Armies of Light and Dark (12 page)

Throk opened his mouth to reply, and then clearly decided that not only was a reply unnecessary, but it also bordered on the unwise. So he simply turned and entered the chambers. The moment the doors slid shut, Senna turned to Londo and demanded, "Highness, are you actually going to let them get away with this?"

"Get away with what?" inquired Londo with a surprisingly placid look. "People come and go. Dunseny chose to leave."

"I don't believe that. Neither do you."

He laughed softly.

"Did you know that, not all that long ago in the grand scheme of things, the people of Centauri Prime did not believe that our world was round?"

"Yes. I knew that."

"Did not believing that make the world flat?"

"No," she admitted, "but that is not the point..."

"Actually, Senna ... it is." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "There are battles that can and should be fought, and there are battles that should not be. In the case of the former, let nothing stop you. In the case of the latter, let nothing start you."

"Are you saying–"

"I am saying that the world can be a greater classroom than anything in all the schooling you have received over the past few years. However, you have to pick and choose where the classrooms are, who the teachers are, and what lessons are worth learning. You understand, yes?"

"I ... think so. You're saying..."

But he raised a finger and put it to her lips.

"Ah ah ah," he remonstrated her. "In the classroom of life, this is a silent quiz, not an oral examination. Any thoughts you might have, keep them to yourself. Learn by doing, not by speaking." Apparently having said everything he wanted to say, Londo nodded in satisfaction, seemingly to himself, then turned to head into his private chambers.

And when the words came to her, they came out all in a rush. Though she would have done anything she could to stop them, she blurted out, "What are you afraid of?" She swore she could actually see the words departing her lips. She snatched for them, trying to retrieve them, but naturally that did no good.

Londo turned again and fixed her with that steady, occasionally unblinking stare he often displayed. To her astonishment, he replied, "The dark."

The simplicity of the answer caught her off guard, and then she said, "Well, Highness ... that's not all that surprising. To some degree, everyone is afraid of the dark."

"True. Very true." He waggled a finger at her and told her, "But I am one of the few ... who knows exactly why everyone is afraid of the dark. The others do not. If they claim they do, they are either remarkable fools ... or remarkably knowledgeable. It will be for you to distinguish between the two."

"Me?" She was obviously confused. "What about you?"

"I?" He snorted. "I can barely distinguish between my various imperial vestments. How fortunate I am ... to have Tbrok here to make certain I do not commit some sort of social faux pas."

"Yes. You have Throk," she said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"He is an available young man, Senna, with interesting prospects. You could do worse, you know."

She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

"Throk? You cannot be serious, Highness."

"Have you given thought to it, Senna? It is through a husband, after all, that women gain power in our society ... attaching themselves to a powerful mate. It would be expected of you by this age. It would not be thought of as at all odd, were you to begin walking the corridors of power while appearing eager and interested in all that goes on around you."

"I'm not interested in gaining power, Your Highness."

"How intriguing," he said slowly, with a smile. "Aside from the kitchen staff, you may be the only person in this entire palace who is not interested in that." He gave it a moment's more consideration. "And I would not wager against the kitchen staff, now that I think about it."

"I wish Timov was still here," Senna said.

"As do I."

She looked at him askance.

"They say that she was plotting against you. Was it true?"

"I do not know," he said, although she suspected from the quick flicker of regret in his eyes that he was not being entirely candid. "It is something of a shame, I suppose. To not be able to know who around you can be trusted."

"You can trust me, Highness."

"Yes," he said, but he sounded noncommittal. "There are many others, though. Throk, Durla, the other ministers. All with their own agendas, whispering among themselves, planning, discussing. Conversations to which I am not privy. It would be of great use ... to know what they were saying. A pity such things are not possible. Well, good evening to you then, young lady."

"Good evening to you, Highness."

