Line of Succession

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Old Pullyang was the first to see the strange purple birds.

Pullyang squatted in the dirt, smoking a long-stemmed pipe and letting the last warming rays of the day soak into his elderly bones. Smoking kept him awake, for he was the caretaker of the village of Sinanju, the birthplace of the sun source of the martial arts, which was also known as Sinanju. And being the guardian of the sleepy little town on the West Korea Bay meant unrelieved boredom.

No one came to Sinanju who was not of Sinanju. Sinanju had no enemies, no natural resources, no desirable real estate. It did have a treasure, but few knew of it. Those who knew dared not seek it. The reputation of the Masters of Sinanju, a line of assassins that went back some three thousand years, was a greater deterrent to thieves than an armored division.

Thus, old Pullyang squatted in the sun, smoking to keep awake and patiently awaiting the return of the Master of Sinanju, knowing that he had nothing to fear except nodding off. If he nodded off, the other villagers would note the day and the hour and inform the Master of Sinanju upon his return. Then Pullyang would surely be punished and one of them would be appointed in his place. The post of caretaker of the treasure house was much coveted in Sinanju for it allowed one to indulge in the chief village trait, which was a kind of studied laziness, without fear of scorn or punishment.

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