"Do you know the word ronin?"
"No."
"You are abysmally ignorant."
"Sue me."
"Sit."
Reluctantly Remo sat down on the fir needles, which were dry and odorless. A freshening breeze came off Long Island Sound, smelling of rank salt grass and dredged-up muck.
"A foe unlike any I have ever before encountered challenged me with his katana blade," said Chiun.
"Right."
"His first blow I parried successfully."
"Of course. You're you."
"His second passed through me harmlessly."
Remo frowned. "Okay..."
"We fought. Blows were struck. None landed. He was as mist. While I was as hard as bone. Yet no harm was done to either combatant."
"You were fighting a ghost?"
"A ronin."
Remo made a face. "I don't know that word."
Chiun lifted a hand, his left. The right lay in his lap, tightly fisted so the embarrassing absence of nail didn't show.
"I am not yet finished with my tale."
Remo subsided.
"Blows rained. Then the blade of doom was descending. But I feared it not, for it failed to swish and flutter the air it sliced through as a true blade should."
Remo nodded. Chiun had taught him years ago that striking swords made distinctive warning sounds.
"As this hateful blade had no substance. I failed to shrink from it." Chiun hung his aged head. "My error, which I will eternally regret."
"Oh, for crying out loud! It's only a nail."
Chiun clapped his hands in Remo's face. "My honor has been besmirched. The honor of the House has been besmirched. Thus, your honor has been sullied, as well."
"I don't feel besmirched or sullied," Remo countered. "Unless you count the fact that you let him run off with my new Dragoon."
Chiun regarded Remo with cold hazel eyes. "I have heard this story from my grandfather, who swore me to secrecy. My father never revealed it. Nor did the Master who trained me. But it is true nonetheless."
Remo had sense enough to close his mouth. Chiun's normally squeaky voice had deepened to the ringing tone he used to relate accounts of past Masters. There was no dissuading him from launching into whatever he was about to recount, so Remo mentally kissed his scarlet Dragoon goodbye and assumed an attentive mien.
"You know of shoguns?"
Remo nodded. "Sure. Old-time Japanese warlords."
"Once during a turbulent time in Japan, the shoguns were at war with one another. All Japan was in chaos. Terrible was the slaughter. Wonderful was the gold to be earned by a cunning Master who was prepared to play shogun against shogun."
An owl hooted. Without taking his eyes off Remo's face, Chiun picked up a stone and flung it. The owl squawked in midhoot and vacated the area in a frantic shivering of wings.
"The Master in those days was Kang. He was a very busy Master. There was no work from Egypt. There was no contact with Persia. The Khanates were quiet. But Japan called for his skills time and time again. Now in these days Kang would betake himself to Japan to succor this shogun or that shogun. He cared not which side of a duel he found himself. For one Japanese was the same as another in Kang's eyes." Chiun lifted a precautionary finger. "His mistake.
"A shogun sent a message to the village of Sinanju, which was peaceful and contented in the days of which I tell. For the gold flowed directly from Japan and into the bellies of the people of Sinanju. And this shogun summoned Kang to come to his keep to treat with him. The message was signed with the crest of a shogun Kang had never met but of whom he had heard.
"So Kang went as asked. He came to this keep, which lay on the Kanja Plain. And coming to this keep, he found it impregnable. No voice responded to his knock. His shouts went unanswered.
"Standing on the ground before the shogun's gate, Kang called up time and again, 'I am the Master of Sinanju, come to treat with the shogun who dwells within.'
"But only songbirds answered him, Remo.
"Thinking the shogun away in battle, Kang studied the keep well, and though it was thought impregnable, he discovered a way in. He breached this impregnable keep and as soon as he was within, a host of samurai fell upon him.
"Well the Master fought. Though every hand was against him, he gave no quarter, showed no mercy. Steel blade broke asunder against his mighty blows. Samurai spilled their innards as their own blades were turned upon them-for the blade has never been forged that could whelm a Master of Sinanju."