She watched him enter his private chambers, the door sliding noiselessly shut behind him ... and she couldn't help but think that, somehow, he seemed a bit ... smaller ... somehow. It was not until later that evening, when Senna had gone to bed, that Londo's words came back to her and the true meaning became clear. She sat up abruptly and was about to run directly to the emperor, despite the lateness of the hour, to see whether she had properly understood his meaning. Then she realized that to do so would be to undercut what it was he was asking, presuming she fully understood what it was he was asking. So instead she contented herself to lie back down, knowing that it would be a sleepless night as her hearts pounded anxiously in her chest.

Londo lay upon his bed, staring up at the ceiling into the darkness. As always, the darkness looked back at him.

"You are there," he said abruptly.

There was a stirring from the wall nearby, and one of the shadows separated from the rest. The Drakh called Shiv'kala slowly approached, and then stopped several feet away.

"We are always here," he said.

"I suspected as much. So ... how much influence did you have in this, eh?"

"Influence?"

Londo propped himself on one elbow.

"If Dunseny had not gone quietly, would you have seen to it that he met with an accident ? Is that it?"

Shiv'kala laughed. It was the single most chilling sound that he was capable of making. When Londo heard it, part of him wanted to crawl all the way back to infancy and hide in his mother's womb, and even there he would likely find no shelter.

"The Drakh," Shiv'kala said, when his mirth had sufficiently passed, "care nothing about your hired help, Londo."

"You did not position Throk to be your spy, then."

"Do not be foolish. A keeper resides upon you. What further need have we for a spy?"

"I do not know," Londo admitted. "I do not know why you do much of what you do. And if I try to shine light upon you, in my search for answers, your very nature absorbs it."

"Your paranoia is flattering, but unnecessary ..."

"In this instance," Londo added.

Shiv'kala paused only a moment, and then said, "Yes. In this instance. Minister Durla does not need our urging to keep an ever-closer eye on you."

"Durla. Your favorite. Your cat's-paw. If he knew..."

"If he knew ... it would be no different."

"Then why not tell him?" asked Londo, with a hint of challenge in his voice.

"If you wish."

Londo was startled at that.

"You will tell him? Tell him of the darkness that covers this world? Tell him that he is minister only because you put him into place? That he does not truly serve Centauri Prime, but rather the whims of the Drakh – servants for the most dangerous and evil beings the galaxy had ever known? That you even invade his dreams, sending him your bidding and allowing him to think that they are his notions?"

"Absolutely," Shiv'kala confirmed. Then his voice dropped from its normal, gravelly tone to just above a whisper. "And then ... I will tell him of you. Of all that you have done ... and will do. Of how he, Durla, has at least some semblance of free will ... whereas you, monitored by the keeper, have none. That you are both the most powerful and the most unpotent man on all of Centauri Prime. All this will I tell him. And every time he looks at you, you will know ... that he knows. He will know you for the wretched thing that you are. Is that... what you desire?"

Londo said nothing. Indeed, what was there to say?

"Do you see," Shiv'kala told him, "how I protect you from yourself, Londo? Someday ... you will thank me."

"Someday... I will kill you," replied Londo.

"It is good to want things," Shiv'kala said.

The door hissed open and Londo sat up, blinking in the light that was flooding in from the hallway. Throk was standing there, silhouetted in the brightness.

"I thought I heard you talking, Highness. Is there an intruder?"

Londo half twisted to look behind himself. The area where Shiv'kala had been standing was completely illuminated by the corridor lighting, and there was no sign that the Drakh had ever been there at all.

"I am ... simply talking to myself," said Londo.

"It sounded as if you were having an argument, Highness."

"I was. I suppose" – he sighed – "that is because I do not like myself all that much." He hesitated, and then said, "Were you standing outside that door this entire time, Throk?"

"Yes, Highness."

"And you did that ... why?"

"In case I was needed, Highness."

And after he dismissed the Prime Candidate for the remainder of the night, he tried to determine who filled him with a greater sense of foreboding. Shiv'kala ... or Throk.

