by Peter David
“Send her in,” was all Londo said. The aide nodded gratefully . Londo could easily understand why. Obviously the last thing the poor bastard wanted to do was go back and tell Timov that the emperor had no time for her.
Moments later, Timov bustled in, looking around the throne room with a vague air of disdain, as if she were trying to determine the best way to redecorate.
Then she looked straight at Londo. “The curtains in here are ghastly. You need more light.”
“No surprises,” Londo murmured.
“What?”
” `What’ indeed-that is the question before us, Timov. As in, `What are you doing here?’ “
“Is that all I get from you, Londo? A coarse interrogation? Waves of hostility? I am your wife, after all.”
“Yes. You are my wife. But I,” and Londo rose from his throne, “am your emperor. And you will show proper respect to me, as befits a woman in the presence of the supreme ruler of the Centauri Republic.”
“Oh, please,” Timov responded disdainfully.
But then Londo stepped down from the throne and slowly advanced on her. “Down to one knee, woman. If you had taken this long to respond to a direct command from Emperor Cartagia, he would have had your head on a plate in an instant . You will genuflect in my presence, speak only when I permit you to speak, and obey my orders, or by the Great Maker … I will have you taken out and executed immediately , and your head placed on a pike as a warning to other disobedient wives everywhere! Do you understand me?”
Timov didn’t budge. His face was only a few inches away from hers. And then she took out a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at the right corner of his mouth.
“What are you doing?” asked Londo.
“You have a bit of spittle right there. Hold still.”
Londo couldn’t quite believe it. He felt as if he were trapped in some bizarre dream. “Have you lost your mind? Didn’t you hear one word I said?”
“Yes. And if you’re about to order soldiers to come in here and take me away so that my head can adorn your exterior fixtures , then you needn’t look like a crazed animal while you’re doing it. As wife of the emperor, I at least am aware that I have an image to protect. You should start considering yours. There.” She tucked the handkerchief away, then serenely folded her hands in front of her. “All right. I’m ready,” she said, her chin pointed upward. “Summon the soldiers. Take me away because I’m not subservient enough. I know it’s what you’ve always wanted.”
He stared at her for a time, gaping in open incredulity. And then, slowly shaking his head, he walked back to his throne.
“I am curious, though,” Timov continued, as if the conversation was meant to continue. “Will the means of execution be the actual beheading? Or will I be killed in some other fashion, my decapitation to occur subsequently. It will make a difference in terms of the last outfit I wear. For example, there’s liable to be much more blood in a beheading, so I’ll probably want to wear something arterial red to get a better blend. But if something more bloodless is chosen, such as the administering of poison, then I’ll probably want to wear one of my blue dresses-probably the one with a bit more scoop at the neck. I know, it’s somewhat more daring than my usual ensemble, but since it will be my last public appearance, why shouldn’t I leave tongues wagging? Of course, the one with the gold brocade could-“
“Oh, shut up.” Londo sighed.
She was actually quiet for a moment, and then, sounding rather solicitous, she said, “You seem fatigued, Londo. Shall I get the guards for you?”
“Great Maker … I do not believe it. It cannot be possible.”
She folded her arms. “What cannot be possible?”
“That I’ve actually missed you,” he said with slow disbelief.
“Yes. I know you have.”
“I never would have thought it could come to this.”
“Would you like to know why you miss me?” she asked.
“Could I stop you from telling me?”
As if he hadn’t spoken, Timov slowly circled the perimeter of the throne room as she said coolly, “Because you are surrounded by people who treat you as emperor. But you have not been an emperor for most of your life. You are much more accustomed to being treated as simple Londo Mollari. That is your natural state of being, and I believe you long, to some degree, for a return to those days. That is why you are so lonely…”
He looked at her askance. “Who said I was lonely?”
“No one,” she said with a small shrug. “I simply surmised that–”
“Noooo.” He waggled a finger at her. “It is alt coming clear now. You’ve been speaking to Senna, yes?”
“Senna.” Timov made a great production of frowning. “I don’t seem to recall anyone by that name…”
“Don’t try lying to me, Timov. I have far too much experience with it, so I can spot it when even the most expert of liars is engaging in the practice. And you are not at all expert, because you are much too accustomed to saying exactly what is on your mind, always, without exception. I think that if you tried to lie, your jaw would snap off”
“I will take that as a compliment.” She sighed. “Yes. Senna contacted me.”
“Eh. I knew it.”
“She is worried about you, Londo. Heaven knows too few people around here are. They care about you only in regard to how they can use your power to further their ends, or how you can best serve their needs.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because I know the mentality, Londo. I know the situations that draw certain types of players to certain sorts of games.”
“And what is your game, Timov?” he asked, waving a finger at her. “Am I supposed to believe that you are here motivated purely out of concern for me? I will accept that about as readily as the claim that you never heard of Senna.”
“I make no bones about it, Londo. I’m tired of having you hold me at arm’s length. There is status, power, money that are owed me as the wife of an emperor. You’ve made no effort to contact me and bring me here, no effort to make me a part of your court, as is my due.”
