Her husband. Ah, that felt good, just imagining it. Her true love, her protector. Her husband, the man who had abandoned caste simply to be with her.
She knew exactly where he would be this morning. On the balcony of their quarters, watching the sun rise, marvelling at the joy of life. She wished nothing more than to be with him now, looking at their brave new world together, not talking in words, but communicating in ways for which words would never suffice.
She moved through their home quickly. There were servants, a concept she did not entirely like, but accepted. It was a noble position to work, was it not? She smiled at them, and shared a few words with each. She was not surprised to be told that her Kozorr was on the balcony.
The sun hit her eyes as she stepped out onto it, and blinked quickly. He was there, sitting still and silent, looking out across the horizon at their world. His leg had been crippled two years ago, protecting her, but he preferred to stand rather than sit where possible. Now he sat anyway. Once he would have been too proud to admit he needed to sit, and would have stood until his leg gave way and he collapsed.
Now he was different, changed. Both of them were.
She moved up beside him and knelt down at his side, looking up into his face.
He was still, and his eyes were staring directly at the sun, unblinking.
His hand was cold.
Somehow, she had always known this day would come. Sinoval had not told her everything, she had sensed that, but she had not wanted to ask, not wanted to know. Kozorr had been brought back to life surely that could not have been forever, but equally surely they deserved a chance at their new life.
Gently, Kats kissed his cold hand, and laid her head against it, looking at the sun until a cloud passed over it. Then she began to make preparations for the funeral.
The news of her death hit him suddenly and unexpectedly, completely out of the blue. It should have been over now. There should not have had to be any more deaths. Not one.
But this?
"I'm sorry, David," Lianna said softly. "It was just.... one of those things. She must have been feeling ill for months, but she didn't tell anyone. Not even me. We needed doctors and she just kept working. But.... then.... it was too late...."
"There's nothing.... nothing anyone can do," Corwin whispered. "Nothing."
Lianna shook her head. "She didn't even want me telling you, but.... You have a right to know, I think. It's too late now anyway. I got her a nice plaque on the wall. There isn't room for graves, you see."
"I understand. I'd.... I'd like to come and see it. If that's all right?"
"Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"
"Given the way we ended it. And well.... with Michael...."
Lianna shrugged. "Old news now. Not that I don't miss him, but.... No, I do miss him. every single day I miss him, but mostly I can get by. I'm even.... well, I'm seeing someone new. He's nice."
"Oh."
"Don't judge me, David. Please. It's been a year and a half now. Besides, Frank needs a father. Believe me. I know."
"I know. I wasn't. How is Frank?"
"Boisterous," Lianna smiled. "He's going to be a lot like his father. I can't tell whether that's a good thing or not yet, though. And you. I've been hearing things. Even all the way out here. The war never got to us, but you did. Mary read everything she could find about you, and insisted on boring us all with it."
"It was.... mostly over–rated."
"Come on. If even half of what we heard was true.... Well.... a lot of people owe you a lot."
"I didn't do half as much as I could have. It doesn't matter now. It's over. It's all over."
"The war?"
"Everything. It's going to be different now. Very different. All most of us have ever known is how to fight. Now.... we're going to have to learn something much harder. How to live."
"You'll be fine. It gets easier, David. Believe me. It never stops hurting, but it does get easier." Lianna paused. "Mary never stopped loving you."
"I don't think I ever stopped loving her. I'll.... I'll come over and see you and Frank as soon as I can. There's still a bit of mopping up to do over here. The Dark Stars are still going to be needed, but I think I can get some personal leave."
"You deserve it."
He paused. "Lianna. Have you heard anything about.... Bester?"
"No, not a word. People are saying he's dead."
"I don't believe that."
"No, me neither. I guess he'll come back when he's ready. Whatever he's done.... he never did anything wrong by me or Michael."
"I guess not. Look, I'd better go. Something's bound to come up soon that needs my attention."
"Yeah, probably. David?"
"Yes."
"Take care."
The signal ended, and Corwin stepped back from the screen. Slowly, each movement jerky and painful, he went over to his desk and pulled something out. It was a small box. He opened it. Inside was a wedding ring.
He had never stopped loving her, but sometimes love involved letting go. Right? He had told himself that a thousand times, and he had never hated her for leaving. Never. She had just seen her best friend's husband die in an ultimately pointless display of heroism, and she could not bear being with someone likely to die in the same way.
He had told himself the war would soon be over, and that when it was.... he would find her, go to her, and ask her again. He would give up being a soldier, give it all up and just live peacefully.
And now she was dead. Gone. Never to return.
He had seen some wonderful things, some terrifying things in his life. He had seen Z'ha'dum, Vorlon fleets, the terrifying presence of the Drakh, even Cathedral, a legend filled with beings who could save the dead.
And yet there had been no one to save Mary when she had died of a tumour. Something that mundane and banal. In a life where he had been threatened by Minbari, Drakh, Shadows, countless alien races, even his own people, to have the woman he loved die of something so.... normal.
He put the ring down. He could hardly believe it.
That was when the scream hit him. Light filled his mind and he fell, her scream echoing from every wall, from every sense. He could feel her pain, and he could feel her die.
"Carolyn," he whispered, as he slipped into unconsciousness.
This was unusual, unprecedented. Unique even.
The Well of Souls certainly thought so.
Sinoval had been standing on the pinnacle of Cathedral, looking out at the galaxy, thinking deep thoughts and formulating his plans. He was working out how much time he had to prepare, where to go to first. The war was over now. It would take time for the Vorlons to secure their control over the galaxy. He had time to be ready to resist them.
That was when he sensed the warning from the Well of Souls. It was not in words, more a feeling, but that did not matter. He could sense it.
Intruder.
Somehow, someone had got into the Well of Souls itself. No one entered there without the permission of the Well, without paying the price demanded, or without the permission of the Primarch himself. No Soul Hunter would dare go there unless summoned, and who else was there? Cathedral was in a dead system, hidden, walking on the edges of perception.
The Vorlons? Were they launching an attack this early? That would mean they had managed to find him so quickly, which he did not believe. The Shadows? Was that whole meeting with Forell some sort of gambit, a deception to set the seeds for revenge?
Or was this something else entirely?
Sinoval moved forward and stepped off the pinnacle. Nothingness welcomed him as he fell. He shaped it to his will, much as the whole of Cathedral was so bound. He was now the master of Cathedral, the voice of the Well of Souls, as the previous Primarch had been before him.