"These tidings troubled Khufu deeply, for he recognized the darkness of Rama-Tut's heart and trusted only Djedefre to see that after his passing his tomb would endure the centuries undefiled. So Khufu sent to Sinanju for Master Saja and presented him with his dilemma.
"'If the stars bless Rama-Tut and not my good son Djedefre, what am I to do?' he asked Saja.
"And Saja answered, 'We will foil the stars.'
"Khufu demanded of Saja what was meant, but Saja said only, 'If Sinanju can foil the stars, will you build a monument to the House that will endure through the ages?'
"'Done,' said Pharaoh Khufu. And the deal was struck.
"That night, Remo, Rama-Tut died in his sleep, and no one ever discovered the malady that ended his life. The mother of Rama-Tut threw herself into the Nile and drowned. And in the fullness of time, Khufu died and Djedefre became pharaoh, just as Saja had promised."
Remo grinned. "I think I know what got old Rama-Tut."
"Shh. It is a secret. Even now."
"That was centuries ago. What's the problem?"
"The driver may be a descendant," Chiun said in a conspiratorial voice. "Egyptians are notorious holders of grudges."
Remo rolled his eyes.
Chiun continued his tale. "When Djedefre ascended the throne, Master Saja came before him and told him of his bargain with Khufu."
"'What is your desire?' Djedefre asked Saja. And Saja replied, 'I see that your tomb is even now being laid out by your royal architects and that they quarry stone from an outcropping in the shadow of your father's tomb. Make from the rock that remains a statue of wondrous size, in the image of a recumbent lion always facing the sun and my village, which is the sun source. And give it the face of the one who ensured your assumption to the throne of Egypt. Do this to show that, mighty as Egypt is, the House of Sinanju is more powerful still.'
"'Done,' cried Pharaoh Djedefre. 'When next you see my kingdom, you will behold your wish turned to stone that will last for all of time.'
"But years passed and no more was heard from Egypt, who was in those days a great client of the House. So Saja undertook the long journey to the land of pharaohs, and when he came to Giza, he beheld the reality of his bargain from the back of a dromedary. Mighty it was, Remo. And proud as it faced the rising sun, its colors triumphant. But as Saja drew close, his boundless pride collapsed into a cold rage. For the visage of the Lion that Faces the Sun was not his own."
"Uh-oh. Djedefre welched."
"Pharaohs were notorious welchers, but we didn't know this in those days. So Saja appeared before Djedefre and demanded why the face of the Sun Lion was not his. And Djedefre replied that such was not the bargain. Saja had asked that the lion wear the likeness of the one who had ensured Djedefre's reign, and Saja had to admit that this was true. Technically. Bowing his farewells and expressing admiration for Djedefre's shrewdness, Saja returned to his village and, when in later years word came from Egypt that Djedefre needed the help of the House, Saja tore up the message without replying. And when Saja's successor received an entreaty to help succor the Old Kingdom in its waning days, that message too was ignored. Thus, Egypt fell upon evil days and it was many generations before a Master worked again for a pharaoh. And all because Djedefre was so shrewd he cheated Sinanju and in so doing lost his empire."
The cab turned off the road, and Remo saw the half-obliterated face of the Sphinx gazing over the undulating sands. It faced away from the three massive pyramids and their smaller satellite temples.
"Is that the Sun Lion?" he asked Chiun.
Chiun voiced disapproval. "It is a sad sight. Better had they left it to sleep under the sands that had claimed it."
"Better for who? The Sphinx or me?"
"Let us find out," said Chiun, paying off the driver.
"I don't like the sound of this," said Remo nervously.
Tucking his hands into his sleeves, the Master of Sinanju padded up to the gigantic Sphinx. "The sacred cobra no longer rears up from his mighty brow," he intoned. "The beard is missing. His painted headdress is forever faded. That my ancestors could see this now, they would fret and fume that this once mighty relic of a former glory has come to this."
Chiun gestured distastefully.
There were tourists walking around the Sphinx, tourists climbing the crumbling sides of the Great Pyramid of Giza.
"In the days of Wang, heads were lopped off over such desecration," Chiun observed. "Imagine, Remo, if children were allowed to run amok in the halls of your Senate."
"They do. They're called senators."
Remo grinned. Chiun frowned. Remo swallowed his grin. They continued walking, the sand beneath their feet accepting their tread without complaint and ejecting it without creating the impression of their feet.
"What are those things?" Remo asked, pointing out the tripod-mounted electronic equipment surrounding the Sphinxlike Panaflex cameras recording a Biblical epic movie set.
"I do not know."
"I think those are laser beams."
"Why would anyone want to burn holes in the Sphinx?"
"I don't think those are burning lasers, Little Father."
"Is that not what lasers do? Burn?"
"Some. Those probably do something else. What, I don't know."
They came upon a man in khaki shorts, his limbs splayed in a folding lawn chair shaded by a parasol. Before him was a portable laptop computer, and he was reading a book. Remo ducked his head to read the title. It was Chariots of the Gods?
"Those lasers yours?" Remo asked.
"They are," the man said in a snooty voice. A pith helmet was perched precariously on his elongated head. The letters UCLA were stenciled on the front.
