'I'm sorry?'
'How did you get here? We are some way from the.... sanctuary, are we not?'
'By ship, of course. Did you think I would grow wings and fly?'
'They know.' Vejar sighed. 'They know. You have as good as told them you have come. The Vorlons know. You have forced my hand in this. There is no choice.'
'There is always a....'
Vejar opened his eyes and, without thought, without motion, without equation, he hurled the ball of fire directly at the mirror. There was a single moment when he thought he could have stopped it, but he did not want to.
The mirror exploded, his image shattering into a million pieces. Shards of glass flew into the centre of the room. One of them was aimed directly at his heart.
It would be so easy to let it pierce him, to let himself die here. He would be at rest, at peace, free from the memories of what he had done to Delenn, free from Galen's conscience.
He looked down, and saw the shard caught in his right hand. He did not even remember trying to catch it. Blood was welling between his fingers.
He turned around and looked at Galen. His friend was completely unscathed.
'Choice,' Galen said, slowly and deliberately.
'What do you want me to do?' Vejar replied.
Centauri Prime.
His home. The home of his ancestors, of his friends, of his wife. The place where his daughter's ashes lay, at one with the soaring winds. The place where his garden could be found, derelict and abandoned and unloved.
Centauri Prime. Where his friend ruled as Emperor. Where stood the throne his family had sworn for centuries to protect and serve.
His home.
Words reached his ears. A conversation more than a year old. On Brakir, in the fading shadows of the Day of the Dead.
And his reply.
All eyes were on him. The captains of the Brotherhood Without Banners and the representative of the Tuchanq.
Jorah Marrago stood up.
'It won't be easy,' he said.
The Drazi snorted. 'As we thought. Coward.'
Marrago looked at him with the stare that had caused more than one raw recruit to fall silent and start shaking. 'That is not what I said. I said it will not be easy, not that I was afraid of it. There is a wide difference between caution and cowardice, but if you do not believe me, that is your privilege. All the riches in the galaxy will do you no good if you are dead.
'Now will you listen to me, or are you merely going to toss around sarcastic remarks?'
The Drazi fell silent, anger in his gaze.
Everyone in the room was quiet.
'Continue,' Moreil said at last. 'We listen.'
Marrago swallowed, trying to stoke up the anger he always felt. He had hated the Great Game, the foolish waste of it. He thought of the loyal soldiers who had died because of political machinations. He thought of Lyndisty bleeding her life away in the throne room. He thought of Londo banishing him. He thought of Drusilla, cold and calculating. He thought of weak nobles and foolish courtiers and sybaritic hedonists. He thought of everything he had ever hated about his world and his people.
And he turned that anger into a cold, determined conviction. He had taken this step. He had always known this day would come.
He would do what he must.
'It will not be easy,' he continued. 'Our.... their fleet might not be what it once was, but it is still impressive. Technologically the Centauri fleet outdoes anything we can match. The planetary defence system in particular is outstanding. After the attack two-and-a-half years ago I laid down specifications for new improved mechanics. They were half-way to completion when I was.... banished. It's safe to assume the new grid is finished now.
'Plus, there is the possibility of Alliance ships there. Centauri Prime still has some Centauri ships, but there may be other Alliance forces. I've heard about the Inquisitors moving around on the surface. They will have ships of their own in orbit. Plus, after the attack on Gorash, Londo will have asked the Alliance for greater protection. Count on it. You caught him flat-footed once before. I doubt you'll do so again.
'On the other hand, the homeworld will still be sorely weakened from the War. There were very few nobles of any status left alive, and the Houses will now be led by young and inexperienced nobles. They won't have much military understanding, but they will all be willing to fight hard to prove themselves.
'We need to know more about the situation on Centauri Prime before we do anything. The first rule of war is never to go in blind.'
'No waiting,' the Tuchanq said in its usual hollow, staccato voice. 'No time for patience. Only revenge. Only blood. We will not wait.'
Mi'Ra rose, and Marrago looked at her. She was almost.... feline in her movements. Narns were generally too thickset and heavy-boned for subtlety or grace of motion, but Mi'Ra seemed to manage it.
'The timing is perfect,' she said, her red eyes looking directly at him. 'It could not be more so. Emperor Mollari is sick, possibly on his deathbed. Those.... young, idealistic nobles you spoke of will be too busy manoeuvring themselves into positions of power to work together to hold off an attack.'
Marrago felt a sickening lurch in his stomach. Londo? Ill? Dying? Then he hardened his hearts. Londo had accepted his role. Marrago would have to continue with his.
'If you say so. I think it is too early.'
'No,' the Tuchanq said. 'Now.'
'There is one more thing,' Marrago said, looking around. 'Alliance ships. There will be some there, particularly if those Inquisitors are still present. Open fire on an Alliance ship, and you are inviting war with them.'
'Let them come,' Moreil said, suddenly. 'Let them all come.'
Mi'Ra nodded. So did the Tuchanq.
Marrago spread his arms wide. 'Very well. Someone fetch the maps. I'll start outlining weak points and strategic areas.'
The servants moved aside as she passed, whispering about her when they thought she was out of earshot. She could hear them, of course. One of the things she had learned in her childhood was the necessity of very good hearing. She didn't let them know she could hear them, though. That would spoil all the fun.
It was interesting to find out what people were saying about her. Some called her mad, others cold. There were rumours that she was sleeping with any number of people — one chambermaid even claimed to have seen her in the bed of that strange human Morden. Some said she had poisoned her husband, or that she had used witchcraft to make him ill, or that she had gone to the technomages to have him kept alive but not conscious.
She was aware that she was not universally liked, but she contented herself with the thought that few people of worth were ever popular.
Not even her guards liked her. They had made the absolute minimum of protest when she had told them that she did not need them for today.
Lady Timov, daughter of Alghul and Lady Consort to Emperor Londo Mollari II, pushed the door open and swept majestically inside.
