"Point out the conspirators to me and their heads will be grinning at your feet," Chiun said boastfully.
"Not all my subjects are here. Some live apart from us. Each year, more are lured away. Women are stolen for their rites. "
"Kidnappers?"
"A cult. An old cult, which is rising again. Old ways, old evils. They covet my throne. They covet my daughter; They want to plunge Moo into backwardness and ugliness."
"But point the way and they will be dust," Chiun promised. He sensed the High Moo's skepticism and desired to prove his prowess.
"They dwell in the Grove of Ghosts, at the west end of the island."
"Remo, listen to this," Chiun ordered.
"Huh? What?" Remo said, tearing his eyes off the feasting native girls.
"The High Moo now speaks of our task."
"I'm listening. Just tell him to talk slower. My Moo vocabulary isn't up to speed yet."
"What does he say?" the High Moo asked Chiun. "He hangs on your every word," affirmed Chiun.
The High Moo nodded. "I spoke of old ways. Someone on this island has revived an ancient evil. They have failed to kill me three times. Now they hurl presentiments at me. Just last night, when I stood on the roof of my very palace, a wicked one threw a jug of ocean water at me. It missed, but from the shattered clay emerged . . . "
Chiun bent his old head. Remo leaned closer. "An octopus," the High Moo breathed. Chiun gasped.
"No!" he said.
"Yes. Octopus worshipers!"
"Did you hear that, Remo? Octopus worshipers."
"Is that bad?" Remo wanted to know.
"Bad? It is terrible," Chiun said. "The octopus is the ancient Enemy of Life. Its servants are the most despicable cult of all."
"Worse than TV evangelists?"
"Worse than TV evangelists," Chiun said solemnly. "TV evangelists only want your money. Octopus worshipers covet the universe." He turned to the High Moo. "It has been many generations since the last octopus worshipers were thought stamped out."
"They have started up again in Moo."
"Then we will tear off their limbs and crush what remains," proclaimed Chiun. Everyone in the feast circle turned to look at him.
"I can trust no one. Except you," the High Moo said when the laughter and chatter started anew.
"The House of Sinanju owes service to the House of Moo. Of course, there is the matter of the balance," Chiun suggested.
"I will pay triple the down payment, for you have come a long way. That is, if you are able to accomplish this task I set before you."
"Able?" Chiun squeaked. "I am the Master of Sinanju."
"But you are old. Past your prime years."
"Past! I am young by Sinanju counting."
"And you have no weapons."
The Master of Sinanju said nothing for a moment. He picked up a coconut that had been placed at his feet earlier. He had declined its sweet milk.
"Quadruple the down payment," said Chiun evenly.
"Too much! Too much!" cried the High Moo. "I do not have the coffers of Old Moo. This is a small island compared to the greatness of former times."
"If you cannot afford proper protection from assassins, you should have called upon a lesser house," Chiun returned coldly. "For although the glory of Moo has set, the power of Sinanju has waxed great in the modern world."
The High Moo winced at the pointed insult. And Chiun smiled thinly.
"Triple," repeated the High Moo stubbornly. "Quadruple," said Chiun, "and I will deliver the perpetrators tonight."
"Tonight?"
"By dawn you will preside over a peaceful land," promised Chiun.
"And triple if it takes longer?"
"Agreed," said Chiun.
"Done is done," said the High Moo, getting to his feet. Chiun rose beside him. The High Moo placed a hand on the Master of Sinanju's frail shoulder and Chiun placed his on the High Moo's opposite shoulder to signify agreement.
"We will drink to our agreement," proclaimed the High Moo. "Fetch a coconut."
"No need," said Chiun, raising his right hand to the High Moo's broad face. The coconut was balanced on the uprights of Chiun's fingers. With his other hand he made a series of passes over the hairy shell, as if weaving a spell. When he knew the High Moo's attention was fixed on his hand, Chiun lashed out and sheared the top off the coconut.
The white meat lay exposed in a twinkling. Chiun offered the shell to the High Moo, who, to his disgust, spat into it. He offered it to the Master of Sinanju. Chiun sipped lightly. He spat the juice back into the husk and returned it to the High Moo.
The High Moo drained the husk greedily, milk spilling from the corners of his mouth.
"None for me?" asked Remo.
"Hush, slave," said Chiun. "I will now reveal the name of the chief culprit," he announced, stepping into the circle. Curious, Remo folded his arms.
"This better be good," he mumbled.
Chiun, his hazel eyes like steel, stamped around in a slow circle.
"The evil one is in our midst. I know this, for I am Chiun, Master of Sinanju, who came across a great ocean to bring peace to this troubled empire. I see all. I know all. "
"Bull," whispered Remo in English, He was ignored. "I know there are conspirators in this very feast. I do not know them all, but I know their leader."
The Red Feather Guard looked back at him stonily. The village women stared open-mouthed. The Low Moo watched with tight lips. And the royal priest raked the crowd with his avid black eyes, as if to imply that he, too, knew and saw all, and was able to visit justice as well.
"I knew him on the beach," Chiun went on. The High Moo looked at Chiun with steely eyes.
"I know him now," Chiun intoned. "And soon you will all know him for what he is-an octopus worshiper."
A hush fell over the feasters. The crackling of the fires alone broke the stillness. Cinders danced in the night air. Chiun, his hands clasped behind his back, paced around the circle. Here and there he paused to look someone in the eye. Some flinched from his gaze. One or two of the children suppressed giggles.
Watching, Remo thought he knew what Chiun was trying to do. He hoped to smoke out the conspirator with psychology. It was a bluff.
Chiun continued his circuit. His face was hard, uncompromising. But no one broke and ran, as Remo expected. Finally, on his third circuit, the Master of Sinanju went directly to one man.
"I accuse you, Teihotu," he screeched, one finger pointing with undeniable accusation, "royal priest to the Shark Throne, of being a secret octopus worshiper!"
"I ... I . . ." sputtered the royal priest.
"Do not deny it. You reek of guilt."
And from the dark robes, Teihotu extracted a bone knife.
Chiun disarmed him with a twist of his wrist. He dragged the man to his knees and, clutching him by the neck, forced a horrible scream from his thin lips.
"No, no! I confess! I confess!"
There came a collective gasp from the Moovians.
"Who else, priest?" demanded Chiun. "Who else among this gathering belongs to your evil cult?"
"Goom. Googam. Bruttu. And Shagg."
At the sounds of their names, four of the Red Feather Guard broke and ran. Remo started after them.
"Hold," Chiun said. "Time for them later. This is the important one."
Out of the trees came a hurled object. It smashed, dousing the main fire. Moovians screamed. For in the embers an octopus sizzled and curled as the embers seared its tentacles. It died in a flopping, spitting agony.
"Fear not," said Chiun, "for this evil ends tonight." He dragged the priest before the Shark Throne and made him kneel.
"You have heard this man's confession," Chiun said loudly. "Now pronounce his fate."
"Death," intoned the High Moo.
"Death," the Moovians repeated.
"So be it," Chiun said. "I will give you a boon, priest. Reveal to us the name of every octopus worshiper, and your death will be swift and without agony."