Гэрет Уильямс - Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 5 : Средь звезд, подобно гигантам

"Plus, there is the possibility of Alliance ships there. Centauri Prime still has some Centauri ships, but there may be other Alliance forces. I've heard about the Inquisitors moving around on the surface. They will have ships of their own in orbit. Plus, after the attack on Gorash, Londo will have asked the Alliance for greater protection. Count on it. You caught him flat-footed once before. I doubt you'll do so again.

"On the other hand, the homeworld will still be sorely weakened from the War. There were very few nobles of any status left alive, and the Houses will now be led by young and inexperienced nobles. They won't have much military understanding, but they will all be willing to fight hard to prove themselves.

"We need to know more about the situation on Centauri Prime before we do anything. The first rule of war is never to go in blind."

"No waiting," the Tuchanq said in its usual hollow, staccato voice. "No time for patience. Only revenge. Only blood. We will not wait."

Mi'Ra rose, and Marrago looked at her. She was almost…. feline in her movements. Narns were generally too thickset and heavy-boned for subtlety or grace of motion, but Mi'Ra seemed to manage it.

"The timing is perfect," she said, her red eyes looking directly at him. "It could not be more so. Emperor Mollari is sick, possibly on his deathbed. Those…. young, idealistic nobles you spoke of will be too busy manoeuvring themselves into positions of power to work together to hold off an attack."

Marrago felt a sickening lurch in his stomach. Londo? Ill? Dying? Then he hardened his hearts. Londo had accepted his role. Marrago would have to continue with his.

"If you say so. I think it is too early."

"No," the Tuchanq said. "Now."

"There is one more thing," Marrago said, looking around. "Alliance ships. There will be some there, particularly if those Inquisitors are still present. Open fire on an Alliance ship, and you are inviting war with them."

"Let them come," Moreil said, suddenly. "Let them all come."

Mi'Ra nodded. So did the Tuchanq.

Marrago spread his arms wide. "Very well. Someone fetch the maps. I'll start outlining weak points and strategic areas."

The servants moved aside as she passed, whispering about her when they thought she was out of earshot. She could hear them, of course. One of the things she had learned in her childhood was the necessity of very good hearing. She didn't let them know she could hear them, though. That would spoil all the fun.

It was interesting to find out what people were saying about her. Some called her mad, others cold. There were rumours that she was sleeping with any number of people — one chambermaid even claimed to have seen her in the bed of that strange human Morden. Some said she had poisoned her husband, or that she had used witchcraft to make him ill, or that she had gone to the technomages to have him kept alive but not conscious.

She was aware that she was not universally liked, but she contented herself with the thought that few people of worth were ever popular.

Not even her guards liked her. They had made the absolute minimum of protest when she had told them that she did not need them for today.

Lady Timov, daughter of Alghul and Lady Consort to Emperor Londo Mollari II, pushed the door open and swept majestically inside.

Durla Antignano stood to attention sharply. "My lady," the new Captain of the Guards said crisply.

Timov nodded at him as she closed the door, looking around. He had come alone, as she had requested. He could hardly insult the Lady Consort by bringing his guards to a private meeting now, could he? It was of course scandalous that the two of them were alone together, but Timov was content to let the scandalmongers have their fun. After all, if the worst they suspected about this meeting was an illicit liaison, both of them would have escaped lightly.

From the folds of her voluminous gown Timov pulled out a small, stylus-shaped device, with which she proceeded to comb the room. The light on the end of the tracker maintained a steady glow until she reached an elaborately decorated urn in one corner of the chamber. Timov recognised it as a grossly expensive gift to Emperor Turhan from the then-incumbent Lord Vole. A quick moment's investigation turned up the bugging device and she quickly clipped a device of her own around it. A study of the rest of the room found another similar device, which was treated the same way.

Satisfied, Timov folded up her tracker and returned it to her pocket. Taking the seat opposite Durla, she gestured to him to sit down.

"A few little things I picked up from some contacts of mine in the black market," she said by way of explanation. "Anyone listening will hear what I wish them to hear, and nothing else."

"And what will they be hearing, my lady?" Durla asked in his usual clipped, precisely enunciated tone.

"Oh, that we are sleeping together. Don't look so shocked, Durla. You are a fine figure of a young man, and with my husband…. ill, I have certain needs." The expression on Durla's face was wonderful to behold, a strange combination of shock and revulsion, purest horror and desperation. Timov laughed. "A joke," she said. "I cannot speak for my husband, but my marriage vows mean something to me. Besides, you are a little young for me. I wanted to speak of something else and it would be better if anyone listening thought this more…. mundane."

"Are you not worried that those…. listeners might use this incorrect information against you, my lady?"

"Tish! When has adultery ever been a cause for concern in these circles? My fidelity has usually been something of a joke."

