Peter David - Out of the Darkness

He looked at me very oddly, did the Drakh. “You have a curiously odd—timed sense of humor, Emperor Mollari.”

“I have learned that life is short, Shiv’kala, and one must find one’s amusements where one can.”

He looked out toward Vir and Senna. I could not help but feel that he was studying them in the same manner that I might examine an insect before I step on it. “You have not answered my question, Londo. What make you of that?”

“What do I make of two people walking?” I shrugged. “It means nothing.”

“Sometimes that which means nothing means everything.”

“You speak like a Vorlon.”

It was a passing, offhand remark. I thought nothing of it. But the moment the words passed from my lips, a massive jolt of pain surged through my skull. I dropped to one knee, refusing to cry out… a resolve that lasted for perhaps three seconds before a scream was torn from my throat.

Shiv’kala stood above me, looking down at me with that same crushed—bug expression. “Never,” he said coldly, “say that again.”

“Never… never…” I managed to get out. Then the pain ebbed, just like that, and I sagged to the floor, on my hands and knees, trying to prop myself up and stop the room from spinning wildly around me.

“And never forget who I am… what you are…”

“Never,” I said again.

As if he had forgotten that I was there, he looked back out in the direction of Vir and Senna. “Cotto has been made a tool of the technomages. Are you aware of that?”

I shook my head, which was a mistake, because it made the room spin utterly out of control. My left elbow gave way and I crashed to the floor. Shiv’kala did not appear to notice.

“At least he has been in the past. Perhaps they were utilizing him again that day he was wandering the palace and almost came upon me. Well, Londo… what one group can turn to their advantage… another can, as well. And this we shall do… when the time is right.”

“Don’t hurt him,” I gasped out from the floor. “He… is harmless.”

“Hurt the next emperor?” He seemed astonished at the thought. “Unthinkable. He is our insurance, Londo. In case you become too troublesome, or decline to remain malleable… you can be disposed of, and Vir instituted in your place. And I strongly suspect that he will be far more compliant than you have ever been.”

“I have… complied…”

“On most things, yes. On some, you have not. There should be no exceptions. It is not for you to pick and choose. It is for you to obey.”

“Obey… yes… I will…”

“See that you do,” he said, and I could feel the temperature dropping significantly. “Otherwise Vir will step in where you leave off. If you do not desire such a happenstance… then do nothing to bring it about.”

“I shall do nothing.” The pain was beginning to subside, but the lack of control, the sense of humiliation… these were wounds that stabbed far more deeply, and would never depart.

I waited for the response—some retort, some threat, some… thing. But there was nothing. I looked up. He was gone.

I rose on unsteady legs and, as I leaned against the wall, I realized somewhat belatedly that I should have asked him if he knew the circumstances of how Mariel had come to be injured. For a moment, a demented moment, I thought that maybe Durla had done that to her. But then I realized that such a thing could not possibly be. He adored her. He doted on her. Amusingly, there were many who believed that she was the true strength behind the prime minister. I, of course, knew that it was the Drakh. But that was information that I had no choice but to keep to myself.

I have read back on what I have just written. My eyes are tired, and I feel myself growing fatigued. Vir and Senna came back later in the evening, and there seemed to be something in their eyes when they looked to each other… but they also appeared distracted, as if they had seen something that was bothersome to them.

…but I am an old man, and prone to imagining things.

What I have not imagined, however, is the concern expressed by the heads of the Houses. I do not care especially about their personal worries. Whatever ill for tunes befall them, they have more than brought upon themselves.

My memory of late continues to fade in and out, but occasionally I have times of starkly lucid clarity. And the extensive discussion of great vessels, fleets… these things, however, have caught my attention. Perhaps, despite whatever my “master” may desire, I shall see precisely what is going on, in detail. I likely cannot stop it; I am a mere snowflake, dressed appropriately for that status. However, I can at least provide a bit of slush, and see if Durla slips on it.

Senna had never seen Vir looking so shaken. He kept glancing over his shoulder as they retreated from the area of the palace. “Vir, calm down… you’re moving so quickly, I can barely keep up…”

“I feel like we’re being watched.” They were the first words he’d spoken since she’d found him on the ground in the garden, and they were said with such intensity that she didn’t even try to argue. Instead she simply quieted herself and followed him until they seemed to be far enough from the palace that he was satisfied.

She looked around at the hill where they had come to a halt, overlooking the city, and unbidden, tears began to well in her eyes. Vir, turning toward her, saw them and instantly became contrite. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, charmingly vulnerable in his discomfort. “I shouldn’t have been so abrupt with—”

“Oh, it’s not you.” She sighed. Even though she was wearing one of her more formal dresses, she nevertheless sank to the ground with another heavy sigh. “This place used to be… well… a teacher of mine and I used to come here.”

“I had lots of teachers,” Vir said ruefully. “I don’t especially feel nostalgic for any of them. They had very little good to say about me. Do you ever see your old teacher?”

She looked heavenward at the clouds that wafted across the darkening sky. They were tinged bloodred, which was symbolic somehow. “Every now and again. Up there.”

“He’s a pilot?” Vir asked, totally lost.

She smiled sadly and shook her head. “No, Vir. He’s dead. Long dead.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” She looked Vir up and down appraisingly. “He would have liked you, I think. Because you’re doing something about… about all of this.”

“You mentioned that before. I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking ab—”

Her gaze danced with amusement. “Don’t try to lie to me, Vir. You’re not very good at it.”

With a heavy sigh he sat next to her. “Actually… I’ve not only gotten very good at it, I’ve gotten very very good at it. Which, on some level, kind of depresses me.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “But not with you. You see right through me.”

“As does the emperor, I suspect,” she told him, and when Vir blanched visibly, she went on. “I don’t know for sure. We’ve never actually spoken of it in so many words. I don’t think he’d dare, for some reason.”

“I can take a guess at the reason,” Vir said darkly.

She wondered what he meant by that, but decided not to press the matter.

He seemed aware that he had said something better off not pursued, so he shifted gears. “I… did have some suspicions. All those times you would contact me, send me those chatty messages about something or other that Londo had said… and invariably, it was information that was helpful to me in my… endeavors. The thing is, I didn’t know whether you were acting as Londo’s mouthpiece, oblivious to what was going on, or whether you truly comprehended how the information you were passing along was being used.”