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throwing all of Korea into darkness. And seeing this, the stonecutter realized
that a cloud was greater than he, and could move about more freely, as well."
Remo spoke up. "And so he prayed again to Sanshin to become the cloud and
Sanshin granted his wish, right?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"Guess."
Chiun frowned. "I am telling this story, not you."
"Sorry."
"Now, this stonecutter enjoyed greater power over mankind. He brought rain,
flooded the fields and rice paddies, and in doing so provided sustenance and
famine at a whim. Men feared him, welcomed him, loved and hated him, and as he
traversed the skies he was content in his mastery of mankind. For a time."
"Here we go again," Remo said dryly.
"For in his travels, one thing and one thing alone did not fear him. And that
was Diamond Mountain. He poured his gentlest rain upon Diamond Mountain and no
greenery grew. He exerted himself to his utmost, and torrents and forked
lightning pelted Diamond Mountain, but Diamond Mountain stood serene and
unmoved by his temperamental display.
"And so the storm cloud called down to the mountain and beseeched Sanshin to
make him one with the mountain.
"And Sanshin replied that if he did this there would be no place for Sanshin
to dwell, for Diamond Mountain was his home.
"But the storm cloud was insistent in his pleading and would not leave Sanshin
alone. And Sanshin, who was tired of residing in Diamond Mountain because it
was increasingly subject to incessant and capricious rains, granted this last
wish.
"And so the simple stonecutter became the spirit residing within Diamond
Mountain and he was gratified, for while he could not move, no force of nature
could move him. He had stood for millions of years and would outlast the
hardworking people of the valley and the nimble creatures of the forests."
Chiun lifted his finger once more. "Until one day he awoke to feel a stab of
pain in his side, Remo."
"Yeah?"
"And looking down, what do you suppose the stonecutter saw?"
"Got me."
"He saw a stonecutter very much like his former self chipping away at his
mighty flank with a cold chisel."
And the Master of Sinanju folded his hands and sat back.
A slow dawning crossed his pupil's face. But Chiun spoke not. This was his
pupil's opportunity to show the understanding that came with having a few
drops of Korean blood in his veins.
"I think I get it," said Remo.
Chiun cocked his birdlike head to one side expectantly. "Yes?"
"A person is what he is. He shouldn't wish for any more than that."
"Very good. Go on."
"I'm an assassin. I'm the best."
"Second best," Chiun admonished.
"Second-best assassin living. This is what I am. This is what I do. There
isn't anything more for me. I'm not a counter assassin. I take out people who
deserve death so that innocent people can live their lives without fear."
A thin smile that grew broader with each passing instant wreathed the wrinkled
countenance of the Master of Sinanju.
"I am pleased."
"Good. Can I finish my rice now?"
"You may."
And in a contemplative silence, the Master of Sinanju and his worthy pupil
took up their rice bowls.
It was a perfect moment.
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And then the doorbell rudely shattered the mood with its ding-dong sound.
"I'll get it," said Remo.
He was gone but a moment and when he returned, he was wearing a strange
expression and carrying a crumpled letter.
"What is it?" asked Chiun.
"We just got stung for fifteen cents. Postage due from Ottawa. Guess they're
low on stamps up there."
"It is a trifle, and we care not what the penniless Ottawans say, whoever they
may be."
"Ottawa is the capital of Canada," said Remo, tearing open the envelope.
"Might as well see what they had to say."
Out came a letter and a colored slip of paper.
"What is it, Remo?"
"It's a letter inviting us to meet with the prime minister."
"Then why are you frowning?"
"Because this other thing is a half-price discount coupon for a one-way bus
ticket to Ottawa. Can you beat that? Everyone else sent a limo. Or at least
tried to kill us."
"They insult us!"
"They waste their time," said Remo, tossing the letter into the trash.
"The Ottawans could at least have poisoned the paper or cunningly secreted
deadly spiders in the envelope as a gesture of respect."
Remo sat down and attacked his rice. "Speaking of spiders, you never did tell
me who killed Khoja Khan."
"Because it does not matter, for Sinanju had nothing to do with it."
"So? Tell me anyway."
"His crimes were discovered, and he was tied living to wild asses, which were
urged to flee into the desert."
"Ouch."
"His bones were later found, but that was all."
Remo grinned. "That's the biz, sweetheart."
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