“You have wanted for nothing.”
“That is true. The titles and lands of House Mollari are quite nice, and my lot in life is certainly of a higher caliber than poor Daggair or Mariel …”
” `Poor’ Daggair or Mariel?” He snorted. “Are you going to tell me that you actually have some degree of pity for them?”
“No, I wouldn’t insult your intelligence by claiming that. But their situation was somewhat dire, last I heard.”
“And have you done anything to improve that situation for them, using the resources you have at your disposal?”
“Of course not,” sniffed Timov. “I do for them exactly what they would have done for me.”
“As always, Timov, you can be counted on.”
“You meant that sarcastically, I know, but the truth is that you know you always can count on me. I’ll wager that even as we speak you’re surrounded by backstabbers, yes-men … all manner of bottom feeders. You need someone who will be honest with you, tell you precisely what she thinks-“
“What `she’ thinks,” Londo echoed mirthlessly.
"-and will never betray you. You said it yourself, Londo. With me, you always know where you stand.”
“Except my situation is quite different now, Timov. I am emperor now. The stakes have been raised.”
“Not for me. For the Durlas, the Liones, the others of this court, there is a certain advantage to trying to get you out of the way, for they can then attempt to seize power themselves. Whatever power I have, on the other hand, derives solely from you. If you are gone, so am I. So I would have far more at stake.”
“So you are not simply in this for the money. That is not all you care about?”
Slowly Timov walked to the window and looked out across Centauri Prime. Londo couldn’t help but notice that she ran her white-gloved hand across the windowsill and looked at the f
ingers. Obviously she didn’t like what she saw, because she shook her head in mild reproof. Londo made a mental note to speak to the cleaning staff.
“If all I cared about was money, Londo,” she said after due consideration, “I would not have provided the blood donation that saved your life when you were comatose on Babylon 5, some years ago. All I had to do was allow you to die, and I would have inherited-along with the other two wives-the entirety of your estate.”
“I thought you were never going to tell me about that.”
“I wasn’t. But I felt that ” She stopped suddenly, turned and looked at him. “Wait. How did … you knew? You knew?”
“Of course I knew. Do you think I am stupid?”
“But … but how?”
“One of Franklin’s medtechs let slip that I had undergone a transfusion. I know I have a rare blood type, and I know that you have the same, from back when we had our premarital medical exams. So I asked the medtech if you were the donor. He admitted that you were, but begged me to keep the information to myself.”
“So that was the reason that you chose me as the wife to keep.” There was a small settee with a thin cushion along the window, and she sat in that now, shaking her head in amazement.
“He begged me to keep the knowledge to myself, because he didn’t want Franklin knowing that he had-what is the Earth saying?- spilled the peas. So why are you telling me now, after all this time?”
“Because,” she said, looking slightly put out that her dramatic revelation had been preempted, “I want you to know you can trust me.”
“If you mean that I can trust you not to betray me … no, of course I do not believe that. Then again,” he added as he saw that she looked slightly crestfallen, “I cannot afford to trust anyone that far. That is a simple and sad fact of my life.”
“I will stay here for a time, Londo,” Timov declared. “I can certainly keep myself occupied during the days and nights here. If nothing else, Senna could use a positive female role model in this place.”
“And you think you can locate one for her?” Londo queried.
Timov’s lips thinned in her best “we-are-not-amused” expression , which was the one she most often wore and had thoroughly perfected. “If you are truly lonely, as Senna suspects … then you will have me to turn to. As for me, I will be able to avail myself of the rights to which I am entitled as your wife.”
“Unless, of course, I divorce you as well,” Londo said quietly.
She studied him carefully. “Is that what you intend to do?”
“I do not know. I will be considering all options.”
“Fine. You do that,” she said primly. “In the meantime, kindly assign someone to aid me in transporting my things to my room. I assume that somewhere in this decorated mausoleum you can manage to locate some sort of accommodations . I know better than to assume that I will be sleeping with you.” She shuddered. “I still remember that ghastly display you put on with Daggair and Martel. Shameless.”
“Ah, yes,” he said nostalgically. “What did you call it? Oh yes. My `sexual olympics.’”
She made a loud tsk tsk noise.
“This is an absurd situation, Timov, you know that. To have you here, floating about the palace, expressing your disapproval of me? Undercutting me in front of-“
“I did not say that, Londo. Kindly do not put words in my mouth, or attribute to me actions that I do not intend to engage in. While in the presence of others, your courtiers and other rabble, I would never think of saying anything the least bit demeaning or, in any way, challenging your authority.”
He stared at her, feeling as if he’d just been hit in the head with a brick. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. Respect for the man is one thing; respect for the office is something else again. Private is private , Londo, and public is public. It would be nothing less than hypocritical of me to embrace the privileges of being the wife of the emperor while tearing down that same emperor in the eyes of his subordinates. I am here to help you rule, Londo. To rule wisely and well. But you cannot rule without the respect of others, and a woman who diminishes her ruler husband while others are within earshot, by extension, diminishes all of Centauri Prime. Because while you are emperor, you are Centauri Prime, heaven help us.”
