Sinoval looked at her, wishing not for the first time that he had been able to persuade her to remain behind on Tarolin 2.
"I will go with you." She had said those words calmly and dispassionately, yet he understood the strength behind them.
"You should remain here. It will be.... dangerous."
"I have faced danger before."
"I did not say you had not, my lady, but this.... will not be easy, not even for me. Marrain is strong and dedicated, but he is also insane. I can hope only to appeal to whatever remains of the man he was before love and hatred drove him mad. He is unpredictable and may take it upon himself to hurt you."
"If he is so dangerous, then why include him in this?"
"Because if he does remember who he was, then he and he alone will be able to do what I require of him. I will not be able to do that, nor will you, nor Lanniel, nor Durhan, nor any Soul Hunter or Vindrizi. Only he.
"Besides, all of us, no matter how heinous our crimes, deserve one single chance for redemption."
"Does that include Kozorr?"
"My lady.... I promised I would do all I could to restore him to you, yes.... but that may not be easy, or even possible."
"You brought Marrain here because only he could do what you need. Only I can bring Kozorr back. You cannot, and you know that. Nor can Marrain, or Lanniel, or anyone else. He loves me, and it was because of that he turned to them."
"My lady...."
"I love him! If he comes to the trap you have set, as we both know he will.... then I will be able to talk to him, to.... show him what he has done, to explain to him.... He must know, he must be made to understand. Only I can do that."
"He is luckier than he knows, my lady. I do not doubt your courage, I do not even doubt your love. I doubt only my ability to protect you."
"Please.... do not doubt my ability to protect myself."
"We are here," said Marrain, snapping Sinoval back to the present. He looked at the room before him, trying to remember if he had been here during his last stay on Babylon 4. He did not think so, but then he had been there for only a few days.
This room must have been a storage chamber of some kind, but it had been changed from that purpose to another. A shrine. Sinoval looked at the makeshift altar, and the markings just above it. They spelled out letters in a very old dialect he was largely unfamiliar with, but this one word he could recognise.
"Z'ondar," he whispered softly.
"Zarwin built this. He crafted it himself, intending to make this place the holiest of all for his people. Valen cast him and his people aside the same day, fighting the remainder of the war without them.
"Is it any wonder they fell into darkness?"
"And now we will bring them back to the light," Sinoval said softly. "All we need do is let them know where we are, and wait for them to come to us."
"Oh, they will come," Marrain said, his eyes sparkling. "They will come to reclaim their holy place, and then....
"There will be death. Death, death and only death until there is nothing but the soft, light footfalls of the slain.
"Death...."
* * *
"I told you never to come here!"
Lord–General Marrago, of the great and glorious Centauri Republic, was renowned for many things. One of these things was his calm and peace of mind. Not for him the ranting and raving and furiously shouted orders of some leaders. In battle he was always marked by calm and equilibrium. 'A general who plans in anger will lead his men only to their deaths,' he had once commented.
He was angry now, his initial shock having faded in an admirably short time.
"What if someone had seen you?"
"Your guards.... are blind and stupid," the Drakh hissed, stepping forward into the light. "They did not see me."
"I still told you never to come here. I would contact you, remember? Not the other way around."
"Arrogant are you.... to think you can control the Dark Masters. They control you, and I am here to remind you of that."
"No one controls me. We had a deal. One battle, that was it. They would help us for one battle. We need them no longer."
"Price there was for that one battle."
"And as I said, I will pay it. But how can I do that when the.... artefact has not been delivered to me?"
"It has been delivered to another. She received it today.... She will perform this task for us."
A chill swept through the Lord–General, as he knew of whom the Drakh spoke. His kutari raised, he darted forward, and the Drakh met him impassively.
"Of little worth is my life. Honour it is to die serving the Masters."
"You will leave my daughter alone! She was not a part of any of this."
