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Ishiyama again studied the tea house and compared it to Luthien's location on the star chart he'd memorized. Further to the left than the mark he'd made for Mallory's World, and just a bit closer to the tea house, he touched one edge of the rake into the sea of pebbles to mark the location of Chara. With benign and skillful care, he flipped the rake over and used its flat edge to smooth away any trace of his original mark on the stones. Only the briefly broken lines of the stone-sea currents suggested that any movement had occurred.

  Ishiyama allowed himself another smile. Most would miss it. He shook his head. But not Yorinaga-ji.

  Finally, Ishiyama walked the path to the tea house, but he did not enter it. Instead, he carefully walked around the tea house's narrow ledge out onto the ocean of gravel behind it. He sighted a perfect spot to represent the planet Echo, and boldly touched the rake butt into the gravel to mark it. Backtracking, he raked the stones back into their previous pattern. By the time he had returned to the tea house, only the invisible depression representing Echo gave any clue to his passage.

  Though Ishiyama knew Yorinaga-ji would never look out behind the tea house to see his work, he also knew it had to be done. It makes the garden mine, and makes the cha-no-yu complete. Yorinaga-ji would expect no less of me, and because of that, he has no need to confirm the presence of the mark.

  Ishiyama worked his way back down the stone path, carefully avoiding the four pebbles, and returned the rake to its niche. Gathering up his coat and boots, he carried them to the tea house, where he knelt at the doorway, bowed once, and slid open the door.

  He should have expected it, but the tea house's simplicity and beauty took his breath away. The waiting area, built slightly below the interior chamber where the cha-no-yu would actually take place, had been constructed of hand-fitted woodwork. The pieces of wood had been chosen for their color and grain, and polished to a softly glowing sheen. Though one could make out the seams between the different pieces of wood, the natural patterns in each piece flowed together and provided the illusion that the whole floor and lower walls had been laid in with one huge piece of wood.

  The paper used to make the walls seemed, at first glance, to be unadorned. No landscapes or calligraphed snippets of wisdom spoiled the panels' translucent beauty. As Ishiyama slowly slid the door panel shut behind him, he saw that the paper did bear a decoration. It had been worked, with great subtlety and delicacy, as a watermark into the paper itself. Thus did Ishiyama see images of trees and tigers, of waves and fish, of hawks and hares and, of course, of the Dragon.

  Silently, out of respect for the setting and because no noise was required, Ishiyama crossed through the waiting area and slid open the door to the raised room where he would perform the cha-no-yu. The two black lacquered cases lay just to the right of the tall brass urn rising up through a square opening in the floor. Ishiyama did not need to see the thin gray ribbons of smoke twisting through the hot air to know that a fire burned within the urn. He could feel the waves of heat washing off the urn itself, and the scent of burning cedar filled the room.

  In the center of the room, Ishiyama saw a low, rectangular table. It had been oriented perfectly with the shape of the room, and Ishiyama now changed that. Instead of leaving the table's narrow end to coincide with the narrow parts of the room, he gently slid it around on the polished oaken floor so that it sat almost perpendicular to its earlier position. Still, he did not fully straighten it, but left it canted at a slight angle and pushed off-center. Perfect symmetry traps the mind within the bounds of reality.

  Ishiyama knelt down to open the first case. Inside, swathed in thick folds of foam padding, lay the Coordinator's own tea service set. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Ishiyama fought the panic and weight of responsibility that threatened to crush him from both inside and out. The Coordinator has entrusted me with these items so that I might perform a delicate mission. I will not fail him.

  The first things he withdrew from the case were three tatami, the mats on which the participants would kneel during the ceremony. The first, a brilliant red, Ishiyama placed at the wide side of the table that lay deepest in the room. He withdrew a small ruler from inside his kimono and made sure that the red mat lay exactly twenty centimeters from the edge of the table.

  On the other side of the table, Ishiyama unfurled the second tatami. This one was a rosy-pink, and he made sure it lay thirty-five centimeters from the table's edge. Finally, at the narrow end of the table closest to the brass charcoal urn, Ishiyama unrolled his own plain mat for the ceremony and placed it forty-five centimeters from the table's black edge. His end of the table, because of the diagonal alignment, placed him below either of the other mats.

