employ him, to bind him slowly and unwittingly to their purposes.
The merchant stopped and spun on his feet, his blade in his hands in an instant. The Drakh was impressed. Skill, there was. Would he stand against a Warrior of the Dark Masters, one of the creations of their black vats at Thrakandar? Perhaps he could, after all. The Drakh reassessed its opinion of this merchant.
'I know you are here,' he said, staring directly at the Drakh, for all the shadows that engulfed it. It moved into the light. 'You should not be here,' snapped Lord–General Marrago, of the great and glorious Centauri Republic. 'I told you never to come here.'
'Come here I did, at the will of the Lords of Chaos.... they whom we both serve. There is words they wish to be having with you.... Many words, indeed.'
The merchant did not sheathe his sword.
It was the smallest of things that awoke in him first, the slightest itching of his fingers. He twitched them, and felt the leather in his glove flex. Its texture felt strangely welcome against his skin.
Then came a further awareness. He could feel the blood pulsing in his veins. He could hear the beating of his heart. He could feel his muscles expand and contract.
He could move.
It was his hand he moved first, lifting it so that he could see for himself. He clenched it into a fist.
Then he saw the small globe hovering, suspended above his chest by an unseen force. It was glowing, but the light from it was fading, a little at a time. He could see the last hints of a great flame arising within it, and then it died. The globe became dull and empty, and all that could be seen within it was a dark, smoky mist.
A hand plucked it from the air, and he turned his head. Feeling was coming to the rest of him, faster now. He could see. He could focus his sight.
He knew the figure standing before him. The two of them had spoken many times, but always that had been within the soul globe, in a world where he was master, and he alone. Now he could see Sinoval in the flesh, see his blood and his bones and his bearing.
He knew this was Sinoval, but the first thought that flashed into his mind was: Valen!
It was not Valen of course, he knew that, but there was something there. Sinoval possessed the same absolute mastery over his self that Valen had, and now they met in the flesh that was clear to see.
'Can you move?' Sinoval asked, his voice not unfriendly. He looked tired.
'Yes,' came the reply. There was more gratitude in his voice than he had ever believed possible. 'Yes, I can move. It is true.... I did not believe it.... It is true....'
Marrain swung his legs off the altar on which he lay and raised his new body upright, so that he stood.
'I live,' he whispered, and then he repeated these two words, louder than before, and then again, shouting his joy to the heavens as a sign of his elation, and as a warning to the new universe within which he walked.
'I live!'
Press conferences were as a rule dull and boring things, little more than a chance to put across highly sanitised and well–screened pap. Clark, however, loved them. He relished the battle of wits with the reporters and, while he accepted that it was sometimes sadly necessary to restrict their remit, now he was having the time of his life with them.
The freedom of the press had been heavily restricted by the Wartime Emergency Provisions, and for the long war years very few papers had been active, all official Government agencies. That had been one of the first of the provisions to be relaxed and then repealed in the last few years, and new papers and magazines and news reports had sprung up from nowhere. There were some criticisms of Clark and the Government of course, but he let them slide. In truth he did not care, he was playing for bigger stakes than anyone here could possibly imagine.
Word of the Beta Durani attack had been out for some time now, but this was the first official response to the crisis other than the formal declaration of war with the Alliance. It was also the first confirmation that the colony had been lost.
'Believe me,' Clark said to the listening journalists, 'I remember all too well the long years of war, the fear of looking up at the sky each night, afraid of what might come into view. I chose to believe that those days were over. I, like all of you, wanted to believe they were over.
'But as a great man once said, the price of freedom is eternal vigilance. We have lapsed in this duty, and we have lost one of our worlds. I give you my word, Beta Durani will be ours once more, and we will lose no more ground to the alien invaders. We are not alone this time. We have our allies, and they will protect us.'
A fine speech, and one he had written himself. Macabee had been in apoplexy at the very thought of course, but he was an inconsequence. Clark was more than adept at manipulating the public.
Besides, he meant almost every word he said.
'Mr. President,' said a journalist, one he did not recognise. 'Do you have any confirmed casualty lists from Beta Durani?'
'We have set up an emergency hotline for those with friends or family on the colony. I can also report that the
'Has there been any response from the Alliance?' asked another voice.
'No,' Clark replied. 'Not even a formal acknowledgement of our declaration of war. But then that is not surprising, as they have made it clear they do not wish to talk or engage in any form of peaceful negotiation. However, word has come from the Kha'Ri that they do not support this action. They are fully in support of humanity in our stance against the Alliance, and any Narn ships involved in the attacks are renegades and outlaws.'
'What about Delenn?' asked another. Her, Clark recognised. Mary Ann Cramer, of the left–wing paper
'What about her?' he replied blandly.
'Is she aware of this attack, and how has she responded?'
'Delenn is unaware of what is happening, Miss Cramer. She is currently being held in a secure hospital facility, recovering from an attempted suicide. Security protocols around her have been tightened, and medical tests are being carried out to ensure her fitness.'
'What is the progress of the war crimes tribunal?' asked another voice.
'The day before word reached us of the attack on Beta Durani, I personally spoke with former Chief Justice Wellington. He has agreed to come out of retirement to chair the tribunal himself. He is in the progress of assembling lawyers and judges to sit with him on the panel. The exact charge list is still being compiled as evidence is still being gathered, but it will be made public once it is finalised.'
'What about representation for Delenn?'
'She will of course have the right to choose her own representation. As yet she has refused to do so, and has declined to have a representative present as she is being questioned. A Government advocate will be appointed to defend her if she does not make a choice for herself. It will be a full and fair trial, I promise you that.'
'Mr. President,' said Cramer again. 'Do you think word of the arrest and detainment of Delenn caused the attack on Beta Durani?'
There was a low hush, and Clark smiled. 'Miss Cramer.... there is much you do not understand about warfare. I have spoken with General Ryan and the other high–ranking military leaders. They assure me that the attack on Beta Durani must have been planned for months. The Alliance assembled a significant fleet for the engagement, which could not have been done in a few days.
'No, this was a deliberate and unprovoked attack. I do not believe Delenn to be an issue here. I would have been perfectly willing to inform the Alliance of her arrest, and for them to send a delegation to observe the trial and see that the necessary formalities are adhered to, but that is no longer possible.'
There were a few more questions, but they were mostly petty, mundane things, and Clark left, feeling vaguely pleased with himself. He actually found himself liking Miss Cramer. Press conferences were no fun at all without a little challenge, and these days he was up for almost any challenge imaginable. He could not recall the last time he had felt this fit and ready for action.
He returned to his office and found a copy of
