"He didn't make it," Remo said.
"On the first day," continued Chiun, "I watched him ascend until he was a spider speck against the snows of the high mountain and he disappeared into the upper mists. He had gone very high. I could tell, because at times falls of snow indicated that he was nearing the summit. I remember a moment on that day when I was very, very proud. But time passed, and my son did not descend from Mount Paektusan. I waited, determined that if he reached the summit on his own, he would descend on his own. I was stubborn. The sun set on my pride and it arose upon a stubborn young man-for I was young in those days-and when my son did not return, I scaled the peak to reach him, angry and intending to berate him for his lack of resolve.
"I found him near the summit," Chiun said softly, looking at his hands in his lap. "To this day, I do not know if he fell trying to reach the summit or while climbing down from it. The last of the snow had melted that morning, and there were no traces of his climb. My son lay on a wet outcropping, where he had fallen and dashed his head. He had been dead for many hours, but it had taken him many hours to die. Had I been less stubborn, I might have found him in time. I carried his body home to his mother, and from that day on she never had a civil word for me, nor would she allow me to enter her so that I would have another son and an opportunity for atonement. In time, age did make her barren, as I have told you in the past. But in truth, she did not trust me with another child."
"Why didn't you divorce her and remarry?"
"In Sinanju, one marries for life."
"Life sucks sometimes," said Remo.
"When you are Master you may write that in the scrolls of Sinanju, if that is your wish. But there are worthier thoughts. "
"I can't help how I feel."
"How do you feel?"
"How do you think I feel? I lost my bride-to-be, and the woman who mothered my daughter is afraid to have me around. All because of one man. "
"And so you will seek revenge, even though it costs you your life."
"What else do I have?"
"Me."
"What?"
Chiun searched Remo's face hopefully. "You have me. Have I meant nothing to you, that you would kill yourself and deprive an old man of his last chance for atonement?"
"I don't owe you anything. Especially after that trick you pulled at the wedding."
"I saved you from a horror. Had you married what you thought was Mah-Li, the Dutchman would have revealed himself to you at a moment of great intimacy. I spared you that."
"You didn't know it was the Dutchman at the ceremony. Don't you take credit for that. Don't you dare take credit for that."
Chiun smiled to himself. Anger. Good. Remo was coming out of his depressed self-absorption.
"I do not claim to have prior knowledge of the deception, true," Chiun admitted. "But the good I did still stands. You cannot disagree with that."
"You always twist things around so that they turn out in your favor," Remo said.
"True," agreed Chiun. "After I lost my son, I learned to transform defeat into victory, errors into detours, not endings. I promised myself that I would never feel such bitter disappointment again in my life."
"I always wondered why you did some of the things you did. "
"Because I am Chiun," said the Master of Sinanju. "But do not think that because I did not know of the Dutchman's deception, my motives were selfish."
"Here we go again," said Remo bitterly. "Here's where you do it to me again. Okay, Chiun, give me your explanation. Tell me how wrecking my wedding was for my own good. And make it good, because if you don't convince me, I'm walking out of this place and you're never going to see me again. You understand? End of partnership. We're through."
Chiun drew himself up so that his sitting posture was perfect, the spine aligned with the pelvis and the head sitting square to the upper vertebrae.
"Remember this time a year ago, when you brought me back to Sinanju?" Chiun asked.
"You were sick. Or faking sickness. You wanted to come back to Sinanju for good."
"Faking or not," said Chiun, "you thought I lay near death. And in your grief, you sought solace. Do you remember your first meeting with Mah-Li?"
"Yeah. She wore a veil to hide her face because the other villagers thought she was ugly. They called her Mah-Li the Beast. She was gorgeous, but by the screwed-up ideals of Sinanju beauty, she was homely."
"When did you first fall in love with her?"
"Almost immediately. It was love at first sight."
"Yet you did not see her face on that first meeting. How could you love at first sight when you had no sight of her veiled face?"
