"I don't know."
"Clap your hands," Chiun commanded.
Remo clapped.
"It must wear off eventually," Chiun said. He replaced it, saying, "For now, I will leave it there. Say thank you."
"Thank you, Awesome Magnificence."
"Do you mean this?"
"No!"
"Then you are not welcome," Chiun sniffed. "This is not like you, Remo."
"Not like me!" Remo said hotly. "You're the one who took off to Outer Mongolia without even leaving a freaking note!"
"Ah," Chiun said. "I have much to explain to you."
"I don't want to hear it."
"Speak your heart."
"I'm dying to hear every word, Awesome Magnificence."
Chiun beamed. "Then I shall enlighten you," he said, going to the door. He listened intently. Hearing no eavesdroppers, he settled onto the rug. He patted the bare spot before him and said, "Sit at my knee, Remo."
Remo obeyed.
Sitting face-to-face, their legs locked in identical lotus positions, the Master of Sinanju began to speak.
"Think not I abandoned you, or America, through spite or neglect or any of those base motives."
"Why did you?"
"When you told me of the impossible footprints, I had an inkling that the mandarin Wu Ming Shi still lived. And knowing that he sought Zhang Zingzong, I knew his motives must be weighty. I confronted Zhang and wrung from him the secret of the teak box he carried with him from China." "Yeah?"
"It contained the silvered skull of Targutai, one of the advisers of Temujin, known to you as Genghis Khan. For when Lord Genghis died, he was buried in a secret place atop Mount Burkan Kaldun. And those who attended him in life-indeed those who knew of his burial place-were all put to the sword to hide forever the sacred burial place of Temujin."
"Wouldn't it have been better to cremate him and scatter his ashes over the water?"
"Mongols are very traditional. It is not done." Chiun's eyes twinkled. "I like that about Mongols."
"They're okay," Remo said. "Except for Kublai."
"What do you know of Kublai Khan?"
"Oh, I've picked up some pointers," Remo said easily. "We are in Outer Mongolia, you know. Or is it Inner Mongolia?"
"Outer. But they are no different," Chiun said thoughtfully. He resumed his tale. "Temujin died a wealthy man, and did not fully trust his sons, especially Kublai, who is as hated among modern Mongols as Genghis is revered."
"Unlike Ogatai, who's not big with Koreans."
"Who told you about Ogatai?" Chiun hissed.
"Oh, I've heard some loose talk," Remo said laconically. "You know what incorrigible gossips these Mongols are."
Chiun stroked his beard thoughtfully. He went on. "Now, Genghis ordered that the greatest part of his treasure be buried in a secret place so that when a truly worthy descendant of his came into the world, he would seek it out and take up the good work. Many tried. None succeeded. For no one could find the fabled Silver Skull of Targutai, on whose brow was inscribed a riddle which would start a seeker on the path to Temujin's glory. Legend has it that it was secreted in the Great Wall of China, but no one knew where. Until, by sheer luck, Zhang Zingzong found it. And although unable to decipher the riddle, he carried it with him as he attempted to escape China. Many Chinese helped him. But some of these were servants of Wu Ming Shi, of whom Zhang knew nothing. One of these informed Wu Ming Shi, and he gave chase all the way to America. The rest you know."
"Like heck," Remo said. "It doesn't explain the disappearing footsteps. And do you know that he has no heartbeat?"
"It beats but once a minute. I have listened. This is how Wu Ming Shi survived into the modern world. He knows the secrets of slowing down breath and heartbeat, using less energy, consuming less food, and stretching the moments of his life. For he is, if I calculate correctly, over two hundred years old!"
"What!"
Chiun nodded. "He was old when I first encountered him, and I was not a young man then."
"What is this man to you?"
"You talk like a Mongol," Chiun commented.
"It rubs off. Answer the question."
"Who is the Master here?" Chiun sniffed. "Speak truly."
"You, Awesome Magnificence."
Chiun smiled. He went on.
"When last we spoke," Chiun said, "you asked me about the emperors I served before America. Let it be known that the heartless mandarin was my last client before the gold of America was placed in my hands."
"He's an emperor? He looks like Fu Manchu." Memo stopped. He blinked. "Fu Manchu! Is that guy Fu Manchu?"
Chiun shook his aged head. "Wu Ming Shi," he corrected. "He coveted the throne of China. He has always coveted the throne of China. His aims were thwarted by the Communists and the Nationalists before them. This is when he vanished. I worked for this man, as the Master before me and the Master before him. At first, he was a good client, his gold flowed like rain, and the work was worthy, even during the first Idiocy of the Barbarians, known to some as World War One.
"But one day, Wu Ming Shi summoned me to his place of exile and asked that I extinguish the life of a boy prince he saw as a rival in his aims. You know, Remo, because I have taught you this, that in Sinanju the lives of children are forever sacred. No gold, no honeyed promises, may dissuade us from this. We are assassins, and some criticize us for this, but we are no better than mere murderers if we do not adhere to certain precepts. Not killing children is the greatest of these."
"I know," Remo said quietly. That was his second thought. His first was an acid, "No checks." But he decided against it. Chiun's story was more important than getting in a zinger.
"I refused this instruction and Wu Ming Shi sent me away," Chiun continued. "When I returned to the village of Sinanju, I found the women weeping and the men enraged. For Wu Ming Shi had done the unthinkable. He had dispatched his Blue Bees to Sinanju to steal away certain children."
"I thought you said Fu Manchu-I mean Wu Ming Shi-never used bugs and reptiles, except in books."
"He does not. The Blue Bees are his servants. They can be found in all cities, for he has a worldwide network of adherents."
Remo thought back to the first time he had met Fang Yu. She had worn blue. And he suddenly remembered the blue-clad Chinese workers he had seen in every Mongolian town.
"I know what happens next," Remo said. "You cleaned his clock for him-right?"
"No. For I was in a place of no comfort. I could not kill children even to save other children, although I considered this. Carrying my pride before me, I ventured to the place where Wu Ming Shi held forth in exile and attempted to ransom them. I demanded satisfaction, and Wu Ming Shi refused, saying that the children of Sinanju were in another place, and would not be harmed so long as he was not harmed. I knew this to be true, for above all, Wu Ming Shi is a man of honor. I begged, and still he refused. Finally I went away, after first making clear to Wu Ming Shi that so long as the children of Sinanju lived, so would he. And he vowed to me that if I ever moved against him or his political aims, his Blue Bees would attack Sinanju on the first day I left it unguarded."
"So it was a standoff," Remo said.
"Not quite. For the honor of Sinanju was at stake. I could not kill this man, so in retaliation I inflicted upon him a certain insult. Then I returned to Sinanju, vowing never again to venture from it. For I had no heir, and I knew this man's cold-bloodedness knew no bounds. So long as I remained with my people, Remo, Sinanju was safe. But I could not work, and so the years slipped from me and the hard times came."
Chiun bowed his head recalling the sadness.
"You never told me this."
"It was ancient history," Chiun said, "or so I thought. In time, the Communists overran China. Wu Ming Shi was forced to retreat, for he was known to Mao. It was in these days that I first began training the one known to you as Nuihc, my nephew, for the line of Sinanju had to go on."