"I trust this is important," he said, his voice precise, dwelling on every syllable. It was a voice that commanded the attention of everyone who heard it. "My time is too precious to be called away for every little problem."
"Of course, sir." Morden had settled on that as the appropriate form of address, and he had not been contradicted. The man did not have a title, but Morden knew he was ranked too far above him for first name terms to be acceptable. "This is exactly within your purview."
"Yes?"
"There is someone within our cells here you will wish to meet. We captured a Soul Hunter yesterday. He was found travelling outside the capital."
"Ah." Sebastian smiled, a chilling sight. "You were entirely correct to call me. Lead on."
"Yes, sir. This way."
There were few things more magnificent to his eyes than an alien sunset falling across an alien city.
Yedor was thriving again at last, growing and rebuilding. Corwin looked at the parts of it he had had a hand in, and felt pride for the first time in many months.
When he was not working he liked to take long walks, to look at the sky, at the ground, at some of the buildings that had survived the bombardment. Sometimes guilt overwhelmed him on these walks as he was hit by yet another reminder of the things he had destroyed, but mostly they brought him happiness and wonder.
He had been here almost a year now, since Kats had found him during the Day of the Dead and convinced him to come with her. They had spoken much during the return journey, and she still sought him out sometimes. She was often busy of course, with her duties to the Grey Council and her travels to other worlds. She spent some time on Kazomi 7 and the new Babylon 5 station. Corwin did not ask her how things were there, and she did not tell him. He did not want to know.
Mostly they talked about each other. She spoke of her childhood and her parents, and in simple, loving terms, of her dead husband. When she did so, she unconsciously toyed with the beautiful necklace she always wore.
For his part, he told her about his family, about what it had been like growing up, about his dreams for the future. He spoke of Mary a lot. Kats listened, watched in silence as he cried, and said the right things in response — about immortality, and new chances.
There was something her husband had said to her once, that she repeated to Corwin. He had hoped the two of them would meet up again in a new life in a new world, ready to live another lifetime together free from the mistakes and hardships of this one.
Corwin noticed the way her eyes shone when she said this, and he knew that she believed it was possible. He doubted if it would come true for him, however. He was not even sure if he loved Mary the way Kats had loved her Kozorr. If he did, surely he would have tried harder to stop her leaving, or gone after her, or something.
He just did not know, and mostly he preferred not to think about it.
When Kats was away, as she was now, he went for walks. He had few other friends among the Minbari. Many of the workers knew him by sight, but none of them were close. They bowed to him as he passed and he nodded back, and that was largely it. Most of the warriors hated him, that was plain, and they muttered darkly in their own tongue whenever they saw him.
He heard things on his walks. He spoke most of the Minbari dialects well enough, and little rumours reached his ears. Many, particularly the warriors, spoke about Sinoval. Some seemed in favour of him, others not. There were whispers of 'Inquisitors', feared aliens who were seeking out those who had bargained with the Shadows. One of them had come here, it was said, but only one.
Aliens were regarded suspiciously during these conversations. The new Grey Council was trying to attract other races to their homeworld, and the number of aliens was growing slowly. However, some of them had been attacked and beaten by warriors, possibly on suspicion of being these Inquisitors. No one dared to touch Corwin, though. His strange friendship with Kats was common knowledge, and the warriors all seemed in awe of her, either because of her marriage to a warrior or through the respect accorded her by one of the Satai, Tirivail.
Regardless, Corwin let life outside pass him by. He buried himself in simple labour, and was content to live one day to the next, repairing some of the things he had done and taking satisfaction from that.
His walk took him past the Temple of Varenni and he looked up at the ancient building in wonder, as he always did. It was there, he knew, that Valen had returned to the Minbari. Some of the religious caste argued that Valen had left them again as punishment for their sins, and that he would return when they had atoned. Corwin, knowing full well that would not happen, passed on.
And then he stopped, looking back. The front gates of the temple were open, as they always were. There were people moving about inside, praying silently, lighting candles in memory of loved ones gone, talking quietly with one another. Most of them were Minbari, but there was also a pair of Narns wearing the Ranger sunburst symbol, a Brakiri, two Abbai....
.... and a human. Corwin frowned, not knowing that any other humans were here, certainly not in this part of Yedor. He stood on the steps of the temple, still staring in. It was a woman, wearing a long grey hooded cloak. It was pulled far enough forward that most people would not have been able to tell her race, but from the way she was moving, the way she was sitting, everything indicated to Corwin that she was human.
She was also oddly familiar.
She was talking in hushed tones to a Minbari warrior, which was also strange. The warriors hated humanity and barely tolerated even Corwin.
Slowly, drawn by something he could not understand, Corwin began to walk up the steps. He caught a glimpse of black hair beneath the hood, framing a firm jaw. He knew he recognised her now, but who could he know who would be here?
Suddenly he caught a glimpse of one grey eye and the name came to him in a thunderbolt. He took a step backwards and nearly fell. It was impossible! But he watched her again, holding onto the balustrade for support.
Impossible or not, it was true. He could see a faint pattern of scars across the other side of her face.
Susan!
She was still asleep. She had been asleep for hours. Marrago had spent much of that time watching her. She had hardly moved.
He had done what he could to patch up the girl's wounds, although he was no medic. The damage that had been done to her appalled him. He was a soldier, and had been all his life. The notion of deliberately wounding an enemy was hardly anathema to him, but this.... The deliberate and callous torture of a young girl. What could anyone possibly gain from this?
Her sleep showed no sign of the horrors she must have endured. He listened closely for any dream-cries or screams, but there were none. There was no sign of any dreams at all, bad or otherwise.
She was pretty, and her torture had done nothing to mar that. Her face and arms and front were untouched. Her torturer had clearly not wanted to spoil her beauty.
"Was she worth it?" asked a familiar voice. Dasouri spoke Centauri perfectly, with only a slight trace of his Drazi accent. That was an unusual talent in itself. Most of Marrago's mercenaries spoke only their native languages and the common Trade-speak. Very few of them spoke his tongue, but then Dasouri was unusual in more ways than one. It was no wonder that he had become Marrago's second.
"What do you mean?"
"This will cause trouble. The ways of these mercenaries are.... not complex. The Centauri took her, therefore she belonged to him. He could do with her whatever he wished. By taking her, you have broken that law. There may be trouble."