  Ishiyama did not hurry as he unpacked the other necessary items, nor did he glance at his watch. He had an innate sense of time and its passage, as did anyone trained as a tea master. He knew his preparations would extend beyond the time the monk had estimated for sending Kurita Yorinaga-ji to him, but he also knew Yorinaga-ji would not enter the tea house's central chamber until invited.

  Ishiyama unwrapped the bamboo ladle that had been in the Kurita family for the last four hundred years. It was rumored that Coordinator Urizen Kurita II had stopped his aircar when he had seen a remarkable stand of bamboo on Luthien, thinking it would make a fine tea ceremony ladle. Just after he had descended from the car to cut off a piece of the bamboo, Urizen's car was blown up by a bomb secretly planted by a rival. The Coordinator was, fortunately, already well away from it. Tradition had it that because something utterly Japanese had saved the Coordinator's life, Urizen instituted the reforms that raised medieval Japanese culture to become the heart and soul of the Draconis Combine.

  Ishiyama smiled as he reverently set the ladle down on the floor. Urizen remained Coordinator until he resigned at the age of 101, and retired here to Echo. He formed this monastery and served as its head, under the title of Colonial Governor—nothing less would do for him—until his death. How appropriate to use this ladle here, today.

  Ishiyama carefully unwrapped the cerulean blue tea bowl and set it on the table. Beside it, he placed the bamboo spoon and whisk. Reaching into the first case again, Ishiyama produced the black-lacquered, wooden tea chest, which he set down reverently near his end of the table. It was a gorgeous piece, with a red and gold dragon circling both body and lid. Ishiyama knew that it was the same chest used at the meal where the Coordinator, Takashi Kurita, had first seen his future wife, the beautiful young Jasmine. The chest's placement, while utilitarian, would allow Ishiyama's intended guest an opportunity to study it.

  Finally, Ishiyama lifted the Coordinator's own water urn from the chest. The simple bowl was not at all as grand as the other objects in the room, yet its slightly crude manufacture invited all manner of speculation about its origin. Ishiyama reveled in one of the more popular tales claiming that the Coordinator had formed it from the armor of his first 'Mech kill, or that it was all he had left of his first 'Mech. Just touching it sent a thrill through him. He allowed himself a flight of fantasy in which a young Takashi Kurita sat hammering the pot into shape so that he could heat water and have tea while war thundered around him.

  Ishiyama shivered when it dawned on him that Yorinaga-ji might actually have been present when the Coordinator first shaped the pot. Until the time of his disgrace, Yorinaga-ji had been a battalion commander in the Coordinator's own 2nd Sword of Light. Some even credit him with Prince Ian Davion's death! Ishiyama shook his head. How could one so brave have so dishonored himself?

  Ishiyama picked up the ladle in his right hand and held the pot in his left. He moved toward the urn-pit where the ceramic jar full of water had remained hidden from view. Setting the tea urn between his knees, and canted with one edge on the floor, Ishiyama uncovered the jar and sank the ladle into the water. He let the ladle drink briefly, then drew out one full measure of water. Carefully turning the urn so that the water could wash the insides, he dripped liquid into the urn. Though no sediment or dirt showed in the w
ater that had pooled in the urn, Ishiyama poured it out into the pit and then filled the tea urn with three more ladles of water.

  Ishiyama recovered the water jar and set the ladle back down on his own plain tatami. Then, as though lifting an offering to unseen gods, he placed the tea urn onto the brass fire urn. Pleased with his preparations so far, Ishiyama knelt back on his heels and again drank in the peace of the tea house.

  After a moment's respite, he crossed back to the lacquered cases. Gently folding his coat and boots, he fitted them carefully into the now-empty first case. After closing it, Ishiyama slid the case just enough out of the way so that it would still be visible. His guest would see it and surely wonder at what secrets it contained.

  16

  Echo V

  Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

  1 January 3027

  Jiro Ishiyama, tea master for the cha-no-yu, opened the second case and pulled a small gong and hammer from it. After carrying it to his place at the table, he set it where his body would shield it from the guest's view. Returning to the case, Ishiyama removed the kimono he wore and pulled on the black one that lay like a congealed shadow at the bottom of the case. Then he also drew from the case a black hood with a mesh front to hide his face yet allow him to see what he needed to do.