Chiun's voice grew hushed. He looked at his tightly clenched fist. A wince of pain troubled his wrinkled countenance. He went on. "When at last the shogun's samurai were exhausted, the Master went to his chambers and presented himself, his voice full of righteous wrath and thunderings.
" 'Why have you summoned me into a trap, shogun?. Speak, before I remove your head from its ignominious perch!'
"And in a voice that told Kang the shogun considered himself already dead, the defeated one said, 'I summoned you not. Why would I summon one whom the winds whisper had been hired to vanquish me?'
"Hearing these bitter words, the Master understood. He asked but one question. 'Who is your most bitter enemy, shogun?'
"And absorbing the name Nishi, the Master quitted the keep of the doomed shogun."
An understanding light came into Remo's eyes. Seeing this, Chiun nodded with quiet satisfaction, then continued his story.
"Journeying to the castle of the shogun who was called Nishi, Kang announced himself with these words, 'I am the Master of Sinanju, just come from the keep of your most bitter enemy.'
"'He is dead?' asked the shogun called Nishi in the manner of one who already suspected the answer and was pleased by it.
" 'No, only his samurai,' said Kang.
"And down from the ramparts of Nishi's castle came a single lump of gold-not even enough to pay for the food the Master had consumed along the way to Japan.
"Kang repaired into the forest for the night, Remo. With the dawn he saw the forces of Nishi array themselves about the keep of the first shogun, whom the Master had deprived of all protection.
"The armies of Nishi consisted of bowmen, swordsmen and spearmen. Some rode fine horses. Others marched on foot. Quickly they surrounded the defenseless keep. The moment of doom had come for the helpless shogun.
"Seated upon his stool far behind his lines where he could watch the coming battle, Nishi gave the order to attack.
"They came in crane formation. They moved in rolling-wheel formation, encircling the untrained servants of the doomed shogun. All this Kang saw from a place of secrecy.
"The battle lasted all day, not because the forces of Nishi met with resistance but because they delighted in slaughter. As the piteous cries and moans of the dying smote Kang's ears, he stared into his palm, where lay the lump of gold that would not carry his stomach back to his home.
"At last, when it was over, Nishi stood up from his stool and rejoiced in his great victory, purchased at so little cost to him, that from that day on all of Japan would tremble at the sound of his name. The pennants of his clan fluttered over all that was formerly his defeated foe's.
"That night Nishi slept in the fine bed of the dead shogun, with the unseeing head of the defeated one standing guard at the door to the bedchamber.
"But when his retinue came to wake him the next morning, they were struck dumb with horror. For perched on a spear pike at the very door sat the unseeing head of Nishi the Cunning. And on the bed where he had slept his last lay his dead body. But on the pillow, Remo, lay the correct head. The head of the shogun who had not summoned the Master of Sinanju."
Chiun leaned back.
"Nice story," admitted Remo.
Chiun inclined his head. "Thank you."
"But what does it have to do with anything?"
"Did I say the story was over?"
"No, but you acted like it was."
"You are easily deceived. A trait you will have to overcome
if you are to rectify the besmirchment of our House."
"I'm all ears," Remo said wearily.
"You are all nose and feet, but that is another story. Listen well.
"Unseen and unsuspected, Kang returned to his village, bearing no gold but having avenged a grievous insult. There to await another summons from Japan, whose gold and blood continued to flow for years to come.
"Now it was the custom in those feudal times that when a shogun died without heir, his samurai were released. They became masterless samurai, otherwise called ronin. "
"Ah-hah. "
"It was a shameful thing to be a ronin, Remo. A ronin had no clan, no liege, and no loyalty. Only his katana and his meager skills. Some ronin offered their services to any who would pay. Even lowly farmers. Others turned to banditry. Some fell into more-evil habits, such as politics. For in those times there were more samurai than there were shogun in need of warriors. Thus, the blight of itinerant ronin. "
"Kinda like Fuller brush salesmen today?"
"There is no comparison!" Chiun flared. "Now, sit quietly as I relate of my tale the portion that concerns us."
