Chapter 2

ALONE, frightened, the last true seeker of the Holy Grail was dying.
How many would care about his death? How many had cared about his life? A wife, a daughter, ripped completely from his life by uncaring Minbari fleets. A fit body, ruined by an attack on one of the last refugee ships to leave Mars. He had not wanted to leave, but he had been forced to do so, literally pulled on to the ship.
How many to care? None now. He was the last of his family, the last of his order, dying alone.
He had spent a few years on Orion, living in despair, trapped in his own private grief while all around him humanity tried to rebuild. He had not even tried.
And then, a chance meeting. The purest of coincidences put him in the same place as a dying man, who, as he died, begged Aldous to continue his quest - to find the Holy Grail.
At first it had seemed madness. The Grail, here, now? Insanity. But as Aldous sought uncomfortable, empty sleep alone he found his mind and soul becoming suffused with images of the Grail, its sacred, perfect beauty reaching out to him. Perhaps if he found it, he could use it to heal humanity. He could see it constantly whenever he closed his eyes, knowing it had not been destroyed on Earth, knowing that it still existed.... somewhere.
And now it would remain forever lost. He had half-hoped that someone would be here when he died, someone to pass the burden on to, but no. There was no one.
He did not even know where this was. A simple waystation, somewhere in Narn space. A port of call perhaps, a place for smugglers, thieves, survivors. No place for an old man with a weak heart. An old man whose heart had finally failed him.
To die alone.... the greatest.... sorrow of them all.
And then there was movement, and Aldous Gajic found himself, at the point of death, unwittingly responsible for one of the most significant moments in the history of the galaxy. He would not know this of course, for he did not live beyond that day, but perhaps the knowledge would have made his death a little easier?
The figure before him did not make it any easier. It looked like the spectre of death. Tall, thin, a cold demeanour in its face, a bright jewel somehow implanted in its forehead.
"You are dying," it said, and.... Aldous wondered how he could understand it. It was like no alien he had ever seen before, but it spoke English. Perfectly. Yet.... surely no living being could speak English with such a cold, hollow, alien voice.
Dead. The voice sounded dead.
"There is no need to fear," said the alien. "There will be little pain, and when it is over, your soul will be preserved forever, immortal and changeless."
There was something behind the alien, a machine of some sort. Aldous tried to look at it, but his eyes were growing dim. He could not see.... clearly.
"The.... Grail," he whispered. "You.... will...."
He couldn't get the words out.
"Be still," said the alien, words presumably meant to comfort. They did nothing of the sort. "It will be over soon."
There was.... a something. Even fit and healthy and in his prime, Aldous could not have identified what it was that alerted him to the arrival of the second newcomer. He did speak, eventually, but Aldous was aware of his presence before then. There was no sound from his movements, even his footsteps were silent. And even if Aldous could have seen clearly, the figure would have been little more than a silhouette.
No, this was something primal, a sense that he was in the presence of one who could command Gods, shatter planets, bend nations to his design through sheer force of will. Force of personality, force of destiny, force of the future billions screaming his name.
"Greetings, Shagh Toth," said Sinoval of the Wind Swords clan, leader of all Minbar.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Delenn, former Satai, former opponent of Sinoval, was blissfully unaware of his current situation. Even had she been aware of it, she would not have appreciated the irony. Sinoval was present at the death of one man. Delenn had witnessed the deaths of many.
For months, Kazomi 7 had been a world ruled only by the dead. The alien Drakh had invaded, without warning, without declaration, without mercy. They had killed and tortured and destroyed. Children, the infirm, the rich, the poor. None of it mattered to them.
They had nearly killed Delenn herself. Through luck, through will, through destiny, she had survived. She had finally accomplished what she had first envisaged almost a year before: her transformation. A bridge between two peoples.
She was soon to realise that a bridge was needed between many more than two peoples, but that lay in her future. For now, there were other concerns.