EXCERPTED FROM THE CHRONICLES OF LONDO MOLLARI.
Excerpt dated (approximate Earth date) June 17, 2268.

Would that I could keep this journal on a regular basis. But I only feel safe making notations such as this one when my "associate" has lapsed into an alcoholic haze. Since I must consume the alcohol needed to accomplish this, it becomes that much more difficult for me to focus on what I am writing. I hope that future generations will be able to translate my handwriting. And I hope the reader will understand, sometimes I have to cover several months at a sitting, to the best that my occasionally strained memory will allow.

Senna. I am so proud of her. It did not take her long at all to understand that which I could only hint at. Nor did she ever come back to me, after that veiled conversation, and outright say "You want me to spy on them! You want me to garner information where I can, through whatever means are necessary, and convey it to you! After all, I am 'only' a young girl, presumably looking for a man to whom I could attach myself. And men tend to speak liberally to those females whom they would like to impress."

No, she never questioned, but I knew. The way she looked at me at breakfast the next morning, there actually was a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. An excitement that bespoke an almost conspiratorial air, as it there was some great secret the two of us shared that neither of us dared speak. I could not guide her, of course. Clever girl, though ... she figured it out all by herself. Even more clever, she waited – took no immediate action. After all, it would have seemed curious if, after treating Throk so coldly, she had abruptly changed her attitude toward him. Throk may have been many things, but foolish he most definitely was not. Instead she began slowly.

It wasn't difficult; Senna and I habitually dined together several times in the course of any week, and naturally Throk was always there. One evening, when Throk deftly refilled a glass of wine for me, Senna said – as if Throk was not there – "He's very attentive, isn't he."

The remark came out of nowhere. I had a spoonful of food lifted to my lips, but did not consume it.

"'He?' " I said. Then I saw her gaze flicker significantly to Throk, and naturally I understood. "Ah. You mean Throk."

Throk visibly perked up at that. He quickly covered it – I will credit him that. He was really somewhat masterful at internalizing anything that might betray his thoughts to an observer.

"Yet you would think," Senna continued smoothly, "that he would notice I, myself, have no wine at all."

"You do not customarily ask for it, Lady Senna," Throk said.

"A lady need not ask," she told him primly. "A lady is asked by others."

He nodded in acknowledgment of the point and held up the bottle.

"Lady, would you care for–"

"I thought you would never ask," she said, and laughed very liltingly.

And I thought to myself,
Great Maker, she was born for this.
Then I remembered who her father was – the late Lord Refa – and I realized that, yes indeed, she truly was born for it. Considering her family tree, it was impressive that I had not yet wound up with a dagger between my ribs. Then again, the day was young. Having received her wine, wise girl, brilliant girl ... she paid Throk no more mind. This no doubt convinced the young man that her comment had merely been a passing observation, a slight jest at his expense.

The next time we ate together, she actually engaged him in conversation. I was surprised – or perhaps not all that surprised, I suppose – that Throk was a bit more outspoken with Senna than he was with me. After all, any inquiry I made as to his background simply got me a respectfully terse reply. But for Senna, he proceeded to put forward what seemed to be his entire lineage. He boasted of his parents, both of them names that I instantly recognized. Throk was of the House Milita.

Milita was a member of Durlab circle of acquaintances, a group who had come to refer to themselves as the New Guard. I knew them, and their type, all too well. They had opposed Emperor Cartagia... but always from hiding. Whenever anyone had spoken of actually overthrowing Cartagia, or trying to do something about his insane rule that was destroying all of Centauri Prime, the House Milita – along with any number of others – were the first to be the last. They were eager for a change, but even more eager to allow someone else to do what was needed to implement it. Yes, I knew the type all too well. They only acted when they felt there was no risk of harm to themselves. Which meant that if Throk of the House Milita was being put into position, and others of his ilk were coming in, then they considered the path to be a fairly obstacle-free one.