'Of course, of course.' Morden took the rebuke without any sign of anger, as he always did. And why not? He could afford to allow Londo a stinging remark or two.
'I see your Inquisitors are out in force again. Whom have they arrested this time, I wonder?'
'The glorious work they do demands a lot of effort, Majesty, but as for your question, one of the maids in your kitchens was acting as an intelligence agent for the Enemy, leaving information of palace comings and goings under a rock in the garden. She is being.... questioned to determine her employer. We shall discover it soon enough.'
Londo sighed. What Morden had just described had being going on for centuries. It was all a part of the Great Game of Houses, and quite frequently had nothing to do with the Shadows at all. Every noble House had agents in the palace, and in all the other Houses come to that. But if the Inquisitors found even the slightest trace of wrongdoing they would seize on it, and the Great Maker help those they focussed on.
'I commend your diligence,' Londo spat.
'I will pass that on to them. Oh, by the way, Majesty, I received some interesting news about an hour ago. I was going to tell you when you woke up. A peacekeeping force has been assembled by the Alliance to protect Gorash and a few of the other vulnerable worlds. They will also help restore order and oversee the presence of humanitarian aid.'
'I believe you humans have a saying about stable doors and horses,' Londo said dryly. 'Still, that is good news. I merely wish it were not necessary.' I
'Indeed it is. Commander N'Rothak will be taking overall charge. He's a very experienced captain and administrator. He will soon....'
'A Narn? Great Maker, they could not be so foolish, surely. The Alliance have sent a Narn to lead the peacekeeping force?'
'Why would they not? Eighty percent of the overall force are Narns. There are obvious advantages. You share a border, they are near enough to Gorash for there to be little time wasted. They know the system and the world....'
'And why is that? Because they occupied it for a year, because they spent decades attacking it! I do not believe this. How long were we and the Narns at war? Too long to let them take over one of our worlds in this way!'
'The war between you and the Narn is over now, Majesty. You are all part of the Alliance now. The Kha'Ri specifically requested this role, as a symbol that the past is done, and an example of renewed co-operation. Of course, if you would rather the people of Gorash starve, then you have but to say so.'
'You know full well I cannot do that. Good night, Mr. Morden. I am suddenly feeling.... very tired.'
And he was indeed feeling very tired, but there was little to be done about that. He needed more than one night to make himself feel better.
He lay still and silent beside Timov until dawn, listening to the sound of his own hearts beating. They seemed so much louder than they had before.
Councils were rare among the Brotherhood Without Banners. Usually there was little to discuss, little to agree upon. The captains came and went as they saw fit, banding together only for a common purpose.
They had, however, agreed upon a few situations that would necessitate a meeting of all the captains. A proposition to launch a new attack. A potential threat to their base, in particular from the Alliance. The expulsion of one of their number. Or the acceptance of a new member.
Moreil knew it was the latter, and that was why he actually deigned to attend this meeting. Usually he did not. Petty politics did not suit him. He did not care which of them led, which futile ploy of revenge they followed first. All he cared about was the service of chaos.
But something stirred within him as he walked the darkened corridors of their home. Something told him this would be important.
Behind him, the Wykhheran complained angrily. There had been little for them to eat recently, at least little worth the effort. Some of the prisoners taken at Gorash had died here, either from injuries or torture or suicide, and Moreil had let their carcasses serve as food, but that was cold meat. The Wykhheran wanted warm fare.
Why, they complained, could they not devour the Sin-tahri female? She was young and healthy and warm. What interest could Moreil have in her? Or, for that matter, in the elder Sin-tahri male who owned her? Surely neither of them mattered?
Moreil did not answer them. He did not have to, and they all knew it, but this time he did not reply because he did not have a valid answer. Rem Lanas meant nothing to him, but the girl.... He seemed to recognise something within her, and a hunch, an instinct, a revelation from the Dark Masters even, told him she would be needed alive at some point.
It was time enough for another raid. If the whole of the Brotherhood did not agree to such an action, then Moreil would take out his own ship and go hunting. The service of the Dark Masters did not allow for a rest.
He entered the room that had been set aside as the meeting place, and immediately he noticed the other captains wince slightly. They feared him. That was good. All of them knew about his honour guard, and those who were wise feared the Wykhheran.
There was only one who did not, and that was the human. He was balancing his knife on the table, point first, and spinning it. Moreil had not asked his name, he had not cared to know, but some respect was called for to one so fearless.
Besides, it had been he who had helped them find this base. Apparently it had been attacked and almost destroyed during the war between his people and the Minbari, and since abandoned. Moreil had not cared for more details. He spent as little time here as possible.
He took his place, not sitting as the others were, and looked around at them all. The captains and leaders of the Brotherhood Without Banners. The human, the knife wielder. The Narn captain who had coined the name that had finally stuck. Beside him was a Narn female, who wore a long sword on her back. There were two Drazi, who looked enough alike to be twins. Rem Lanas was there, again pretending to be more important than he was. There were a few others, newcomers mostly. None mattered. None dared to look at him.
'We have a request to join our order,' the Narn captain said. He was the one who most clearly saw the need to bond the disparate group together. There was something he quoted a lot, repeating the phrase over and over. 'If we cannot live together, we shall surely die apart.' It had been said by a great holy man of his people. It was not a concept Moreil liked. It spoke too much of order for his liking.
'We all know the rules we have agreed. When one wishes to join, he must explain to us why he wishes to do so, and why we should accept him. Then we vote. If there is even one vote against, he is denied, and killed.'
Moreil listened as the Narn continued. Rules were irrelevant, creations of order. The only rule that mattered was the spreading of chaos, the only order necessary was service to the Dark Masters.
'Let him enter,' the Narn said.
Moreil turned as the door opened and a man walked in. Looking at him, Moreil knew he had been right in his instinct to come here. Once again, the Dark Masters had steered him correctly.
It was a Centauri male, older than Rem Lanas. His hair was long and puffed up above his head. His once-fine clothes were now scuffed and torn. A sword hung at his belt, worn in the fashion of a man who treats his weapon as part of his body.
But it was his eyes that most convinced Moreil. They were eyes that spoke of a wealth of experience, of oceans of blood, of the wails of defeated enemies. This man was a leader, a lord, a general. He was the first here Moreil felt would be worthy to stand before the Priests of the Fallen Midnight and proclaim service to the Dark Masters. All the others were worthless, save for the human, and he was motivated by insanity.
'State your name to the Council,' the Narn said. By the angry words of the Drazi to each other, they already knew it.
'Marrago,' he said. 'My name is Marrago.'
There was always something to do. Usually more than one thing. Leadership was all a matter of prioritisation
