A Dark, Distorted Mirror. Volume 5 : Among the Stars, like Giants. Part 1 : Learning How to Live

'But what if I fail? What if I trip and fall? Who will pick me up when you are not there?'

'You will pick yourself up. You will learn from your mistakes and grow stronger from what does not kill you. You are not alone. You have allies and friends. You have me.'

'You are gone. After tonight, the comet will pass and whatever door has opened to allow you here will be closed.'

'You have my memory, and we both have tonight. We always knew we would never have eternity, but we loved in the little time we had, and before the end I found peace and acceptance and love. What more can any of us ask?'

'Tirivail.... Tirivail told me to tell you something.'

'Yes?'

'She says you are not a coward.'

She feels him smile. 'I think she always knew that, but tell her that neither is she. It would please me if the two of you could become friends. She has a brave soul, and she will never betray you.'

'I know. I know.'

She feels him gently stroking the back of her neck. 'What are you thinking, my lady?' he asks softly.

'That I wish time could slow, and stop, and that we could be here forever.'

'And the world outside?'

'Let it burn. If I have you, then it does not matter.'

'You do not mean that.'

'No,' she whispers. 'No, I don't.'

'You will leave this place, and you will return to the world outside, and you will continue with your duties and your burdens and your sorrows. But you will have tonight. You will always have tonight. What more can any of us want?'

'I don't know.'

'And nor do I.'

And the night drifts away slowly, one heartbeat at a time.

* * *

There is a moment, one single moment when it is possible to win people over to your will, to make them allies, or friends, or servants. Fail, and they will become detractors, foes, enemies. Moreil understood this. He had experienced that moment when he had bound the Wykhheran to his cause, and with the Zarqheba.

This Marrago understood it as well. Moreil could see it in his eyes.

'We know of you,' the first Drazi said, rising angrily. 'Centauri Lord-General. You lead Centauri fleets. You lead Centauri armies. This a trap!'

'I was Lord-General,' Marrago replied smoothly. 'Now I am nothing. I am an exile. I am like you.'

'No,' the Drazi said. 'Not like us. Not like us at all.'

Moreil looked at the Narn female. She was whispering something to her companion. Something in her eyes sparkled at Marrago's presence here. She was the true power of that pairing.

'Why do you wish to join us?' the Narn male asked. 'Why do you entreat entry to the Brotherhood Without Banners?'

Marrago paused, and Moreil watched as he breathed out slowly. Everything in the room seemed to slow down. Even the Wykhheran were quiet for once. Yes, Moreil thought. This is a man who knows how to command the moment.

Do you have orders for us, lord?

Not yet. Wait, but be ready.

'My family is an ancient one, going back to the dawn of the Republic. My ancestor was ennobled by the first Emperor himself. For centuries we have stood in the shadow of the throne, protecting him who sat upon it. We have been the shield of the Republic, the sword of the Emperor. We have led the Republic's fleets and armies and soldiers into battle in the Emperor's name.

'I grew up with Emperor Mollari. He and I were friends. Together we hoped to plot a new future, a greater and finer world than we had grown up in. The high-flown dreams of youth! I guided him through the times of trouble. I placed him on that throne. I could have taken it for myself, but all those ancient vows hung over me, and I gave the throne to him.

'And where am I now? While he sits on that throne, surrounded by wealth and riches and glory, where am I? My loyalty to the Republic has cost me my daughter, my friends, and now my home.

'To hell with all of it. I will find my own way and claim my own glory. If you do not want me here, then I will find it elsewhere.'

The human chuckled. 'The shin bone's connected to the knee bone,' he sang, as he often did. 'If we don't want you here, then you won't be going anywhere else.'

'You are welcome to try to stop me,' Marrago said again.

'What can you offer us?' the Narn asked. 'What resources do you bring?'

'I have a ship. Not as good as I'm used to perhaps, but it will do. I have a crew for it. Mercenaries, ex- soldiers, outlaws, all just like you. Also, I have a lifetime's experience of war, something that looks as though it is lacking here.'

'Sounds like you want to be our leader,' said the human.

'We have no leaders,' said the Drazi. 'No leaders.'

'I don't want to lead,' Marrago said. 'I've had enough of shepherding people around, or holding their hair for them. All I want is somewhere to shelter, and an occasional helping hand. And I'm sure you can do with another ship and an experienced captain.'

'No,' the Drazi said. 'Get back to your Emperor.'

'It is a vote,' the Narn said to him. 'You know that. I think he will make a most useful addition to our.... brotherhood.'

'No!' the Drazi said again. His companion nodded enthusiastically. 'Never!'

'Oh, the knee bone's connected to the thigh bone,' sang the human.

Warrior, you see the Drazi?

Yes, lord.

Kill him.

The Wykhheran were big, very big, over twice the size of Moreil himself, but their size was created by engineering and design, not random nature, and the Dark Masters had crafted them for speed as well as strength. The Shadow Warrior moved before anyone noticed. Certainly not the Drazi. His first realisation of his death came when the shadow fell over him.

One grasp of the Wykhheran's hand, and it was done. Where the Drazi outlaw had once been alive, now he was merely a mass of flesh and blood and bone.

Feast, Moreil said, granting permission. He looked at the faces of his fellow captains. The human was laughing, playing with his knife as always, oblivious to the trickle of blood running down his finger. The other Drazi was on his feet, his long, poisoned knife in his hand. The Narn locked his glance with Moreil's, and held it for a long time.

Finally, the Narn turned to Marrago.

'Welcome to our order,' he said simply.

Marrago only nodded, not once taking his eyes off the bloodstained mess in the Shadow Warrior's fist. He did not even wince. Moreil liked that.

Courage was a rare commodity.

* * *

'It can be done. What one has done, another can do, and another. Don't you see?'

Ben Zayn folded his arms high on his chest. 'He's still trapped in there, isn't he? Fine, he can move around as much as he likes, but he's still in there, not out here.'