"Charmed," replies Lee, glancing briefly at Vol. "My son, Tora, will handle the formalities here."
She gives her child a meaningful glance, that trails between the likes of Akeha and Hana before turning away. These are women of quality, Tora!, she imagines herself saying. Make a good impression! Then, she turns and walks towards her austere cabin. Her dancers remain on the dock. As part of the usual public relations effort, they will soon be making eyes at the soldiers, whispering between themselves, and occasionally mimicking this one's stern visage or offering that one a flirtatious wink and smile.
Nobody would call Lee's room rich, but being spartan has a certain inimitable quality. She sits herself cross-legged on a cushion, taking up a sanxian leaning against the wall. Between her and Akeha sits a low table. A tall wall-hanging that depicts the dawn hangs behind her, a half-sun rising above verdant hills and rich farmland. To one side is a map, with old realm calligraphy marking the places thereupon. Someone will bring them tea soon, certainly.
"Why we are here, indeed," muses Lee, thoughtfully. "As the farmer leaves one field clear so that it might grow boldly next summer, so too do we rotate from town to town, knowing that songs are worth more when heard infrequently. Unbound and unbowed, we have neither lands nor title to call our own, thus to be itinerants is all that remains to us. Our home was no longer a place for us, so we made a new one out of wood and sailcloth. The more of the world we see, the more we learn and the more we can teach. I suppose you could say we traveled this way because I sought to chase the dawn."
