[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
expansively.
Remo saw thatch huts on the outskirts. Snapping black eyes regarded him
through the reed sides. He saw no women, much to his disappointment.
The inner buildings were stone. None were more than one story tall. But the
palace was different. Made of some kind of kiln-fired brick, it reared up two
stories. It had glassless windows and a flat roof with a gazebolike
superstructure that Remo realized was the tallest point on the island. A
vantage point.
"It's breathtaking," Remo said in Moovian. His sarcasm was lost on everyone
except Chiun.
Chiun shot him a hard glance.
"Do not be so smug. I have seen your Newark."
"I'll take Newark over this jungle paradise."
"Wait until you see the women."
"I'm waiting. I'm waiting."
"Come," said the High Moo. And he led them to the courtyard of the palace.
In the stone-paved open area, fires burned in rows of rectangular earthen
pits. A woman bent over a steaming pot. A man was singeing the body hair of a
wild pig by hanging it over an open flame by its hind legs. There were
carcasses on spits.
"There is your woman, Remo," Chiun whispered. Remo craned to see over the
heads of the escorting soldiers. He saw a brown-skinned woman bending over one
steaming pot. She wore a long Hawaiian-style grass skirt. Her long black hair
swished as she stirred the pot's contents.
Page 52
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
When the sounds of their approach caught her attention, she faced them
expectantly.
She smiled. She had three teeth. Her face was as wrinkled as a walnut shell
and her bare breasts hung like goatskin bladders.
"There," Chiun said. "Go to her, Remo, and tell her that you have crossed a
mighty ocean just to behold her loveliness. I am certain she will be flattered
by your attention. "
"Very funny," Remo fumed. "She's not my type."
"A breast is a breast," Chiun said flatly.
The High Moo motioned for them to form a circle around the fires. He signaled
for Chiun to stand beside him and for his daughter to claim the other side.
She motioned Remo to her side. The remaining villagers completed the circle.
The royal priest appeared inside the circle. "Bring the throne," he
commanded.
"It is a beautiful throne," Chiun told Remo. "Gold, with many jewels. And a
footrest carved of a single block of white jade."
Two men in loincloths came out of the palace bearing a squat wooden box with
short legs.
"Here comes the footstool," Remo said. "Doesn't look like jade to me."
"It is wood. No doubt it is your seat," Chiun said smugly.
The stool was set behind the High Moo. "The Shark Throne," he said
imperiously.
Remo looked closely. The top of the stool was covered in some kind of gray
hide. At each end there were rolled protrusions resembling ornamental
cushions, except that they were made of some cracked gray hide. Remo noticed
flat, lifeless eyes at either end of these rolls, and suddenly realized that
the stool was decorated with the heads of hammerhead sharks.
Remo grinned as the High Moo sat down. "Good thing they cut off the fin."
The royal priest motioned for the rest of the circle to sit. "Before we eat,"
he intoned, "we will show our visitors the greatness of Moo."
"This is the ceremonial dance," whispered Chiun. "In its fluid motions are the
entire history of Moo. We will learn much of what has transpired since the
days of Master Mangko. "
"Wonderful," Remo groaned. "I'm half-starved and we have to sit through a
six-hour folk dance."
But then the circle parted at two points and Remo suddenly sat up very
straight.
Two lines of native Moovian women slithered in and converged inside the
circle. They wore skirts of grass or coarse black cloth low on their
undulating hips. Colorful blossoms decorated their long hair and dazzling
smiles split their happy faces. Their feet were bare, but Remo's eyes weren't
on their feet, but on their exposed, jiggling breasts.
They began to sway in time to their clapping hands, which they held over their
heads.
Remo's blank face broke out into a wide grin. "Moo," he said.
"Do not stare," Chiun remonstrated.
"I'm sure not going to look away," Remo said. "Don't want to insult our
gracious hosts."
"Watch their hands. They tell the story. And their hips."
"I'm watching, I'm watching."
"But not like that."
"I don't know any other way to watch," Remo said as a line of sinuous hips
undulated in perfect synchronization before his eyes. Firm young breasts
bounced and swayed. The most dazzling smiles Remo had ever seen bathed him in
a carefree radiance. Remo relaxed. All his cares seemed to ooze right out of
him. He felt at peace.
The women were still dancing when the food began to arrive.
Chiun was speaking with the High Moo.
"My knowledge of Moo dance is not perfect," the Master of Sinanju admitted.
"Does that shaking of hips mean that the Year of the Macaw was the same year
Page 53
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
that the volcanoes cooled?"
"No," replied the High Moo. "You must watch their fingers too. The snapping
they make keeps the time. One snap means one moon. Ten snaps, and a year has
passed."
"Oh, yes. Now I understand."
"Do you understand too?" the High Moo asked of Remo.
"Are you kidding? I was born knowing this stuff," Remo assured him, absently
taking a wooden bowl from the old woman with the drooping breasts.
The aroma had to fill his nostrils before Remo realized what he had been
offered.
"Hey," he said. "This is egg-lemon soup. Where did it come from?"
"I made it," Chiun told him.
"When? You were here all the time."
"During the break in the dance."
"What break in the dance?"
"The one where the maidens were not dancing, but instead formed two lines and
swayed in imitation of the ocean at rest after Old Moo sank." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl chiara76.opx.pl
expansively.
