Armies of Light and Dark (13 page)

Since I was on that path, I was obviously not considered much of an obstacle. Great Maker help me, they may very well be right. I could, of course, endeavor to change their thinking, make them work harder to achieve their goals. But for the moment, I am content to let matters unfold as I watch. Let them bluster about, those who speak of how Centauri Prime must return to its destiny of greatness. In their hearts, they are bullies, who will only strike against their enemies once they are convinced that they can crush them completely, without any fear of retaliation. Now that I think of it, this might be considered a fairly accurate description of me. Perhaps there is less difference between the new guard and the old guard than any of us would care to admit.

So Senna began paying more attention to Throk, and Throk was clearly rather pleased. Not only was Senna an attractive and vivacious individual, but Throk attained a bit more status with his fellow Prime Candidates when he appeared with the "young lady" on his arm. Senna was masterful, managing to keep him at army length while all the time making him think that he was worming his way into her affections. And then periodically she would find ways to convey to me whatever it was she had learned. She would do it in the most casual of ways, saying, "Oh, you will never guess the latest gossip," and tell me in a lighthearted manner all sorts of information that was of varying degrees of use to me. Most of it was of little utility of course. Senna, being young and inexperienced, wasn't really capable of distinguishing what might be truly important. She could not cull the most pertinent information; it simply spilled out, and was left to me to sort it out. This kept up for several months, and I took it all in. I began to feel like a spider in the middle of a web, watching insects flutter about and trying to determine what might be the tastiest morsel.

Recently, for example, she told me something that may be of tremendous use. Something that might very well enable me to manipulate Durla without his realizing it, and might actually enable me to bring Vir back here with a degree of impunity. I have come to realize just how important Vir is to all of this. I remain surrounded, watched from all sides. With the addition of Throk to my retinue, and Shiv'kala hovering in the shadows, and the keeper attached to me at all times, I am the single most watched individual on all Centauri Prime ... possibly in all the universe. Even for dear Senna, there is only so much that she can do. I need someone from outside, someone who can move about, someone who can provide a lifeline to the outside world. A lifeline. Interesting choice of words, since oftentimes I feel as if I am drowning in silence. No matter. Vir shall come back, be free to come and go as need be ... with Durla's blessing, more's the irony, if I manage this correctly.

In a way ... a very small way ... I regret pulling Senna into this morass of subtle espionage. For all her lineage and her teaching, she is still young and naive. But these are fearsome times in which we live, and perhaps I am doing her a favor after all. The sooner she learns to manipulate and deceive, the better chance she'll have of surviving. In fact, if she becomes truly skilled at such things, I might marry her myself. Marry her and then, of course, divorce her. That way she will fit in nicely with my other ex-wives.

C
HAPTER 6

Vir customarily came to the Zen garden on Babylon 5 for thoughtful contemplation. He did not normally stop by for the purpose of having a coronary. Yet, as it so happened, that was nearly what occurred. It used to be that various individuals gave him a wide berth whenever they saw him. He was, after all, Centauri, and that was not a race that had a particularly positive profile with most others. It was, Vir supposed, understandable. After all, when one bombards another race's world into rubble, there's bound to be some fallout. But Galen had been right; Centauri Prime had not replaced him as ambassador. Whether they were throwing him a bone or further punishing him, he could not say.

The thing was, Vir had almost become accustomed to his status as an outcast. He had grown used to the fact that, although he was supposed to be the Centauri ambassador, he was in fact unwelcome at almost any diplomatic gathering. But then Mariel had entered his life, and things had turned around. Charming, vivacious, Mariel had gathered men to her with greater ease than a sun draws space debris into its orbit. And for a time, Vir had basked in her reflected light. Suddenly it had seemed to him that people looked at him differently, with a new sort of respect. When he passed people in the hall, they smiled, waved, clapped him on the back, and chuckled. Yes, they always chuckled, or laughed, and Vir took this as a sign of pleasure and happiness to see him.

