A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 4. A Future, Born in Pain

perhaps because his heart had been lost at his first sight of his daughter.

And now he had possibly doomed them both.

He looked around him, noticing the minor blooms of colour in the dark ravages of his garden. The consequences of too many years without being cared for could not be erased by a few hours work here and there. He had had many dreams of a rich, bright, shining garden, of sitting at peace and growing old and watching his grandchildren grow.

But he knew he could never do that. His first love, the Republic, was a demanding mistress, consuming all his time and energy. And now it would perhaps consume his daughter.

He smelled the soft vapour of her perfume and heard the gentle sound of her footfall. He smiled. She was trying to sneak up on him. She was improving, too. Evidently she had taken his lessons to heart.

'I know you are there,' he said softly, smiling.

'I've been watching you for ten minutes,' she said, walking round into view and kneeling down on the dull grass in front of him. She was smiling, and he couldn't help smiling as well. Something about it was contagious.

'Ah.' He truly hadn't noticed her standing there for that long. He told her so.

'You are joking, surely? You must have known I was there all the time. You are the best.'

'I wish that were so. I'm getting old.' He looked at her, drinking in her radiant beauty. He would do anything for her, anything at all. Then he noticed something, and sat forward. There was a lump and a bruise on the side of her head. 'What happened?'

'Oh? This?' She reached a hand to the bruise. 'It is nothing, Father. It....'

'Lyndisty! What happened?'

'I was struck by a rock. I was attacked by some ruffians while delivering your package.'

A slow fear gripped him. So, the first part of his bargain with the Shadows had been paid. How dare they endanger his daughter like this! It was he who had made the bargain with them, not Lyndisty. They had no business involving her.

'Are.... are you all right?'

'Yes, father. I killed two, and the person the package was meant for came and helped me with the others. I gave it to him, and left. Your.... friend was waiting for me when I got back. He was.... strange. I didn't like him.'

'He's not my friend, Lyndisty. He's just an.... associate. Our business is now done.' He knew that for a lie the instant he said it, and regretted the necessity. He had never lied to Lyndisty before. But she had to believe this. She must have nothing more to do with the Drakh and their Dark Masters. 'Have nothing more to do with him.'

'Are you all right, father? You sound.... worried.'

'I am fine. I.... was just upset to hear you were hurt. How is your mother?' As a feeble attempt to change the subject it would not have fooled the greenest courtier, but then Marrago had never been a courtier, and nor was Lyndisty.

'She is well. She sent me a list of eligible men a few days ago. I am far too old to remain unmarried.'

Marrago laughed. 'How many names were on this list?'

'Sixty–three, although I have managed to whittle away some thirty or so. As for the others.... some further study may be necessary.'

She smiled, and Marrago laughed again. Drusella was a true creature of the Court and she had made repeated efforts to drag Lyndisty into that life, ignoring the fact that she preferred to follow the lifestyle of her father. No true daughter of the Court would rather spend her time on spaceships surrounded by soldiers, or training with kutari and maurestii.

'Follow your heart,' he said softly. 'Marry for love, not because anyone tells you to.'

'A strange idea. Have you ever been in love, father?'

'Not in the way you mean. But I have known happiness in my life, and I will know greater for seeing you wed to a fine man who will love you and look after you.'

'Or me look after him.'

'Or that. Always follow your heart, Lyndisty.' He paused, and then smiled. 'But do it quickly, or I'll be too old to spoil my grandchildren properly.'

'Oh, father. You'll still be fit and healthy to spoil my grandchildren.'

'Oh–hoh. Are you planning any then? Do any of those thirty or so young men catch your eye?'

'Well, Minister Cotto is attractive enough.... in a very shy sort of way. And he is gaining power and influence. He might be a good match.'

'I know Vir.... a little. A good man. You could do much worse. He....' Lyndisty's head suddenly snapped up as she looked over his shoulder. Marrago strained to listen and he heard the soft footsteps of his chief servant. He hadn't heard them at first. He sighed. He truly was getting old.

'Your pardon, Lord–General, Lady. Minister Durano is here to see you, Lord–General.'

'Ah. Send him to my private study. See that he was a glass of water, lightly chilled.' Durano did not drink brivare. He always said he preferred his mind clear and unmuddled. 'I will be with him shortly.'

'Yes, Lord–General.'

Lyndisty waited until the butler had gone, and then her eyes began to sparkle. 'Secret matters of state?' she said. 'You will tell me what he's here for, won't you, father?'

'If it is not too secret,' he said. It was however very difficult to keep secrets from Lyndisty.

'Actually, Minister Durano was also on the list mother sent me.'

'What? He's twenty years too old for you. At least.'

'Ah, but he's not married. He hasn't taken even one wife. And he has a large estate, and a high–ranking post with a lot of influence. And he's very rich. Maybe a little.... unexciting.'

Marrago shook his head, smiling, and rose to his feet. An old knee injury pulled at him and he winced. 'Do as you wish, Lyndisty. I will always support you. Do you want to come inside? I think it is getting a little cold out here.'

'It's not cold. Besides, I like it out here.'

'So do I. I will not be long, I hope.' He turned to begin the walk back to his house. It was usually a short walk, but today it felt very long.

Durano was known for many things, among them his complete political neutrality. He was also fearless, keen–minded and fully capable of obeying Londo's orders.

Marrago hoped he would not have to kill him.

* * *

'We just.... can't target any of the satellites.'

Corwin had long ago all but stopped breathing. His head was pounding, blood rushing in his ears. He could see the millions of people on Proxima, and he could see the defence grid. He could see a million deaths.

And he could see himself, sitting here, unable to stop it.

'What do you mean? Is it some sort of stealth tech, like the Minbari had?' That was a stretch, certainly. For years the Minbari ships could not be targeted by Earthforce vessels due to vastly superior technology. But the Dark Stars were not Earthforce ships, they had been crafted by one of the oldest races alive. Could humanity, even aided by the Shadows and their servants, produce a defence grid that the Vorlons could not target?

'No, sir. We can.... we can sense them. We know where they are. We can set the automatic targetting for the weapon systems, but.... I don't get it! If I didn't know better, I'd say the ship doesn't want to attack the grid.'

Corwin closed his eyes. The ship didn't want to. 'Get me through to Kulomani, to Daro, to anyone.' He had a feeling this was no mere malfunction.

Vorlons had organic technology. Everyone knew that.

The Dark Stars were.... strange.

At times he had heard strange sounds. His crew had unusual dreams. There were distant screams. There had been that blaze of light.

The ship did not want to target the defence grid.

The Dark Star was alive. Was it so far–fetched for it to be sentient, even