"No," she said again. "I am not yours any more." The words came out in a choke. She held up the blade. "Poisoned," she whispered. "I know all about poison. This will not hurt, not at all. I have had enough of being hurt."
She drew the blade across her bare arm.
Kiro screamed. "Why? Why have you abandoned me? Masters, what have I done?"
"Ah," said an unusual voice. "I believe I can answer that."
He turned to see someone standing in the doorway. A human, dressed smartly. He was smiling.
Behind him, there hovered a ghost.
In a pocket of hyperspace, the Vorlon ships waited.
Londo watched his world burn in silence. He received reports in equal silence. Totals of the dead, the dying, the cities in flames. Sphodria was lost entirely, the victim of a repeat of the violence that had all but destroyed it last year.
Even the palace was lost. The throne room had been taken and there was bloody fighting in the gardens. Some of the prisoners had either escaped or been released. And here he was, guarded and secure. He was safe, but no one else was.
No, Timov was safe. That was something at least. However much she disliked being guarded, that was a necessity. He could not abandon her as he had everyone else.
He turned just in time to see Marrago enter. There was a single moment when their eyes met, then Londo turned back to the sight of his burning city.
"We've lost Selini," Marrago said simply. "The Parliament building there has been burned down. I don't think there were any survivors."
Selini. A place he had made his home for months, the place where he had plotted his counterattack. The first place to recognise him on his road to the throne.
"Leave," he said simply. "Secure the palace. Serve your Emperor."
"Majesty, I.... I did what I thought was...."
"Leave," he repeated. "Secure the palace. Serve your Emperor."
"As your Majesty commands," Marrago said again, his voice trembling.
Londo waited until he was sure his friend was gone and then pulled himself away from the window. Looking into the shadows he sought Lennier, and was unpleasantly surprised to find he wasn't there. He had become so used to the silent Minbari always being around, always being here. Had he been driven insane, too? Was he to be alone forever, until he died?
He sighed, then called for a guard. There was one last option, one last path for him to take. It would take him years to put right what he would now do, maybe generations, but he would never stop working to rectify it. But for now.... he had no choice.
"Find Ambassador Morden," he said simply. "Bring him alive and well to my side. Let nothing stop you from this mission. Nothing."
"As you command, Majesty."
And that was that. All he had to do now.... was wait.
The pain had not stopped, but it had lessened. Lennier of the Third Fane of Chudomo could move, albeit awkwardly, and he could ignore the blandishments of the creature that spoke to him. For almost three years it had been speaking to him, and he had spent all that time trying to ignore it. The technomages had taught him meditative techniques, rituals, a stabilising of mind and body and soul that went far beyond anything he had learned in the temples of his people.
Up until now, it had helped.
But now the voice in his mind was not just one, but many. The Keeper spoke of the glory of the Dark Masters, and through its voice came that of the byakheeshaggai, last of its race, last of a once proud and ancient people of philosophers and theologians and artists. The last of these once gentle people, which was tearing Centauri Prime apart.
Lennier was not sure where he was going, only that he had to go somewhere, anywhere that was away from here. He had to get away from Londo, for fear of losing control of himself, of becoming a threat to the only person he had been able to call a friend.
His eyes opened, and he looked once more at the room in which he found himself. He saw with a clarity greater than ever before, and for the first time in three years his Keeper fell silent.
Ambassador Morden and Lord Kiro were staring at each other, unmoving. The bodies of two women lay on the floor. Behind Lord Kiro was the crackling madness that funnelled from the byakheeshaggai, and behind Ambassador Morden....
.... was the spirit of a Vorlon.
"There was something I said when I began my crusade against the Enemy. Something I said to the first person to ally himself to my cause.
"'If we cannot live together, we shall surely die apart.'
"I have said that over and over again, to everyone who will listen. I have spoken it in the mountains and in the temples and in the Parliaments and in the town squares. I have said that in this very building, and I will keep saying it until everyone in this galaxy has listened to me and has understood my words.
"You all.... every one of you has heard those words, and you have all forgotten. So I will say them again.
"'If we cannot live together, we shall surely die apart.'
"This war with the Centauri furthers nothing. It spreads chaos and anarchy and death. We should be fighting together, Narn and Centauri, against a common enemy, as we did once, in the beginning. Instead we wage war against each other. Instead we cause parents to grieve and children to be made orphans. For long years of occupation we watched as that was done to us, and we swore 'never again'. But now it is happening again, and this time it is not the Centauri who are to blame. We are.
"How often must I speak to you? How many times must I say the words before you listen?
"'If we cannot live together we shall surely die apart.'"
G'Kar stopped and looked around the room, looked at the circles extending upwards in which sat the Narn Government, the people in whom the Narn people placed their trust and their hopes for the future.
One of them rose and looked directly at G'Kar himself. He did not shy away from the prophet's furious gaze. "Your words are welcome here, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar, as always, but they are ill–advised. The Centauri are allied with the Enemy. This we all know."
"Then you know nothing, H'Klo. Whatever alliance there is, exists not between the Centauri government and the Enemy. Maybe there is such an alliance, but the Emperor is not involved. The Shadows spread chaos. They set allies to fight one another. That is what they do, and that is what they are doing now! We should be helping the Centauri fight the agents on their worlds, not wage war on all the innocent because of a few who are guilty."
"They are Centauri," barked one voice, high in the circles. "There are no innocents there."
"And that is what they said to us!" G'Kar roared. "Do none of you see? We can wage a war against them from now until the time our grandchildren are mouldering bones in long–forgotten graves, and what will that have won us? In a hundred years, a Centauri government will sit as we do now, and argue that there are no Narn innocents. I suffered during the occupation, as did we all....
"But the occupation is over! And so will this war be over!
"I was told once there are three ways to deal with an enemy. Kill him, hate him, or make him your friend. We cannot kill the Centauri, and an enemy you hate can never become your friend."
"Your words are.... powerful, Ha'Cormar'ah G'Kar," H'Klo said again. "But need we remind you that you have no official standing here? You resigned your position in the Kha'Ri and turned down numerous offers to lead us. You have an official position within the United Alliance, yes.... but not here. Therefore your words are persuasive only, and you cannot set policy for the Kha'Ri."
"I have no intention of setting policy," G'Kar snapped. "You are right. My words to you here cannot do that.