They still chuckled and laughed. But now it galled him, for now he knew the truth. Now he knew that Mariel had been making a laughingstock of him, behind his back. When people looked at him, they saw only a fool. Mariel had been around a good deal less lately, which suited Vir just fine. He knew that simply throwing her out, severing the relationship, would attract not only her attention but the attention of whomever it was she was reporting to ... an unknown "chancellor," he had learned, although he didn't know which one. The thing was, he had been so besotted with her that if he suddenly dispensed with the relationship, she would know something was up. He didn't want to take any chances, so he had settled for arranging to be elsewhere whenever she was around. Naturally, since she simply regarded him as a means to an end, she didn't really care that they kept missing each other. She did keep leaving video messages, clucking about how much she hated that lately they were little more than two ships passing in the night. She's quite the little actress, thought Vir.

Still, after months of playing the dodging game, Vir had tired of it. On this particular day, she was scheduled to return from wherever it was she had gone off to, and Vir had no desire to depart Babylon 5, to find somewhere where he could kill time. He was sick of killing time. It was more than that, though. A cold, burning anger was being fueled within him every time another person on Babylon 5 smiled at him and asked how Mariel was. Even people back on Centauri Prime were interested in her.

Senna, of all people, had sent him a message just the other day. It had been a chatty, gossipy message, which was odd considering that he couldn't remember the last time she had contacted him. It hadn't even been sent from within the palace; he could tell by the return frequency. It was from some independent, public communications outfit that anyone could walk in and use. "I heard from a friend of a friend that you and Mariel are together," she had said. "How interesting. This friend of a friend told me that Minister Durla rather fancies Mariel himself. So you are quite the lucky fellow, actually getting the better of Minister Durla, because you know, no one ever does."

So even on Centauri Prime, where he was persona non grata, they knew of the damnable association. Little did they suspect that Vir's supposed romantic coup had actually cost him terribly. Whatever small bit of standing he might have had remaining to him had been damaged, probably beyond repair. This knowledge made him want to get back at Mariel somehow. His upbringing told him that, given the circumstances, disposing of her wouldn't be out of line. Any number of dandy little poisons would suit the occasion perfectly. But he couldn't bring himself to pursue that avenue. It simply wasn't his style. Then again, risking life and limb to destroy a mysterious Shadow base wasn't exactly his style either. Nor was assassinating an emperor, as he had inadvertently done with Cartagia. His style was changing so rapidly that he was having trouble keeping up with it. It was as if another Vir were running on ahead, leaving the original one to gesture helplessly and beg not to be left behind. He wondered what he was becoming, and further wondered if it was anyone, or anything, he was going to like. The Vir Cotto who had first come to Babylon 5 had been, in so many ways, a child.

"And all children grow up," he said tonelessly as he sat in the Zen garden, staring down at the sand beneath his feet.

"All children save one," came a voice, so close at his shoulder that he yelped. He jumped from the bench and turned to see who had entered so silently that Vir hadn't even heard him.

"Galen!"

The techno-mage inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.

"The same."

"What are you doing here?"

"Speaking to you. Your time is drawing near, Vir Cotto. And when it comes, you must be prepared for it."

"Prepared for it? Prepared for what?" Vir shook his head with obvious incredulity. "Since techno-mages started advising me, I've had a woman come into my life, embolden me, love me – or pretend she loves me – just to put herself into a position to spy on others. What could I possibly do to prepare myself for that?"

"She used you. Everyone uses everyone, Vir Cotto. When you grow up, you will understand that, and be the greatest user of all."

"There's something to look forward to," Vir said dourly. Then he frowned. "Who doesn't grow up? You said–"

"Peter Pan. A Human boy who refused to grow up, and resided instead in a place called Never-never land ... which you got to by going to the second star on the right, and straight on until morning."

"I don't have time for stories," Vir said impatiently. "You must want something. What is it?"

Galen rose and began to walk. Automatically, Vir got up and fell into step beside him.