"Now she is. Sought to protect her you did, but no one and nothing can be hidden well enough from Masters. Remember that. She returns here now.... to fulfill your side of the deal."
"No! She is not part of this."
"Yes.... The Masters willed it so."
"Then we are done. Lyndisty will deliver this.... package to the place you specified, and then we are done. We will never meet again."
"If the Masters will it, we shall meet again." The Drakh gently placed an object on the table. It was black and shining, a million tiny sparkles of light coming from deep beneath the surface. It was an orb. "When you need them.... touch this and think the words. They will come.
"And another price there will be paid."
"I told you. One battle, one favour. That is all."
"We know truth. We know necessity. Masters know all. Consider values greatly, soldier. Lives of those you lead.... against bargain with Masters." The Drakh walked forward and pushed past Marrago. He made no effort to stop it leaving.
"If I see any of your kind here again," the Lord–General snapped, "I'll kill you all."
"Honour to die serving the Masters it is. Proud to die in their cause would I be. Not afraid of death am I. Your daughter.... she would be, yes?"
The Drakh then left, and Marrago looked at the black orb resting on his table. He wanted to destroy it, to hurl it against the wall and watch it shatter into a million pieces.
He put it in a drawer, and went to contact Lyndisty.
* * *
Talia was not afraid. She had been thoroughly trained in defeating fear. It was a survival instinct, that was all, a hangover from the days when humans were little better than animals. She was not an animal, she was not even a normal human. She could face her fear, face it and conquer it.
There were mind–calming techniques she had been learning ever since the age of five. As she walked through the sterile, colourless corridors of the hospital facility, she ran them over and over in her mind. Her breathing was calm and natural. Her walk was normal. Her bearing spoke of routine duties, as if she had done this a thousand times. What was necessary was not to look out of place.
She had memorised the map Welles had provided, studied the timetable of the shift changes, the routine day–to–day business of the hospital. She passed through the security checkpoints with no problems. The replacements were delayed as Welles had promised.
Finally she arrived in Delenn's room. It was a normal, private ward room. Normal, that was, save for the two Security officers and the still figure in the bed, surrounded by machinery. Delenn was asleep.
This was the first glimpse Talia had had of Delenn, and she was mildly surprised. She had not been sure what she had been expecting, but it was not this fragile, strangely beautiful mix of human and Minbari. Welles had not told her about what had happened to put Delenn in this place, but she could sense a terrible, terrible sadness in the alien woman's slumber.
Of course it was interrupted by the sight of one of the security guards stepping forward. "ID?" he asked.
Talia handed it over, taking care to make the action as nonchalant as possible. This was a routine inspection, that was all. Purely routine.
"I don't recognise you," said the other one. She risked a quick surfa
ce scan. He was suspicious. He was the sort who was naturally suspicious. Slowly, casually, Talia placed her hand behind her back and slid a small device from her sleeve. An electronic jammer, a device that would paralyse the surveillance equipment in here if a fight should prove necessary. Not one of Welles' toys, something she had been able to pick up on the black market.
It was remarkable what could be found if you looked hard enough.
"I'm a transfer from the Ellison Building in two–o–nine," she said, repeating her story. Changing cover stories always led to trouble. "One of the nurses is sick and can't come in." That was true enough. Talia had been able to find a nurse and induce a severe headache.
"ID checks out."
"She's early. The next check isn't for another twenty minutes."
"Just being efficient," Talia replied. "I could come back if you want me to...."
"No," said the second guard, the suspicious one. "I'd better call this Ellison Building. Who's in charge there?"
"A Dr. Welles," Talia replied, flicking the switch on the jammer. A quick telepathic suggestion fogged the first guard's perceptions just enough. A syringe slipped from the sheath in her left sleeve and, moving with reflexes that would put a Minbari dancer to shame, she slid it into the second guard's neck. The tranquilliser took effect immediately, and he went down.
