"The two plums, cleaved, were bereft," Remo said.
"Correct. They thought if each of us thought the other was in danger, we would lower our defenses and become vulnerable," Chiun said.
"And you weren't hurt? You weren't in any danger?"
"Of course not," Chiun said disdainfully. He leaned over and picked up the fragments of a small black box. "It was some mechanical device, one of those tape-recorder things that does not record a television picture but only noise. I stepped on it when the unrecognizable screeching from it became unbearable."
"So we weren't cleaved and we aren't bereft," Remo said.
"As if any group of barbarians could cleave the House of Sinanju," Chiun said.
Both men paused to look around. The lawns were empty as far as the eye could see. The family of Wo had scattered.
Chapter Sixteen
"All's well that ends well," Remo said when they were back in the condominium.
"Nothing has ended," Chiun said.
"What do you mean? Woburn's dead; the family took off for the hills, what's left?"
"The House of Wo owes the House of Sinanju a public apology."
"Chiun, drop it," said Remo. "It's two thousand years old."
"A debt is a debt."
Chiun was standing by the window, looking out over the ocean. "There is already a new prince of the House of Wo. Let us hope he has the wisdom his predecessors had not."
Chiun stayed by the window until well after dark. Then Remo heard him move toward the front door. He heard the door open and a few whispered words and when he came back into the living room, Chiun was holding an envelope.
The old Korean opened it and read the message.
"It is an invitation," he said.
"You go. My dance card's filled," Remo said.
"It is an invitation for the House of Sinanju to meet with the House of Wo. We will both go."
"I'm part of the House of Sinanju?" Remo said.
Chiun looked up with an innocent expression. "Of course you are," he said.
"Thank you," said Remo.
"'Every house must have a cellar," Chiun said. "Heh, heh. You're the cellar of the House of Sinanju. Heh, heh. The cellar. Heh, heh."
They left at daybreak. Chiun wore a white-and-black ceremonial robe that Remo had never seen before. Emblazoned across the shoulders, in delicate silken embroidery, was a Korean character that Remo recognized as the symbol of the House of Sinanju. It translated as "center" and it meant that the House of Sinanju was the center of the world.
As the two men neared the porticoed front entrance to the sprawling mansion, the arched front doors swung open and four men emerged bearing two stretchers, which held the bodies of Reginald Woburn and Kim Kiley. Remo looked away as they passed and then back again as the island constable followed behind them.
"Ain't no morder," the constable muttered to himself. "Dat's for sure. No arrow in the heart, they be natural causes."
Remo and Chiun entered the mansion. Eerie silence testified that it was empty and Remo said, "I think maybe they're up to something. I don't trust them."
"We shall see," Chiun said quietly. "I am the Master of Sinanju and you are the next Master. This business with the Wos has gone on for too many years now. This day will see it end."
"Sure," Remo said. "We'll kill them all. What's a little carnage as long as it settles a score that nobody's old enough to remember?"
He followed Chiun through the house and then out the front entrance. There, awaiting them on the front lawn, were all the living descendants of Prince Wo. Remo scanned the rows of solemn faces, red, black, yellow, white and brown. No one was smiling.
"Who said big families had more fun?" Remo muttered.
Chiun walked down the steps, his silken robe swirling about him. He halted a few feet from the front rank of men and inclined his head slightly, the smallest of small bows.
"I am Chiun, Master of Sinanju," he said magisterially. "This is Remo, heir to the House of Sinanju. We are here."
A plump Oriental man dressed in a simple crimson robe stepped out of the front rank and bowed to Chiun. "I am Lee Wofan," he said solemnly. "The new prince in the long and illustrious line of the great Prince Wo. I have asked you here to discuss a matter of tribute."
"A tribute denied my predecessor, Master Pak," Chiun said.
"A tribute withheld by Prince Wo as a sign that showed the power of his rule," Lee Wofan said softly.
"And for his arrogance and pride," Chiun said, "Master Pak, one lone man, banished a prince and his army and his court from the face of the civilized world."
"It is so," Wofan agreed. "Here. To this very island Prince Wo came."
There was a sweet sadness in Chiun's voice as he spoke again. "And it was only for words," he said. "A public acknowledgment that the prince recognized Master Pak's performance of his contract." He paused for a moment. The silence was absolute. "And because of that, so many have died," Chiun said.
"It is as you say," Lee Wofan said. "Our legacy has been a curse from Prince Wo the Wanderer. This curse has followed my family in all its branches for two thousand years. Now the curse will be lifted. For we, the family of Wo, now do publicly acclaim the work of the great Master Pak in aiding our ancestor Prince Wo. And we further affirm that the Masters of Sinanju are assassins without equal. In this age or any other."
Chiun bowed his deepest bow. "I, Chiun, reigning Master of the House of Sinanju, accept your tribute for myself and for all Masters, past, present, and yet to come."
"Accept it and more," said Lee Wofan. He stepped to one side and then all the gathered descendants of Wo parted to reveal the stone itself, the stone whose message-to wait until the House of Sinanju had two heads and then to separate and kill them-had failed and brought only more death to the House of Wo.
"Our feud is ended," Lee Wofan said. "Never again will we heed the words written on this stone. We wish to live in peace."
Chiun turned to smile at Remo, then walked through the crowd until he faced the stone.
His voice raised above the crowd, he intoned: "So be our conflict behind us. But never forget Prince Wo or his legend or the Masters of Sinanju who will from this time forward be your friends and allies in trouble. Go back to your lands and remember. For it is only through our memories that the greatness of the past lives on."
With that, Chiun thrust out his hand. Once, twice, thrice. The stone shattered into a million pieces that streaked skyward, wheeling arid dancing, crystal bright under the rising sun.
"Welcome home, children of Wo," Chiun said, then turned and walked off through the crowd. They dropped to their knees as he passed among them.
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The Seventh Stone td-62 Page 15