"What are they doing?"
"Waiting for the Great Sphinx to move, if you must know."
"They're going to have a long wait," Remo commented.
"That is perfectly acceptable. UCLA is paying for this study."
"Do tell."
"I do. I am one of its foremost scholars. Now, kindly shoo. You are in my reading light."
"Happy to oblige," said Remo, walking away. After he rejoined the Master of Sinanju, Remo asked, "Did you hear that screwball? He's waiting for the Sphinx to move."
"He is very intelligent for a sunburned white."
"What do you mean?"
Chiun gazed up, noting the angle of the midday sun. "It is time for the Sphinx to move."
Remo looked up at the Sphinx's noseless, wind-worn face. "This, I gotta see to believe."
"Alas, you cannot."
"Why not?"
Chiun regarded him with flinty eyes. "Because it is you who will move great Sun Lion."
"I can't move that"
"Why not?"
"It's too big."
"The earth is big. It moves. The moon is big. And it moves. The Sphinx is not so big, so you can move it easily."
"With all these tourists around?"
"It matters only that it moves. It does not have to move very far." Chiun's eyes narrowed cunningly. "Unless you can answer the riddle of the Sphinx," he added thinly.
Remo grinned. "Sure. Try me."
"You must not guess. You may answer only from knowledge."
"Fair enough."
Chiun regarded him thinly. "Whose face does the Sun Lion wear?"
"That's not the riddle of the Sphinx. The question is what walks on four feet in the morning, two in the afternoon and three in the evening?"
Chiun brushed Remo's protest aside. "That is the wrong riddle. That is a child's riddle. You are not a child, but a Master of Sinanju. The true riddle has been asked. Do you know the answer?"
"You know I don't."
"Are you certain? Examine the proud features. Do they not look familiar?"
"I don't know too many noseless pharaohs," Remo growled.
Chiun nodded. "Then you must move the Lion that Faces the Sun."
"What kind of test is this?"
"A difficult one," said the Master of
Sinanju.
"Har-de-har-har-har," said Remo.
He began to walk around the Sphinx. It was gigantic. That was no surprise, but walking all the way around impressed Remo with its sheer immensity. He felt like a dwarf beside one of its limestone toes. How a technologically primitive people had erected it was beyond him. That it had stood there for nearly five thousand years impressed him. And as he came back to the face, so incredibly ancient, the knowledge that time had eroded its glory saddened him.
"When it was built, it must have been the greatest thing in the world," he said.
"It was," breathed Chiun. "Now look at it."
"Yes, look at it. It is still great, but there are many great things in the world and this magnificent beast of limestone is but a honey cake set out to attract human ants and their money."
"If there's a way to move this thing, I don't see it."
"There is. And if you do not discover it, we will never see Kush."
"Suits me."
"But not me. You may begin at any time."
Remo checked the Sphinx. He looked enough like a tourist the local police didn't bother him. The other tourists ignored him. A camel spat in his direction, but Remo avoided the expectorant without turning. His body sensed pressure waves and moved him out of its path.
At the right front paw, Remo casually leaned his back against the member. His feet dug into the limestone platform on which the Sphinx was built. He pushed his body in both directions.
Somewhere a computer beeped. "It moved! It moved!"
Remo came around the paw and said, "What moved?"
The UCLA professor was jumping up and down with undisguised glee. "The Sphinx. It moved! My instruments registered positive movement."
"You're crazy. I was right next to it."
The man squealed with delight. "It moved a nanometer."
"How small is that?"
"Barely a billionth of a meter."
"Maybe it was the laser that moved."
"Impossible. It was the beam that reacted to the movement, not the laser case."
"What direction?"
"Northeast."
"I'll go check. You go that way."
Remo ran to the rear of the Sphinx, looked both ways and leaned his back against the rump. His feet hissed as the heels sunk into the sand-dusted platform on which the Sphinx reclined.
Up by the head another beep came. "It moved! It moved again!" Remo came running.
"Which direction?" he asked the excited man.
"Northeast. The same direction."
"I didn't see anything."
"Something's making the Sphinx turn toward the northeast."
"Tell you what," said Remo. "You go back to the rump. I'll watch the head."
"Yes. Yes. Thank you. Thank you."
Remo took the same spot by the front paw and leaned his back against the Sphinx as if tired. His body became one with the great idol. So when he exerted pressure, it responded down to its limestone-block toes. There came a beep and another shout of exultation. "It moved! It's a miracle. The Sphinx is moving!" As the UCLA professor came running back toward the head, taking Instamatic pictures every step of the way, Remo returned to his spot at the rump. This time he laid his hands against the ruin and leaned into it.
The beeping became a protracted squeal, and when Remo was satisfied, he stepped away and found the Master of Sinanju.
"That enough?" Remo asked Chiun.
"Huk moved it just as far with only two pushes."
"Huk didn't have lasers to deal with."
The UCLA professor was leaping into the air, pumping his arms excitedly. "The Sphinx moves! I've proved it. The Sphinx moves!"
"Personally," Remo called out, spanking limestone dust off his hands, "I think your equipment's on the fritz."