"I don't know. It was her voice, the way she made me feel good all over. She was lonely, an orphan like me."
"Precisely," said Chiun.
"Precisely what?" Remo asked.
"You were lonely. You thought the Master of Sinanju-the only person you cared for in life-was dying. You reached out to the nearest person you saw to fill the void in your existence. "
"You'd better not be saying that I didn't love her."
"I am not saying that. Love is learned. This love at first sight is a Western concept. A rationalization of a necessary but inconvenient urge. How long did you know Mah-Li?"
"A few weeks. I don't know."
"Less than a month," said Chiun. "And you knew her only a day when you came to me to ask my blessing for your marriage. Yet a month later when I stole away from Sinanju in the night, you left your love-at-first-sight and followed me to America. And when I told you I intended to remain in America for a full year, did you return to your betrothed? No, you chose to remain with me."
"I was worried about you. I thought of Mah-Li every day. "
"Did you send for her? Did you say, 'Mah-Li, come to America where we will be wed'?"
"No," said Remo slowly. "I wanted to be married in Sinanju. "
"So you say. But I say that had you met in other circumstances, had Mah-Li been a Korean living in America and you passed her on the street, you would not have given her a second look. You thought I was dying and you found a Korean maid who, in her sweetness and intelligence, was appealing to you. And so you took her for your betrothed to fill the coming void. When my health miraculously improved, that void was healed and there was no need for her in your life."
"I loved her!" Remo shouted.
"You came to love her. You started to love her. You saw her as the fulfillment of your dream of happiness. But in truth, you barely knew her. This is why you did not cry at her funeral. I watched you, Remo. No tears fell from your face. There was anger, yes. But not true grief. In fact, she was nearly a stranger to you. Deny this if you dare."
"Her death hasn't sunk in yet," said Remo. "Hey, I loved her. "
"You loved the dream. You loved what Mah-Li represented to you-your silly white house and picket fence. I understood this even if you did not."
"And you think that gave you the right to bust up the wedding? That's lame, Chiun. Even for you. I'll be seeing you around," added Remo, heading for the door.
Remo stopped at the threshold with Chiun's next words.
"I interfered with your wedding because you had a daughter you did not know. If it was your wish to marry, I would not have stopped you, even believing as I did that it was a mistake. But you had to see your own child first. You had to confront the reality that you had caused life to be brought into the world and weigh your new responsibility against this fantasy of yours."
Remo stood at the doorway unmoving.
"The love you had felt for Jilda of Lakluun was a casualty of the Dutchman. Did you think that living in Sinanju would have protected Mah-Li from his wrath? That is a lesson you have learned in the bitterest way imaginable. Just as I learned one of my own long before you were born. "
"As soon as Jilda came back," Remo said weakly, "all my old feelings for her returned."
"Because now she represents your dream. And can you say whom you loved more, of these
two women?"
"I never slept with Mah-Li, you know. I wanted to do it the old-fashioned way. Wait for the honeymoon."
"What are you saying? That because you had lain with one and not the other, you cannot compare them? That is unworthy of you, Remo. "
Remo shook his head. "No, it's not that. I was just thinking out loud. I don't know, I'm all confused. I've got to clear my head. I have decisions to make."
"Yes," said Chiun, climbing to his feet. "You have many decisions to make. Whether to live or to die. Whether to be a father or to walk away from fatherhood. Whether to continue as my pupil or to go your way. But either way you choose, Remo, you will have to walk through shit. For that is life."
Chiun stepped out into the cold night.
"I am going to my home," he said solemnly. "If you wish, you may come with me. There will be a fire."
"I'd rather be alone right now," said Remo, looking at the house that was all he owned in the world.
"Just as long as you understand that your decision affects more than you alone. If you make the wrong decision, little Freya is an orphan-and I am once again sitting at the bottom of Mount Paektusan, a stubborn and childless man."
