Warren Murphy - Line of Succession

"It is not meant to be. "

"Not as long as I'm in the business I'm in, she says. And she knows that it's the only business for me. She says that this time, it was me who left her. That's what made up her mind. The way I took off for America with you. She says I belong here."

"You know it too," said Chiun.

"She says that Freya misses me already," Remo went on, looking at the letter with caved-in eyes. "And that when the time comes and I wish it, and Freya wishes it, Jilda will consider allowing her to be trained in Sinanju."

"She is dreaming," Chiun said haughtily. "No woman has ever been a Master of Sinanju. No woman can ever become a Master of Sinanju. It is impossible."

"There's a P.S.," Remo said. "It says that Freya has been working on her breathing when she isn't riding her pony. She sends a present to show you that she's trying to grow up to be big and strong like her daddy, as well as her mommy."

Remo reached into the flower basket and came up with a small horseshoe that had been bent into the shape of a pretzel.

"Look, Chiun."

"A twisted horseshoe," Chiun sniffed. "So?"

"Don't you get it?" Remo said. "Freya did that. With her own little hands."

"Impossible!" sputtered Chiun. "She is too young, she is white, and she is a female. I could not do that until I was twelve! "

"So?" Remo said. "You're not white or female."

Chiun stamped his foot angrily. "I do not believe it."

"But I do," Remo said. "And I'm going to keep this forever. "

Chiun frowned. "Are you not even going to attempt to pry Jilda's whereabouts from my inviolate lips?" he asked. Remo thought for a long time before he answered. When he spoke, he stared at the twisted horseshoe wistfully.

"Nope," he said at last. "Jilda knows what she's doing. I guess she's right. Besides, she's not living in Wales anymore. The letter said so."

"What!" cried Chiun. "You mean she left no forwarding address! How will I send my granddaughter presents on her birthdays? How will I monitor her progress through the early years of her life?"

"We'll see them again," Remo said. "I just don't know when. "

"Then you will remain in America-with me?"

Remo sighed. "Yeah, I don't have anywhere else to go, I guess. Back in Sinanju, the villagers think I'm a jerk. There are too many bad memories back there anyway."

"It is not the ideal situation," Chiun agreed. "Not when living in the pearl of Asia is preferred, but we will make the best of it. For two years at least."

"Wait a sec," Remo said. "I thought you wanted to live in America. And what about that whole wardrobe of Western clothes you bought so you could be more American?"

"I have burned them. Sadly, I discovered they are inadequate for climbing purposes. It is a major flaw for those in our honored profession."

"Okay, but didn't you finally admit that Sinanju was a dung heap?"

Chiun puffed out his cheeks. "Remo!" he said, shocked.

"I said no such thing. And I will deny any slander to the contrary. "

"But you do admit you're happy with the way things have worked out, and there'll be no carping from now on?"

"I am not! I am an old man, with an irresponsible white for a pupil and no worthy heir for either of us. It is my sad fate, but I will bear up. I will not complain about these things. I will not mention to you that because of your inability to sire a male, I am forced to work into my final days instead of entering into the traditional period of retirement. It may be that I will have to work forever. No Master of Sinanju has ever been burdened. But I will not complain. Not I. "

"Pterodactyl dung," replied Remo. And in spite of the pain he felt, he smiled.