Some for, some against. Finally, all was done. No.
Durano's face was expressionless, betraying no sign of his inner feelings. Delenn bowed her head. S
She was the first to become aware of the whistling sound, of the faint rustle of fallen leaves, of the clack of bones. She looked up. No, not the first. The second. John was already staring at the new arrival.
The Alliance had had a Vorlon representative since just after the Battle of the Third Line, but he had stayed behind on Kazomi 7. A new representative had been appointed to Babylon 5. He had given no name, but none was needed. He was instantly recognisable. His encounter suit was pure white, although the shade sometimes varied. Today it was almost blinding, seeming to reflect every light in the room.
He looked at Delenn, and then around at the Council. <This vote shall pass,> he said.
And that was that. Delenn just wished she could have felt better about it.
The stone was simple and small and plain. It was, Tirivail thought, and not for the first time, entirely inadequate. There should have been statues. There should have been monuments and epic tales. There should have been many things.
But all that remained to commemorate Kozorr of the Star Riders clan was a small black stone in the middle of a garden, and the words, 'Here lies a worker, who spent his life destroying and his death creating.'
Completely inadequate, and all the work of Kats. Satai Kats as it was now. Tirivail tried to dislike the woman, but it was hard to dislike one who loved one you loved. Even if she was a worker.
'In the Name of the Betrayer, so do we serve,' she said, continuing the ancient oath spoken in Marrain's memory. Of course, he was no memory these days. Not to her.
'I am a warrior. I dance amidst the height of the storm. I ride among the stars. My sword clashes in the winds. The moon is my shield. My wings are of fire.
'I am a warrior. I shall not fall. I shall not let an enemy pass from my sight. I will walk in the dark places, and I shall know no fear.
'On death, my soul shall ascend to be judged by my ancestors and those who have come before. If found worthy, I shall be reborn, with no memories of my past life, but with the knowledge that I am a warrior in more lives than this.'
She stopped, and looked at the stone. 'Remember that, Kozorr. Remember that.'
'Why do you do this?'
Tirivail turned, and saw Kats approaching. Her eyes grew even darker. Kats was shorter than she was. Kats had never been trained to wield a weapon, never stood on the bridge, never faced enemies in the certain knowledge that death was coming.
But Kozorr had loved her.
And, Tirivail grudgingly had to admit, she was brave.
'To remind him,' she replied. 'He was a warrior. His spirit should not be allowed to forget that.'
'His spirit is gone. It has gone to the heavens, to rejoin the pool and wait to be reborn.'
'Not to us. His spirit is everywhere. And he will return to us a warrior, if we but remind him often enough of what he is.'
'He wanted to create. He was tired of destruction.'
'And you think that is all we do? This city is ancient. You are rebuilding it now, but you are just building on top of what was already there. The bones of this city are our bones. The mortar that holds it together is our blood. There are so many ghosts here. I live with them every day.'
'Yes, so do I.'
'I merely honour his memory. That is all.'
'So do I. But more than that. I come to talk to him. He cannot hear me, but I talk all the same. I tell him of my fears, of my nightmares, of my friends. I tell him all that has happened, and I tell him I wish he was here with me.'
'I envy you,' Tirivail sighed. 'Sometimes I wish I could hate you. You had his touch, his caress, his heart. You had his love, and all I had was his respect. I wish I could hate you.'
'Why do you not?'
'Because he loved you.'
'There is one who loves you, Tirivail. Another you can love. I am sure of it.'
'Oh? I wish I were. My father is planning a marriage for me. A way to bind our clan to one of the others, to gain political advantage. I am one of the few resources he has remaining if he wishes to rebuild our fortunes.'
'Do you wish marry?'
'He is my lord. I swore to obey him, to die at his command, to die at his single word. I disobeyed my lord once before. I will not do so again.'
'What order did you disobey?'
'I did not kill my sister. I leave you to your conversation, Satai. I must go and train.'
She walked away, and did not look back.
There was a dark thought Emperor Londo Mollari II entertained in the middle of the night as he looked out over the domain he claimed to rule, a dark irony that was surely evidence of some malign force seeking to destroy him utterly.
It had not been three years ago that he had been a wanderer, travelling across the galaxy in exile, seeking allies, seeking friends. To his surprise he had found them. In those days he had had no power, but so many choices. Now that he had power, he had no choice at all.
Timov was sleeping. She slept like a child, far better than he did these days. He had spent far too many nights beside her, listening to his hearts beating and staring up at the ceiling.
Sighing, he turned away from his window and walked out into the corridor. The two members of his Palace Guard, not unused to such an occurrence, snapped to attention and followed him. Another two remained outside the room, guarding the Lady Consort. Londo supposed his midnight walks were no secret. They were not exactly uncommon these days.
He never had anywhere planned. He just went where his hearts took him, sometimes to the Royal Gardens, or to the throne room or the kitchens or out into the city or any number of places. He did not know where he was going to go tonight either. He just wanted to walk, to let his mind shut down and let his hearts guide him.
He could not do that tonight, though. There was too much to think about. The massacre at Gorash still preyed on his mind. So many dead, several taken. A parcel had arrived at the palace two days before. It contained the head of the Governor.
Things were little better here. The crops were failing again, disastrously this time. His advisors tried to conceal the truth from him, but he still knew. People were starving by the thousand. Was this what he had meant when he had promised Malachi he would look after the peasants?
He stopped suddenly as a shadowy figure emerged from the corridor in front of him, and he looked up. The Brakiri's dark eyes studied his own beneath the dark hood. Londo stiffened, recognising the lantern symbol on the breast of his robe.
It stood for light, of course. What did they say? 'We have power wherever there is light, and where the light is not, we bring it.'
Inquisitors. There were far too many of them. How many had they taken away? How many tried and executed? How many forced to suffer? He had saved Timov at least. That was a victory of sorts, however small, and he had to take his victories where he could find them.
The Inquisitor stepped aside and let Londo past. Not surprisingly, Mr. Morden was not far behind.
'Ah, Majesty,' Morden said. He was as immaculately dressed as ever, not a hair out of place. G
No, probably not.
'Are you sure you should be up at this time of night, Majesty? With all the burdens of your position, surely you need rest?'
'I do not let Timov treat me like a child, Mr. Morden, and she is far closer to me than you are. Kindly credit me with the wisdom to determine for myself how much sleep I need.'