"I'll let you know, Little Father," said Remo. "You know what hurts the worst? The last time I saw Mah-Li alive, it wasn't her. It was that bastard Purcell."
"And my son was dead even as I berated him in my mind for his failure. We have that emptiness in common, you and I."
And Chiun walked off, grateful that whatever Remo decided, he had once again called him Little Father. It still felt good, even after all these years.
Remo watched the Master of Sinanju go and turned his attention to the house. He had built it bare-handed, breaking the bamboo with deft chops, splitting it with his fingernails to make the floor. It was only a shell. It had never been more than a shell, roofless and solitary. Like my life up to now, Remo thought bitterly.
Remo kicked at one wall. It wobbled, then crashed mushily. He attacked the remaining walls, tearing them apart, ripping up the floor and hurling shoots of bamboo high into the air. One by one, they splashed into the barren waters of the West Korea Bay and were borne away like the fragments of a dream. His dream.
When he was done, Remo stood on the bare earth where the house no longer existed. The tears came then. Finally. They flooded out and he sank to the ground sobbing.
When they stopped, Remo got up and scuffed the dirt smooth until there was nothing to show that a dream had ever been built on the site.
Remo took the shore path, back into the village of Sinanju. Everything was clear now.
Chapter 31
Sunrise found the Master of Sinanju inscribing a fresh scroll. He heard Remo Williams climbing the hill, and noticing his firm and confident step, continued writing.
"I've decided," Remo said from the open door.
"I know," replied the Master of Sinanju, not looking up from his calligraphy.
"I'm going back to America," Remo announced.
"I know," said Chiun.
"You couldn't know that."
"I knew it a year ago."
"No way," said Remo. "Don't try to con me with that tired Oriental-wisdom routine. That went out with Charlie Chan. You couldn't know."
"Remember a day last year when you barged in on my meditation? You had great plans for Sinanju, you said. You wanted to put in electricity, running water, and-ugh!-toilets. "
"I thought they were improvements. There's plenty of gold. The village can afford it."
"For thousands of years the village of Sinanju has been considered the pearl of Asia," Chiun recited. "Long before there was an America. Men have come here seeking power and gold and jewels. Instead, they find a ramshackle fishing village where the men do not fish, the woman are no better than scullery maids and the children uncouth. They find squalor. And they move on, convinced that the legends are false or that the true Sinanju lies beyond the next horizon. And so my people and my treasure have remained safe for centuries. "
"Thanks for the lesson, but that doesn't explain how you could know a year ago that I would decide to return to America. "
"By the very act of intending these so-called improvements, my son, you were showing me that you were already homesick. It was your intention, whether you realized it or not, to remake this village in the image of your place of childhood, Newark, New Jersey." Chiun's nose wrinkled distastefully. "How clever you are. If there is a less desirable spot on the crust of the earth than my little village, it is there."
Remo considered. "Improvements," he said at last.
"I will not argue. You wish to return to America. Is that all?"
"The Dutchman said he killed Smith. I want to know if it's true. I owe him for that, as well as for Mah-Li. Then I'm going to bring him to American justice."
"Sinanju justice is more absolute."
"I'll only kill him if I have no choice."
"Why don't you simply sit down and slit your throat? You will be dead, and the Dutchman, being entwined with your destiny, will die. This will save you a long journey, not to mention plane fare."
"After I take care of the Dutchman," Remo went on, "I'm going to ask Jilda to marry me."
"I doubt that. After you take care of the Dutchman you will be dead. Even if a dead man can propose marriage, I doubt a living woman will accept. But she is white. Who knows? You can still hope."
"What about you?"
"What about me? I am like an onion that awaits peeling. There are so many fascinating layers. Where shall I begin?"
"You can come if you want. To America, I mean."
"Why would I want to? I have already carried one dead son home to Sinanju. I think that is my allotment in life."
"Well, if you don't want to . . ."
