Being trapped on Teniente had not been good for Hohiro, but he hadsurvived, and had mademost of his people survive. Shin had no doubt that the songs and poems and paintings depicting what was already becoming known as the Covert Exile would stress the endurance and bravery of the Prince over any other details. Shin had no quarrel with that, but having so close a vantage point to the creation of a legend awed him somewhat.

By slightly turning his head to the left, Shin saw Omi, resplendent in a robe of white silk with red trim and crimson and gold embroidery. It took him a moment, but he recognizcd the robe as the one she had worn in the last holodisk recorded for Victor Davion—the one that had brought the Revenants to save her bother. Observing the way she had correctly arranged her robe against the mat, he knew that the symbolism inherent in her choice of attire, as with everything else in the tea house, had been engineered to produce a certain effect.

What that effect was, he could not guess, and he was beginning to dread discovering what it was.

Shin saw a shadow kneel at the shojipanel to the north, across the table. The panel slid back like a whisper. On his knees, Takashi Kurita entered the room. He bowed to those assembled and they returned the courtesy. Wordlessly, the old man closed the panel behind himself, then moved to the red tatamimat set only twenty centimeters from the northern edge of the table.

Takashi's kimonoof black silk with green trim instandy struck Shin as being the opposite of the garment he and Hohiro wore. The yakuza looked more closely and saw that the crests embroidered in black silk thread on red background appearedto be the same as the ones on his own robe, except in reverse colors. Even so, the design, when done in black on red, looked like the Dragon crest of the Draconis Combine.

From just out of sight at the far edge of the table, Takashi produced five matching cerulean bowls. He set them in a line on the table, but Shin noticed it did not parallel the edge of the table. Furthermore, the third was placed a hair closer to the edge than its fellows, breaking the flow of the line.

From the steady, purposeful nature of the Coordinator's motions, Shin realized this seeming esthetic error was deliberate. Aware only that a cha-no-yuwas a ceremony with strict formalities to be observed, he realized that rigid adherence to formality could drain the ritual of individual significance. By breaking an esthetic pattern, the Coordinator called attention to esthetics and formality, reinforcing the importance of the ritual.

The Coordinator sank an ancient bamboo ladle into a water urn hidden within the tea house's firepit. He let it sit in the urn for a moment or two longer than necessary, then pulled it out. Producing a water bowl, he slowly dribbled the water down into it, turning the bowl so the water could wash away any dirt clinging to the sides.

As Takashi dumped the water out into the firepit and refilled it with five full ladles, Shin took a good look at the vessel. Old and battered, it looked to have been pounded out of BattleMech armor. Wasn't there a legend about Takashi making a water urn from the armor of his first 'Mech? Is this the urn?

Takashi set the water to boil on the charcoal urn nestled down in the firepit. As if by magic, a puff of smoke rose toward the hole in the roof and the scent of fir trees filled the small room. That familiar and pleasing aroma brought a smile to Shin's face, and he saw his happiness reflected in the Coordinator's blue eyes.

"Komban wa,"the Coordinator greeted them.

"Komban wa,"his visitors replied.

"You honor me with your presence here this night." The old man's eyes tightened around the corners. "Sixty-four years ago today, I first laid eyes on my beloved Jasmine." He lifted a tea chest from his side of the table and placed it to complete the line of the bowls. "This is the very tea chest from which I was served that night, and it is the chest from which I will serve you this night."

Takashi glanced at the water, then back at his audience. "It is well that I serve you for it is the least I can do to repay what all of you have done for the Combine. More important, though, it reminds an old man that only through serving can one become worthy of being served."

The trail of steam rising from the water thickened enough to satisfy Takashi. He dipped the ladle into the boiling water and let a ribbon of steam trail out as he brought it to the first bowl. He filled that bowl to the brim, then dipped a small portion of the water from it and let that splash into the other bowls in succession. The ladle then returned four more times to the urn and each of the bowls was filled. The last of the water in the ladle went into the first bowl, completing the circuit.

Opening the tea chest with his left hand, Takashi drew some tea leaves from it with a bamboo spoon and sprinkled them into the second bowl. With the bamboo whisk in his right hand, he deftly stirred the leaves into the darkening water. Withdrawing the whisk, he gave the bowl a quarter-turn to the right and set it in front of his son.

"Theodore, you have persevered where others would have given up or revolted. You fought against me because your eyes could see through the fog shrouding the future of the Combine. Your vision preserved us and it preserved our home here. It also forced you to make a decision concerning the safety of your son that the gods should not demand of anyone."

Takashi prepared the third cup of tea in a similar manner and placed it before his grandson. "Hohiro, you accepted the mantle of leadership and endured great hardships for the sake of your nation. You have not shrunk from your duty, nor have you lacked for compassion. The survival of so many of your people on Teniente is because you took the time to care for and about them. You have earned what your blood will thrust upon you in time."

Shin heard the rasp and crackle of the spoon digging into the tea as Takashi scooped up the leaves for the fourth bowl. This one he worked over as diligently as the first two, then placed it between the others and a bit forward of them for Omi. "You, granddaughter, have shown a resourcefulness and clarity of purpose at which I both marvel and envy. In a House that has known internal strife in the past, your devotion to your brother promises a solid foundation for the future. Your willingness to sacrifice to rescue Hohiro is an example that I would use to chasten anyone who cries out at the hardships the war has thrust upon them, if I felt those persons were worthy of such noble direction."

As the Coordinator swirled the whisk through the fifth cup, Shin felt his own innards begin to whirl. He bowed his head as Takashi placed the cup before him and then kept his eyes lowered so he would not stare like an ill-mannered lout.

"And you, Shin Yodama, what am I to say about you? You are a bandit, a yakuza who has dared become a MechWarrior—a role reserved for those steeped in the ways of bushido.There are those who still maintain my son's recruitment of your people is an offense to the Dragon and that I should have slain you all to purify our forces.

"And yet again and again you have risked your life for my grandson, my son, and even myself. You, who claim no noble blood, no formal education, have proven more worthy to be entrusted with the fate of the Combine than any ten nobles or twenty courtiers. Were you not a criminal, I would induct you into the Order of the Dragon for all you have done."

The Order of the Dragon! I would be a Knight of the Realm. Shin almost looked up to see if Takashi were sincere, but the phrase were you not a criminal stopped him. He is correct. Tradition would never allow a yakuza to be given so high an honor. Just being served tea by the Coordinator is great enough reward for me.