"Something hashappened," Takashi stated in a quiet voice. As he turned to face her, the lights from the house caught the dark stains on his uniform and hands. Jasmine halted. Her fist rose, covering her mouth and masking all of her face save the horrified eyes. Comprehending her reaction, Takashi said quickly, "I am uninjured, but Hohiro is dead."

Subhash watched Jasmine's face as relief at her husband's safety struggled with grief at the passing of his father. The ISF man noted that she came no closer to her husband, her fastidiousness seeming stronger than her need to confirm Takashi's words with more than her eyes. She was a delicate flower to be wed to a samurai like Takashi, a man who would soon take the reins of controlling the destiny of billions of loyal citizens.

A slight movement in the crowd caught Subhash's attention. Forcing his way between the legs of an ISF man, a small figure burst through the assembled servants and courtiers. Subhash memorized the agent's face. He was lax to let a child past his guard, even if that child was Takashi's son and a member of the ruling Kurita clan. The agent did stop the taller figure toiling in the wake of the scrambling boy. The boy's pursuer was the portly old monk Zeshin, an initiate of the Order of the Five Pillars and the man charged with watching over the nights of Takashi's child. Subhash observed the chagrin on the monk's face as his struggles with the guard drew the attention of the exalted personages in the center of the garden. Subhash could see that the monk expected punishment for the failure to control his charge.

Jasmine stooped and held out her arms to her son as he ran across the garden. She gathered him close and hushed his excited questions with shushes and soft promises of explanations to come in the morning. She rose, lifting the gangly weight of the six-year-old with a mother's quiet strength. Their way was blocked by a stocky shadow that raised a bloody hand to seize the boy's arm.

The boy looked down at the hand gripping his left arm and saw the blood that slicked it. His head jerked up to find the owner of the hand was his own father. Subhash could see the child's eyes go wide, not with fear but with anticipation.

"Has there been a war?" the boy asked, voice full of excitement. "Have you been killing Fedrats, Father?"

"Hush, child," Jasmine admonished. "Children should not be out this late at night."

The boy frowned at his mother, making clear his opinion that mothers always spoiled the fun. Before he could reply, Jasmine continued, "You are going back to bed. Tomorrow. ..."

"No!" Takashi's forceful interruption startled Jasmine. "You have shielded the boy long enough, woman. I have humored you until now, but tonight that must end. Let him see the world as it is."

Takashi pulled the boy from his wife's arms and into his own. The boy went gladly, ignoring his mother's protests.

"My son," Takashi said, "this blood you see on my hands is not that of the enemies of our clan. It is not that of a Fedrat, not that of House Davion. Nor does it belong to any weak-spirited popinjay of House Steiner, nor of any other House who shares the Inner Sphere with us. This is the blood of our clan and our House, the blood of the Dragon."

"Do not do this," Jasmine protested, light glinting from the tears in her eyes. "He is too young."

She started to take the boy back, but Subhash reached out to grasp her arms. She turned to him. "You are his friend. Tell him. The boy is too young to be frightened by the death that surrounds us."

"Takashi-sawa does what he must, Lady Jasmine."

Facing such adamant will, she slumped in surrender. Takashi turned away as Subhash gave Jasmine over to the care of her maids hovering at the edge of the crowd, fearful of intruding until summoned. Now they came forward to escort her back to her own chamber.

With Jasmine cared for, Subhash again became a shadow at Takashi's back. Still holding his son, the new Coordinator strode into Hohiro's bedchamber. Subhash stepped up in time to see the boy's eyes go wide at the carnage in the room.

"Grandfather?" asked a young and tentative voice.

"Yes," Takashi answered, leaving no room for pity in that single word. "That was your grandfather. He was also the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine. That is your future if you are not strong.

"I am Coordinator now, and you are my heir. We are Clan Kurita. We must have the strength to rule, the strength to avoid such an end. We must always do what is necessary for the survival of our House and of the domain that we rule. It is a trust we must never betray. Not for any man or woman, nor for any personal feelings or weakness of spirit. If we are weak, this is the fate that awaits—ignominious death. Wakarimasu-ka!"

The boy said nothing. Wide blue eyes still riveted to the corpse of his grandfather, he swallowed, then nodded.

"Good," Takashi said as he turned to leave the room. "We must see to his assassin."

"I want to kill him," the boy declared in a small voice full of determination. His earlier excitement had turned to grim seriousness.

"You cannot," Takashi told him, but seemed pleased at his son's response. "I know that clan honor calls out to you. I know this because it calls to me as well. Let this be your first lesson as you now step from your mother's shadow. Personal violence is not the way of the Coordinator. Our destiny requires us to work through others. This assassin must meet justice, not vengeance. It is best for the Combine. Wakarimasu-kaT

This time the boy shook his head, a confused look on his face.

"In time you shall, my son," Takashi assured him.

The trio stepped back into the chill night air. Despite the dark, Takashi missed no step in the short walk to the group assembled around the teahouse.

In the center of that gathering was an Otomo Tai-iwho stood behind the huddled figure of a man. As Takashi came to a halt, the Tai-ireached down and grabbed a handful of the man's hair. He yanked the assassin's head back, letting light fall on the blood-streaked face. One eye was swollen shut and already purpling from the blows he had received.

"Talon Sergeant Ingmar Sterenson," the Tai-iannounced.

Subhash could see that the man was nearly dead from the battering his captors had given him, but a defiant light still shone in his open eye. That eye fixed on Takashi. Subhash felt the man focus on the Kuritan lord, narrowing his world to include only himself and the Coordinator.

The assassin started to speak. The Tai-iraised his hand to cuff the man to silence, but froze into immobility at a small shake of Takashi's head.

"Tonight a lie comes to an end," Sterenson croaked. "For years, I served you as a trusted and valued aide. I espoused the cause of House Kurita. Tonight, no more."

Sterenson could speak no more for the coughing that racked his whole body, but when he finally found his voice, it was stronger, tinged with the conviction of the true fanatic. "Tonight I have struck a blow for freedom in killing the tyrant. Independence for the people of Rasalhague!" he shouted. "Death to the oppressors!"

The Tai-islammed his fist into the side of Sterenson's head, and the bound man crumpled to the ground. He twisted and moaned as Otomo kicked and spat upon him.

"Enough!" Takashi barked.

The Otomo ceased instantly. Sterenson twisted around and raised his head to stare Takashi in the eyes. Subhash felt the passage of understanding between the two, each acknowledging and accepting his part in the night's drama.