Line of Succession td-73

by Warren Murphy

  "I have not given permission that this child be entered into Sinanju training," Jilda said firmly.

  "Your permission is not needed," snapped Chiun. "This does not concern you, only Remo, the child, and me."

  "I am the child's mother."

  "Has she been weaned?"

  "Of course. She is nearly four years old."

  "That means your work is done. Remo is the father and I the grandfather-in spirit, of course. We make all decisions concerning the child's future. But it does not matter now. Everyone knows that females are uneducable. Their bodies cannot handle Sinanju. They are good only for cooking and breeding. In that order."

  "Have you forgotten, old man, that I was the representative of my people at your Master's Trial? Only Remo and I survived that ordeal. I am female and a warrior, too."

  "A warrior is not an assassin," Chiun spat. "My people will never again look upon us with respect. It is your fault, Remo. You gave this woman the wrong seed. You should have given her a good male seed, not an inferior female seed."

  "I'm a father," Remo said bewilderedly. He reached out to touch the little girl's hair. It felt soft and fine.

  "You sound surprised," snorted Chiun. "You knew that she bore your seed when you and this woman parted after the Master's Trial."

  "I asked that you not tell him," Jilda said accusingly. "You promised to keep this child our secret."

  "He had to know. The child bears the spirit of Sinanju. Or at least I supposed it had. Why did you not tell me it was a female?"

  "This is Remo's child. The rest does not matter."

  And at that particular piece of white imbecility, the Master of Sinanju threw up his hands.

  "I give up! I am ruined. Disgraced. And no one understands. "

  But neither Remo nor Jilda was listening. Remo was stroking his daughter's head as Jilda looked on tenderly. The tension seeped from her face, to be replaced by a mother's contented pride.

  "Hi, there," Remo said quietly. "You don't know me, but I'm your daddy."

  Little Freya looked up. "Daddy," she giggled, reaching for Remo's face. "I missed you."

  "May I?" Remo asked. Jilda nodded.

  Remo took his child in his arms. She was heavier than he had expected. Freya had most of Jilda's features, but her face was rounder. Her eyes were as brown as Remo's, but not as deeply set.

  "How could you miss me?" Remo asked. "You've never met me before today."

  Freya hugged Remo's neck. "Because you're my daddy," she answered. "All little girls miss their daddies. Don't they?"

  "Awww," said Remo, hugging her tightly.

  "Uggh!" said Chiun, turning his back disdainfully.

  "Little Father, maybe you should go for a walk or something," Remo suggested. "Jilda and I have things to discuss. "

  "If anyone wants me," Chiun muttered, "I will be committing suicide. Not that anyone cares." He strode up the shore path, his stovepipe hat rocking to his angry gait.

  Jilda took Freya from Remo and placed her on the ground. "Play, child," she bade her daughter.

  "Why didn't you tell me about her?" Remo asked, watching Freya playing with the good-luck streamers.

  "You know my reasons."

  "I want to hear them from you."

  "After the Master's trial, when I knew that I carried your child, I understood that there could be no place for me in your life. Nor you in mine. I did not belong in Sinanju. I could not be with you in America. Your work is dangerous. You have many enemies-and one enemy in particular. I could not risk this child's life. Keeping my own counsel was the only way I knew to avoid our facing an impossible choice."

  "I almost went after you, you know."

  "I would have fled," Jilda said.

  "But you're here now," Remo pointed out.

  "I received a letter from Master Chiun, bidding me to come to Sinanju. I was told you were in danger, and that only my and our child's presence would save you."

  "Yeah," Remo said bitterly. "From matrimony."

  "Do you love her?" Jilda asked, nodding toward the closed door of Mah-Li's house.

  "I think so. I thought I did. Seeing you here again has me all confused. I thought we'd never meet again. And now this."

  "I, too, feel mixed emotions. Seeing you about to wed was like a sword sliding into my belly. I hold you to no promises, Remo, for we made none to each other. Your life is your own. As is mine."

  "It's different now. I don't work for America. I'm planning on settling here."

  "Then perhaps it is time that we face the hard choices we fled from when last we were together," said Jilda, smiling tentatively.

  Impulsively Remo took her in his strong arms and kissed her. Freya broke out in bubbly laughter. "Mommy and Daddy like each other!" she said, clapping her hands with glee.

  "Let's go for a walk," Remo suggested. "The three of us."

  "What about her?" asked Jilda.

  Remo shot a guilty glance at the house of Mah-Li. "One insurmountable problem at a time," he said, reaching out to take Jilda by one hand and Freya with the other. It felt right somehow.

  Chapter 26

  The Master of Sinanju sat amid the splendor of his treasure. His parchment face was strained. Before him the scrolls of Sinanju stood upright in glazed celadon holders. Chiun went from one to another, searching for guidance.

