Текст книги "Warrior: En Garde"

Автор книги: Michael A. Stackpole

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15

Echo V

Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine

1 January 3027

 

Jiro Ishiyama bowed deeply out of respect for the wrinkled old monk who had led him through the twisting tunnels of the Zen monastery. Above them, on Echo V's barren, wind-scarred tundra, icy cyclones shrieked as they scourged the planet. Ishiyama fought the shiver provoked by the planet's chill, and respected the old monk even more because of his indifference to the cold.

Indeed, Ishiyama was swathed in the warm folds of a heavy coat, while the monk wore a simple black robe. Though the air was cold enough to show both men's breath, the monk wore only sandals, and had neither gloves to protect his hands nor a hood to protect his shaved pate. In the monk's eyes, however, Ishiyama saw no superiority or disdain for this visitor from far Luthien. Instead, Ishiyama read pity for the man who does not know himself well enough to exist as one with the cold.

The monk looked beyond Jiro Ishiyama and wordlessly directed the two initiates bearing the visitor's lacquered trunks to pass around them. The initiates, bowing only their heads because of the burdens on their backs, passed through the garden to the small hut reserved for the cha-no-yu,the tea ceremony. The two initiates vanished into the hut for a moment, then returned to bow deeply to the monk and his visitor before disappearing into the dark tunnels of the monastery complex.

The monk inclined his head and half-smiled. "Sumimasen,Ishiyama Jiro-sama," he began slowly. "Excuse me if I speak slowly because we use words sparingly here."

Ishiyama bowed. "I am honored by the words you grant me." He looked out over the rock and bonsai garden that filled the underground cavern. The pale white gravel had been raked in long, undulating waves that truly made one feel that he were viewing a frozen ocean. Larger rocks, from the gray of granite to the glassy black-purple of obsidian, thrust up through the stone surf like defiant islands. Nestled in the naturally carven niches, bonsai trees pushed up as though part of the rock, while carefully nurtured mosses clung to the rock, adding the proper verdant touches.

The tea house stood in the center of the garden, and though of obvious human construction, it seemed to be an organic part of the garden. Styled after a pagoda, complete with wood lattice, rice-paper screen walls, and a red-tiled roof, the well-worn granite used to construct the tea house made it look as though the structure were even older than the garden itself. From beneath the tip of the tea house's peaked roof, gray smoke drifted almost imperceptibly.

Ishiyama breathed in and smiled at the familiar, pleasing aroma of burning cedar. Again, he bowed to the monk. "All is perfect. Your faithfulness honors the Dragon." The monk, obviously pleased, bowed his head. Both men knew that, as perfect as the garden might seem, Ishiyama would alter it in some subtle way to make it yet more perfect, and to bind it into the cha-no-yuthat he had travelled more than two hundred light years to perform.

"Do itashimash'te,Ishiyama Jiro-sama," the monk replied softly. "It is we who are honored that the Dragon sends you to grace us with your skill. Be assured that your preparations will not be disturbed. In four hours, I will send Kurita Yorinaga-ji to you."

"Domo arigato."Ishiyama bowed deeply and did not straighten up until the monk had silently departed the chamber. Ishiyama studied the garden. As his eyes followed the path of flat stones leading from the entrance to the tea house, he allowed himself to become absorbed in the beauty the monks had created. The garden, by its artistry and resonance, touched him deeply and peeled away layers of emotion and inner conflicts. The scene restored him to the centered feeling of peace that his trip across seven jump points had stripped away.

Ishiyama forced his mind to the cavern and the garden and his mission. He removed his thick, quilted mittens, stuffed them into his coat pockets, pulled off his boots, and then crossed to where a bamboo rake lay hidden in a shadowed niche. Brandishing it with the care and reverence a warrior might give to his 'Mech, Ishiyama slowly stepped out onto the stone path. Three stones out, he used the rake to gently tease four small pieces of gravel onto that third stone. He did nothing to change or repair how the gravel had fallen, and it might have been only that the last person to rake the gravel had been careless.

Ishiyama allowed himself a brief smile. Deliberately careless.Ishiyama knew that Kurita Yorinaga-ji would immediately spot the small white pebbles on the broad gray steppingstone. He knew, too, that Yorinaga-ji would take them as the first sign that the perfect universe, the universe that had trapped him, was changing.

Ishiyama looked up and concentrated. If the tea house is Luthien, then... He turned to the left and squinted. Reaching out with the butt of the rake, he gently pressed it into the gravel. Mallory's World, the site of Yorinaga-ji's disgrace, would be here.

