He carried on talking. Forell merely listened, and occasionally he smiled. That was a truly hideous sight.
She had never been in this part of the capital before, in spite of the fact that it was a mere half-an-hour's walk from the Palace itself. But then, a well-bred, ambitious lady of the Court would have no reason to come to such an area.
Mariel had always prided herself on knowing a little more than most ladies of her station. Knowledge was power after all, and it never hurt to have a few snippets of information that might, over the course of time, possibly be of some minor use. Where to find a good poisoner, for example, or just who exactly was carrying on which indiscretions with whom.
She had always had ambition, and had dared to hope this might one day take her to as high a position as a lady could reach in Centauri society. It was bitterly ironic that, had she done nothing and sat at home like a good, dutiful little wife, she would now be at that zenith, instead of that.... that harridan Timov.
Mariel had spent the last few months under virtual house arrest at Londo's estate outside the capital. She was unclear exactly what Londo-dear knew about her part in the attack on Kiro's estate, but it was clear he knew something. Or possibly he just generally suspected her of misdoing, not entirely unjustifiably. House arrest, no doubt telling all his friends she was 'indisposed' or 'ill' was about the only proper solution. You couldn't execute a lady of the Court after all, and certainly not the wife of the Emperor.
She had been incredibly bored these last few months and had entertained herself in whatever trivial ways she could. Seducing the captain of the guards set to watch her had provided a moment's diversion, but apart from that she had been reduced to embroidery, other vacuous pursuits and keeping up with the news from the capital, which Londo had insisted on giving her. Only one piece of information had made her happy — and that was the news of the discovery of Elrisia's charred remains.
Plotting a means of escape from her 'prison' had been easy enough, but what was the point of escape, if there was nowhere to escape to? Not until she had received that.... strange message, had she any plan for what to do after leaving the estate.
It had come the day before, pushed into her hands by a common servant, one she didn't think she had seen before. That was not unusual, she rarely paid any attention to her servants. The message itself had been scrawled in a powerful, authoritarian hand and had been simple. A set of directions, and the word 'Come'.
And so, out of boredom, excitement and eager for a chance to escape this dreary prison, she had come.
The directions had been to the merchants' area of the capital, to the warehouse district. She had never been here before, but the directions had been surprisingly clear, and she soon found herself at the building. It seemed abandoned to her, and she remembered hearing that trade had been slacking off due to the.... troubles earlier in the year. Jarno had spoken of little else, she recalled with a sigh. What did trade matter? Let merchants deal with such things, wasn't that what they were for?
She looked around, wondering why there didn't seem to be anyone there. It was night, and the lanterns and lights of the Court seemed far away. The area was more run-down than she had thought possible.
There was a sudden movement behind her, and a man appeared out of the darkness. He was dressed in rags and dirt, but what was left of his clothing proclaimed him a serf. A peasant. "You are late," he said in a firm voice, one filled with power.
She was about to reprimand him for his insolence when she caught his eyes, and recoiled. They were blazing with an impassioned madness, fury and a yearning for revenge. She knew what he was now, and she began to tremble.
"Still," he continued. "It does not matter. The Lord will see you now." She turned, about to leave, when his hand caught her arm in a tight grip. "The Shadows have whispered to our Lord, and he has summoned you here. You cannot decline his will. You cannot ignore your destiny."
She cried out in pain as his grip on her arm tightened. He abruptly let go and pulled his arm away. "He is this way," he said, gesturing towards the side doors of the warehouse.
Hesitantly she stepped inside, knowing that there was little hope of flight. Her mind was beginning to calm, and she could see the possibilities here. So, these.... people had a social structure of their own. The peasant had spoken of a Lord, no doubt a grubby little madman.... But still, where there was a structure and a Lord, then Mariel was more than capable of attaching herself to his side.
The warehouse was dark, and she stumbled at first. "She is here, great lord," said the peasant at her side. He moved forward easily, and she could only just hear the sound of his movements. He seemed able to see perfectly.
"Who is there?" she asked. "Who...? I can't see anything."
"Fire," whispered a stern voice, and a light blazed by her side, and at various points throughout the room. Blinking, she looked in the direction of the person who had spoken, and the breath caught in her throat.
It was Lord Kiro. He was holding a small torch in his hand, examining it closely, with affection. The flame seemed to reflect from his skin and shine in his eyes, which were filled with the same madness as the peasant's. His once-fine clothes were reduced to rags, but he wore them with the authority of an Emperor. The marks of his torture still remained on his skin and face, but he wore them proudly.
"Fire," he said again, studying the flame in the torch. "It is a purifying instrument of all that is holy. The Darkness speaks to me through it, as it speaks to us all. Fire is the tool the Darkness will use to purge all that is wrong and wicked and flawed from our world, so that all may be rebuilt."
He raised his head and looked directly at her. "Fire.... It purified the Lady Elrisia, or so I am told. Come to me."
She hesitated, and contemplated turning and bolting for the door, but strong hands grabbed her and pushed her forward, throwing her to the floor at Kiro's feet. As she looked up, she saw that the chair on which he sat had been made up into a mockery of the Purple Throne on which Londo was probably sitting even now.
Kiro bent over and held the torch next to her. She cried out and shrank away.
"The Darkness speaks to me," he hissed. "It speaks to us all. The Centauri have always been the most favoured of all races. We have been gifted with the talent of future sight. We see that which is to come. We see our own deaths. We see.... so many things.
"We see the Darkness that is to come. It speaks to us. Does it speak to you?"
"Yes!" she cried out instantly. "Yes.... it speaks to me. I can hear it."
"What is it telling you?" he whispered, his face so near to hers.
She thought quickly. Flattery was always a powerful weapon. "It tells me that.... it tells me that you are its chosen servant.... you are the one who will be raised above all others, and that I am to serve you and obey you in all things.... for you are our Lord.... and our saviour, and our master."
"You lie," he said, smiling. He sat back, and resumed his contemplation of the flame. "But it is of no matter. I had you brought here to thank you." He brushed his hand through the flame, and smiled, closing his eyes. "You began the process of my purification. You brought me to the flame, and with your scourge and your pain I was made anew, all the better to receive the wisdom of the Darkness.
"I brought you here to thank you for that.... and to reward you. The day will come when I will sit on the Purple Throne, and you will sit there beside me, and the two of us.... we will rule a world of flame and death.... and the Darkness will speak through us all. The Darkness will come."