'Because if he does remember who he was, then he and he alone will be able to do what I require of him. I will not be able to do that, nor will you, nor Lanniel, nor Durhan, nor any Soul Hunter or Vindrizi. Only he.
'Besides, all of us, no matter how heinous our crimes, deserve one single chance for redemption.'
'Does that include Kozorr?'
'My lady.... I promised I would do all I could to restore him to you, yes.... but that may not be easy, or even possible.'
'You brought Marrain here because only he could do what you need. Only I can bring Kozorr back. You cannot, and you know that. Nor can Marrain, or Lanniel, or anyone else. He loves me, and it was because of that he turned to them.'
'My lady....'
'I love him! If he comes to the trap you have set, as we both know he will.... then I will be able to talk to him, to.... show him what he has done, to explain to him.... He must know, he must be made to understand. Only I can do that.'
'He is luckier than he knows, my lady. I do not doubt your courage, I do not even doubt your love. I doubt only my ability to protect you.'
'Please.... do not doubt my ability to protect myself.'
'We are here,' said Marrain, snapping Sinoval back to the present. He looked at the room before him, trying to remember if he had been here during his last stay on Babylon 4. He did not think so, but then he had been there for only a few days.
This room must have been a storage chamber of some kind, but it had been changed from that purpose to another. A shrine. Sinoval looked at the makeshift altar, and the markings just above it. They spelled out letters in a very old dialect he was largely unfamiliar with, but this one word he could recognise.
'Z'ondar,' he whispered softly.
'Zarwin built this. He crafted it himself, intending to make this place the holiest of all for his people. Valen cast him and his people aside the same day, fighting the remainder of the war without them.
'Is it any wonder they fell into darkness?'
'And now we will bring them back to the light,' Sinoval said softly. 'All we need do is let them know where we are, and wait for them to come to us.'
'Oh, they will come,' Marrain said, his eyes sparkling. 'They will come to reclaim their holy place, and then....
'There will be death. Death, death and only death until there is nothing but the soft, light footfalls of the slain.
'Death....'
'I told you never to come here!'
Lord–General Marrago, of the great and glorious Centauri Republic, was renowned for many things. One of these things was his calm and peace of mind. Not for him the ranting and raving and furiously shouted orders of some leaders. In battle he was always marked by calm and equilibrium. 'A general who plans in anger will lead his men only to their deaths,' he had once commented.
He was angry now, his initial shock having faded in an admirably short time.
'What if someone had seen you?'
'Your guards.... are blind and stupid,' the Drakh hissed, stepping forward into the light. 'They did not see me.'
'I still told you never to come here. I would contact you, remember? Not the other way around.'
'Arrogant are you.... to think you can control the Dark Masters. They control you, and I am here to remind you of that.'
'No one controls me. We had a deal. One battle, that was it. They would help us for one battle. We need them no longer.'
'Price there was for that one battle.'
'And as I said, I will pay it. But how can I do that when the.... artefact has not been delivered to me?'
'It has been delivered to another. She received it today.... She will perform this task for us.'
A chill swept through the Lord–General, as he knew of whom the Drakh spoke. His kutari raised, he darted forward, and the Drakh met him impassively.
'Of little worth is my life. Honour it is to die serving the Masters.'
'You will leave my daughter alone! She was not a part of any of this.'
'Now she is. Sought to protect her you did, but no one and nothing can be hidden well enough from Masters. Remember that. She returns here now.... to fulfill your side of the deal.'
'No! She is not part of this.'
'Yes.... The Masters willed it so.'
'Then we are done. Lyndisty will deliver this.... package to the place you specified, and then we are done. We will never meet again.'
'If the Masters will it, we shall meet again.' The Drakh gently placed an object on the table. It was black and shining, a million tiny sparkles of light coming from deep beneath the surface. It was an orb. 'When you need them.... touch this and think the words. They will come.
'And another price there will be paid.'
'I told you. One battle, one favour. That is all.'
'We know truth. We know necessity. Masters know all. Consider values greatly, soldier. Lives of those you lead.... against bargain with Masters.' The Drakh walked forward and pushed past Marrago. He made no effort to stop it leaving.
'If I see any of your kind here again,' the Lord–General snapped, 'I'll kill you all.'
'Honour to die serving the Masters it is. Proud to die in their cause would I be. Not afraid of death am I. Your daughter.... she would be, yes?'
The Drakh then left, and Marrago looked at the black orb resting on his table. He wanted to destroy it, to hurl it against the wall and watch it shatter into a million pieces.
He put it in a drawer, and went to contact Lyndisty.
Talia was not afraid. She had been thoroughly trained in defeating fear. It was a survival instinct, that was all, a hangover from the days when humans were little better than animals. She was not an animal, she was not even a normal human. She could face her fear, face it and conquer it.
There were mind–calming techniques she had been learning ever since the age of five. As she walked through the sterile, colourless corridors of the hospital facility, she ran them over and over in her mind. Her breathing was calm and natural. Her walk was normal. Her bearing spoke of routine duties, as if she had done this a thousand times. What was necessary was not to look out of place.
She had memorised the map Welles had provided, studied the timetable of the shift changes, the routine day–to–day business of the hospital. She passed through the security checkpoints with no problems. The replacements were delayed as Welles had promised.
Finally she arrived in Delenn's room. It was a normal, private ward room. Normal, that was, save for the two Security officers and the still figure in the bed, surrounded by machinery. Delenn was asleep.
This was the first glimpse Talia had had of Delenn, and she was mildly surprised. She had not been sure what she had been expecting, but it was not this fragile, strangely beautiful mix of human and Minbari. Welles had not told her about what had happened to put Delenn in this place, but she could sense a terrible, terrible sadness in the alien woman's slumber.
Of course it was interrupted by the sight of one of the security guards stepping forward. 'ID?' he asked.
Talia handed it over, taking care to make the action as nonchalant as possible. This was a routine inspection, that was all. Purely routine.
'I don't recognise you,' said the other one. She risked a quick surface scan. He was suspicious. He was the sort who was naturally suspicious. Slowly, casually, Talia placed her hand behind her back and slid a small device from her sleeve. An electronic jammer, a device that would paralyse the surveillance equipment in here if a fight should prove necessary. Not one of Welles' toys, something she had been able to pick up on the black market.