Ishiyama reversed the rake and used the broad, toothed end to subtly alter the flowing wavelines around the mark he'd made for Mallory's World. Slowly, and with a patience bordering upon the superhuman, he reworked the gravel until one could see, if one knew how to look, minute ripples spreading from that point. Advancing ahead three more path-stones, Ishiyama completed the eleventh concentric ripple-ring—one for each year since Yorinaga-ji had disgraced himself. It was now just over an hour since he had first laid eyes on the garden.

Ishiyama backtracked to the garden's edge, and removed his coat and hat. The chill air sliced through the midnight-blue silken kimono he wore, and Ishiyama unconsciously retied the silver obi a bit tighter. Though difficult to see in the soothing half-light, a dragon figure coiled around the kimono, woven into the garment with slightly darker blue thread.

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 thecha-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-yuwould 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 water 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 Archerout 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 Warhammerto 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'smain armaments were its two medium lasers and twin particle projection cannons, known commonly as PPCs. In a close battle, the Warhammer'sshort range missiles and two small lasers made it even deadlier. Everyone knew that the Archerwould 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 Warhammerran 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'sright 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'sright shoulder, searing completely through it. Within a heartbeat, Yorinaga's shot dropped the Archer'smelted 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 Warhammerand 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 Archeras it rose to its feet, but could not score a hit. It seemed as though Yorinaga's Warhammerrefused 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-samust be injured and out of his mind. At that, Yorinaga turned both PPCs on the Chu-iand melted his Pantherin 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 Pantherand 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 jiappended 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.

Ishiyama salvaged the ceremony by bowing deeply to the Coordinator's position and holding the bow for even longer than Yorinaga-ji had. He then bowed to Yorinaga-ji and held that bow for nearly as long as his bow to the Coordinator.

"The Coordinator says, Komban wa,Kurita Yorinaga-ji." Ishiyama's voice, barely more than a whisper through his mask, came almost as an echo of words from the absent Coordinator's throat.

Yorinaga-ji bowed, but made no reply.

Ishiyama lifted the blue tea bowl up onto the lacquered table. Using Urizen's ladle, he dipped steaming water from the tea urn and brought it down slowly enough for the steam to form a thick white curtain between the urn and the table. In three fluid motions, he filled the bowl with water, releasing a cloud of steam with each move.

As the steam dissipated, Ishiyama again whispered. "The Coordinator says he wishes to apologize for not replying to your annual request to commit seppuku.He admits that his own weakness has kept him from contemplating this life without you. He says that he has never replied because he could only deny your requests, and that denial would bring you pain."

Again, silently, Yorinaga-ji inclined his head toward the invisible

Coordinator. He paid no conscious attention to the man acting as the Coordinator's surrogate because, as long as the other man wore the black costume, he did not exist. Yet, the tea master's skill was such that, as he added crushed tea leaves to the water and mixed them with so dexterous and easy a motion of the whisk, Yorinaga-ji relaxed unconsciously for the barest of moments.

Ishiyama, his senses almost supernaturally alert during the cha-no-yu,sensed Yorinaga-ji's momentary relaxation, and his heart leapt up. Ishiyama immediately gained control of himself and set the whisk down on the table. He cupped the bowl of tea in his hands, utterly ignoring the heat, and placed it before the Coordinator's position.

"The Coordinator says he has found a way to grant the release you desire, while also allowing you to fulfill your duty to him and preserving him from grief for your death." Ishiyama reached out for the tea bowl, rotated it 180 degrees with slow precision, and lifted it across the table. Without a sound, and without a ripple breaking across the top of the tea, he placed the bowl before Yorinaga-ji.

"The Coordinator says that he will form an elite unit around you. They will become the Genyosha—the Black Ocean—and you will be their leader. You will train them and pass on the knowledge and skill for which you are so well-known. You will be able to select fifty men, one for each year of your age, from all the forces in the Combine. Then, aside from an ISF liaison officer, you will have no superior but the Coordinator."

Ishiyama lowered his head. "You will be Iemotoof the Genyosha for, once you have given them all that you are, they will train fifty men, and those fifty will train fifty until all our forces have your heart and mind."

Ishiyama waited, but Yorinaga-ji did not move. Ishiyama knew that he had presented Yorinaga-ji with his deepest desire. Ishiyama suppressed the desire to smile nervously, but he did marvel at how well the Coordinator knew this man who had been in exile for eleven years.

Ishiyama's voice again filled the room with sounds less substantial than the steam curling up from the tea before Yorinaga-ji. "The Coordinator asked me to mention, as a small item of interest, that plans have already begun for the utter destruction of the Kell Hounds."

Yorinaga-ji inclined his head ever so briefly. Some emotion that Ishiyama could not identify strobed across Yorinaga's face,

but was swallowed in the self-control fortified by his exile. Without looking down, Yorinaga-ji unerringly cupped the tea bowl in his hands and raised it to his lips.