Peter David - Out of the Darkness

“You’d never have what?” she asked with genuine curiosity. — “Nothing,” he told her after a moment. “It doesn’t matter.”

Privately she resolved to mention Mariel’s “condition” to Londo in Vir’s absence. Out loud, she said, “Vir—”

“I said it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done, and can never be undone… no matter how much we may wish it.” He squeezed her hand gently, and said, “Let’s go have dinner with Londo. It’s best not to keep the emperor waiting any longer than we already have.”

For the first time in a long time, I had fun today. I totally disrupted Durla’s meeting… gave him a reminder of just who was in charge, for all the good that will do… and then had some excitement that resulted in a most unexpected reunion.

I am worn out from it and won’t go into detail. Tomorrow, maybe. Hopefully even my occasionally faulty memory will suffice to hold on to the recollection until the morrow.

In case it is not… I shall jot down the phrase that will most stick in my mind, simply because Durla’s expression was so priceless. The look on his face, as he spat words from his mouth that did not match the expression. “Emmmperor,” he said, dragging out the first syllable as if it would go on forever. “How… pleasingly unexpected to see you…”

‘Emmmperor… how… pleasingly unexpected to see you…” Even as he spoke, Durla felt all the blood draining out of his face. He composed himself quickly, however, and rose. Seated around the table were Minister of Development Castig Lione, Minister of Information Kuto, and Minister of Spirituality Vallko. In addition, there was also General Rhys, next to whom Kuto—in his loud and amusingly selfdeprecating manner—insisted that he sit. “Far easier than dieting,” Kuto had chortled, slapping his more than amplebelly. Not that Rhys was fat. But he was large enough and broad enough that he made Kuto look small in comparison, which naturally pleased Kuto no end.

“I believe this is your first visit to the Tower of Power, if I’m not mistaken,” Durla continued. “Welcome, welcome. Minister Lione has been kind enough to arrange for these particular facilities to be used for ministry meetings. Hopefully you will find them up to your standards.” Rhys was at the far head of the table, and he was already standing and offering his chair to the emperor. Londo, with the omnipresent Dunseny at his side, nodded in acknowledgment of the gesture and took the preferred seat. He glanced around the table, bobbed his head in greeting once more, and then sat there with a slightly vacant smile. “Highness?” Durla said. Londo still didn’t respond until Dunseny nudged him slightly, then he seemed to come to himself. “Yes. Good to see me. And it is good to be seen. I felt that I had not been doing that sufficiently of late.” He leaned forward, and said in a conspiratorial voice, “I raised quite a fuss on my way over, you know. People in the street pointed, whispered among themselves. ‘Is that he?’ they asked. ‘is that the emperor? I thought he was dead!’” Londo laughed at that rather heartily, until the laughter suddenly turned to a violent, racking cough. It took a full thirty seconds for it to subside, and during that time the ministers looked uncomfortably around the table at one another.

Finally Londo managed to compose himself. Dunseny solicitously dabbed at the edges of the emperor’s mouth with a cloth.

Durla found it difficult to believe that the old retainer was still at Londo’s side. Dunseny had managed to outlive every member of the House Mollari who had been there when he started with the family. He seemed thinner, greyer, but otherwise no less efficient in his duties and attentions. For a time Throk had replaced Dunseny, as a means of keeping a perpetual closer eye on Londo, but Throk had come to a bad end. At that point, Londo had firmly reinstated Dunseny, and Durla had decided to let the matter go rather than press it. Somehow it didn’t seem worth the aggravation.

“My apologies, Ministers. Old age is not exactly a blessing.”

“Then again, it’s preferable to the alternative, Highness, Kuto said in his booming voice.

Londo shot a glance at him. “Is it?” he asked. There didn’t seem to be any ready response for this, and Kuto didn’t try to make one.

Londo’s gaze focused on Lione. “Minister… where did you acquire that scar on your throat?”

Lione automatically reached up to touch it, but caught self. Without looking at Durla, he said, “A mishap, Emperor Nothing more.”

“Yes. Most unfortunate. I hear tell from Dunseny that there seems to be a virtual epidemic of clumsiness going on in the palace these days. Your wife, I hear tell, suffered such a seizure,” Londo said, swiveling his gaze to Durla. “Odd. When I was married to her, she was the most graceful and coordinated of all the women whom I called wife. Curious that she would become so accident—prone. Perhaps the process of aging has been no kinder to her than to me, eh?”

There was something in his look that Durla definitely did not like. So he cleared his throat a bit more loudly than was needed, and said, “Highness… you still have not graced us with the purpose for your visit…”

“The purpose. Ah, yes. It is my understanding, Durla, that this meeting was being held to discuss the current state of readiness for the Centaurum’s reclamation of our great and illustrious heritage—presumably, over the dead bodies of those who would stand in our way.”

“May I ask who told you that, Highness?”

“Certainly. General Rhys did.” Duria, stunned, looked to the general. Rhys returned the look blandly. “His Highness asked,” he said by way of explanation. “He is my emperor, the supreme ruler and commander of this world. If he asks me a question about the status of military readiness, naturally it is my obligation to respond truthfully.”

“Ah. Pardon my surprise, General… you had not informed me that the emperor had asked.”

“You did not ask, Minister.” Durla cursed to himself. That was typical of Rhys. He was a brilliant tactician and an utterly fearless fleet commander. But had a streak of individuality that he flashed every so often, apparently for Durla’s benefit. Technically, he had done nothing wrong. He was indeed obligated, through oath and historical tradition of his rank, to answer first and foremost to the emperor, with no obligation whatsoever to report those discussions to others, even the prime minister. If Durla made too much of an issue of his actions, it would reflect poorly on him. “Highness,” Durla said carefully, “these are matters of an extremely delicate and sensitive nature. In the future, I would appreciate if any inquiries you might wish to make on these subjects come through my office.”

“Are you endeavoring to dictate terms to me, Durla?” Londo asked.

There was an undercurrent of danger in the tone that brought Durla up short. Suddenly he was beginning to regret that he had not taken steps to dispose of Londo ages ago. Granted, the military supported Durla. There was no question about that, and there was intense loyalty from those who remembered Durla from when he himself was part of the rank and file. They perceived him as one of their own. However, ranking and highly regarded officers—such as Rhyscontinued to show respect for the position of emperor. Not even aberrations such as Cartagia had diminished the military compulsion to stand behind whoever held the highest rank in all of Centauri Prime. Durla had no desire to make Rhys and other higher—ranking officers, for whom Durla spoke, choose their allegiances. Because he had no real way of controlling how those choices would fall.