  There was no precedent in all the history of Sinanju for such a thing. Never before had a Master failed to produce a male on the first try. Masters of Sinanju, being absolute masters of their bodies, possessed the ability to produce males at will. Remo had been taught the exercises that built up the male seed so that there was no chance for error. But of course, Remo, being lazy, had complained about the exercises.

  And now this. Chiun hoped to discover guidance in the writings of his ancestors. Perhaps the child should be sacrificed to the sea, as was done in past times when the village was without sufficient food. The infants were drowned in the cold waters of Sinanju harbor.

  But there was no record of that ever being done with the offspring of the Masters. Perhaps, Chiun thought, that meant that he was free to create his own solution. It had been a rare thing, these last five centuries, for a reigning Master to inaugurate new traditions, and a faint smile tugged at his dry lips at the thought of entering another first in the records of the Master Chiun.

  But that still left the problem.

  Chiun heard Remo's approach before the knocking started.

  "That door is thousands of years old," Chiun said. "If you break it with your ridiculous knocking, I will hold you personally responsible."

  The door opened with a splintering crash. Wood chips flew everywhere.

  "Are you mad?" cried Chiun, horror wrinkling his face. "This is a desecration!"

  "Look, don't give me any of that crap," Remo shouted back. He had changed out of his makeshift wedding costume. "It's all your fault I'm in this mess."

  "I am the one who is in a mess. I have to decide what is to be done about the daughter you have inflicted upon me."

  "Inflicted? What kind of talk is that?"

  "Sinanju talk. Men are born into the world. Women are inflicted upon it."

  "Not in my book," Remo said.

  "No, but in my scrolls. How could you sire a female? Had I taught you nothing? You knew the exercises."

  "Those weren't exercises. They were torture."

  "A minor sacrifice to ensure a male is produced."

  "I don't call drinking fish oil for a week before I do it, holding a pomegranate in my right hand and poppy seeds in my mouth while I'm doing it, and plucking my eyebrows afterward minor sacrifices."

  "The eyebrow plucking can be dispensed with," Chiun said dismissively. "It is only for luck."

  "Look, Jilda and I have been talking. There's a chance we can come to an understanding about our future."

  "I might agree to that."

  "Might?"

  "On one condition. She sells the baby."

  "No chance. How could you e
ven ask that?"

  "According to Sinanju tradition, the firstborn is trained in Sinanju. But never women. She must be trained, but she cannot be trained because she is female. It is a conundrum I cannot resolve."

  "Solve it later. I've got a problem too. What about Mah-Li? I love her, but after what's happened, she probably hates me. "

  "I will speak with her."

  "I think I should be the one. But I don't know what to say to her. I need your help."

  "Help?" muttered Chiun, picking through his scrolls. "Ah, this one covers that eventuality," he said, unrolling it. "Listen, 'In the event that the Master must break off his betrothal to one woman because he has stupidly sired a female first born by another, matters can be brought to a balance by offering said child to the jilted one and trying for a boy with the other.' "

  "What? Let me see that," demanded Remo, snatching up the scroll. He ran his eyes down the parchment. "It says no such thing. This is all about lineage."

  Chiun shrugged. "It was worth a try," he said.

  "I really like the way you play fast and loose with my life."

  "I was not the one who got one woman with child and tried to marry another one."

  "I hadn't seen Jilda in over four years. I didn't even know where to find her. And she didn't want to be found. What was I to do? It took me long enough to get over her the first time. "

  The Master of Sinanju replaced the scroll thoughtfully. "We must deal with this one unpleasant step at a time," he announced. "Come, we will visit Mah-Li."

  "Fine," said Remo. But as he followed Chiun along the shore road, his heart beat high in his throat. He forced his breathing lower in his stomach, trying to get a grip on his emotions.

  The decorated courtyard was deserted when they arrived. Wind plucked at the good-luck streamers forlornly. A loon flew up from the tipped bowl of jujubes, and the wine had been spilled.

  Remo knocked at the door. There was no answer. "Maybe we'd better come back," he suggested nervously. "It might be too soon."

  "It will only be harder tomorrow," said Chiun, pushing on the door. Remo followed him in.

  The main room was empty of all but a low table and some sitting mats.

  "Mah-Li?" Remo called. His voice bounced off the bare walls.

  Chiun raised,his nose. His nostrils clenched. "Smell," he commanded.

  "What is it?"

  "Death," said Chiun. "Come."

  In the next room, the bedroom, Mah-Li lay on her sleeping mat, still in wedding costume. She lay with her face turned to the ceiling, pale hands folded upon her breast. Her eyes were closed. The room was still. Too still.

  Remo pushed past Chiun. He knelt and tapped on Mah-Li's shoulder.

  "Mah-Li? It's me," he whispered.

  There was no response. And Remo suddenly, shockingly, recognized why the room was too still. He could not hear Mah-Li's heartbeat.