“I see.”
For a long moment he said nothing, and then he reached over and tapped a small button on a stand nearby his throne. It sounded a chime that immediately brought Dunseny running. The aide glanced with clear apprehension at Timov.
“Kindly bring my wife, and her belongings, to the Empress Suite at once.”
“Yes, Majesty,” said the aide, his head bobbing obediently. Then he paused and inquired, “Where … would that be, Majesty?”
“Wherever my wife says it is,” Londo replied.
“Thank you, Londo,” Timov said. “I will withdraw now, to bathe and wash off the dust of travel.” And then, to Londo’s complete astonishment, Timov bowed in a perfect curtsy, bobbing her head, bending her knee in such elegant fashion that it seemed as if she’d been doing it all her life. As she did so, she extended one hand and let it hang there for a moment.
Londo, surprising himself to a degree, stepped down from the throne, took her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. Timov looked up at him, then, and there was actually a sparkle of merriment in her eyes. “If we do this right, Londo,” she said in a low voice, “we might actually have some fun.” With that, she rose, turned her back, and strode from the throne room.
He sat there for a moment in silence, and then, very softly, he began to count out loud. “Three … two … one…”
“Why are you counting?” came the voice of Shiv’kala.
“A private joke,” Londo said to him, not even bothering to turn in his direction. “You will allow me my occasional indulgences in such things, I hope. I have so few these days.”
“The woman.”
“What of her?” asked Londo.
“She is … unexpected.”
“Women often are.”
“Her presence could be… troublesome. Have her leave.”
“For no reason at all?” Londo demanded.
“You are emperor. You do not need a reason.”
At this, Londo stood, stepped down from the throne and walked straight toward the shadowy edges of the room from which Shiv’kala always seemed to materialize-it was as if he stepped sideways out of space. “Even an emperor does not like to do things for no reason,” Londo told him. “Emperors who do so tend to lose things, such as their popularity. That is often followed by the loss of life, or at very least certain bodily appendages to which I have become quite accustomed, thank you very much. I can handle Timov.”
“We are not convinced.” Shiv’kala paused a moment, then stepped ever so slightly into the light. His customary expression of amusement, mixed with disdain, was firmly in place. “You like the woman, don’t you. Through your bluster … and her abrasiveness … you still like her.”
“It is not about `like.’“
“What then?”
“You,” Londo said, stabbing a finger at the Drakh, “have no idea how it felt. That woman, and her fellow wives, pushed at me and yammered at me to advance through the ranks of society. They wanted me to obtain power so that they, in turn, would know comfort and privilege. It never stopped. And Timov was the loudest in proclaiming that I would never amount to anything. When the post to Babylon 5 came available , I knew it was considered a joke. I seized it anyway, because it meant that I would be as far away from them as possible. Now I have reached the pinnacle of Centauri status. I admit it: it will amuse me to have her nearby, so that she can see firsthand just what I-the nothing-have amounted to. That I am the pride and puissance of the Centauri Republic . That I am the living history of the imperial line of Centauri Prime. That I am-“
“Our servant.”
The words, harsh but true, hung there. Londo had nothing to say in response.
“
Let her remain, if it pleases you,” Shiv’kala said quietly. “But do not let her get too close to you.”
“That will not happen,” Londo said confidently. “She has no desire to get close to me. She wants to enjoy the power and prestige, but I know her. She will become bored with it soon. And she will tire of watching people treat me with respect. She will find that she cannot hold her tongue; it will be too galling for her. She will leave of her own accord, and in that way I will be spared a needless conflict.”
“Very well. But know this, Londo … if it does not develop as you say … the consequences will be on your head.” And with that, Shiv’kala had faded back into the shadows.
“The consequences will be on my head.” Londo had replied making an amused noise deep in his throat. “Aren’t they all?”
“You’ve lost weight, Vir. You look emaciated. You should eat something,” said Timov, daughter of Algul, wife of Londo Mollari.
Vir was immediately on his feet, putting his hand on his stomach. “I’ve … gotten many compliments, actually.”
” Well, let’s have a look at you,” Timov said. She walked up to him, gripped him by the shoulders, and turned him this way and that as if inspecting a side of beef He started to say something, but she shushed him as she continued her examination . Finally she turned him around to face her and said brusquely, “I suppose it’s healthier for you … still … you’re not quite as huggable as you once were.”
“I’m not as … what?”
And Vir was dumbfounded as Timov threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. “It’s good to see you, Vir,” she said. She stepped back and looked up at him with an amused sparkle in her eye. “You poor, horribly abused, put-upon fellow. I never thought you’d last out the year when I first saw you. And yet here you are, the ambassador to Babylon 5.” She looked closely at his face. “You do look a good deal more wan, though. Far more worry lines. And your eyes …” She held his chin, staring into them, not unkindly. “They’ve seen terrible things these past years, haven’t they. Things you’d much rather have closed them to.”
“Well … yes … but if I had, I would have kept bumping into furniture.”