"Follow your heart," he said softly. "Marry for love, not because anyone tells you to."
"A strange idea. Have you ever been in love, father?"
"Not in the way you mean. But I have known happiness in my life, and I will know greater for seeing you wed to a fine man who will love you and look after you."
"Or me look after him."
"Or that. Always follow your heart, Lyndisty." He paused, and then smiled. "But do it quickly, or I'll be too old to spoil my grandchildren properly."
"Oh, father. You'll still be fit and healthy to spoil my grandchildren."
"Oh–hoh. Are you planning any then? Do any of those thirty or so young men catch your eye?"
"Well, Minister Cotto is attractive enough.... in a very shy sort of way. And he is gaining power and influence. He might be a good match."
"I know Vir.... a little. A good man. You could do much worse. He...." Lyndisty's head suddenly snapped up as she looked over his shoulder. Marrago strained to listen and he heard the soft footsteps of his chief servant. He hadn't heard them at first. He sighed. He truly was getting old.
"Your pardon, Lord–General, Lady. Minister Durano is here to see you, Lord–General."
"Ah. Send him to my private study. See that he was a glass of water, lightly chilled." Durano did not drink brivare. He always said he preferred his mind clear and unmuddled. "I will be with him shortly."
"Yes, Lord–General."
Lyndisty waited until the butler had gone, and then her eyes began to sparkle. "Secret matters of state?" she said. "You will tell me what he's here for, won't you, father?"
"If it is not too secret," he said. It was however very difficult to keep secrets from Lyndisty.
"Actually, Minister Durano was also on the list mother sent me."
"What? He's twenty years too old for you. At least."
"Ah, but he's not married. He hasn't taken even one wife. And he has a large estate, and a high–ranking post with a lot of influence. And he's very rich. Maybe a little.... unexciting."
Marrago shook his head, smiling, and rose to his feet. An old knee injury pulled at him and he winced. "Do as you wish, Lyndisty. I will always support you. Do you want to come inside? I think it is getting a little cold out here."
"It's not cold. Besides, I like it out here."
"So do I. I will not be long, I hope." He turned to begin the walk back to his house. It was usually a short walk, but today it felt very long.
Durano was known for many things, among them his complete political neutrality. He was also fearless, keen–minded and fully capable of obeying Londo's orders.
Marrago hoped he would not have to kill him.
"We just.... can't target any of the satellites."
Corwin had long ago all but stopped breathing. His head was pounding, blood rushing in his ears. He could see the millions of people on Proxima, and he could see the defence grid. He could see a million deaths.
And he could see himself, sitting here, unable to stop it.
"What do you mean? Is it some sort of stealth tech, like the Minbari had?" That was a stretch, certainly. For years the Minbari ships could not be targeted by Earthforce vessels due to vastly superior technology. But the Dark Stars were not Earthforce ships, they had been crafted by one of the oldest races alive. Could humanity, even aided by the Shadows and their servants, produce a defence grid that the Vorlons could not target?
"No, sir. We can.... we can sense them. We know where they are. We can set the automatic targetting for the weapon systems, but.... I don't get it! If I didn't know better, I'd say the ship doesn't want to attack the grid."
Corwin closed his eyes. The ship didn't want to. "Get me through to Kulomani, to Daro, to anyone." He had a feeling this was no mere malfunction.
Vorlons had organic technology. Everyone knew that.
The Dark Stars were.... strange.
At times he had heard strange sounds. His crew had unusual dreams. There were distant screams. There had been that blaze of light.
The ship did not want to target the defence grid.
The Dark Star was alive. Was it so far–fetched for it to be sentient, even intelligent?
"They're having the same problem, sir."
The Dark Stars remained still, watching, as Proxima 3 came closer to annihilation.
He was dying, his blood leaching away slowly, one drop at a time. He could hear the sound of her tears, feel the waves of her sorrow. He wanted to reach out to her, but he could not seem to find the energy.
He wanted to tell her he loved her, and he was sorry.... but he could not do that either.
And then he became aware of another presence, and anger filled him. No! Not like this! Sinoval should not see him die like this. He should not.... He wanted to stand, to die as a warrior should, but he could not move. Not even to bid his love farewell.
He had regrets, too many. There were so many things he wished he could do, he wished he could have done.
He wished he could have told her.
There was a conversation, quick and urgent. He couldn't hear the words, but he could sense the voices. He could feel the presence of those nearby. There were three of them.... three, appropriate. Love, friend, enemy.
He could feel the rising anger of his love, hear the soft wind chimes of her voice. He could feel Kats curse the universe for this.
He could feel the regrets voiced by his former lord, hear the intense emotion in his voice. He could feel Sinoval choose to defy the universe for this.
And.... standing alone and silent, watching.... there was the calm grief of his friend. Tirivail was watching a warrior die a death no warrior should endure. He wished he could tell her not to grieve for him, not to seek revenge. He had a feeling Kats would speak of such things.
And then something hot and burning splashed onto his eyes. His blurred vision was filled with searing crimson, a scalding flood of pain and memories and loss and.... and life.
The universe seemed to turn around him. He could hear souls cry out, see once again the awe–inspiring majesty of the Well of Souls, the billion voices in one calling him the Traitor Knight. And he heard the voices again.
Yes. We will permit this.
His eyes opened and he blinked away the remains of Sinoval's blood. He could move. He could see.
The first thing he saw was Kats. And the first words he heard were Sinoval's.
"I have been told there are other ways to do that. But I am not a First One, and blood, it seems, is the only language a warrior understands."
"I.... feel...." He did not know what to say. It was strange. A mere instant before, he had been willing to give anything for a last chance to talk to Kats, to Tirivail.... and now that he could talk, he did not know what to say. "Am I going to die?"
"We are all going to die," Sinoval replied. "But in your case.... not today. It is a.... trick the Soul Hunters have, a power derived from their ancestors, and one it seems I have inherited. A little transfer of life from the Well of Souls, through me, to you. You will live."
"Why did you do this?" he asked. "I betrayed you. I betrayed...."
"I have learned something recently. Everyone deserves a second chance. And in some cases a third. I suggest you think quickly as to what you plan to do with yours." He left, moving with the silence of a shadow on glass, and the determination of a man who knows his future.
Kozorr turned to Tirivail. She looked at him, then bowed her head. She too left.