  "Mah-Li!" he cried, lifting her head in his hands. Mah-Li's head lolled to face him. Her cheek was cool to the touch, her face the flat color of antique ivory. From the corner of one closed eye a dried tear had streaked down her cheek and under her chin. The tear was red.

  Although he knew what the tear meant, Remo touched her throat. His trembling fingertip detected no pulse. Remo looked up into the stern face of the Master of Sinanju. His expression was stricken.

  "She's dead," he said hoarsely. Chiun knelt and felt her face.

  "What could have happened?" Remo asked, his voice cracking. "She was fine at the ceremony. That was only an hour ago. Little Father, can you explain this?" And Remo's mouth drew into a thin line.

  The Master of Sinanju undid the high collar at Mah-Li's throat, disclosing a purple braise no larger than a dime. "A blow," he said. "Look."

  The bruise was over the larynx. Remo felt it. One touch told him that the windpipe had been collapsed. He looked up.

  Chiun nodded. "A single finger stroke did that."

  "Whoever did this knew what he was doing. If it wasn't for the blood, I would suspect Sinanju."

  Remo looked down at the face of the woman he was to have married. Even in death, it was a peaceful face. "Little Father," Remo said in a faraway voice. "Did you do this?"

  Chiun came to his feet, girding his kimono about, his waist.

  "I will assume that your grief has caused you to ask that question, and not you," he said. "Therefore, I will answer it and not take offense. No, I did not slay this poor child of my village. Such a thing would be sacrilege."

  "Well, if I didn't do it, and you didn't, who did?"

  "The murderer may still be about. Come, let us hunt the dog."

  Carefully Remo lifted Mah-Li's head off his lap and set it on the sleeping mat. Unable to tear his eyes from her face, he stood up.

  "Whoever he was, he couldn't get far in an hour," he said.

  "Your grief has blinded you, Remo. Did you not see how the blood has dried on her cheek? That poor girl was slain last night."

  "But the wedding was only an hour ago. She was there."

  "Not her. Someone who looked like her."

  "Something's not right here," said Remo.

  "Come." Chiun beckoned. "There are answers to be sought. "

  The Master of Sinanju stormed out of the house of Mah-Li, his face grim. Remo started after him, stopped, and dropped to one knee beside the body of Mah-Li. He kissed her once, on her slightly parted lips. They were cold and tasteless.

  "I wish-" Remo started to say, but his voice choked off and he hurried from the house.

  The Master of Sinanju waited for him in the courtyard. "We will accomplish more if we go our separate ways," he said.

  "After this is over," Remo said grimly, "we may go our separate ways in more ways than one." His eyes were the color of a beer bottle that had been left out in the elements, dull and devoid of sparkle.

  "If that is your wish, then so be it," said Chiun proudly. "I am content that I have done only what is right for my people and my village."

  "Yeah, I noticed," Remo muttered, starting off.

  Chiun watched him go. Remo's hands were clenched into white fists of rage. His back was straight and defiant, but the Master of Sinanju saw that his pupil walked with his head bowed, like a man who did not care where he was going-or one who had no place to go.

  Shaking his head sadly, he turned to the shore road. And saw the man standing on the rocks.

  The man was short. He stood with his hands on his hips, defiantly. His face was swathed, like his body, in black folds of cloth. And from the patch of uncovered skin at his face, slanted black eyes laughed insolently.

  "You are not content to be a thief, ninja," Chiun hissed under his breath. "Now you are a murderer as well."

  And as if the ninja could hear him across the rocks, he laughed out loud. The laugh was a rattle of contempt. "Remo!" Chiun shouted. "Behold!"

  Remo whirled, his eyes following Chiun's accusing finger.

  The ninja jumped back and disappeared behind the tumbled rocks of the beach.

  Without a word, Remo burst into motion. He flashed past Chiun like a wild wind. The Master of Sinanju leapt after him.

  "It is he, the thief from America," said Chiun.

  "He did this," Remo bit out. "And he's going to suffer for it."

  Together they topped the rocks and swept the beach below with their eyes.

  "He is not here," said Chiun in a puzzled voice.

  "Must be hiding," Remo decided, jumping onto the sand. "He couldn't have gotten far."

  "But where?" said Chiun, following. "There is no place to hide."

  Remo didn't answer. He ran along the beach, looking for footprints. But there were none.

  Remo doubled back. "Other way," he said, passing the Master of Sinanju.

  Chiun reversed direction too. Remo was running so fast his toes, touching the ripples of beach sand, left almost no mark. Chiun nodded. Remo was almost good enough to be Master now. Even in his grief he remembered to control his feet.

  Chiun looked b
ack to see the marks his own sandaled feet left. There were none. Good. Chiun was still Master. Chiun caught up to Remo at the base of one of the towering Horns of Welcome. Remo was talking to someone. Chiun recognized the wizened form of old Pullyang, the village caretaker.

  "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.