"Maybe I'll wake up back home," Remo said wishfully.
"Who is it?" a small voice asked in the darkness. The voice spoke in Korean.
Remo shot to his feet. His eyes dilated automatically. Someone else was in the house, sitting in the darkness of one corner, sitting without light or sound. "Hello?" Remo asked, embarrassed.
"I do not recognize your voice," the voice said. "Is there something that you want?"
The voice was light, lilting-a woman's voice.
"I thought no one lived here," Remo said. "I'm sorry."
"Do not be," the voice said sadly. "No one visits me."
"Why do you sit in the dark?"
"I am Mah-Li," the voice said. "By Sinanju law, I must abide in the darkness, so that no one will be offended by my ugliness."
"Oh," said Remo. He could see her, a shadowy figure in a yellow high-waisted dress. Her traditional Korean bodice was white and airy. One hand covered her face protectively while the other reached into a pocket and extracted something filmy. When she took both hands from her face, she was wearing a heavy gauze veil behind which liquid eyes glinted. He felt sorry for the girl. She must be deformed.
"I am sorry to disturb you, Mah-Li," Remo said in a small voice. "I was looking for a place to rest." He started for the door.
"No," Mah-Li called, reaching out. "Do not go just yet. I hear celebration in the village. Tell me, what transpires?"
"The Master of Sinanju has come home."
"This is welcome news. Too long has he dwelt in far places."
"But he is dying," said Remo.
"Even the mightiest tide ebbs," Mah-Li said softly. "But the flowing back to the sea is a sad thing nonetheless." Remo could tell she was deeply affected. It was the first hint of true feelings anyone in Sinanju had expressed about Chiun.
"You are sorry?" Remo asked.
"The Master of Sinanju is a candle that has illuminated the world since before the days of the great warrior king Onjo, who built the first castle in Korea," Man-Li said thoughtfully. "It is a shame that he dies without heir. It will break his heart."
"I am his heir," said Remo.
"You? But your voice is strange. You are not of Sinanju."
"Not of the village," said Remo. "But I am Sinanju. Chiun has made me Sinanju."
"It is good," said Mah-Li. "The traditions must be kept. Some of them, anyway." And she touched her veil self-consciously.
"You live alone?" Remo asked.
"My parents died before I had memory. I have no one. The men will not have me because of my ugliness. They called me Mah-Li, the beast."
"You have a lovely voice," Remo said, not sure what else to say. By American standards, the ordinary women of the village were unhandsome. He wondered how much worse Mah-Li was. Maybe she was like the Elephant Man, all covered with knobs and tumors.
"Thank you," Mah-Li said simply. "It is good to talk to someone who has a kind heart."
Remo grunted. "I know what you mean. Chiun's people aren't high on compassion."
"They are what they are."
"I'm an orphan too," Remo suddenly blurted out. He wasn't sure why he said it. It just popped out of his mouth.
"It is a terrible thing, to be alone."
Remo nodded. A silence passed in the room. Remo felt like a teenager at his first high-school dance, uncertain of what to say or do next.
"Would you like tea?" Mah-Li asked shyly.
"Tea would be fine," said Remo.
Mah-Li got to her feet. Remo saw that she was short, like all Sinanju woman, but not so stocky. Most of the woinan of Sinanju were built like Eskimos. Mah-Li was slim and delicately boned. Her natural scent wafted to Remo's nostrils and he found it surprisingly pleasant.
There was a little charcoal stove on the floor in one corner, typical of Korean homes. Mah-Li got a cooking fire going with some flint and wood shavings.
Remo watched her delicate movements in silence. He saw grace and poise, and whatever Mah-Li's face must look like, her form was as supple as the willow tree.
When the water was boiled, she poured it into a blue-green ceramic tea server and set two matching cups without handles-like those Remo had seen in many Chinese restaurants, except that these were wonderfully ornate-and set them before him.
"Very pretty," Remo said.
"They are celadon," Mah-Li said. "Very precious. The server is carved in the shape of a turtle, which to us symbolizes long life."
"Huh? Oh, the tea," Remo said, flustered.
"Of course. What did you mean?"
Remo said nothing. He hadn't meant the tea service. He wasn't exactly sure what he meant. The words had just come.
Mah-Li poured the tea and handed one cup to Remo. Her slim fingers lightly brushed Remo's outstretched hand, and he felt a tingle that ran up his arm and made his toes curl involuntarily.
There was something intoxicating about being in her presence. Intoxicating, but somehow soothing. The inside of the house was mellow in the light of the stove. It threw shadows that made Remo think of safety and security.
Was Mah-Li some kind of Korean witch? Remo thought suddenly.
"Drink," said Mah-Li.
"Oh, right." Remo took a sip, and watched surreptitiously as Mah-Li bent forward so that she could drink without Remo seeing her veiled face. But her eyes caught the light, and Remo was suddenly overcome by an intense curiosity to see behind that tantalizing veil.
Impulsively he leaned forward, his hands ready to pull the gauze free.
Mah-Li, sensing Remo's intent, stiffened, but curiously, she did not move to block Remo's hands. There came a knock at the door.