"He's regained consciousness and is asking for you," Smith said. "The doctors are certain he will be all right."
"Then what was the problem?" Remo wanted to know.
"Better let Chiun explain it to you."
Remo stared at the ceiling light, flexing his thick wrists impatiently. "He'd better not be faking this time. He just better not be," Remo warned. But the sick worry on his face belied his harsh tone.
"He is not," said Anna crisply.
"How would you know?" asked Remo distantly, as if months had not passed since they had said warm farewells to one another.
"I was with him when it happened."
The elevator doors slid open, and without waiting, Remo brushed past Anna Chutesov as if he had suddenly forgotten they were talking.
He found Chiun sitting up in a hospital bed. The visage of the Master of Sinanju was waxy and pale, but Remo's attuned hearing told him Chiun's heartbeat and lung action were normal.
"Little Father, what happened to you?" Remo asked.
"Death," said Chiun hollowly.
"You're not dead," said Remo.
"I am not dead," agreed Chiun. "Not yet. But I do not matter. Sinanju is dead. The future is dead. It is gone, all of it gone."
Remo, hearing the trembling anguish in the voice of the Master of Sinanju, knew that his mentor was not faking. The pain was real. Remo sat at the edge of the bed, took Chiun's long-nailed hand in his, and pressed it concernedly.
"Tell me all about it, Little Father," he said.
"There are many deaths, Remo. There are the death of body and the death of mind and the death of spirit." Remo nodded. Smith and Anna Chutesov hovered in the open doorway, reluctant to intrude.
Chiun turned his hazel eyes upon Remo's deep brown ones.
"But there is a worse death than any of those," he intoned. "Woe to the House of Sinanju. I shall rue the day I allowed that woman to lure me into that place of doom."
"Woman?" wondered Remo, looking at Anna Chutesov. He looked right through her as if she weren't there. Anna flinched under the indifference of his gaze.
"I was learning to drive a motor carriage," Chiun explained. "Do not trouble yourself that you were too easily bored to complete your teaching. I understand. You were too busy seeking the unfindable homeless to care for your adopted father, who spent nearly two decades training you in the sun source. A few hours of instruction in return were too valuable to you. But it is of no moment. I understand."
Remo squeezed Chiun's hand.
"Cut it out, Chiun. I don't want to hear guilt. I want to hear what happened."
"The Russian woman lured me into the diabolical temple with the Russian name. She promised the Master of Sinanju a few moments of diversion from his cares and worries. But before it was over, I felt it die within me. All of it."
"Die? What died?"
"The future of Sinanju."
"I am the future of Sinanju. Haven't you always said that?"
"You are the future of my house, Remo. But not of the pure line. The pure line ends with me."
"That's news?"
"Tell them to be gone," Chiun said, gesturing in the direction of the open door.
Remo turned. "Could you two give us a minute? This is family stuff." And Chiun smiled wanly.
"We'll be in my office," said Smith. Anna went reluctantly, her features a patchwork of confusion. Remo was ignoring her.
When they had gone, Chiun laid his aged head against the double pillows.
"Lean closer, my son, that I may speak of my misfortune. It is too unbearable to say aloud. I will whisper it. "
Puzzled, Remo leaned his ear next to Chiun's thin mouth.
"I can no longer have children," the Master of Sinanju intoned in a doleful hush.
Remo looked blank. "Children?"
Chiun nodded. "The seed within me has died. It is the fault of the Russian woman-her and that place of death."
"Seed?"
"Yes, seed. You know, Remo. The male seed. The seed that makes the female fat with child."
"Are you trying to tell me you're impotent?"
"Shhh! Do you want the whole of Folcroft to know of my shame?" Remo saw the color come back into Chiun's cheeks, but it was buried beneath the skin, like roses under wax.
"Little Father," Remo said gently, "these things happen. You get older, you slow down, things change. I don't think it is so terrible."
"So terrible!" Chiun hissed. "Is there wax in your white ears? There can be no offspring of my bloodline. It is over. When I awoke from my fevered sleep, I knew it instantly. The seed no longer burned within my loins. Alas, no woman will ever bear it now."
"Remo stood up."
"Little Father, I think I understand your disappointment. But as long as I've known you, you've never expressed any interest in having children. I always thought I was sort of ... well, you know."
A gentle light sprang into the eyes of the Master of Sinanju. "You are, Remo. But you are not the blood of my blood. Oh, there is some Korean in you. We both know this. But you are not the product of the pure seed of Sinanju."
Remo shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry if that disappoints you, Chiun. But I thought I was good enough."
The Master of Sinanju reached out to touch Remo's arm. "Do not be hurt, Remo. There is being a son and being a son. I think no less of you than I would if my dead wife had birthed you in the shadow of the Horns of Welcome itself."
"Then what's the problem?"