'Will we? I wish I had your faith. Sometimes I think.... a dark cloud is putting out the lights across the galaxy. There are very few left shining now.'
'The war will soon be over.'
'That was not what I was referring to.' He shivered.
He wished he could have had more time to talk, but as ever in his life, there was no time. His shuttle was leaving soon. He had a long journey to make.
'I doubt very much that I am welcome here, Majesty, or may I just use 'Londo'? That does not matter. I am here with a message and a warning.
'Yes, I vanished last time. Again. You really do not want to know why, nor do you need to. Suffice it to say I was fleeing from some enemies.
'These are the facts, Majesty. Someone in this Court is allied with the Shadows. Personally, I do not believe it is you, but what I believe matters very little. The Alliance is aware of this, and they are preparing a fleet, a massive hammer–blow to shatter and ruin what remains of your Republic. That will of course be a mercy if the Shadows achieve their wish for this planet first.
'The last time I was here I made you an offer. I came to you in a spirit of co–operation, of equality, in spite of the numerous favours you owed us. Or have you forgotten the help we offered you when you were just a wanderer?
'This time I am making no offers, no bargains, no alliances. I am here, and you know whom I represent. Do as we demand or we will leave you to the Alliance and to the Enemy. Give us the power to remove the Shadows from this world, and those who have invited them here. Give us what we want, and all will be well. Refuse....
'Majesty, I like this world. I really do not want to see it collapse into fire and shadow. That does not mean I won't.'
Morden later realised he had never seen anyone so angry as Emperor Londo Mollari was at that precise moment. Nor had he seen anyone so adept at hiding it.
Lord–General Marrago knew many wise sayings, each one accumulated as part of the debris that encrusts a soldier's life. One of them, the one he bore in mind now, was always to solve your problems one at a time. He tried to remember that as he walked through the long corridors of the palace for a meeting with his Emperor.
The Shadows. The Enemy. He still owed them a favour. Just the one, but one was more than enough. The payment of the first had nearly killed his daughter - what would the second cost him? And with every day that passed the darkness over Centauri Prime grew.
But without the Shadows, what hope was there? The Narns would attack, backed up by the Alliance, and Centauri Prime would fall. The Shadows might be able to stop that. The Narns were a problem for today, the Shadows for tomorrow.
But what sort of tomorrow? What would he leave his daughter and her children yet to be?
He was ushered into Londo's private audience chamber, a room he was growing depressingly familiar with. Countless meetings over the last few months, each one aimed at preventing the inevitable firestorm, at preparing planetary defences, at seeking some peaceful solution, at anything and everything, with nothing the only result.
To his surprise there was no one else waiting for him. Just Londo. Marrago's keen dark eyes picked out the shadowy form of Londo's strange Minbari companion, but that was it. No Durano, no Cotto, no Lady Consort.
Marrago's hearts began to quicken. Had Londo found out? No, surely not. He had to remain ignorant. The blame had to remain diverted from the throne itself.
'Thank you for coming so quickly, old friend,' Londo said, darkness in his tone. In fact there was much that seemed dark about the Emperor today.
'It is ever my duty to serve, Majesty,' he replied.
'You are the only one, Marrago. The only one of all of them. The only one I can trust, the only one I can allow to become involved in this, the only one I can permit to know what.... You remember Mr. Morden, Ambassador Morden, I suppose now?'
'I remember him,' Marrago said, with absolute tranquillity. He did remember Morden. He remembered being informed by his Shadow allies that Morden would have to be dealt with, and quickly. He was an agent of the Vorlons, a powerful and dangerous man. Marrago had arrested him, only for him to inexplicably escape and vanish soon afterwards.
'He has returned. No, do not ask how he got on to the planet, or even the capital. I hold no fault anywhere for that. He came to see me, in a private audience. He stood before me, and he threatened me. Me! On my own throne, in my own Court! He gave me two choices, in a way that was no choice at all.
'I could let this world fall to the Shadows, or be torn apart by the Narns. Or I could let him bring in his.... 'associates'. I could let him bring inquisitors and inspectors and Vorlon monsters to come and plague my world. As if I did not know what the Vorlons did to Delenn! As if I would regard giving them this world as a boon, as a gracious offer!
'We know what Cartagia said as he died. We know the promise I made to Malachi. Shall it be said that I lied in my last words to such an old friend? No, I will give him the better world I promised, and that will not include giving it to the Vorlons.'
'What do you wish me to do, Londo?' Marrago asked simply.
'Whatever is necessary. I will keep the Centauri Republic whole and safe. We will not bend the knee to Vorlon or Shadow, or to the Alliance either. Do what is necessary to save us, friend. Find the Shadow presence here and burn it out. Let no Vorlon set one encounter–suited foot on this world. Let....'
He stopped, and both of them turned to the window. There was a sound, a terrible cry of triumph and exultation and pain, the cry of a dark beast being born.
Both ran to the window and looked outside. Neither of them saw Lennier fall to the ground, clutching his head in agony.
Both of them looked outside and saw a red cloud rise across the sky. And at its centre was a dark mass, a hideous, revolting flying monstrosity that was ugly because it was so beautiful.
It cried out again, and the red cloud expanded. Where its shadow fell, there came madness and death.
Kiro watched his creation rise. His son, almost. In the womb he had fed it with blood and dreams and hatred, and now before his eyes it was born.
The flower, now swollen and bloated, cracked, and the air around it was red. He breathed it in, and felt a sickly–sweet taint fill his lungs. Already scarred and weak from breathing smoke, he should have coughed and spluttered, but instead he was invigorated, filled with worship for his Dark Masters, filled with conviction and strength and power such as he had not felt since he was a young man, with the sure and certain knowledge he would become Emperor.
He glanced across at Mariel, tearing his eyes away from the birth of his beautiful son. She was terrified, her eyes wide, racking sobs crushing her frame. He laughed.
He looked around at the others, his followers, the mad, the dreamers, the lost, the damned. All come here to serve the Shadow, to serve him, to place him on the Purple Throne and elevate him to Emperor.
'Come,' he said. 'Now.... now we are ready. Now, our Masters will show us the way.'
The birth of the last of the Byakheeshaggai did not go unnoticed by its Masters. For months they had been sheltering a small portion of their fleet, enough for two purposes: shelter, protection and rebirth if possible, and revenge if that was not.
The screams came to them across the fabric of hyperspace and they began to move, making for the distant world of Centauri Prime.
A million eyes turned to look upwards at once.
Lyndisty was alone in the palace gardens, torn between meditating, practising with her weapons and contemplating her new dress. She heard the creature's cry and immediately began running for her father.
Timov was looking at papers, records of trade agreements and meetings with merchants and officials. A