"I did not say that," Chiun said abruptly, putting down his quill. "I asked. It was a rhetorical question."
Remo's face brightened. "Then you're coming?"
"Only to see if Smith is in truth dead. It is a minor fact, but necessary if I am to finish the scrolls pertaining to my service in America."
"Whatever," Remo said nonchalantly. He pretended to examine a Persian wall hanging so that Chiun could not see his relieved expression.
"But I have another, more important, reason."
"Yeah? What's that?" Remo asked.
"You are an orphan."
"What kind of cockamammie reason is that?"
"The best kind. Who else is there to bury your miserable carcass after you have squandered your life?"
"Oh," said Remo: After a pause he said, "I'd like to leave as soon as possible."
"What is stopping you?"
"Don't you have to pack?"
"I have been packed for the last year, in anticipation of your decision. You will find my steamer trunks in the storage room. Be so good as to carry them to the edge of the village. A helicopter from Pyongyang is already on its way to transport us to the airport. I have purchased the airline tickets with my own money. First class for me and coach for you."
"Bull!" said Remo. "Even you couldn't be that sure of yourself." Then he heard the whut-whut-whut of a helicopter in flight. Remo subsided.
"You had best hurry," suggested Chiun, blotting the writing on his scroll. "I have chartered the helicopter by the hour. "
The village came out to watch the Master of Sinanju depart. The lazy whirl of the helicopter blades fanned their stricken faces.
"Do not fear, my people," Chiun called from the helicopter's side. "For I will return sooner than you think. Until then, faithful Pullyang will head the village."
Remo loaded the last steamer trunk into a hatch on the helicopter's skin. Then he looked around for Jilda. She stood a little off from the villagers, holding Freya's tiny hand. The helicopter blades picked up speed.
"Come, Remo," Chiun said, climbing aboard.
"Hold your horses," said Remo, walking toward Jilda. "I have to go," Remo told her. "But I'll be back. Will you wait for me?"
&nbs
p; "Where do you go, Remo?"
"America. I'm going to end the Dutchman's threat once and for all."
"Remo, hurry," Chiun called querulously. "The meter is running."
Remo ignored him. "I have to go. Please wait for me."
"I do not think so, Remo. I do not think you will return. "
"Look, I promise to come back."
"I do not belong here. Neither do you, I think."
"Remo!" Chiun's voice was strident.
"I'm coming," Remo snapped. The backwash of the helicopter blew Jilda's green cloak open. "Look, if you won't wait for me here, come with me. Now."
"That I will not do."
"Then meet me in America. We can talk there."
"Are you going, Daddy?" asked Freya.
Remo picked her up. "I have to, little girl."
Freya started to cry. "I wanted you to meet my pony," she cried. "I don't want you to go. Mommy, don't let Daddy go. He may never come back. "
"It can't hurt to meet me in America," Remo pleaded. "You don't have to decide anything just yet."
"I will consider it," said Jilda.
"That's something," said Remo. "Here, stop crying, Freya."
"I can't. I'm scared."
Remo set Freya down and knelt in front of her. He brushed a tear aside with his finger. "Let Daddy show you how never to be scared."
"How?" Freya asked petulantly.
"By breathing. Take a deep breath. That's right, hold it in. Now, pretend this finger is a candle. Quick, exhale!" Freya blew on Remo's upraised finger.
"Okay," said Remo, touching her heart. "That was breathing from the chest. But you want to breathe from down here," he said, tapping her round stomach. "Try it again."
Freya inhaled. This time, at Remo's instruction, she let it out slowly.
"Didn't that feel better?" Remo asked tenderly.
"Oh, yes! I feel all tingly. Not scared at all."
"That's Sinanju. A little hunk of it anyway. Keep practicing that way," Remo said, getting to his feet, "and you'll grow up to be big and strong. Like your mother."
Jilda smiled. She kissed Remo slowly, awkwardly, her bandaged arms held away from her body.
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