The man's face fell. "It's the best money could buy."
"You have all these witnesses, and no one saw a thing."
The UCLA professor got down on hands and knees, trying to see under the Sphinx. "Maybe it's on a pivot. Like a weather vane. We should dig it up. I'll bet we find a pivot."
"You know how much time and money that would cost?"
"Millions," the man cried. "Millions and millions. This is too big for UCLA. This is a Yale grant. I'll need a Yale grant. Excuse me. I have to call the States."
As he ran off, Remo asked Chiun, "Now what? Do I push it back or what?"
"No."
"No? You mean that's it?"
"It is enough for this century. I have pushed it and now you have pushed it. If you ever sire a worthy successor, he can push it. Eventually it will face the proper direction."
"What's the proper direction?"
"Toward my village of Sinanju, of course."
"How long will that take?"
"Only another two thousand years."
Remo looked up at the crumbling face. "Think the old guy will last that long?"
"Not if these pesky tourists continue to clamber atop it."
"Not our problem. Where to next?"
"The Egyptians called it wretched Kush."
"Give me a name I understand."
"The Greeks named it Ethiopia. To the Romans it was Africa."
"I'm not up for Africa."
"We could journey to Hyperborea instead."
Remo frowned. "I never heard of Hyperborea."
"I will give you a choice. Hyperborea or Africa?"
"Is this a trick question?"
"Only to the ignorant."
Remo reached into his pockets and pulled out two coins, the Greek drachma and the Roman denarius. "How about if I flip a coin? Heads Hyperborea and tails Africa."
"I will accept this."
Remo flipped the coin, and the face of Hermes landed up.
"Hyperborea it is. Sure hope it isn't hot and steamy like Africa."
"It is not."
"By the way," asked Remo as they sought a cab back to Cairo, "what did you mean when you said they threw away their brains?"
"When a pharaoh died, his body was prepared for entombment with preserving niter and bitumen, should he reclaim it at a later time. It was wrapped in specially prepared linen, and the organs extracted and preserved in jars. Except for one organ."
"The brain?"
"The brain."
"Why did they throw away the brains?"
"Because while the Egyptians understood the function of the heart and the liver and the gall bladder, they did not know the purpose of their own brains. And so if there is an afterlife for pharaohs, it must be a terrible place because they have no brains in their skulls to enjoy eternal dominion among the Imperishable Stars."
And amid the blowing sands of Giza, which would one day overtake Cairo itself, Remo Williams laughed softy. Until Chiun said something that wiped the smile from his face and caused a chunk of ice to settle in his heart.
"When I am a mummy, Remo, see to it that my brain reposes in the correct receptacle."
Chapter 9
The flight from Cairo to Hyperborea stopped at Copenhagen, Denmark, which Remo took to be a good sign. They changed planes in Iceland, which made Remo's brow furrow with worry.
While they refueled at the Icelandic capital of Reykjavik, Remo noticed with relief that it was very green. A stopover in Greenland made him decide whoever had named both places must have dropped his notes. Iceland was green and Greenland was icy.
And when the crew changed at Godthaab, Greenland, and the Danish stewardesses who kept nibbling on Remo's ears became Eskimo stewardesses who tried to rub their cold noses against his warm one, Remo took this to be a very very bad omen.
So when the gray seas below the Air Canada's wings became choked with cakes of ice, Remo was not particularly surprised.
"We're not going to the North Pole by any chance?" wondered Remo.
"No, we are not," Chiun said. "Good," said Remo.
"You are going to the place where only one Master of Sinanju has ventured before you."
"Where is that?"
/>
"The moon."
"I am not going to the moon. Air Canada doesn't fly there."
Chiun waved the objection away. "It is too late for you to object, inasmuch as you are already on your way."
As the plane droned on, the Eskimo stewardesses kept up a running chatter about how they were now called Inuit but Remo could call them bandicoots if he gave them all a big hug. Preferably one at a time, but because they were landing soon, all at once would do just fine.
"Pass," said Remo, thinking furiously.
"Why do you spurn the advances of these fine, sturdy women?" asked Chiun in an undertone.
"How come you didn't ask me that in Spain or Egypt?"
"Those women spring from inferior stock."
Remo took a second look at the stewardesses who were beaming brilliant smiles in his direction like roundfaced searchlights.
"These women look suspiciously Korean," he said.
"They are not. They are Eskimo."
"Inuit," called a bell-like voice.
"You know, they say Asians came across the Bering Strait and populated America."
"These women could pass for Asian," Chiun admitted. "Chinese perhaps. Or Mongol. But not Korean. Although they have their charms."
"If you like pumpkin heads perched on squash bodies."
"They are fortuitously designed for childbearing. This is a good thing for a man of your advancing years."
"My years aren't advancing that I know of. I look younger than I did before I came to Sinanju."
"It would be a correct thing for you to impregnate the three you like best in the event you do not return from the moon in this century," Chiun told Remo.
"Three?"
"Knowing you, I do not trust you not to sire another female. If not two. But if you make three with child, surely at least one boy will result."
"Pass."
"Awww," said the stewardesses in unison.
"No offense," Remo assured them. "I already have a daughter."
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