never be too rich," Chiun countered, examining a jade wand for flaws. He found one. It went into the Mongol pile.
No one slept that night. By dawn they had every camel and creaking cart loaded with treasure.
Remo and Chiun mounted their horses and took the lead. Boldbator, raising the nine-horsetail standard of Genghis Khan, and Kula, sipping kaoliang wine from a bladder, took positions on either side of them.
Remo lifted one arm, mimicking an actor in a cavalry movie.
"Sinanju-ho!" he cried, bringing his hand down. The New Golden Horde started off. It was a full two hours before the ponies in the rear were able to move.
As they made their hoof-drumming, wheel-creaking, yak-grunting way east to Korea and the village of Sinanju, the Master of Sinanju cast a worried look to the army that marched behind them.
"Something wrong, Little Father?" Remo asked.
"All these Mongol mouths," Chiun squeaked. "How will my poor village feed them when we reach Sinanju? We have no mutton!"
Remo laughed. "Tell you what, Chiun, you just feed your Mongols and I'll worry about mine."
"I have been thinking, Remo," Chiun said slyly.
"Yeah?"
"I have so many Mongols, and you have so few. Perhaps I will give you some of mine."
"Your generosity underwhelms me, Little Father." And Remo laughed again. It was good to be back in the saddle again.