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

"Good."

"There is one more thing. These.... outlaws. If you do join them, what if they begin to raid Centauri shipping, even attack Centauri worlds? Would you really attack your own people?"

"I've thought about that. A lot. But.... what can I do? The raids and the attacks will happen anyway. If I join, then.... eventually I hope to be able to change that.

"But I will do what I have to. If I must kill my people, even my friends, then I will. That is a soldier's job, after all. To kill."

"And if among one of those victims you have to kill, you see your daughter's eyes, what then?"

Marrago shivered. "I don't know. Some days, my friend, I am glad I do not have to think the way you do."

"I do what must be done. I have given up a great deal to be where I am now, and I will doubtless give up a great deal more."

"Then so will I. If I must kill my daughter again then....

"So be it."

She was awake now, awake and moving. Marrago returned to his room, fresh from his encounter with Moreil and his twisted monsters, to find Senna looking through the pitifully few belongings he had with him.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly.

She turned, jumping in shock, and looked at him. For a moment she might have been about to cry, or scream, or attack him. A series of emotions chased each other across her face, but they soon settled.

"Looking for something to wear," she replied calmly, keeping her eyes on his, looking at him warily, half transfixed by his stare, half ready to run and flee at the slightest cause. She gestured down at the rags of her dress. "Unless you were planning on leaving me in this. If you were going to allow me clothes at all. Would you prefer me naked, lying on your bed, awaiting your pleasure?"

"Stop that!" he shouted, and she recoiled as if struck. He could not explain it. Staring down Moreil and those guardians of his he had been calm, perfectly at peace, ready to move into battle at the slightest motion. But here, with her, he could not think straight. Nothing made sense. It was just the thought of Lyndisty saying those things, of hearing her say them to him.

She was shaking, but still she looked at him. "Do.... do you have anything for me to wear?" she whispered. "This.... this will fall apart before long. I didn't see anything, but...."

"I didn't bring much with me."

"I noticed," she replied, still looking at him.

"Perhaps a spare jacket can be re-made into some sort of dress," he said. She was quite a bit shorter than he was, and one of his jackets might do as a dress in a pinch. "There is sewing equipment there somewhere. I will do what I can when I have time."

"I can sew."

He looked at her. "How does the daughter of a noble house know how to sew?"

"I watched the servants. A needle looked a lot like a sword and I used to.... pretend I was a soldier. That is why I learned. At.... At Gorash, I survived by doing sewing work and repairs. It was.... better than the other way."

He nodded. "You pretended to be a soldier."

"I wanted to be a soldier. I wanted to be.... strong."

"You think the life of a soldier means you become strong?"

"Don't you? I thought that.... the training, the battles. If I'd been.... stronger, I'd have.... got away from that.... man.... myself. You are.... strong."

"Yes, I am. I have been a soldier all my life. I am strong, but I am also lucky. I have known better soldiers than me. Much better. They're all dead now. Strength isn't everything."

"But if I just knew how to fight, then...."

"I taught Lyndisty how to fight. I taught her how to use a kutari, a maurestii, her bare hands, countless other weapons. She was fast, she was clever, she was a better fighter than I ever was, or ever will be, and she is dead."

"I'm sorry," Senna whispered. "But I am not her."

"No," he replied curtly. "And you never will be. If you wish to sew the jacket yourself, feel free. There is a red one over there. I do not know what the colour will do for you, but it is the lightest jacket I have, and the fabric is not too rough. It should.... do. For the moment."

"There was something else as well," she said. "I.... I found this." She held out something to him, and his eyes narrowed. He moved forward and snatched it from her hands. It was a locket, made of fine gold.

"Don't touch that," he snapped. "Don't ever touch that again!"

"I'm sorry," she breathed. Her eyes were wide, and her face very pale. "I didn't mean to...." Then she straightened. "Are you going to hit me?" she snapped. All trace of fear seemed to have vanished from her face. "If you are, then do it."

"I'm not going to hit you," he replied, angry and confused and upset. "I have to go and train."

"I tried to leave," she said quickly, moving forward to catch him as he made for the door. "The Drazi wouldn't let me. All I wanted to do was watch them train. Take me with you....

"Please."

"No," he replied. "If you feel you are capable of it, try to take in that jacket for a dress. Or feel free to read. There are some books in that box there. Or go to sleep and rest.

"But you will not be allowed to leave here."

"Why not?" she hissed. "If that.... man comes looking for me, then.... All he can do is kill me, and I'm not afraid of that.... I'm not," she added, choking.

"By the Emperor," he sighed. "You are a fool, girl. He has already killed you. You just have not realised that yet."

She took a step back, and then another one, and then she collapsed on to the bed, sobbing into it. For a moment he made to turn back to her, but then he stopped.

She was not Lyndisty. His daughter was dead, and he would never see her again, not unless Sinoval chose to grant him some of that immortality of his, and he was present at the next Day of the Dead.

She was not Lyndisty. She never would be. She was a.... He paused. He did not know what she was. She was still crying.

He left for his training session.

"A nice view."

"It is, isn't it?"

Susan sighed. It was a sound David had heard several times during the period they had been together. It was a sound of utmost exasperation, verging on disgust at his incredible idealism and naivet?, a sound born of her deep-rooted cynicism.

"I was being sarcastic," she replied, tiredly.

"I know. I wasn't."

He looked down on the view before them, at the lake below the hill. Once it must have been beautiful, a breathtaking sight. He had heard some of the older workers talking about the light from the rising sun shining across the water. Each drop seemed to light up one by one, a miniature candle rising into the heavens.

But now.... now the sky was thick and heavy, and what sunlight there was was muted and grey. The water was saturated with silt and mud. It was dull brown, a viscous sludge rather than a torrent.

It was a sign, a reminder always to beware of the consequences of every action you ever took. David came here often.

"What do they call this place anyway?"

"The hill is called Turon'val'na lenn-veni ," he said. "I don't know what the lake is called. The name means...."

"The Place Where Valen Waits," Susan finished. "What was he waiting for, do you think?"

"I don't know. I suppose I could ask someone."

"You could."

There was a pause.

A long pause.

It grew longer.

....

And longer.

"So," Susan said at last.

"So," David replied.

"You never answered my question," Susan said. "What are you doing here? This is the last place I'd ever have expected to find you."

"I live here now. I came here to.... work, I suppose. To rebuild, to.... make right a few things. I did.... a lot of things I hated during the war. I did this, Susan. Me, or people like me. I suppose helping to rebuild it is partly a gesture towards undoing all the things I did then. Does that make any sense to you?"