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

been here, although he could not place the difference. It was merely that his perceptions of it seemed.... askew somehow. Whereas before he had seen stone and mortar, now he saw a million sparkling lights, and he could hear the voices within. He could close his eyes and pick out the individual souls that had been joined so long ago into one form. He could recognise members of long-dead races, the ancestors of those who now walked among the stars.

He stepped through the archway, and let the calm of the Well of Souls wash over him. He was the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus now, or so he had been told. He was the voice, the conduit, the link between these souls and the world of the living.

He was beginning to understand what that meant. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel his essence drawn here. He had to come, to confront the sentience here.

We welcome you, Primarch, said the ancient voice of the Well. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, and that was because it did. The sentience here was not within the infinity of tiny, twinkling soul globes, nor focussed on the altar, nor in the vast orb floating in the centre of the room, nor in the eternal white flower laid out on the altar.

The sentience that was the Well of Souls was the room. It was the air, the stones, the light and the shadow.

'I am the Primarch Majestus et Conclavus, then?'

Did you disbelieve that which you were told?

'I am.... a cynic by nature.'

That is known to us. Yes, you are our voice now. It was said, long ago, that another would come, and he would erase the wrongs of long years past, and bring us to our next age. We knew not when he would come, whether now, or in a thousand years, or a million. But now you are here, ready to fulfill your destiny.

'I do not believe in destiny.'

Destiny believes in you.

Sinoval bowed his head, feeling the power wash over him. He could not but be awed by this place. He had watched the expressions on the faces of G'Kar and Mollari as they had come here. No one could help but be awed. No one.

Sinoval was awed, but he did the only thing that was possible in the circumstances. He threw back his head and laughed.

'I came here,' he said, still laughing. 'Full of arrogance and power and belief in my own mastery of all. The deal I made.... my soul for leadership of this Order.... I meant nothing by it. I intended to find a way around it, for the short-term goal of finding Valen.

'And now.... and now you have my soul, don't you? I can no more run from this than I could run from my own soul. You knew. You knew.'

We knew you might be the one for whom we had waited. We were prepared for failure, it has happened before, many times. But this was no failure.... You are the one we foresaw.... in this place, in this time. You were told, this is a time for warriors, not healers. Hence fate pulled you forward, and brought you here to us.

Sinoval shook his head. 'What will happen to me now? What must I do to.... fulfill this destiny of yours?'

You will become one with us. You will become one of us. You will lead us beyond the world we know. We will take the knowledge we have here, and the legacy we have assembled. We will be the protectors, the guardians.... until such time as we are no longer needed, such time as the younger races can protect themselves. Then.... you will lead us beyond.

'I will become a Soul Hunter. I, a Minbari, will become a Shagh Toth!'

You will become Primarch.

'Well.... I made a deal, but I never thought....' He shook his head. 'He knew, you knew. I never thought....' He raised his head. 'You know the answers to every question ever asked, yes?'

Save only one, that is true.

'Then answer me this. What must I do.... to save my people? What must I do to reunite them, and end this war amongst ourselves?'

You know the answer to that question.

'Tell me!'

He heard the answer, and his body shook, trembling with the realisation of just where his choices had brought him. Slowly he sank to his knees, touching his hands to the stone floor beneath him. The warmth of Cathedral flooded through him, as if welcoming him home.

'Is....' He bit back his fear of the answer he knew he was about to receive. 'Is.... there any other way? Anything at all?'

No.

He wept.

* * *

Ambassador David Sheridan waited patiently for the President. Patience was a skill he had been forced to develop of course, but it came easier some days than others. Now it was coming with great difficulty. He had a feeling Clark was deliberately making him wait.

He was thinking about the future. Not, as was usual, about the distant future. No, he was not pondering the beginnings of empires, the large-scale construction of political blocs, alliances and treaties. He had the next fifty to a hundred years planned out in his mind, knowing full well he would not live to see it all come to pass. Another would carry on.

But he was not thinking about that now. He was thinking about Clark, and about how it might become.... necessary to fix that problem. Another Keeper was a possibility, but the first one had inexplicably failed. There was no guarantee a second would fare any better.

He had spent over two years wondering just what had happened to cause this, and he had formulated and discarded a number of theories. Ivanova could simply have botched the initial implantation, but she had remained adamant that she had acted as instructed. Well, she had dropped off the face of the galaxy now, and was of no more importance to anyone.

Could Clark have found a way to destroy the Keeper? No, impossible. Nothing short of suicide would do that. Besides, only alcohol could break the Keeper's control for long enough to manage that, and Clark was noted for his abstinence.

A rare genetic condition? That had happened, and Clark was keeping his medical records very secret.

'The President will see you now, Ambassador,' said the secretary, and he looked up from his musings. Nodding to himself, he picked up his briefcase and wandered through the door and past the security guards, who saluted as he passed. He paid them no attention.

When he entered the cabinet chamber he was very irked to find that everyone else was already there. Well, he noted as he cast his gaze over those present, not quite everyone. Taro Isogi, who showed up infrequently as the voice of small business, was absent, as were the representatives from IPX and a few of the other leading MegaCorps.

In fact, he noted as he sat down, this looked very much like a council of war. He should have been happy, but he was not. He was suspicious.

His eyes met Welles' as he sat back in his chair. The Spymaster had his elbows resting on the table and his fingers steepled to form a mask of his face, as was his habit. Sheridan recognised Welles' desire to hide as much of himself as possible. He was suited to walk in the shadows, that one.

'Gentlemen,' said Clark soberly. 'I regret to report that the colony at Beta Durani was attacked and captured some hours ago. The early reports from our Shadow allies indicate that the garrison there has been destroyed, including the Marten. There is no word of Governor Young, and no one, civilian or military, has been yet able to escape from the area.'

This was news to precisely nobody. Sheridan himself had been notified almost before Clark.

'The attacking ships are of unknown configuration, but the Shadows have informed us that they were composed of Vorlon technology. Also, they were supported by Drazi, Brakiri and Narn ships. It seems clear that this was the work of the United Alliance, perhaps in retaliation for our capture of their leader, perhaps simply the