Sinoval had been gone from our sight and our hearing for almost two years by that time, and had become little more than a fable or a legend. To some he was a great rebel hero, attacking an unjust and oppressive r?gime — a Robin Hood, a Sivalar'Miko, a Vizhtan.
To others he was a monster. A corrupt and terrifying opponent of everything the Alliance had tried to build. A follower of the old Gods of war, who would plunge the galaxy into fire and ruin with little thought or care for those he would destroy.
But it is doubtful if anyone really knew him. They all knew only a facet, an aspect of the whole. Kats knew the compassionate friend, Marrain the historian and tale-giver, Marrago the inspired leader, Delenn the ancient and honourable warrior, Sheridan the cold and merciless enemy.
Perhaps Susan Ivanova knew him best of all, perhaps not.?
But for those two years he was lost to us, moving on the Rim, discovering old secrets, discovering Golgotha and the ruins of the Enaid Accord, gathering allies to his side (q. v., chapter 13). Secret documents that have only recently come to light hint that the Alliance was aware of some of his activities, and that there was indeed an encounter between General Sheridan and Sinoval at Golgotha, over ten years before the end of the war.
As the Brotherhood Without Banners attacked Centauri Prime, Sinoval reappeared in force. Cathedral seemed to shake the heavens themselves as he ended the battle by sheer force of will. Military historians almost all agree that the Brotherhood would in any case have been annihilated by the Alliance fleet, but had it not been for Kulomani's quick thinking and strategically planned positioning of his Dark Star patrols — and of course his readiness to ignore orders where necessary — that fleet would never have arrived.
And so that is the irony. Sinoval prevented the massacre of those whom many believe deserved nothing less. He did it with his usual overwhelming presence, and in the process he bound many to his side who would otherwise have been his enemies.
Some say that act sowed the seeds of his downfall, and indeed the wisdom of his decision has been debated many times.
But whatever view is taken on that question, the fact remains that his reappearance at Centauri Prime was the first sign that the slow years of uneasy peace were ending, and bloody war was about to return.
The second sign was the shadow that fell over Narn.
? KRASNYANSKI, A. (2291) There's Always a Boom Tomorrow; see also
chapter 13 of this volume.
GILLESPIE, E. (2295) The First Sign of the Apocalypse. Chapter 7 of The Rise and
Fall of the United Alliance, the End of the Second Age and the Beginning of
the Third, vol. 4, The Dreaming Years. Ed: S. Barringer, G. Boshears,
A. E. Clements, D. G. Goldingay & M. G. Kerr.
* * * 'Where is G'Sten? Are there weapons hidden in the village? Is there money? Food? Where is the holy person?
'Where is G'Sten? Are there weapons hidden in the village? Is there money? Food? Where is the holy person?
'Where is G'Sten?
'Are there weapons hidden in the village?
'Is there money?
'Food?
'Where is the holy person?'
Every day there were the same questions. Every day, at precisely one minute before noon, the Centauri Captain gathered the entire population of the village into the square and picked one person at random. The same questions were asked, the same tortures inflicted whatever the answer. None of them knew where G'Sten was. There were no weapons, no money, no food. The holy person had died of a fever.
Every day the same questions.
G'Kar watched every day, praying they would not take him. G'Sten was his uncle, and his leader, but no one knew that. Not the villagers, not the Centauri. He was just a traveller, working in the fields for a pittance, secretly spying on Centauri troop movements. There were plenty of travellers these days, looking for something better.
None of them found it here.
An old man, crippled and ill, flogged to death in the village square.
A young mother, who had offered information freely to spare her pouchling daughter. The daughter was picked the next day to ensure nothing had been left out.
A terrified boy, who had lied for the sake of having something to say. He had been impaled slowly on a blunt pole.
Every day, the same questions.
Every day, the same answers.
Every day, the same screams.
G'Kar was never picked. Every day he watched, his hands clenched into fists behind his back, drawn so tight he drew blood from his palms.
One day I will kill you all, he kept telling himself. Every last one of you, women and children and old men and babies and merchants and nobles and soldiers.
I will kill every last one of you.
Every last one.
It became a litany, just like theirs.
'Where is G'Sten?'
One day I will kill you all.
'Are there weapons hidden in the village?'
Every last one of you.
'Is there money?'
Women and children and....
'Food?'
.... old men and babies and....
'Where is the holy person?'
.... merchants and nobles and soldiers.
'Where is G'Sten?'
One day I will....
* * * 
