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were even longer than before, almost twice as long as he remembered from the
previous night. He rubbed his face. He needed a shave too. He reminded himself
to ask Chiun about getting the Moovian equivalent of a barber.
Bare-chested, Remo followed Chiun down a maze of stone corridors to a central
room.
Guards stood outside the open door, on the inside, and at every corner of the
room, Remo saw as he entered. Chiun bowed before the High Moo, who sat on his
low Shark Throne. The Low Moo sat to his right, on an even lower stool. There
was an empty stool on the left that Remo assumed belonged to the late royal
priest.
"My Red Feather Guard has returned from scouring the island," said the High
Moo without preamble. "Emboldened by the trophy you have laid at my feet, they
even ventured into the Grove of Ghosts. They found no living men, there or
anywhere else. I hereby proclaim today the Dawn of the Era Without Octopus
Worshipers."
"Sinanju is pleased to serve," Chiun said simply.
"Full payment will be tendered to you upon your leave-taking of Moo. A
leave-taking I and my daughter beg is not soon."
"I have not discussed this with Remo as yet," Chiun said.
"Actually, we can't stay long," Remo said in Moovian. The High Moo frowned.
The Low Moo gasped.
"What Remo means," Chiun inserted hastily, "is that we have responsibilities
elsewhere. Other clients. None so generous as you, of course. But it does not
mean that we cannot pass the span of, say, one moon on Moo."
"So be it," said the High Moo, mollified. "The full moon saw the end of the
octopus cult. The next moon will see your going-unless you change you mind
before then."
"All things are possible on Moo," Chiun said, bowing.
"Have you any requests?"
"My son has not yet breakfasted. I would like to prepare for him his favorite.
I will need lemons and eggs."
"And I could do with something for my nails and beard," Remo added, showing
his hands.
Chiun looked at Remo's hands curiously.
"You should have cut them before we left America," he said under his breath.
"I thought I did," Remo shot back.
And Chiun allowed himself a tiny smile of satisfaction. They were in the royal
dining room, a roofless cubicle in one corner of the palace, when a steaming
kettle of egg-lemon soup was brought in by a topless cook. Remo was relieved
to see it wasn't the old woman from the feast this time, but a comely maiden.
He said, "Ola." The girl smiled shyly and began to fill a wooden bowl.
Another girl came in with a handful of objects. Remo saw a couple of bone
knives and a fist-size stone.
"What's this stuff?" he asked, tasting the soup.
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"You asked for these," the girl replied, kneeling at his feet. She took one of
Remo's hands and examined the nails critically. The cook took one of the other
knives and approached Remo from the other side.
"Looks like I'm in for the Moovian version of a shave and manicure," Remo
said, pushing his soup aside.
Chiun frowned. "Do not forget your soup," he said evenly, pushing the bowl
back under Remo's nose.
"It can wait," Remo said, eyes on the sinuous bodies hovering over him. They
smelled nice too, he noticed. Like coconuts.
"No," Chiun said suddenly. "The other thing can wait. Shoo, shoo!" he said to
the maidens. "Come back later. My son has fought a hard battle and needs to
replenish his strength. "
The native girls fled the room on bare feet. "Hey! What's with you?" Remo
demanded.
"You must eat first. Keep up your strength."
"I like to set my own priorities," Remo growled, his unhappy face watching the
girls scurry down the corridor.
"Eat," said Chiun.
Reluctantly Remo started in on the soup. After a few tastes he was greedily
devouring it, the girls of Moo forgotten.
"I can't seem to get enough of this stuff," he said.
"I will tell the hens to continue laying," Chiun said blandly, "so that you do
not run out for the duration of our stay here."
"We can't stay here a whole month," Remo protested.
"We are due a vacation. This will be it."
"What if Smith needs us?"
"Then he can summon us, as always."
"How? There aren't any phones here."
"How is that my fault?" Chiun squeaked. "According to my contract, I am
permitted to vacation where I will. Nowhere does it say that the Master of
Sinanju is obligated to call ahead to see if there are telephones at his
chosen retreat. Besides, I did not know the number of the High Moo."
"Smith is going to be very upset," Remo cautioned.
"Let him be upset. If he complains, I will tell him that he is not the only
worthy emperor in the world. He has a rival, the High Moo."
"I don't think he'll appreciate that. And what happens after the thirty
days?"
"Who can say?" Chiun said mischievously. "Thirty days is a long time from now.
We live in an uncertain world. Anything is possible. Moo sank once. Perhaps
America will be next. Then you will thank me for bringing you to this lovely
land."
"Dream on," said Remo, starting in on his second bowl. After he was done, Remo
said, "Okay, call back the girls."
"For what?"
"For these," Remo said, showing his nearly half-inchlong nails.
Chiun took Remo's hands in his. "If you let them grow, soon they will curve
inward like mine."
"Not interested," Remo snapped, withdrawing his hands.
"Why not? We are on Moo now. You no longer have your lame excuse not to grow
them long."
"Chiun, I'm supposed to be an agent for my government. I gotta blend in with
the natives, so to speak."
"Now that you are on Moo, you can blend in with Moovian natives."
"I don't see any long-nailed people on Moo either."
"Nor do I. But where we are now, Emperor Smith's absurd secrecy mania is not
in effect. We walk this land known for what we are, admired for our work, and
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