The other guard moved to react, but he was still trying to shake off the multiple Talias he was seeing. His first instinct was to reach for his link, unaware that communications would be blanked. Talia delivered a swift elbow to his neck and he fell.
Now that she had acted, Talia knew she did not have much time. Going to the bed, she quickly studied the wires and tubes, wondering which ones were safe to pull. She had studied Delenn's medical records, which stated most of them were merely to build her strength and aid nutrition. Hopefully none of them was too essential, but Delenn could certainly not be left here.
Besides, Talia thought with a mental shrug, what did she care if anything happened to Delenn? She was a tool, nothing more.
Delenn's eyes suddenly blinked open and Talia found herself looking deeply into them. "Who.... are...?"
Talia was slightly taken aback by the.... tragedy evident in those two words. There was just a hint there of the suffering Delenn must have endured. It was easy to think of her as an alien monster, or as a playing piece on a giant chess board. To see her as a real person....
It reminded Talia of waking up on an operating table, and seeing her people trapped. Their voices had been quiet in her mind lately.
"I'm a friend. We don't have much time. Can you walk?"
"Yes."
"Good." Moving quickly, Talia began disengaging the wires and drips. Delenn even helped. Gently, Talia helped Delenn from the bed, and took the brunt of her weight as she sagged against her. "There's a friend waiting outside, but we have got to hurry."
"I will.... move as fast as I can."
That journey felt like one of the longest of Talia's life, although it took only a few minutes. She knew where the Security patrols were, she trusted Welles' promise to have the necessary points unmanned, she knew fear was pointless, but still every step seemed to take forever, every corridor seemed a marathon.
Finally, she and Delenn slipped out of a side door, to see an ambulance waiting for them. "Inside," Talia whispered.
"Thought you weren't coming," Dexter replied, as he saw the two of them slip into the back of the vehicle. "I was sure they could hear my heart beating from the other side of the planet."
"Stay calm, and we'll get out of this yet. Just go up to the exit, show them your ID, and remain calm. Remember, this is all routine."
"If you say so."
Talia looked down at Delenn, who was breathing heavily, her hair hanging damp across her face. The juxtaposition of such rich dark hair next to an alien face struck Talia as faintly amusing. "Are you all right?"
"No," came the reply. "But I will be. Why.... why did you do this? I came here to die."
"Well, I came here to rescue you. Don't worry, I'm getting paid."
"Who?"
There was a long silence, as Talia debated whether to tell her or not. Welles had said nothing about keeping his name a secret from her, and yet she was trained in secrets. Finally, she decided to share the information.
"Ah," Delenn said softly. "Ah." That was all.
No one said anything more until they were well clear of the compound and moving quickly. Arrangements had been made to dump the vehicle and move on somewhere safe. Unfortunately, and irritatingly, Talia did not know where to. Dexter had arranged the safe house.
"So?" she said at last. "Where are we going?"
"A safe place," he replied. Then, with a boyish smile. "You'll see."
* * *
The Tak'cha race possessed a long and fascinating history, but one that Sonovar had no interest in studying. He did not care that they had once believed so passionately in superior beings who had created them that they named themselves the 'Created' in their own language. Nor did he care that this passionate devotion had turned to jealousy, envy and hatred, such that the 'Created' had sought their Gods and had slain one of them. Nor did he care that the Gods had wreaked their bloody vengeance with a ship that blotted out the stars and turned the 'Created's' homeworld to a pile of rock and rubble.
Had Sonovar cared, he would have learned of centuries of wandering and anarchy, and a desperate search for forgiveness and penance. These had ended only when the Blessed Zarwin, the first Sah'thai, had found the Z'ondar, an emissary of the Tak'cha Gods themselves, and had pledged himself to their side. For a brief time they had known true penance and had thrown themselves into this new role with a passionate and furious zeal, eager to rid themselves of the mistakes of past generations.
