It was a little game he had been playing to pass the time. He had come to Sinanju many times over the past few decades. While there, some had heard him speak Korean. This visit, he wondered how easy it would be to convince the populace that he had only ever spoken words and phrases by rote, and that he didn't understand the language at all.
He was stunned to find the people of Sinanju were even dumber than they were lazy. A few helpless shrugs and loud "whats?" during conversations, and all of them were convinced he couldn't speak a word of their language.
Through feigned ignorance he was finding that he was having to knock the bottom out of his already low opinion of the ungrateful inhabitants of Sinanju.
"Woe are we to live in this time," a man said. "To have the greatness of Sinanju squandered on this white."
"Yes," lamented a decrepit old woman as Remo passed out of the square. "If that is our future, it almost makes me wish the old one was back as Reigning Master."
These last words stung Remo.
Not for himself. He could take whatever barbs the people of Sinanju hurled at him. His troubled thoughts were of another.
He had come to Sinanju four months previous as part of the Sinanju Time of Succession, the final rite of passage before his ascension to full Reigning Master. And now that it was finally time to leave, he was afraid he would be going alone.
He followed the path to where it veered away from the shore. The hills rose above the West Korea Bay.
A pair of tall rocks in the shape of curving horns framed the sparkling water. Climbing past the artificial rock formation, Remo found himself on a wide plateau.
The mouth of a deep cave yawned wide at the back of the hilltop. A wizened figure fussed near the opening.
The old man's skin was like leather left to bleach in the desert sun for a hundred years. It was as delicate as rice paper, pulled taut over an egg-shaped scalp. Above each shell-like ear, soft tufts of yellow-white hair danced in the breeze. A thread of beard touched his sharp chin.
Chiun, former Reigning Master of the House of Sinanju, wore a striking kelly-green kimono. Across the back, mirror-image dragons of bright red reared, their embroidered tails extending down the billowing sleeves. The piping at the neck and hems was spun gold. The robe's colors made the old man look like an ancient Christmas present, forgotten and left unopened for more than a century.
The kimono danced around the elderly Korean's ankles as he breezed around the cave's entrance. He fussed at the tiny copse of three trees that grew at the mouth of the cave.
Near the old man, a peculiar little animal stood on stumpy legs. It was no more than three feet tall, with a long body that looked like a blend of cow and camel. The sad-eyed creature chewed languidly on a pile of straw.
As Remo approached, Chiun's face remained bland. He didn't lift his head from his work.
"And to what do I owe this honor, that the Reigning Master would deign to visit this lowly villager?"
"Ha, ha," Remo said. "That's almost as funny as it was last night at supper, not to mention the thousand times before that."
With fingernails like curving daggers, Chiun snipped a dead branch from the hearty pine tree at which he worked.
"If my mean utterances do somehow bring offense to the delicate ears of the Reigning Master, I beg his forgiveness," he intoned seriously. "Now, if the most gracious and honored Reigning Master would kindly move his giant clubbed white feet, his servant would be most grateful."
Frowning, Remo moved and Chiun slipped by, humming happily to himself as he went.
"You know, if your attitude fell somewhere between the sarcastic ass-kissing and the full-out insults, that'd be okay with me."
Chiun paused in clipping another dead branch. The old man cast a dull eye on the Master who had succeeded him.
Remo sighed. "Just a thought," he said.
"Our new Reigning Master is truly compassionate. How kind of you to postpone this new flirtation with thinking until spring. It would have been cruel to force the mice who lodge in your brain out into the snow."
"Yeah, I'm in real tight with the North Korean SPCA," Remo said dryly. "Speaking of animals, are you sure it's safe to drag that thing around with you?" He aimed his chin at the strange creature near the cave.
The old man glanced at the sad-eyed animal.
"I appreciate the company," Chiun replied. "It is an improvement over what I am used to."
"I'll buy you a dog," Remo said. "That thing was built out of genetically engineered spare parts by a certifiable psycho. It's probably hatching diseases that don't even have names yet. Plus it's ugly as all hell."
"Do not say such things about Remo," Chiun scolded.
Remo frowned. "And that's another thing. I don't appreciate you giving it my name."
"I meant no disrespect," Chiun replied. "I only wished to honor our village's newest Reigning Master."
When he looked up at his former pupil, Remo noted the old man's eyes. He had been doing that a lot lately.
Chiun's hazel eyes had always been much younger than his years. For a time there had been a growing weariness in them. Remo hadn't even noticed until the weariness was gone. It had disappeared four months before. Of late, there seemed a spark of renewed vigor in his teacher's eyes.
It was a thing Remo was not allowed to mention. During the Time of Succession, Remo and Chiun had been separated. While Remo was elsewhere in the world, Chiun had come back to Sinanju alone.
Something had happened to his teacher while they were apart. Something had restored the old man's fresh, youthful outlook. But whatever it was, Chiun was not yet ready to share. Remo had asked a few times.
"When I understand," was all Chiun would say, his voice mysterious. And that ended discussion on the subject.
Remo was understandably curious, but he respected his teacher's privacy. As the old man pruned the trees, Remo wondered again what had happened with Chiun. He had the distinct impression it was something big.
Chiun seemed to sense his pupil's unspoken thought.
Papery lips puckered as he worked his way around the far side of the pine. "How do you feel?" Chiun asked, preemptively changing the subject.
"Not sprouting any extra arms or eyes, if that's what you mean," Remo said. "I'm one hundred percent me."
"You say that like it is a good thing," Chiun said.
"From where I was four months ago, you better believe it is. Don't get me wrong. It was good those couple of days. You know, to see. That's still with me. But as for being something other than Remo Williams, not anymore."
Briefly during his Time of Succession ordeal, Remo had been given a glimpse of something larger than himself. For years Chiun had maintained that his pupil was the fulfillment of an ancient Sinanju prophecy. The old man claimed that Remo was the avatar of Shiva, the Hindu god of destruction. There had been moments in Remo's life that appeared to confirm this. Whenever some strange occurrence during their association arose to bolster Chiun's claim, Remo turned a blind eye. For years it was the eight-hundred-pound gorilla sitting in the corner of his life that he studiously ignored.
There was a reason why he chose to ignore it. In his secret heart, Remo was afraid. Afraid that if it were true, that if some ancient force dwelled within him, his own days as an individual were numbered. For if he was merely a vessel, Shiva was simply awaiting the day to spring forth and consume him utterly. And when that day finally came, the god would win and there would be no more of Remo Williams.
It was a fear he had lived with for as long as he had quietly believed the truth of Chiun's words. All that was different now. For a little while, Remo had seen what his future would be.
It was impossible to put into words. He had tried to explain it to Chiun several times. It was a feeling of... completeness like he had never before experienced. The world and everything in it-including Remo Williams-finally made sense. When Remo had told Chiun this last part, the old man strongly disputed the possibility that Remo could ever make sense. Remo had dropped the matter.
The god was gone and the man remained, but Remo no longer had the fear that he would be whisked into the ether, a forgotten soul, cast into eternal nothingness.
Reflecting on the experience, Remo felt another momentary shudder of peace. He watched quietly as Chiun stooped to collect the twigs he had trimmed from the trees.