Durla smiled, and rested his elbows on the table. "Not for you, my lady, no. But my position is a little more precarious than yours. I could very easily find myself back in those cells. My guards bear me little love, and if you were to complain about any…. undue pressure I was putting on you, I would rapidly lose the limited freedom I have at present."

"Really?" Timov said, eyes widening. "I had not considered that possibility. How dreadfully remiss of me. You must accept my utmost apologies."

Durla reached into the pocket of his uniform coat and laid something on the table. Timov smiled, recognising it. A signal jammer. "Believe me, my lady. No one is hearing anything in this room."

"I had hoped to avoid making people paranoid, but yes, we are both very clever. We have played this Game too long. I did not come here to blackmail you, Durla, nor to sleep with you. I came to offer you an alliance."

"I am as ever, my lady's to command."

"Then you would be the first," she drawled. "I have a hard enough time commanding my serving maids. When my husband was…. well, I had some little authority. He has been in a coma for several months now, and my little power wanes every day. I have accustomed myself to the realisation that he may never awake. I cannot simply wait for something that may never happen. If I am to save our people, I will have to act now."

"Do our people need saving, my lady?"

"Durla…. I know you are neither blind nor stupid. Please do not pretend to be either. Can you say you are truly happy with the way things are? Have you seen those…. Inquisitors moving around? Is there no one close to you whom they have taken away? Do you truly wish to serve a human standing beside the Purple Throne?"

"If you mean Mr. Morden, he freed me from my imprisonment."

"He did so because he wanted a tame pet on a leash, someone he could set on those who defied him. Are you happy being a human's lapdog?"

"I am a Centauri. My family is ancient and proud. Some say I dishonoured that memory."

"I know your past," Timov interrupted. "You were exiled when it was discovered you murdered your brother."

"It was over a woman."

"Such arguments usually are," Timov smiled. "Although never over me, I recall."

"When he freed me, I told Mr. Morden what I wanted from him."

"Has he given it to you?"

"No, and I doubt he ever will, but then I doubt the same thing regarding you. Your husband, when he ruled, was weak and spineless. He did not listen. He did not care for my talents and he imprisoned me rather than allow me to redeem myself from whatever…. transgressions I might have committed. I want to see the Centauri race return to the stars, by our own destiny rather than at the whim of another. I have resigned myself to that never happening."

"Under my husband, no. It will not. But we have accepted that my husband is likely never to recover. For myself, I want a quiet retirement, and if he does recover, a place somewhere near the ocean where he can recuperate free from the burdens of his position. He has done enough for these people already.

"But most of all, I want those humans and their Inquisitors and everything to do with the Alliance gone from our space. We can work together to achieve that, and both of us will get what we want.

"How does Emperor Durla Antignano sound to you, hmm?"

"I have come home."

G'Kar looked up at the red sky as he set foot on his homeworld for the first time in over a year. It was nearly sunset. He remembered looking up at that sky hundreds of times, as a pouchling, as a warrior against the Centauri, as a prophet. He remembered thinking how fortunate he was to call such a world home.

Now it was polluted and scarred. There was a darkness at its heart, but then, as he thought about it, he realised there had always been a darkness here. Perhaps it had begun with the Centauri Occupation, perhaps earlier than that, but it had always been here.

The Centauri had taught them a lot, mostly unwittingly. Above all, they had taught the Narn how to hate.

And now they were reaping the harvest they had sown.

"If we cannot live together, we shall surely die apart," he whispered. No one listened. No one understood, and no one listened, and no one cared.

He felt as if his entire life had suddenly become incredibly pointless. If he had still been at the heart of the Great Machine he could have seen this coming, he could have worked to prevent it, he could….

No. No 'if onlys'. That way lay madness.

For so long the focus of his life had been to fight a war. It seemed he had always been at war, with one race or another. Then he had seen that black, terrible Shadow ship high in the night, and he had known his purpose.

But now that purpose was gone, evaporated into dust, and just how much of that victory had been down to him? How much had he really accomplished? Would he have been better off merely leaving everything alone and sitting back and letting the darkness come? Would the Narn and the Centauri have been better off without his prophecies?

He could not answer those questions, and the Prophet could not see far enough into the future to know what would come.

He knew only that he had to try.

G'Kar was a great man, and a true inspiration. It is sad that only with his death is it possible for this to be appreciated. During his life he was too often weighed down by thoughts of his mistakes, of his errors, of his lapses of judgement, of things that no one could possibly blame him for.

That, I think, was both his greatest failing and his greatest strength. He could not perceive himself as the inspiration he truly was.

For good or ill, and I cannot say, for I am no Prophet, he changed our people.

L'Neer of Narn, Learning at the Prophet's Feet.

There was heat and motion and energy and power. There was noise. There was the sound of her thoughts, echoing loudly in his mind. Dexter Smith had never wanted to be a true telepath, never asked for their sort of power, but now he wished he could have it. If this was what they felt all the time, this blessed, wondrous communion of thoughts and voices and souls, then he would gladly trade everything for that.