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lured away. Women are stolen for their rites. "
"Kidnappers?"
"A cult. An old cult, which is rising again. Old ways, old evils. They covet
my throne. They covet my daughter; They want to plunge Moo into backwardness
and ugliness."
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"But point the way and they will be dust," Chiun promised. He sensed the High
Moo's skepticism and desired to prove his prowess.
"They dwell in the Grove of Ghosts, at the west end of the island."
"Remo, listen to this," Chiun ordered.
"Huh? What?" Remo said, tearing his eyes off the feasting native girls.
"The High Moo now speaks of our task."
"I'm listening. Just tell him to talk slower. My Moo vocabulary isn't up to
speed yet."
"What does he say?" the High Moo asked Chiun. "He hangs on your every word,"
affirmed Chiun.
The High Moo nodded. "I spoke of old ways. Someone on this island has revived
an ancient evil. They have failed to kill me three times. Now they hurl
presentiments at me. Just last night, when I stood on the roof of my very
palace, a wicked one threw a jug of ocean water at me. It missed, but from the
shattered clay emerged . . . "
Chiun bent his old head. Remo leaned closer. "An octopus," the High Moo
breathed. Chiun gasped.
"No!" he said.
"Yes. Octopus worshipers!"
"Did you hear that, Remo? Octopus worshipers."
"Is that bad?" Remo wanted to know.
"Bad? It is terrible," Chiun said. "The octopus is the ancient Enemy of Life.
Its servants are the most despicable cult of all."
"Worse than TV evangelists?"
"Worse than TV evangelists," Chiun said solemnly. "TV evangelists only want
your money. Octopus worshipers covet the universe." He turned to the High Moo.
"It has been many generations since the last octopus worshipers were thought
stamped out."
"They have started up again in Moo."
"Then we will tear off their limbs and crush what remains," proclaimed Chiun.
Everyone in the feast circle turned to look at him.
"I can trust no one. Except you," the High Moo said when the laughter and
chatter started anew.
"The House of Sinanju owes service to the House of Moo. Of course, there is
the matter of the balance," Chiun suggested.
"I will pay triple the down payment, for you have come a long way. That is, if
you are able to accomplish this task I set before you."
"Able?" Chiun squeaked. "I am the Master of Sinanju."
"But you are old. Past your prime years."
"Past! I am young by Sinanju counting."
"And you have no weapons."
The Master of Sinanju said nothing for a moment. He picked up a coconut that
had been placed at his feet earlier. He had declined its sweet milk.
"Quadruple the down payment," said Chiun evenly.
"Too much! Too much!" cried the High Moo. "I do not have the coffers of Old
Moo. This is a small island compared to the greatness of former times."
"If you cannot afford proper protection from assassins, you should have called
upon a lesser house," Chiun returned coldly. "For although the glory of Moo
has set, the power of Sinanju has waxed great in the modern world."
The High Moo winced at the pointed insult. And Chiun smiled thinly.
"Triple," repeated the High Moo stubbornly. "Quadruple," said Chiun, "and I
will deliver the perpetrators tonight."
"Tonight?"
"By dawn you will preside over a peaceful land," promised Chiun.
"And triple if it takes longer?"
"Agreed," said Chiun.
"Done is done," said the High Moo, getting to his feet. Chiun rose beside him.
The High Moo placed a hand on the Master of Sinanju's frail shoulder and Chiun
placed his on the High Moo's opposite shoulder to signify agreement.
"We will drink to our agreement," proclaimed the High Moo. "Fetch a coconut."
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"No need," said Chiun, raising his right hand to the High Moo's broad face.
The coconut was balanced on the uprights of Chiun's fingers. With his other
hand he made a series of passes over the hairy shell, as if weaving a spell.
When he knew the High Moo's attention was fixed on his hand, Chiun lashed out
and sheared the top off the coconut.
The white meat lay exposed in a twinkling. Chiun offered the shell to the High
Moo, who, to his disgust, spat into it. He offered it to the Master of
Sinanju. Chiun sipped lightly. He spat the juice back into the husk and
returned it to the High Moo.
The High Moo drained the husk greedily, milk spilling from the corners of his
mouth.
"None for me?" asked Remo.
"Hush, slave," said Chiun. "I will now reveal the name of the chief culprit,"
he announced, stepping into the circle. Curious, Remo folded his arms.
"This better be good," he mumbled.
Chiun, his hazel eyes like steel, stamped around in a slow circle.
"The evil one is in our midst. I know this, for I am Chiun, Master of Sinanju,
who came across a great ocean to bring peace to this troubled empire. I see
all. I know all. "
"Bull," whispered Remo in English, He was ignored. "I know there are
conspirators in this very feast. I do not know them all, but I know their
leader."
The Red Feather Guard looked back at him stonily. The village women stared
open-mouthed. The Low Moo watched with tight lips. And the royal priest raked
the crowd with his avid black eyes, as if to imply that he, too, knew and saw
all, and was able to visit justice as well.
"I knew him on the beach," Chiun went on. The High Moo looked at Chiun with
steely eyes.
"I know him now," Chiun intoned. "And soon you will all know him for what he
is-an octopus worshiper."
A hush fell over the feasters. The crackling of the fires alone broke the
stillness. Cinders danced in the night air. Chiun, his hands clasped behind
his back, paced around the circle. Here and there he paused to look someone in
the eye. Some flinched from his gaze. One or two of the children suppressed
giggles.
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