Remo saw thatch huts on the outskirts. Snapping black eyes regarded him
through the reed sides. He saw no women, much to his disappointment.
The inner buildings were stone. None were more than one story tall. But the
palace was different. Made of some kind of kiln-fired brick, it reared up two
stories. It had glassless windows and a flat roof with a gazebolike
superstructure that Remo realized was the tallest point on the island. A
vantage point.
"It's breathtaking," Remo said in Moovian. His sarcasm was lost on everyone
except Chiun.
Chiun shot him a hard glance.
"Do not be so smug. I have seen your Newark."
"I'll take Newark over this jungle paradise."
"Wait until you see the women."
"I'm waiting. I'm waiting."
"Come," said the High Moo. And he led them to the courtyard of the palace.
In the stone-paved open area, fires burned in rows of rectangular earthen
pits. A woman bent over a steaming pot. A man was singeing the body hair of a
wild pig by hanging it over an open flame by its hind legs. There were
carcasses on spits.
"There is your woman, Remo," Chiun whispered. Remo craned to see over the
heads of the escorting soldiers. He saw a brown-skinned woman bending over one
steaming pot. She wore a long Hawaiian-style grass skirt. Her long black hair
swished as she stirred the pot's contents.
Page 52
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
When the sounds of their approach caught her attention, she faced them
expectantly.
She smiled. She had three teeth. Her face was as wrinkled as a walnut shell
and her bare breasts hung like goatskin bladders.
"There," Chiun said. "Go to her, Remo, and tell her that you have crossed a
mighty ocean just to behold her loveliness. I am certain she will be flattered
by your attention. "
"Very funny," Remo fumed. "She's not my type."
"A breast is a breast," Chiun said flatly.
The High Moo motioned for them to form a circle around the fires. He signaled
for Chiun to stand beside him and for his daughter to claim the other side.
She motioned Remo to her side. The remaining villagers completed the circle.
The royal priest appeared inside the circle. "Bring the throne," he
commanded.
"It is a beautiful throne," Chiun told Remo. "Gold, with many jewels. And a
footrest carved of a single block of white jade."
Two men in loincloths came out of the palace bearing a squat wooden box with
short legs.
"Here comes the footstool," Remo said. "Doesn't look like jade to me."
"It is wood. No doubt it is your seat," Chiun said smugly.
The stool was set behind the High Moo. "The Shark Throne," he said
imperiously.
Remo looked closely. The top of the stool was covered in some kind of gray
hide. At each end there were rolled protrusions resembling ornamental
cushions, except that they were made of some cracked gray hide. Remo noticed
flat, lifeless eyes at either end of these rolls, and suddenly realized that
the stool was decorated with the heads of hammerhead sharks.
Remo grinned as the High Moo sat down. "Good thing they cut off the fin."
The royal priest motioned for the rest of the circle to sit. "Before we eat,"
he intoned, "we will show our visitors the greatness of Moo."
"This is the ceremonial dance," whispered Chiun. "In its fluid motions are the
entire history of Moo. We will learn much of what has transpired since the
days of Master Mangko. "
"Wonderful," Remo groaned. "I'm half-starved and we have to sit through a
six-hour folk dance."
But then the circle parted at two points and Remo suddenly sat up very
straight.
Two lines of native Moovian women slithered in and converged inside the
circle. They wore skirts of grass or coarse black cloth low on their
undulating hips. Colorful blossoms decorated their long hair and dazzling
smiles split their happy faces. Their feet were bare, but Remo's eyes weren't
on their feet, but on their exposed, jiggling breasts.
They began to sway in time to their clapping hands, which they held over their
heads.
Remo's blank face broke out into a wide grin. "Moo," he said.
"Do not stare," Chiun remonstrated.
"I'm sure not going to look away," Remo said. "Don't want to insult our
gracious hosts."
"Watch their hands. They tell the story. And their hips."
"I'm watching, I'm watching."
"But not like that."
"I don't know any other way to watch," Remo said as a line of sinuous hips
undulated in perfect synchronization before his eyes. Firm young breasts
bounced and swayed. The most dazzling smiles Remo had ever seen bathed him in
a carefree radiance. Remo relaxed. All his cares seemed to ooze right out of
him. He felt at peace.
The women were still dancing when the food began to arrive.
Chiun was speaking with the High Moo.
"My knowledge of Moo dance is not perfect," the Master of Sinanju admitted.
"Does that shaking of hips mean that the Year of the Macaw was the same year
Page 53
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
that the volcanoes cooled?"
"No," replied the High Moo. "You must watch their fingers too. The snapping
they make keeps the time. One snap means one moon. Ten snaps, and a year has
passed."
"Oh, yes. Now I understand."
"Do you understand too?" the High Moo asked of Remo.
"Are you kidding? I was born knowing this stuff," Remo assured him, absently
taking a wooden bowl from the old woman with the drooping breasts.
The aroma had to fill his nostrils before Remo realized what he had been
offered.
"Hey," he said. "This is egg-lemon soup. Where did it come from?"
"I made it," Chiun told him.
"When? You were here all the time."
"During the break in the dance."
"What break in the dance?"
"The one where the maidens were not dancing, but instead formed two lines and
swayed in imitation of the ocean at rest after Old Moo sank." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]