Warren Murphy: Spoils Of War

Remo smiled. "I really thought you were a goner, Chiun."

"As soon I will be. The shame of your capture by Quati will doubtless deliver me into the Void before my time. Let it be on your head."

"Give me all the guilt you want," Remo said brightly. "I'm glad to see you. I was sure—"

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"You were sure. You are always sure. And always wrong. Did I not tell you I was alive? Did I not help you—yet again, may I add—to overcome your weakness?"

"I thought that was my imagination."

"Imagination!" Chiun squeaked. "Oh, the odious pride of you. The insufferable arrogance. After overcoming the poison in my own delicate being, I bring myself to the brink of the Void to rescue you from your unbelievable weakness and stupidity, and you call it your imagination."

"I'm sorry, Chiun. I should have known you'd be allright."

"Your imagination is of the same quality as your powers of reason. At best, they are dangerously inadequate. Do us both a service, Remo. Never think. Take up a new profession for which a brain is not necessary. Become a wrestler. Write commercials for television. But do not think."

"I said I was sorry," Remo pouted.

"Sorry, sorry. Sorry us out of here, if you will, Remo. I have seen quite enough of Quat."

"Okay," he said, looking up a stone stairwell leading to a closed metal door. "I'll need your help."

"Of course." Chiun followed him up the stairs.

The door was connected by two giant steel hinges. With his foot, Remo smashed the lower hinge. As the pieces clanked down the steps, Chiun leaped above him to shatter the top hinge. Remo pushed the door outward with the force of an explosion, sending out a wave of smashing steel that reverberated throughout the palace.

"The throne room's that way," Remo said, pointing. "I'll go down this passage, and you take the opposite route."

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A handful of guards armed with, knives and sabers came running down the corridor at them. With one movement, Chiun sent five of them sprawling into the walls, each leaving his own set of indentations. Remo was heading down the long passageway to intercept another group when the whistle of a knife in motion sounded by his ear. Reflexively, he jutted out his elbow, and the knife tumbled to the floor as the guard doubled over clutching his stomach.

He kicked his way through the crowd as the hard clang of steel hitting the marble floor echoed through the walkways. Another saber slashed savagely at Remo's wound, tearing off Chiun's dressing. It immediately began to throb again, but Remo could not let himself give in to the pain. He took the hilt of the saber and wrestled it away from its owner. The guard jumped away, cursing Remo in his strange tongue.

Finally Remo stood at the portals to the throne room. Randy Nooner looked mildly annoyed to see him. She looked up briefly from the magazine she was reading and without expression called, "Guard."

When there was no answer, her lips tightened in impatience. She called again. "I said guard," she snapped. "What do we pay you guys for? Get over here."

No one came.

Remo stalked closer.

"Guard." Hysteria was rising in her voice. 'Til have you all beheaded, you worthless peasants. Hurry up."

Remo neared, his eyes fixed on hers.

"Guard," she screamed.

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"They're not coming." "Help me, you bastards!"

"They're gone," Remo said quietly. "And I'm not. And you're dead."

Randy jumped to her feet and picked up the brass staff she kept nearby. "Don't come any closer," she warned.'TU kill you."

Remo chuckled. "Try it," he said. "Remember, I'm not poisoned anymore. Miss Nooner, you can throw your little stick to your heart's content."

In a rage, she flung the weapon at Remo. He moved out of the way, and it clinked harmlessly onto the marble floor.

"I guess that's that," Remo said. He came closer.

"Stop," Randy shrieked, the veins in her neck standing out grotesquely, her red hair tangled over her face. She gestured toward the throne covered by white gauze. "Take him," she pleaded. "The idiot. He's the sheik. You can have the country. Kill him and if s yours. Just let me go."

"No thanks," Remo said pleasantly.

Just then, behind the veiled throne, the curtain covering the wall rippled and parted. Standing in the opening was the guide who had ,£rst brought Remo to the throne room. His face was stony, and he stood perfectly still beside the throne of the idiot king. In his hands he held a short, thick knife.

"Rajii," Randy called, breathless. "Thank God you're here. Kill him, Rajii. Hurry."

The man did not move, not a finger, not an eyelash.

"Kill him," Randy Nooner ordered.

"The girl killed by the arrows was my daughter," Rajii said in a flat monotone to no one in particular.

Randy growled. "She was a traitor." She gestured

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toward Remo. "Kill this man or you will be executed," she said hoarsely.

"And you offered the ufe of my charge, this innocent man with the mind of a tiny child, for your own."

"He's a moron," she spat. "His life is worthless."

"No life is worthless," Rajii said quietly.

Randy sobbed. "Please," she begged. "Please help me, Rajii."

The man nodded. "I will help you in the only way I can," he said, and threw the dagger straight into Randy Nooner's heart.

Her eyes opened wide in astonishment. She raised her hands feebly to remove the knife, but it was imbedded in her chest up to the hilt. As she sank to the floor, Rajii came foward to join Remo before her.

"You ass," she hissed. "He'll kill you, too."

"I know," Rajii said. "May the peace of ages be with you."

Then the sound of death rattled in her throat and she died, her beautiful, cruel eyes blazing with the light from the thousand candles burning in the chandelier above her.

Rajii was the first to speak. "The official documents to the sheikdom are locked in a vault behind the throne," he said. "I will open it for you before you kill me, if you wish."

"Why would you do that?" Remo asked.

"The sheikdom is yours to do with as you like. I ask only that you allow the sheik to live. He is sterile, so there will be no heirs. He cannot harm you in any way. This I beg you. Please grant him his life, for he is innocent of all wrongdoing in this terrible place. Grant me this one request, and I will prepare

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all the documents to declare you regent and official heir. Then you may dispose of me as you will."

Neither of them noticed Chiun move silently beside them. "Who are you?" Chiun asked.

"Only a servant," Rajii said.

"You do not have the bearing of a servant. I ask you again. Who are you?"

The man paused, clenching his jaw, then he spoke. "My name is Rajii Zel Imir Adassi," he said. "The name belonged to one of the wealthiest families of the region. Then Vadass—the sheik's brother —took over the throne and executed everyone who could usurp his power, including the males of all the noble families, and confiscated the fortunes of these families. Mine was among them."

"Then why didn't he kill you?"

Rajii's head hung in shame. "Vadass disliked me particularly because I would not permit him to take my daughter for his sport." He spoke so quietly that his words were nearly inaudible.

"My wife died when she was very young, and I never remarried. My daughter, Jola, was all I had. I treasured her. I wanted to save her for a man who would treasure her as I did."

Remo saw Rajii's hands tremble, and was filled with sadness for the broken man. "So when Vadass began his purge, he first took my daughter to be his concubine, his toy. . . ." He bit his lip and tried to compose himself. "And then, as a prank, he took me as his servant so that I might watch her in her degradation. He said that my job would be to serve his feeble-minded brother, to be reminded always that even this Vadass was master to me.