Chiun made his voice hollow. "A time came when Master Kang was at peace in his village. This was several years later. And word came that a peasant in a nearby village had been slain by an itinerant Japanese samurai.
"Now, since the slain one was not of our village-" Chiun paused to make certain Remo absorbed the word our "-Kang gave this matter no mind. Samurai in Korea were rare, but if the business of the samurai concerned Sinanju, the samurai would come to Sinanju."
"I'll bet he did," said Remo.
"He did. Exactly. A morning came when this samurai trudged into the village, hollow of eye, lean of cheek, his bedraggled body encased in once-fine armor that was as black as onyx. He came to the House of the Masters on the hill, where he took up a pitiful stance. And his voice lifted.
" 'I am Edo, a samurai made masterless by the Master of Sinanju.'
"Hearing this, Kang stepped into the morning sunlight. 'What shogun did you call master?' demanded Kang of the pitiful ronin.
" 'Nishi the Brave.'
"'Nishi the Miserly,' spit Kang, 'For he tricked the House and so sealed his doom.'
"'You have made me a ronin, and I have come to avenge this curse.' And out from its sheath purred his black katana.
" 'Better that you plunge the blade you now draw into your own belly than point it at the Master of Sinanju, ronin,' Kang intoned.
"And without another word, the ronin laid the flat of his blade across his outstretched wrist in a manner Kang recognized as a threatening stance."
"I can tell you exactly what happened after that," Remo said.
"You cannot. Listen well. The ronin bared his teeth like a wounded animal, all the hate he harbored in his heart leaped into his beady eyes like malevolent fires.
Suddenly he lifted the blade, and swack! Down it came, chopping off the first finger of the ronin's right hand. The digit fell to the dirt. Bending, he lifted it up and with a snarl flung it into the face of the Master, who of course dodged it with ease.
"Then without waiting, the ronin dropped to the ground-whereupon he opened his belly with his own blade."
Remo nodded. "Hara-kiri."
"No, seppuku! Hara-kiri is what ignorant whites call it. You are not white, although you are sometimes ignorant. The ritual suicide is called seppuku."
Remo sighed. "So the samurai died?"
"Do not dignify the wretch with that honorable term. He was but a ronin. And yes, he died, but not before leaving Master Kang in his debt."
Remo looked puzzled. "When did that happen?"
"The removal of the finger and the flinging of it, this is very Japanese, Remo. It signifies that the ronin acknowledged his powerlessness to avenge the insult against his person. Loss of the finger meant he challenged Kang to redress the wrong done to him. But the seppuku denied Kang that opportunity forever. Thus, the ronin died. Thus Kang lived with an unpaid debt hanging over his head."
Chiun leaned back. Remo waited, watching carefully. Was Chiun done? He looked done. But he had seemed done before. Remo wasn't about to be mousetrapped again.
"What have you to say, Remo?"
"You done?"
"Of course I am done!" Chiun flared. "Now, what have you to say?"
"It's a heck of a story?"
Taking his cloudy puffs of hair in hand, Chiun wrenched at them as if driven to utter distraction. "No!"
"Don't get upset. Don't get upset. Okay, the ronin chopped off his finger. Now, someone chopped off your fingernail. They connect, right?"
"Correct. They connect."
"Okay, I see where this goes. A descendent of the defingered ronin is after you."
"No. It is the same ronin. He has come back."
"From the grave?"
"Wherever it is that ronin come back from. I do not know. I am no Nihonjin." Seeing Remo's blank look, Chiun added, "A Nihonjin is a man from Nihon, which the English call Japan."
"You're telling me that a ghost samurai chopped off your fingernail?"
"Not a samurai-a ronin. He had no substance except when he wished. He had no face. He was not of this world. Therefore, he is of the next. For what other worlds are there?"
Remo looked Chiun square in the eye. "A dead ronin has my APC?"
"Yes. But he will not be satisfied until he has purchased redress."
"He got your fingernail. What more does he want? I mean, isn't that enough? A finger for a fingernail?"
"No. He desires my life. Possibly yours. My Master is dead, so he cannot take that from me. Therefore, he will make you, the next in line, masterless, thus doubly depriving me."
