'We all do.'
'And still you delude yourself. I saw the truth in you in that Council Chamber over two years ago, and I still see it now. They rule you. They rule all of you, and you just do not see it at all. Who wants me arrested, Sheridan? Who orders the Inquisitors? Ironic, isn't it? They hide in the shadows and make you all dance to their tune.'
'The Vorlons aren't our enemies.'
'The Vorlons are destroying you all, and you are too blind to see it! Look, Sheridan! Open your eyes and look around and think for one moment! Is this why the Alliance was created? Did any of you have the Inquisitors in mind then? Look at what is happening to the Centauri. Is that what you had in mind? Look at what happened to the Drazi.
'Did you envisage any of this at the beginning? Secret police. Martial law. Civil war, even.
'Can you truly tell me you wanted these things at the beginning?'
'It's not that simple, and you know it. We have to make sure the Shadows don't come back. We have to make sure this peace is eternal, not just for a few years, or even for a thousand.'
'And your methods.... these will bring war in months. All you have done is build a paper house around foolish dreams. You remember the war, as you should, but you think anything is preferable to that. What matter if we have lost our freedom? What matter if we weaken and shatter and destroy one of our oldest allies? What matter if we are angry and hungry and lost?
'What matter any of those things? After all, we have our peace, don't we? Our precious peace!
'Tell me this, Sheridan.
'Just what kind of peace have you bought us?'
'Listen to me, you worthless hypocrite, before you start coming over all noble and concerned! A champion of the poor and downtrodden?
'How dare you? I've been at war for eighteen years solid! Eighteen years! It's cost me my friends, my wife, my parents, my sister, my daughter, my son.... It's cost all those things and more, to God alone knows how many people!
'Fine, what we have isn't perfect. Nothing ever is this side of the grave, but it's better than the alternative!
'And I think we should look at your motives here just a little. You're a warrior, remember. You're bred to kill. That's all you know. What does it matter whom you kill, hmm? As long as you have someone to fight, then good on you and get on with it, and to hell with anyone who gets in the way.
'War does no good for anyone. Talk to the people of Kazomi Seven and Proxima Three who can now look up at the skies without fear. Talk to the parents who can watch their children grow up without fear. Talk to the children who can look at a future where they don't have to be afraid.'
Sinoval smiled. 'Ah, Sheridan. What makes you think I haven't? And as for you, talk to the Drazi. Talk to the Centauri. Talk to those who have lost sons and daughters and wives and husbands to your Inquisitors. No fear? They are more afraid now than they ever were before.'
'Don't lie to me. The Inquisitors look for Shadow agents. The innocent have nothing to fear from them.'
'And who defines who is innocent, Sheridan? The Inquisitors themselves, of course. Whom do they serve? To whom do they answer?'
'The Council, of course.'
'You are a blind man, Sheridan. Whom does the Alliance serve? All of your noble ideals of peace and justice and an end to war. Yes, I was a warrior, and yes, I was bred to kill. But all that means is that I look at peace with a suspicious eye. And this peace in particular is shaking at the foundations.
'Look at them, Sheridan. Just open your eyes and look. Ask yourself this question, and see if you like the answer.
'Whom do you serve?'
'I serve peace.'
'You're as much of a warrior as I am. More, perhaps. You didn't have the training I did. You learned it all as you went along. There's no more place for you in a world of genuine peace than there is for me. Why do you need the
'Whom do you serve, Sheridan? It is not peace.'
'The people of the Alliance.'
'Which people? The Drazi, perhaps? Vizhak was with you from the start, and where is he now? Go to Zhabar one day and look around. Or perhaps the Centauri? Speak to them of the wonders of peace sometime.
'Or better yet, wait a few months. Wait until the Inquisitors arrive in force on your beloved Proxima. Then go and speak to the people there and talk of peace.
'Whom do you serve, Sheridan?'
Sheridan suddenly laughed. 'Is that your question, then? What did the Shadows ask - 'What do you want?' That's how they tempted me, and so many others. 'Whom do you serve?' doesn't have quite the same ring to it.'
'Then I'll try another question. Who are you? Do you even recognise the face in the mirror any longer?'
'Do you?' Sheridan snapped. 'Enough of the questioning of me. Look at yourself. You've changed since the last time I saw you. All those Soul Hunters, all that death, they've unhinged you. Who are you these days, Sinoval? Whom do
'Ah.' Sinoval threw back his head and spread his arms wide. Behind him countless little lights began to emerge, and a chorus of voices rose as one. Tiny stars began to sparkle beneath his skin.
'That question, I think I can answer,' he said, his voice sounding like many mixed into one. 'You see, Sheridan. We are not so different after all.'
Sheridan's eyes began to glow bright gold, and memory left him.
He walked in her footsteps, stepped into her shadow, trod where she trod, moved as she moved. He knew nothing else other than that he had to follow her, had to find out what she was doing here, if she was even real and not another illusion like those he had seen before he had come here.
The woman whom he was sure was Susan Ivanova walked slowly and stealthily through the darkened streets of Yedor. The man who now remembered himself to be David Corwin followed her, unsure of where they were going, but knowing that there was nowhere else.
He had been sure she was dead. She had been gone for years. Ambassador Sheridan had taken her from Kazomi 7 to Z'ha'dum during the failed peace talks, and that had been the last any of them had heard of her. She had been comatose then, delirious and unconscious. Corwin was sure she must have died, but he had paid her no special heed. She had merely become one of the countless ghosts haunting him.
Until now. That slight glimpse in the half-light of the Temple of Varenni had reawakened all the old memories, all the old emotions. Stolen kisses in the moonlight of Orion, long walks though the parks, saddened conversations about friends and family dead, eating breakfast in bed the day before she left on the Babylon 2 mission.
And then her return, twisted, changed. A Shadow agent. It had taken him a long time to adjust to what she had become, but time and memories and loves changed. There had been Mary, and all the concerns about John, and Delenn and the war.
Always the war.
He continued walking, paying no attention to where she was going. He had no idea whom she had been talking to, no idea why she had been talking to a warrior, no idea of anything at all.
He turned a corner and stopped, looking around. There was no sign of her. He took a step back and looked around again. Still nothing.
Where could she have gone? She had not been that far ahead of him. There was nowhere here to hide.
Maybe she had not walked down this street after all. He turned to retrace his steps, and as he did so a sharp blow struck his midriff and then another his back. He fell.
Looking up at the sky through dimmed eyes, he saw a fighting pike held several feet above his head. It looked a little smaller than those he had seen before, but maybe that was just his blurred vision.
There was a flicker of movement and a long, sharp metal blade shot out from the end of the pike. It came to a stop less than an inch from his neck. It glistened razor-sharp in the moonlight, and colours seemed to shimmer as