  After folding his kimono and laying it in the case, Ishiyama pushed the case back alongside its companion. He left it open so that the white interior—not unlike an alligator's mouth—yawned open to invite trust and the contemplation of a journey.

  Ishiyama crossed to his position and pulled on the black hood. Using a fir twig that he had carried within his kimono, he reached up to place it into the fire urn. The twig immediately burst into flame, filling the room with the scent the Coordinator so admired. Khiyama breathed it in deeply and settled back to enter a more contemplative frame of mind.

  The peace he sought eluded him, dancing like a butterfly just out of reach. Instead, his mind bubbled with images from the many stories he had heard about Yorinaga-ji over the years.

  A distant cousin of the Coordinator, Yorinaga had been a fierce MechWarrior and one of the few men to match Takashi in kendo, the art of the sword. Three years after being credited with Prince Ian Davion's death on Mallory's World in 3013, Yorinaga had been given the honor of leading the 2nd Sword of Light in an attempt to take that same world. Ishiyama recalled, too, the news reports of Yorinaga in action that he had seen as a child. He even remembered the pride that had swelled in his young heart, for he had idolized Yorinaga. The bitter taste of bile rose to his throat as he once again relived his hero's downfall.

  The story, as Ishiyama had heard it many times, was one of honor, and it should have ended with Yorinaga slaying his enemy in grand style. The 2nd Sword of Light had surrounded the Kell Hounds's 1st 'Mech Battalion on Mallory's World and was advancing to destroy them when Colonel Morgan Kell marched his Archer out to the head of his force. In Japanese fashion, he suddenly began to announce his lineage and all the bold things his line had done.

  Yorinaga, out of respect and honor for his foe, marched his own Warhammer to the forefront of the gathered Kurita troops and broadcast his own lineage and their accomplishments. All the Mech Warriors watching the confrontation knew that the battle would be decided between their commanders. Ishiyama had often heard the jest that the tension was so thick that the Lyran traders might have to come in to export it.

  Kell's Archer, armed with long-range missiles and four medium lasers, conceded much to Yorinaga's 'Mech. The Warhammer's main armaments were its two medium lasers and twin particle projection cannons, known commonly as PPCs. In a close battle, the Warhammer's short range missiles and two small lasers made it even deadlier. Everyone knew that the Archer would die, and they hoped its pilot would die with honor.

  By all accounts, the battle pitted two master Mech Warriors against each other. Kell did not retreat to a range where his LRMs would give him an advantage. Instead, he used his incredible agility to make his 'Mech a nearly impossible target, while using his fore and aft lasers to score random hits on his foe.

  Yorinaga, as always, fought a self-possessed battle. He tried to concentrate his fire, as was his custom, on one part of his foe's 'Mech, but Kell's twisting and dodging made that difficult. Yorinaga used his medium and small lasers to keep Kell at bay while his PPCs cooled, and he staggered their use so that Kell could not advance while the Warhammer ran hot.

  Some observers had described the fight in terms of a martial arts match, while others had regarded it more as an odd dance-of-death. Ishiyama had tracked down all the accounts of the battle, which had so melded in his mind that he felt a perfect understanding of each move and its complicated nuances. It disturbed him deeply to understand the battle so well, yet not be able to understand how his idol could have met such disgrace.

  Finally, when Kell's medium lasers seemed to have knocked out the Warhammer's right PPC, he sailed in at Yorinaga. To meet him, Yorinaga's right PPC came up and loosed a bolt of argent electricity. The energy slashed into the Archer's right shoulder, searing completely through it. Within a heartbeat, Yorinaga's shot dropped the Archer's melted right arm to the ground, and the maimed 'Mech stumbled to its knees. Kell was finished.

  Yorinaga's Warhammer, barely thirty meters distant, leveled both PPCs at the stricken Kell Hound. Silver-blue energy erupted from both weapons, but the bolts missed their intended target and instead melted sand into glass beyond Kell. Morgan Kell, in desperation, triggered two flights of LRMs, which sent forty missiles flying from his 'Mech's torso against Yorinaga's Warhammer.