With Zarwin's exile, the Tak'cha had merely gained another array of sins for which to atone. Rank in their society was achieved by atoning for a long list of sins. The Sah'thai - their leader - had atoned for all but one, and that was the forgotten sin, the sin not even Zarwin had properly understood.
Sonovar knew none of this, not caring to find out. His mind was always on the future and so, sometimes, he neglected the past. It was a small sin of the many he possessed, and yet history would judge him for it.
He was in practice with Takier when Cozon and Vhixarion came to see him. At first he was irritated, not liking one of his few moments of peace to be interrupted, but when he saw the excitement in Vhixarion's bearing and tone, his irritation faded rapidly. Something important had surely happened.
"You were correct, Zaron'dar," said Vhixarion, his alien voice marked with a clear Minbari tone: awe. "The sign we have asked you for has come."
Sonovar of course had no idea what this sign was, but he also knew he could not admit that. One of the great things about the cretinously religious was that a good many things could be interpreted in various ways so as to manipulate and control them. Sonovar lived according to his wits, his strength and his conviction. The universe favoured such as him.
"It has been found again. That which was lost. Ende X'ton. We have found it."
Still Sonovar was silent. There was something coming. He could feel it.
"But...." Vhixarion said, enthusiasm replaced by a righteous anger. "Our enemy has found it first. We received a message, a challenge, contempt for us, the Z'ondar's chosen."
Sonovar's eyes darkened. He had been wondering for some time now when Sinoval would emerge again. Had he not been so concerned with the Alliance he might have hunted him down, but Forell had so accurately predicted that Sinoval would surface soon enough, and how much more of a challenge and how much greater the victory to best him on his own ground.
"We will mass the war fleets of the Tak'cha," Vhixarion said. "We will assemble our warriors and our priests and our chosen and our forgiven, and we will go to reclaim Ende X'ton from the accursed one and his Lords of Death. And at our side.... will ride with us the Zaron'dar."
There was no sign o
n Sonovar's carefully masked visage, but something within him rankled. He, ride with them? He was master here, he the lord, he the visionary and the hero to be.
But that could wait. Something else mattered. Sinoval. He was there. On this.... lost station. He had issued a challenge all right, but not to the Tak'cha.... to Sonovar himself.
"I will ready myself," he said. "Takier.... prepare your ships. Talk to your captains. Sah'thai...." One day I will destroy you. "Sah'thai.... I give you my word, we will reclaim your holy place." A place he could not pronounce if he had a year to practise. "And we will defeat the accursed one and his Lords of Death."
Yes.... Sinoval. They would defeat him, break him utterly. And in the end, Sinoval would acknowledge him Master.
Before he died.
Sonovar barked out a few more orders, although there was little point. Takier knew what to do, and Vhixarion would not listen. They all rushed away, and Sonovar stood in his practice chamber for a moment, alone and basking in the glory of this moment.
"Great lord," said a familiar voice, and Forell moved into view.
"Go away, Forell," Sonovar snapped. "This is a time for warriors, not weaklings. Stay here and pray for all our souls."
"You will not go to Anla'Verenn–veni, great lord."
"What? You.... dare command me?" Sonovar raised his pike. "You dare command me, little worm?" He took a step forward and Forell met his gaze evenly.
"I think only of your best interests, great lord."
Sonovar lowered his pike. "Yes," he said softly. "I suppose you do. Then I will let you explain yourself, Forell. Why am I not to go?"
"This is clearly a trap, great lord, a ploy to draw you in. Sinoval is cunning. Meet him on your terms, great lord, not his. Others are more capable of such a task. Why dirty your own hands with such.... a mundane and tedious purpose?"
"Hah! Of course. I am Sonovar. This is beneath me. Let the Tak'cha have their dead and dusty temples. I will.... guide them from here. Kozorr and Tirivail can handle this in my stead. Yes.... Yes, I know best. Forell! Go to Kozorr and Tirivail and see they are told what to do. Yes.... I will stay here and co–ordinate matters."
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