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.
Space shimmered around him, hyperspace moved, and he could see the sparkling lights of the million spirits that made up the Well of Souls, an entity constructed of the last remnants of the first race of the galaxy, of those they collected. A memorial to pride and sin and mistakes.
And also, howling just beyond the horizon, were the monsters of the other world. Beings cast out and banished from this reality, kept in their own dimension, just waiting for an opportunity to break through.
A problem for another day, if ever.
The vast chamber appeared around him as Sinoval alighted gracefully. He could see the sparkling lights of the soul globes, feel the souls within them. Not trapped, not prisoners. They were free, more so than anyone he knew.
"Are you there?" he asked, knowing full well the answer. He was still not experienced enough to have fully adjusted to the other ways of speaking.
We are always here, came their voice, a multitude of voices and languages and thoughts in one.
"There is someone here. An intruder." There was little point in looking manually. The Well was infinite, or practically so. It was shaped by the wills and desires of those that had given it form so long ago. Much easier to find this intruder by asking the Well itself. "Where?"