by Peter David
Durla approached Londo. He had never seemed quite so tentative before. He said in a low voice, “Sufficient, Majesty?”
Londo couldn’t even stand to look at him. “Get out,” he said in a voice that sounded as if it were being issued from somewhere beyond the grave.
For once in his life, Durla was wise enough to leave a room without endeavoring to have the last word.
- chapter 22 -
The next morning, Timov was brought before him. It ached Londo just to look at her, but he kept his face impassive … as deadpan as Timov’s own was. Guards stood on either side of Timov, watching her warily. Londo thought their caution was rather amusing in its way, as if they were concerned that somehow this small woman would overwhelm them.
He sat on his throne, with Durla standing nearby, watching with narrowed eyes.
“Timov, daughter of Algul,” Londo intoned, “evidence has been uncovered that indicates treasonous activities on your part against my government.”
“Yes. I’m sure it has,” she said crisply.
“If you are tried … you will be condemned.”
This comment clearly startled Durla. He turned and looked at Londo and said, ” `If’ she is tried, Majesty? But surely-“
“It is our decision,” Londo continued, as if Durla had not spoken, “that such a trial is not in keeping with the more forgiving and tolerant tone of this administration. As we always have, we seek to heal rifts and build for a greater Centauri Republic . The Republic will not be served by the condemnation and execution of the wife of the emperor. If forced to take that road … we will walk it, of course. But we are offering you the opportunity to depart, now and forever. You will maintain your title and station, but you will never come within one hundred miles of this place. And if you persist in seditious activities , this case will be reopened and reexamined. That is the offer I am making to you, my lady.” He paused, and then added, “I suggest you take it.”
She regarded him for a long moment. “What was it, Londo? Was it that I reminded you too much of the man you had been … and could be? Or was it that I reminded you too much of the man you are. For you to believe some trumped-up charges-“
“Your decision, my lady?” he said coldly.
“Well, let me think,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Either I can choose certain death … or I can choose the option of keeping away from a place that I never want to set foot in again, and refraining from activities that I never embarked upon in the first place. What a difficult choice. The latter, I should think.”
“Very well. Your belongings have already been packed for you. Personnel will be provided for you to escort you to wherever you wish to go.”
“I wish I could escort you to where I wish you would go,” Timov shot back. “Or was that a seditious thing to say.”
“No. Simply rude. Goodbye, Timov.” For a moment his voice caught and then, sounding husky and forced, he said, “Enjoy … your life.”
Not sounding the least bit conflicted, Timov shot back, “Goodbye, Londo. Rot in hell.”
When she was gone, Durla turned to Londo and began, “Majesty … that may not have been wise. Leniency could be viewed as weakness, in some quarters.”
“Durla,” Londo said very softly, “if you say one more word just one - I will demonstrate my strength of moral character by breaking your neck with my bare hands. Yes?”
Durla, wisely, said nothing.
Londo walked away from him then and out into the corridor … only to discover Senna running toward him, looking quite distressed. He could surmise the reason. He tried to walk past her, but she would have none of it, instead saying, “Majesty! Timov, she-I-I thought everything was going so…” She threw up her hands in frustration. “I don’t understand!”
“With any luck, Senna,” Londo said, “you never will.” And he headed off down the corridor.
Vir looked up forlornly as the door to the cell opened, and he gaped in astonishment when he saw Londo standing there.
“What am I doing here, Londo?” he demanded.
Londo glanced at the manacles and then called to the guards. “Unlock him. Release him.”
“Release … you mean it’s over? I can go? I…”
One of the guards walked in with the key and undid his manacles. They popped open and Vir rubbed his wrists, looking in utter confusion at Londo.
“It was a misunderstanding,” Londo said.
“A what? Londo, you knocked me cold with a bottle of wine! Just because I said a name!”
“A name,” Londo replied, “that, if you are very, very wise, you will never say to anyone, anywhere, ever again.”
“Londo, listen to me-“
“No, Vir. I am the emperor now. I don’t have to listen. That is one of the conveniences. You will listen. I will speak. And then you will leave.” He took a deep breath, glanced at his shoulder, and then said, “We have different roads to walk down, Vir, you and I. And we must watch each other from a distance. Do you understand? A distance. The thing is … we cannot be hurt. Not really. Death holds no terror for either of us.”
“It … it doesn’t?”
“No. For we are protected, we two. Both of us. Protected by visions, protected by prophecy. You know of what I speak.”
Vir, in fact, did. He knew of Londo’s prophetic dream wherein he had seen himself, an old man, dying at the hands of G’Kar.
