"You didn't see anyone?" Remo asked incredulously. He told Chiun, "Pullyang says nobody came this way."
"Impossible," Chiun insisted. "There are no tracks going the other way."
"And none this way," said Remo. "Except Pullyang's."
"He was in black, a thief of ninja," Chiun told Pullyang. "You must have see him."
The old man shrugged helplessly as if to say: Is that my fault?
Chiun said, "Away with you, then, useless one."
He noticed Remo staring at him, an odd expression on his face.
"Remo? What is it?"
"You said ninja," Remo muttered. "So?"
"Chiun," Remo said slowly, "I saw him clear as day. He wasn't a ninja. He was that kung-fu beach bum from Washington-Adonis."
"He was the ninja. His eyes were Japanese."
"That's not what I saw."
"Perhaps both thieves have come here," suggested Chiun.
"I saw you point at a man on the rocks, and it was Adonis. "
"I pointed at a ninja. That is what I saw."
"And we both saw him jump behind the rocks," Remo said. "You know what I think? I think we saw what someone wanted us to see."
"I think that you are right."
Remo looked around. "Hey, where'd Pullyang go?" Chiun looked about angrily. Pullyang was gone. Chiun frowned.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Remo asked.
"I am thinking that Pullyang's footsteps start at the rocks and end at our feet," Chiun said, gesturing to the sand, "as if he ascended into the sky."
"We'd better get back to the village. There's no telling what this phantom-whoever he is-is up to."
"Then we are together on this?"
"Until I say different," said Remo.
Chapter 27
The Master of Sinanju summoned his people to the village square with a bronze gong that was held in a hornbeam frame by springs so strong that no known mallet could make it ring.
Chiun stepped up to the gong and tapped its center with a single finger. Its deep reverberations caused the scavenging sea gulls to fly from the square in fright.
The villagers came running. Never in the memory of the village of Sinanju had the Gong of Judgment been sounded. Never had there been a crime in the village while a Master was in residence.
They came, the old and the young, their faces etched in lines of shock, and clustered around the gong.
"Assemble before me, my people," commanded Chiun. His eyes seemed to fix every face, so that each felt that the Master of Sinanju was probing his own innermost thoughts.
When the villagers had formed a ragged semicircle before the Master of Sinanju-the adults holding their children before them with hands on their shoulders and the infants slung on their hips-Chiun lifted his voice to the sky.
"Death has come to Sinanju," he proclaimed.
The villagers hushed as if the sky were slowly pressing down upon their heads.
"Mah-Li, the betrothed of Remo, has been murdered." The faces of the villagers took on a stony quality. It was as if they had suddenly become one emotionless, extended family.
"I seek her murderer among you," Chiun said. Remo came up behind Chiun.
"I checked every hut," he said quietly. "Empty. They're all here."
Chiun nodded without taking his eyes off the crowd. "Jilda and the child?" he asked.
"I put them in the treasure house. I fixed and locked the doors too."
"Then our murderer is among those assembled. "
"Maybe," Remo whispered. "How can we tell if he can make himself look like anyone he wants?"
"Pullyang, step forward," Chiun commanded.
From out of the crowd, walking like a dog that expected a whipping, came old Pullyang, the caretaker. He stood before Chiun, his legs trembling inside dirty trousers.
"Were you down at the beach today?" Chiun asked.
"No, Master," Pullyang quavered.
"At all?"
"No, O Master," Pullyang repeated.
"I saw you at the beach not five minutes ago," insisted Chiun. "I spoke with you, and you with me."
"I was not there."
"My son says that you were," Chiun said sternly.
"That's right, I saw you," agreed Remo.
Pullyang fell to his knees. "Not I! Not I! I have been with my grandchildren all day," Pullyang cried.
Chiun looked down upon the pitiful figure, but no pity crossed his wrinkled countenance.
"If my words are not true," Chiun intoned, "you must call me a liar, and my adopted son a liar too, before the village. Will you do this?"
"Not I. I cannot call you a liar, but neither would I lie to you."
"You lied about the purple herons," Chiun said.
"I saw them!"
"And I saw you at the shore," said Chiun distantly. "Arise, Pullyang, faithful caretaker, and see to your grandchildren. "
Remo asked Chiun, "If the murderer is here, he could look like anyone. How are we going to tell him from the others?"
"We will find a way. This crime will be punished."
"Just remember," said Remo, "who's going to do the punishing. "
"We will see. It is against Sinanju law for a Master to harm a villager, no matter the reason."
"Try to stop me," said Remo, looking at the blank faces watching him fearfully.
"I may do that," Chiun said softly, stepping around the clot of villagers, his hands clasped behind his back like a general reviewing troops.
"You, Pak," said Chiun, pointing at a young man. "Name your father."
"Hui, O Master."
"Good. Go stand beside the Gong of Judgment. I will ask each of you a question. My question will be easy. Those who answer correctly will stand with Pak. And woe to him whose face is not known to me."
For an hour the Master of Sinanju inquired of each villager, from the oldest man to the youngest speaking child, a question of family tradition or Sinanju history. All answered correctly. And all went to stand with Pak until the village square was empty of all but the blowing plum-tree leaves.
"He's not here," said Remo impatiently. "He got away."
"All my villagers are accounted for," admitted Chiun. "Let's leave them here and search the entire village."
"Agreed," said Chiun. "But beware, my son. We may be facing sorcery. Our abilities are not always proof against such things. "
"I don't believe in that crap," said Remo, stalking off.
Chiun followed him. "You saw that crap with your own eyes, heard the words with your own ears. Was that not Pullyang's voice you heard coming from a mouth that looked like Pullyang's?"
"It wasn't black magic."
"What it was we have yet to discover. But it was. You know that as well as I. Come, let us speak with Jilda."
"Why?"
"Did you test her to see if she was truly who she seemed?"
"I know Jilda when I see her."
"And I have known Pullyang since I was a child. We shall see."
The door to the House of the Masters was closed, but not locked. Chiun's sharp vision told him that much even from a distance.
"I thought you locked the door," he said, picking up his pace.
"I did," Remo replied sullenly.
"It is not locked now."
Remo broke into a run. He went through the door like a thunderbolt.
"Jilda!" Remo's cry was strangled with anguish.
The Master of Sinanju swept into the throne room, taking in the treasure with a glance. Satisfied that it was undisturbed, he joined Remo in the guestroom. Remo was trying to shake Jilda awake.
"Remo," she said thickly, stirring from a sitting mat.
"What happened?" Remo asked.
Jilda of Lakluun looked around dazedly. Her eyes were a milky, confused gray.
"I do not recall. Was I asleep?"
"Yeah," said Remo. "Don't you remember?"
"I waited here as you bade me to do. Freya wanted to play with the other children. She grew cranky. The last thing I recall is telling her to mind her manners. There my memory stops." As she looked around the room and saw only Remo and Chiun, Jilda's voice shrank. "Freya . . ."