  Though the flight was too short to arm the warheads, the missiles slammed into the Warhammer and battered it savagely. Some propellant tanks exploded and washed the Kurita Mech in sheets of golden-red fire. Other missiles smashed and dented armor plates, or crushed heat sinks and shattered joints. Yorinaga's Warhammer, though it remained standing throughout the onslaught, might have been a toy abused by a hateful child.

  Yorinaga trained all his operable weapons systems on the Archer as it rose to its feet, but could not score a hit. It seemed as though Yorinaga's Warhammer refused to acknowledge the target's existence. Ishiyama had even heard the stories of MechWarriors present at the battle who said that Kell's dead Mech vanished like a ghost from their instrument readings. While lasers flashed and PPC lightning burned the air into ozone around his machine, Morgan Kell did only one thing. His Mech, though not built for it, bowed as best it could toward Yorinaga.

  Ishiyama remembered the shock in the voices of MechWarriors who had witnessed the barbarian mimicking their traditions. They waited for Yorinaga to destroy him, then to give them the command to destroy the rest of the Kell Hounds. Instead, when Yorinaga's voice rilled their ears, they heard a simple haiku:

  Yellow bird I see

  The gray dragon hides wisely

  Honor is duty

  Some believed that the enemy's missiles had injured Yorinaga and that this was his death haiku, but it was soon followed by his order that the regiment withdraw. One Chu-i, a Lieutenant recently attached to the unit, protested that the Tai-sa must be injured and out of his mind. At that, Yorinaga turned both PPCs on the Chu-i and melted his Panther in a hellish whirlwind of lightning. All understood, then and there, that Yorinaga had some reason for his actions, and so they obeyed him absolutely.

  Up to that point, Ishiyama could accept all that Yorinaga had done, for he had acted honorably. He did not surrender. As his men withdrew, all that Lord Kurita would have lost was a Panther and the chance to take the world. But, so the whispered stories went, Yorinaga cracked his 'Mech's canopy and tossed out both of his swords to where Morgan Kell could retrieve them.

  After the battle on Mallory's World, Yorinaga had traveled to Luthien to report in secret to the Coordinator. It was said that he asked for leave to commit seppuku, but that the Coordinator denied him the honor. Instead, Yorinaga was exiled to the monastery on Echo V, and had been there ever since. Aside from this
visit by Ishiyama, the only contact with the outside world had by Kurita Yorinaga-ji—the ji appended to his name to signify entry into the monastery—was his annual request that the Coordinator permit him to commit seppuku.

  Ishiyama reached over and picked up the small hammer. He struck the gong softly, but with enough power for the sound to penetrate the paper walls. Again he struck it, again and again until five distinct tones rang out, each one filling the dying echo of its predecessor. After the fifth sound, Ishiyama replaced the hammer, lowered his head and waited.

  Slowly, as befitting its great antiquity, the door slid back. Even through the hood of his visitor, Ishiyama could recognize the face. The glittering dark eyes and the long, thin nose lent Yorinaga-ji a noble aspect many men would have killed to possess. Yet Ishiyama could see from the deep creases around Yorinaga-ji's eyes that exile had not been kind to this man.

  Yorinaga-ji, moving with the fluid grace natural to a superior MechWarrior, squatted inside the tea chamber and slid the door shut. He turned slowly, but Ishiyama knew, despite the respectful inclination of the man's head, that Yorinaga-ji studied the room the way a field commander might survey a battlefield. Though Ishiyama had expected some hesitation when his visitor saw the red mat on the other side of the table, Yorinaga-ji gave no sign that he noticed.

  The MechWarrior-monk crossed to his position at the table and knelt on the rose pink tatami. He never looked in Ishiyama's direction. Instead, he bowed deeply toward the Coordinator's empty position, and held the bent-over position for longer than most men could have tolerated. Then, slowly, he straightened up.

  Ishiyama, distracted by the crest worn over Yorinaga-ji's breasts, and on the sleeves and back of his kimono, hesitated and almost spoiled the whole cha-no-yu. The crest, showing a fierce yellow bird reflected in the eye of a dragon, had been born in the first line of Yorinaga-ji's haiku, and formed an image of his disgrace. All Draconians knew that the Yellow Bird was the Dragon's only enemy, and Yorinaga-ji had retreated from his chance to kill the Yellow Bird when he saw it.