And Vir had been present when Lady Morelia had made a prediction that both of them would be emperor, with one succeeding upon the death of the other. But she had not been specific as to who would be first to wear the white. Obviously it had been Londo. That meant that Vir would succeed to the throne upon Londo’s passing, which meant that-until Vir actually ascended-he was safe from harm. At least, from fatal harm.
“We can tempt our fates;” continued Londo, “but ultimately, they should be on our sides. Each of us, in our way and to a degree … is invincible. However, it is a fimny thing about the fates. It’s not wise to push them too far, because they have a tendency to push back. So … I suggest we pursue our destinies at a comfortable distance from each other, lest our mutual fates become crossed, and the result is to the liking of neither of us. So … swear to me that you will not speak of these matters again. That you will return to Babylon 5, and keep your head out of the line of fire. Can you swear that to me, Vir?”
Vir gave it a long moment’s thought.
“No. I’m sorry, Londo … I can’t,” he said finally. “I will never stop hoping that you retreat from the road that you’re walking. I will never stop searching for a means to turn you away from it. And I will never stop being your friend … even if, eventually, I find that I have become your enemy.”
At which point Vir firmly expected that the manacles would be reattached to his hands, and that he would be tossed back into his cell, to be forgotten by all.
Instead, Londo smiled. Then he patted Vir on the shoulder and said, “Close enough.”
He gestured for the guards to follow him, and moments later, Vir was alone in the cell, the door wide open.
“Londo?” Vir called cautiously.
At that point, Vir was just paranoid enough to believe that-if he chose to walk through the door-he might be shot under the guise of being an escaping prisoner. But when he stuck his head out fully prepared for it to be blown off he saw no one in the corridor.
He walked cautiously down the hallway, then saw a door standing open at the end. He emerged into sunlight, possibly the sunniest day that he could recall in all his life on Centauri Prime.
Sunny … but there was a chill, as well. Although he couldn’t quite be sure whether the chill was in the air, or in him.
As soon as he had taken several steps away, the door slammed shut behind him. Vir turned and saw that he was outside the palace. There was no way back in. That was all right with him; there really wasn’t any place in there for him anymore. At least, not for the time being.
Durla felt as if he wa
s having a reasonably good day. It wasn’t going exactly the way that he had hoped … but all in all, it wasn’t bad. He settled in behind his desk, prepared for the rest of the day to be fairly productive.
At that point, Kuto showed up, all joviality and pleasantry , and brought Durla the information he had requested. Calmly and methodically, he went over each name as Durla nodded, and listened to each one, and acted as if he cared about any of them aside from the one he was waiting for.
Then Kuto got to Mariel and her activities-where she had been, what she had been up to, and, most significantly, whom she had been up to it with.
Durla managed to contain his reaction, instead simply nodding and taking in that bit of information with the same equanimity with which he had attended to the other names. He actually managed to wait until after Kuto had left and was a significant distance from his office before he let out an agonized and strangled scream.
At that point, he didn’t know whom he wanted to kill more: Vir Cotto, for whom he had had no assassination plans up until that point, or Londo Mollari, for whom he had a very detailed assassination plan all worked out. Either one, however, would give him extreme satisfaction.
In his private quarters, Londo Mollari watched the slowly receding figure of Timov, walking proudly away down the main walk, head held high, dignity intact. He thought, for some reason, that he heard a distant scream, and decided that it was simply his soul giving voice to its feelings.
Vir walked the perimeter of the palace, heading toward the main street. As he did so, he saw, not far away, Timov. She and a small entourage of guards were heading in the other direction. For just a moment, he was certain she clearly spotted him out of the corner of her eye, as she cast a half glance in his direction. Then, thrusting her chin out slightly, she pointedly turned away from him and walked off in another direction.
“Hello. Are you busy?”
The voice startled him. It came from his immediate right. He turned and saw, standing at the mouth of an alleyway, a cloaked figure who he was already coming to know quite well. On either side of the figure, however, stood two more cloaked individuals whom he didn’t know at all, one male, one female.
“Actually, Merlin, I’m not busy at all. Who are your associates?”
“These?” He nodded to the female and male in turn and said, “Gwynn … Finian … this is Vir. Vir here is going to help us save the galaxy … provided he’s not doing anything important at the moment.”
“No,” Vir said, glancing in the direction of the palace, which now seemed very far off. “I won’t be doing anything especially important for … oh, I’d guess at least a decade or so.”
Gwynn looked him up and down with open skepticism. “Are you sure he’s going to be of use to us?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Vir responded as if she had addressed him. “You see … I’m invincible.”
“You’re very fortunate,” said Finian.
And Vir thought that, far off in one of the upper palace windows, he could see the small, distant and vague outline of Londo Mollari, looking out at the city and then turning away.
“More fortunate than some,” said Vir. “Far more fortunate … than some.”