Peter David - Out of the Darkness

“Yes, but you have a great one. It’s plain to see. The people of this world are going to need you in ways that you cannot even begin to imagine. And perhaps the Great Maker desires the actions of Durla because he has plans for you. And those plans include your being forged into the man who will guide Centauri Prime to its future. But you can only become that man by battling the plans of a truly great enemy… and Durla has been selected for that purpose.”

He stared at her. “You’re saying that people are fighting, dying… that millions may be annihilated, if Durla has his way… all so that I can eventually pick up the pieces?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“It’s not a good way, and I can’t say I’m especially thrilled with the idea. It makes the Great Maker sound insane.”

“Why should he not be?” Senna challenged. “After all, he made us in his image… and look at the terrible things we have done, as a race. Are we not insane?”

“That,” Vir said, “makes a horrifying amount of sense.”

They walked through the corridors of the palace, chatting agreeably about matters of little to no consequence. It was a rather pleasant change of pace from what they had been dealing with before.

At one point, Vir made a joke that Senna found particularly amusing, so much so in fact that she was seized with laughter, then had to stop and compose herself. Vir stopped, too, grinning amiably, and Senna took his hand in hers.

“Well, well! Looking quite friendly, are we?”

Senna and Vir stopped and turned. She still held his hand.

Durla was walking toward them with his customary swagger. Next to him was a woman that Senna could only assume to be Mariel. It wasn’t possible to be sure, however, because she was wearing a veil. This was extremely odd: the only women who wore such things were the legendary telepaths who had once accompanied the emperor wherever he went. That, however, was a custom that had ended with the death of Emperor Turhan. Cartagia, proclaiming that he did not want women around who could peer effortlessly into his mind, had ordered them all killed. They were the first casualties of his bloody reign, and most certainly not the last.

Despite the fact that she was veiled, Senna could sense Mariel’s gaze upon her, boring right through her. She reflexively released her hold on Vir’s hand, doing so almost guiltily.

“I have known the lady Senna for quite some time,” Vir said calmly… almost too calmly. “She is much like a beloved niece to me.” Senna nodded in confirmation.

“Of course,” Durla said with a polite smile. “Oh, and Senna, you of course remember Mariel. She is much like a beloved wife to me. Say hello, Mariel.”

“Hello.” Her voice was so soft as to be almost inaudible.

“Move aside your veil, dear. It is difficult for them to hear you.”

“I… do not wish…”

“I did not ask you what your wish was in the matter,” he reminded her in a voice so sharp that it made Senna jump. She looked to Vir, who somehow was maintaining a look of polite curiosity, but nothing more. “Move aside your veil so that you can greet our visitor properly.” He looked at Vir apologetically. “She is being rude to you, perhaps out of some residual resentment over your losing her to me. But I do not tolerate rudeness. Do I, Mariel.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, husband. You do not,” she said. And she put a hand to her veil and moved it aside so that Senna and Vir could see her face.

Senna gasped. She regretted doing so instantly, but it wasan involuntary reflex, for Mariel’s face was battered and bruised.

Vir gripped Senna’s upper arm, also by reflex. He was holding it so tight that it hurt.

“What… happened?” Vir managed to get out.

“She is very clumsy, our Mariel,” Durla said in a voice dripping with solicitousness. “She tripped over her own words.” It had the sound of a remark that Durla had been rehearsing, in preparation for a question that he was longing to answer with smug arrogance.

“I must be more cautious in the future,” Mariel admitted, and now she was looking to Vir. Her gaze flickered between Vir and Senna, and Senna saw in those eyes hurt that she could not even imagine.

Vir started toward Durla, and suddenly Senna knew beyondany question that if she did not do something, Vir would be upon him. There was no upside to such a confrontation. Durla had been a trained soldier. That had been some time ago, true, but the training remained. He might be a formidable foe. But if Vir, carried by burning rage, did manage to overwhelm Durla and beat him senseless, as was undoubtedly his intent, then his pretenses would be forever shredded. Senna might wind up proving uncomfortably prescient in her concerns over Vir being imprisoned and drugged up, even before the night was over.

Immediately Senna doubled over in “pain,” crying out loudly enough to attract Vir’s attention before he had managed to take more than a step or two. He looked at her, confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Some sort of… of sharp cramp. Please. Would you… be so kind as to help me to my room?”

As this occurred, Mariel replaced the veil. Durla was looking at Senna with what seemed boundless compassion.“Attend to her, Vir. I have known her for quite a while, as well. I knew her back when we all called her Young Lady. Quite a woman she has grown into. Yes, attend to her, Vir, by all means. I have a dinner with my ministry to attend.”

“Perhaps…” Vir had barely managed to gain control of himself, and when he spoke it was in a voice that was vaguely strangled. “Perhaps… the lady Mariel should… should be resting… do you think?”

“Oh, no,” Durla said dismissively, “no, not at all. When one acquires a trophy such as the Lady Mariel, one is always eager to display her, even when she is feeling less than her best. And she is more than willing to accommodate my desires. Are you not, my love?”

“As… you say, my love,” Mariel said, sounding like one already dead.

“There, you see? Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Durla told them cheerfully. “And have a care with Senna, Ambassador… she is very precious to all of us.”

Senna was holding Vir’s forearm in a grip of iron. She surprised herself; she had no idea she was that strong. But desperate moments tended to prompt acts of equally desperate strength.

Durla headed off down the opulent corridor, the light seeming to dim as he passed. Mariel cast one more glance back at Vir and Senna, but the veil blocked any hint of her expression. Senna had a feeling that she could guess.

“That… bastard!” Vir spat out. “How… how could he…”

“I’ll tell you how,” Senna said with confidence. “She is his one weakness.”

“His what?”

“His weakness… or at least she is seen as such. That’s what I’ve heard from some of the chattier members of the Prime Candidates. And apparently he wishes to send a message to any and all concerned that he has no weaknesses at all.”

“Naturally. Because if he’ll treat someone he loves in that manner, then what mercy will he show for those he considers opponents?”

“None.”

Vir was nodding in grim understanding. Clearly he wanted to say more, but he seemed to catch himself. That was probably wise. If there was one thing Senna had come to understand, it was that in many ways, the palace had ears everywhere. She didn’t quite understand the how and why of it… but she definitely knew the truth of it.

“Should we tell the emperor?” she asked tentatively.

“Londo?” Vir laughed in grim recollection. “He divorced her. She tried to kill him. He’s not going to give a damn about what happens to her. He’d probably have a good laugh over it… and that’s something I don’t think I could stand to see. Better that we don’t bring it up.” He looked in the direction that Mariel had gone, and there was tragedy inhis face. “I never thought he would… if I’d known, I’d never have—”