Warren Murphy: Last Rites

"A true Sunny Joe can walk across Crying River without making the sand cry. I can do it. How about you?"

Remo dismounted. Sunny Joe did the same. They looked at each other squarely and in unison they approached each other.

The sand beneath their feet made no sound. The crust refused to break.

When they at last stood facing one another, neither spoke for a long time.

Sunny Joe's eyes squinted up. "Son..."

Remo swallowed. They lifted their hands hesitatingly, as if measuring each other. Remo offered his hand. Sunny Joe started an embrace. They switched, got tangled up and laughed nervously. Several times they seemed an the verge of embracing in a bear hug.

In the end they stood apart and shook each other's hand firmly, fighting back deep wells of emotion neither man could express articulately, if at all.

When they had exhausted that, Sunny Joe Roam clapped Remo on the back and drew him away from the horses. "Come with me, son. I want to tell you about your mother...."

And standing on the other side of Crying River, the Master of Sinanju watched them walk into the desert together, the hairs of his wispy beard trembling, although there was no wind.

He noticed that Remo didn't look back....

Chapter 25

That night, under a thousand milky stars, Remo Williams was invested as the new Sunny Joe.

He stepped out of a hogan wearing buckskin and hawk feathers, muttering, "I feel like Tonto in this getup."

No one heard him.

Sunny Joe Roam led him before a roaring fire and said, "I present to you my long-lost son..."

"Remo Williams," Remo said.

"Remo Williams, who was sent to us by a vision, and who is the next Sunny Joe."

A sea of red sandstone faces regarded Remo, and he had a flash of deja vu. Their flat faces reminded him of the faces of the villagers of Sinanju, whose lives he was sworn to protect. Except Sinanju faces were the color of old ivory or faded lemons. These faces were distinctly red. But their eyes were identical down to the Mongoloid eye folds. And their lack of appreciation equal.

"Hey," a man in iron gray pigtails spoke up. "He's nothing but an apple."

Remo looked at Sunny Joe quizzically.

"An apple means an Indian who's half-white. You know, red on the outside and white on the inside. Pay no never mind. Been called apple a time or two myself."

"My son is no apple," Sunny Joe told the crowd.

"This is true," a new voice said.

Remo turned. It was the Master of Sinanju. He approached.

"He is a banana," said Chiun.

"Banana?"

"Yes. He is yellow on the outside and white on the inside."

"Don't you mean the other way around, chief?" asked Sunny Joe Roam.

"He is a banana before he is an apple. Do not forget I have taught him the ways of Sinanju. If you teach him the ways of the Sun On Jos for a thousand years, you will not erase his Koreanness."

Sunny Joe regarded Chiun squarely. "Do you have an objection to what we do here tonight, old chief?"

"It is not for me to object," replied Chiun.

Sunny Joe turned to Remo. "What about you, Remo?"

"Let's get it done," Remo said.

"So be it."

They sang the old songs and beat the drums, and as the moon rose cool and clear in a star-sprinkled sky, Remo Williams became the latest Sunny Joe and took the sacred oath to protect his people from all harm.

All this, Chiun watched with unreadable eyes. And when they brought out the corn and fry bread, he slipped away unnoticed.

WHEN ALL HAD DIED DOWN, Remo walked out into the desert, following a set of tracks not even the keenest eye of the Sun On Jo tribe could follow.

He found the Master of Sinanju at the foot of Red Ghost Butte.

Chiun turned. No flicker of emotion crossed his seamed face. "You have found your father, Remo Williams. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

Silence hung between them. Remo scuffed the red earth with his beaded moccasins. A hawk tail feather fell over his eyes. He plucked it out and began stroking the quill.

"And what do you think of your father whom you do not know?" asked Chiun.

"He's a good guy."

"Yes?"

"But he's a stranger. I don't really know him. If I spent the rest of my life here, I might just start to know him."

"Will you?"

"I told you I was through with CURE. I still feel that way."

"You have not answered my question, Remo Williams."

"I've been thinking a lot about what happened these last few days."

"And what do your thoughts tell you?"

"That whole Rite of Attainment, the snotty way you treated me. You were setting me up to find my father, weren't you?"

"Possibly."

"You knew one of the Masters would tell me the truth. And you dumped all over me so that when the time came I could choose my father if my heart told me it was the right thing to do."

"I do not admit this."

"You figured it would be easier for me if I hated your guts."

"Do you despise my guts?" asked Chiun.

"If I hadn't before this, why should I start now, Little Father?"

And Remo smiled.

Chiun's wise visage began to come apart. He forced it to tighten. "Quickly, what is the lesson of the coins?"

"Empires come and go, but gold is forever."

"Close enough. And your visits with the Masters who came before you?"

"Every Master has a different lesson, but the one that stands out is that the Void is what you make it. If you are unhappy in life, you will be unhappy in the Void."

"What else?"

Remo thought a moment. "I think the most important thing I learned is the lessons you are taught when you are young are the ones that get you through life." Chiun wrinkled up his face. "Who taught you that?"

"Sister Mary Margaret."

Abruptly Chiun lifted a bony finger. "Look to the sky, Remo. What stars do you see?"

Remo gazed upward. On either side of the Silvery River were two very bright stars.

"That's Kyon-u the Herder and Chik nyo the Weaver."

"Not Altair and Vega?"

"Kyon-u and Chik nyo," said Remo. "When Chik nyo becomes the pole star, the House will still be standing even when America has become the ancient Greece of that century."

Chiun's hazel eyes beamed with a radiant pride. "You are a true son of my village."

"Thanks, Little Father."

"And you are the true treasure of Sinanju."

Before Remo could say anything, Chiun lifted two balled fists and held them before Remo's chest. Remo blinked. "Lodestones?"

"You have met the challenge of every Master except me. This is your last chance to prove yourself to your ancestors."

They circled one another warily, eyes cold, bodies tense, fists upraised, yet hardly moving. No blow was landed. No countermeasure struck. An hour passed. Then two. The concentration on their faces was deep and fierce and intense.

At one point Chiun tried to break Remo's concentration. "You understand that you and I are of the same blood, do you not?"

"I can live with it." Remo frowned. "I didn't meet every Master, did I?"

"No. But the others may appear to you if they feel the need is there. For no Master is ever truly alone." Remo nodded. "There's one thing I still haven't figured out."

"What is that?"

"Why didn't you tell me about Sunny Joe years ago? Were you afraid of losing me?"

"Not as afraid as I was that Emperor Smith would order me to dispatch your father to keep secret the fact you still lived. For you know that is what he would demand of me should he learn you are no longer a fatherless man."

Remo said nothing. They fell into a tight silence once more.

Somewhere in the third hour the Master of Sinanju abruptly broke off and said, "Enough. You have shamed neither the Master who trained you nor the House you serve."

And stepping back, Chiun bowed deeply, a forty-five degree bow, and said, "I bow to you, Remo Williams, future Reigning Master of Sinanju."