"You must return," Galen told him. Vir didn't even have to guess at what he was referring to. "To Centauri Prime. Yes. There are forces bringing the world forward to a destiny it truly desires. For every action, however, there is an equal and opposite reaction. That is an immutable rule of the universe. You are to be the opposite reaction."

"Well, here's another immutable rule: I can't return there," Vir said flatly. "I have contacts there, yes, and I've been getting messages to them, and they to me. But you need someone who can walk about freely, who can move in high circles. I'm not that person."

"Yes. You are," said Galen. His eyes sparked with a flintlike precision. "You need to figure out how you can be."

"You figure it out. You have all the answers, after all."

"No," Galen said softly. "No techno-mage has all the answers."

"Really."

"Really." Then his lips thinned in what might have been a smile, although Vir couldn't be sure. "We do, however, have all the questions."

Vir rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I don't know what you expect of me," he said finally. "You're acting as if I have some real influence. At this point, the only influence I have is through Mariel."

"Is she not enamored of you? Would she not aid you?"

Vir laughed bitterly at that.

"Mariel aids herself. She wouldn't ... she.. . sh..." His voice trailed off. An idea was beginning to trickle through him.

"Vir Cotto ...?" inquired Galen.

"Quiet!"

If anyone had told Vir some years back that he would be telling a techno-mage to silence himself, Vir would have thought they were out of their mind. What was even more astounding was that the techno-mage did, in fact, shut up. He cocked his head with slight curiosity, but otherwise seemed more than content to let Vir's train of thought head down the track.

Vir was walking slowly, but his mind was leaps and bounds away: A flood of notions rolled over him. He turned quickly, half expecting to find that Galen had disappeared in the same way that his associates did. But Galen was still standing there, cradling his staff, watching Vir with what seemed to be cold amusement.

"Can you make her love me?"

Galen blinked in a vaguely owlish fashion.

"Love."

"Yes."

"You."

"Yes."

The techno-mage said nothing at first. He didn't even move. He was so immobile that he might have had some sort of paralysis spell cast upon him, for all Vir knew.

"You want to control her," he said at last. Vir nodded. "You want me ... to make her so enamored of you that she will do whatever you ask, whenever and wherever you ask, rather than take the slightest risk of upsetting you."

"Exactly," said Vir with grim eagerness.

"And you desire this ... why?"

"You want me to be able to return to Centauri Prime. I've come to realize that she's the key to it. Londo knew it ... Londo always knows," Vir said, shaking his head in grudging admiration. "And he got Senna to get word to me, probably because everything he says and does is carefully monitored. That's why she sent it from outside the palace. You would think that that alone would have tipped me off."

"You are a fool, Vir Cotto," Galen said softly.

"Maybe. But I'm a fool that you need." Vir was not about to let himself be intimidated, even by a techno-mage.

"You ask me to make this woman love you. I can do this thing. It is within my power. I can make her love you with such intensity that she will shatter every bone in her body rather than fail you."

"I think we can, you know ... avoid anything that will call for self-mutilation."

"Indeed." Galen was thoughtful for a moment. "And will you admit to yourself why you have asked me to do this?"

"I already told you."

"No. No." Galen shook his head. He walked toward Vir then, and Vir was sure it was his imagination, but it seemed to him as if Galen was getting taller, wider, more impressive with every step. "That is what you have told me. The truth of it is, though, that you wish to punish her, and you see me as the instrument of that punishment. You do not wish simply to use her. You wish to humiliate her for your own personal satisfaction. It is unworthy of you, Vir Cotto."

"You're wrong," Vir said tightly. "And I don't understand you. You people, you techno-mages ... you always talk in vague, prophetic, mystical, oblique ways. You don't stand there and psychoanalyze people right down to exactly why you think they do things."

"I save obliqueness for matters of galactic import," retorted Galen. "When I speak of foolish actions and foolish individuals, I tend not to talk in subtext. What is the matter, Vir Cotto? Was I too on-point for you?"