"This is all over fingers?"
"No. This is about face. Have you not been listening? Kang was deprived of face."
"That meant the ronin won. Shouldn't Kang be chasing him through the Void?"
"Is this white logic I hear? Are you flinging white logic in my face?"
"Has this guy ever bothered the House before? Since he died way back when, I mean?"
"No. That is why the story was not handed down. It was believed that he sought no revenge other than the unpayable debt. But now he is back."
"That doesn't make sense. Where has he been all this time? Where did he come from?"
"He came from the water. I heard him emerge, at first making sounds but later none and wielding a katana that had no substance yet bit like steel."
"You saying he walked all the way from Korea?"
"Yes."
"Wouldn't it have been easier to walk across the Bering Strait and take the land route via Canada? I mean, if you were a ghost, why would you take the long way? The poor SOB had to walk all the way across Asia and Europe, then cross the freaking Atlantic. Lot quicker to just walk the Pacific, don't you think?"
"Are you inflicting more white logic upon me?"
"No, just common sense."
"The answer to your idiotic question is as simple as it is obvious. The ronin became lost in his wanderings and came the wrong way. This explains why he was so many centuries before haunting us."
"I don't buy it."
"There is more." And Chiun extracted from his wide kimono sleeve the mangled manufacturer's plate from the Japanese bulldozer struck by the Merchant's Limited. "Behold. The crest of the four moons. This, Remo, is the crest of the Nishi clan."
"How do you know those are moons?" asked Remo.
"I know because I know moons."
Remo rolled his eyes moonward. "So in addition to walking the entire Atlantic seafloor, he dragged along the clan bulldozer?"
"I did not say that," Chiun flared.
"Okay, let's say to avoid an argument we have a phantom ronin on our tailbones. What do we do about it?"
"We must return to Sinanju."
"What!"
"Because to return to Sinanju means that he will have to follow. To follow means a Pacific crossing if he is wise, an Atlantic crossing if
not. Either way, by the time the ronin catches up with us, I will be long dead and one of your descendants will head the House."
"I'm not hiding from any ghost ronin. Besides, we're under contract to America."
"A Master buries the sword of his emperor. Do you remember that lesson, Remo?"
"Yeah. The emperor dies, the contract's void. Unless other arrangements are made. We're on the way to Washington to do just that, last I heard."
Chiun shook his head somberly. "No longer. We are on the way to Sinanju." Chiun stood up. "Come. We will return to Castle Sinanju, there to pack and prepare for your journey home."
Remo climbed to his feet. He towered over the Master of Sinanju. They stood regarding one another in the moonlight, Chiun gazing up, Remo looking down.
Remo spoke first. "As future Reigning Master, I have some say in this."
Chiun inclined his head politely. "You do."
Remo folded his lean, hairless arms across his chest. "Good."
"When you are Reigning Master and I am retired or dwelling in the Void. On this night you will obey Chiun your teacher so that the House continues."
"One step at a time is all I'm promising."
At that, Chiun flung himself out of the woods like a silken wraith, Remo padding after him, thinking, Won't my life ever settle down?
Chapter 9
Connecticut State Trooper Francis X. Slattery had pulled over all kinds.
His stretch of Interstate 95 got them all. It was close enough to New York City to suck up all the crazies coming north, and since as many crazies were hot to visit the Big Apple as escape from it, he got them coming in both directions.
It was worse in the summer. In winter, snow kept the chronic speeders within reasonable excess. Sometimes the snow kept them off the roads entirely. Even crazies had flashes of common sense.
But in midsummer everyone was on the road, sane or otherwise.
Yes, Slattery had pulled over all kinds. Topless blondes at the wheels of cherry-red convertibles. People humping in the back seat while doing ninety. Once, he pulled over a lime green Volkswagen Jetta to find an Irish setter at the wheel and the other occupants swearing up and down the dog had been exceeding the speed limit, stone deaf to their protestations.
But this was something new.
Engines of Destruction td-103 Page 8