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.