Темное, кривое зеркало. Том 3 : След на песке.

In any case, Marrago and Durano had separately exerted considerable pressure on the dissenters, and the first motion had been passed. Londo's inauguration as Emperor had been a pitiful thing by previous standards, but in respect of the lying speeches, futile thanks and insincere hopes for the future, few things ever changed.

That, however, was only the beginning. The homeworld was now fairly secure, but the Republic itself was very shaky.

"We have lost all contact with Beta Centauri Two," Marrago reported. "The communications satellite might be down, but I fear it is more likely either that the Narns have taken the colony, or that there is another rebellion there, as there was at Gorash."

"A rebellion is possible, but unlikely," acknowledged Durano. "My sources there informed me that there was considerable ill-feeling towards the Court here, but that matters were improving. The lowering of taxes, the replacement of the planetary Governor, and the improved weather conditions and harvesting mean that the economy there is recovering strongly. Any uprising would have been more likely to occur two or three months ago."

"The Narns then," muttered Londo. "Again. They are seeking to destabilise our economy, aren't they?"

"It seems likely," admitted Marrago. "A very different strategy for them. I am not sure if they are receiving outside assistance or if Warleader G'Sten is simply having flashes of genius."

"I fear we will need to begin peace talks soon, but will they accept anything other than unconditional surrender? G'Kar might be able to help, but he is sorely pressed by other concerns. I fear an Ambassador to Kazomi Seven is more essential now than it has ever been."

"We have spoken about this, Londo," said Marrago. "We need to be strong and secure as a Republic first. If we go on bended knee to this…. G'Kar, then we risk exposing our vulnerabilities. The Narns may be more reckless than they have been, but to some extent there are still elements of caution in their strategy. That caution is buying us time. If we reveal our weakness…. then they may launch a direct attack on the homeworld, and we would be defeated easily."

"G'Kar…. is not like that."

"I accept that, Londo, but can you speak for all the Narns he commands? What about the other aliens on Kazomi Seven? Can we trust the Minbari…. or the humans? No, I say again that we need to be as strong as we can be. Then we will go to the Narns as equals, not defeated and on our knees."

"Yes," Londo muttered. "Good advice, again. Ah, Gods…. I am tired. Sooner or later, Marrago, we will have to go there, and I would rather it be sooner. That is it…. if I stay here any longer I will fall asleep. Do you have anything else to report?"

"No," said Marrago. "Nothing else."

"Durano?"

The Minister for Intelligence had been silent throughout the exchange between Emperor and Lord-General. His gaze had been firmly fixed on Marrago, but he now slid it away smoothly. "No, Majesty," he said. "The Shadow Criers have been very quiet of late. Perhaps whatever madness has gripped them has simply…. died down."

"Or maybe they are all dead. Burning yourself alive in the middle of the street is unlikely to bring in many new converts. In any case, they are a problem for another time. I am to bed. Gentlemen." He rose, as did both of them. They bowed as he left, and then stalked from the room through opposite exits, not exchanging a single word.

The silent Minbari who had stood alone in the shadows in the corner of the room waited until they had gone, and then followed Londo.

The Emperor passed six separate groups of Palace Guards on the two-minute walk from his personal study to his bedroom, a fact he found most distressing. When he arrived at his bedroom he closed the door firmly and found Timov already in bed, pretending to sleep.

"I know you are awake," he said, undressing and changing into his night attire.

"You know me too well," she said acidly. "Do you know what time it is?"

"I am sorry I was out too late, Mother," he said, in smiling sarcasm. "I will try to be home for supper tomorrow."

She sat up. "That is not funny, Londo. You are up working until past midnight every night, and up again at the stroke of dawn every morning. You cannot keep up this pace. Leave it for younger men."

"There is…. too much to do," he said, sighing. "Too much…." He finished changing and walked over to the bed. "May I come and join you, lady Empress?" he asked, smiling. "Or are you still angry with me?"

"Idiot," she whispered. "I don't know. My husband will return soon, and I do not know what he will say when he sees me in bed with the Emperor."

"I am sure he loves you too much to remain angry with you for very long," he said, climbing into bed.

"I wonder if I love him that much," she replied. "Good night, Londo."

"Good night, dear."

Sleep was a long time coming. It always was these days.

* * *

He was sleeping. At least, his eyes were closed, so she hoped he was sleeping. The lights in the room were down as low as they could be: it was almost too dark for her to see him, and the most Delenn of Mir could make out of John Sheridan was a vague outline, marked by the slow, regular movements of the machinery that sustained his paralysed body.

The Ambassador from the Shadows would be arriving soon, within a few days at most. A thought had struck her not long after she had been told of his request to visit.

A cure. The Shadows had a cure for John.

She had contacted Sinoval again, in desperation. He had received her message, and he had replied in no uncertain terms that he had studied Deathwalker's files all he could, but he had found no trace of her cure. The Shadows had it, but that was all he knew. He then ended the conversation, pointing out that he had his own responsibilities to his own people.

Was it worth it? Would it truly be worth asking the Shadows for their cure? She had thought not. She and John had spoken of it once, and he had said he would not enslave himself to them for any cure. She had agreed, but that had been long ago, before the battle.

What if there could be peace? Was the Ambassador genuine? Could she…. ask…. him…?

She sighed, and tried to clear her head. The virus was not yet contagious, at least not according to the physicians here. They had managed to trace its progress to some extent and had constructed a hypothesis as to its effects, but they were a long, long way from a cure. All they could say for certain was that John would have to be placed in strict quarantine within two weeks at most.

And not long after that, he would be dead.

He moaned slightly, and she thought she could see his eyes flicker open. They looked…. so bloodshot.

"Delenn," he whispered. "Are…. are you there?"

"Yes," she replied softly. "Yes, I'm here." She was holding his hand, but she knew he could not feel it. "How…. how are you?"

"I was dreaming. I…. don't remember what about. It…. wasn't…. a nice…. dream though."

"You should sleep," she whispered.

"Sleep? Why? It's not as if I'm exerting myself here. I'm kept alive by machines, and…. medicines and I'm just waiting to die."