"They are gone?" she whispered, seemingly unable to believe it. "Why?"
"Yes," replied the human before her. No ordinary human, though. Vejar was a technomage, wielder of a power greater than most mortals could comprehend, custodian of secrets that had remained hidden for millennia. "They are gone."
Delenn rose to her feet, and caught a renewed sense of wonder at being able to do some thing so simple as walking. Her weakness had seemed to last forever, instead of just a few months.
The two of them were not alone, although in a sense they were both alone - strangers, survivors, exiles even. From their own peoples at least.
Elsewhere in this room, crying, sobbing, sleeping, dying.... were the survivors. Those who had escaped the Drakh, those who had hidden from them. Some were leaders, a few had even attempted a sort of resistance. Most were just lucky.
This building had been used as a base for the technomages during their stay on the planet. They had been using Kazomi 7 as a staging ground for their final journey.... where to, they would not say. It had been their presence which had drawn the Drakh here. The Shadows had sent them, charging them with the task of destroying the technomages.... at least that was what Delenn believed. She chose to believe that there had been a reason for all this.... that it made some sort of sense, no matter how absurd or horrific. Anything was better than the thought that the Drakh had come here to kill simply because they loved to kill.
"They are gone."
And now.... it was over. Or was it? Had the Drakh really gone? Or was this just another stage of the nightmare that had engulfed Kazomi 7?
"The last ships left today. There are no Drakh left on the planet. Trust me, I would know."
Looking at her companion, Delenn supposed that he would. In appearance, Vejar was.... normal. For a human. Delenn had spent almost a year among humans, and there was little to distinguish Vejar from many of the others she had known.
Except for his eyes. They revealed in full the power he commanded, and the grief he felt.
In her heart, Delenn knew why the Drakh had finally left, after an occupation of several months. Yesterday, the technomages had left as well.
How, she did not know. Why they had waited, she did not know either. Elric had simply said that the time was right. He had not spoken to Delenn before his departure, but he had shared a few words with Londo and Lennier. After that, he had simply.... gone.
Delenn had been sitting alone after that, unable to bear the sound of the crying. A child had died the night before, so consumed with terror that its screams had crushed its lungs. She had not even been able to remember what race it had been.
Vejar had come up to her. He had looked.... uneasy, upset.... alone. He had raised his head and looked into her eyes.
"The others are gone," he had said simply. "The.... time was right."
Delenn had blinked. She had always known that the technomages were planning to leave, but events had blanked it from her memory. "Gone?" she had said softly. "Gone?"
"The time was right."
"But.... you stayed?"
"I.... my place is here for the moment. I feel I can.... do more here."
"Gone?" Delenn had shaken her head. A great deal was unfamiliar to her in this new, mostly human body, but she was sure that the endless sound in her ears wasn't natural. It was screaming.
"Gone? Gone!" She had suddenly leapt to her feet. "How can they be gone? Listen to them out there! Alone, dying.... you could have done so much to help them, and what did you do? Nothing, beyond let them die!"
"Shouting will not ease their pain," Vejar had replied.
"You could have done so much, and yet you did so little."
"I know. That is why I remained here. There is.... something I can do."
Delenn had looked up and met his eyes. He was lying.
And now the second invader of Kazomi 7 had gone as well. Their target had left, so their presence was no longer necessary.
Delenn felt sick.
She began to walk slowly around the room. She did not need to do this. As Londo had said, the sight of those here only upset her, but she felt it was something she simply had to do.
Londo was not far away. Lennier was beside him, but he moved away quickly once he saw Delenn arrive. Londo was sitting beside an alien child, from a race so insignificant Delenn had not even heard of them before.
"How is he?" she asked.
"Bad," Londo replied softly. "I do not think he will last another day."
"Mamya?" whispered the child. "Tatya? I'm sorry.... I believe.... I.... believe."
Delenn knelt down beside him. "They know, Shon. They know."
"They died, didn't they? They...."
Delenn looked away. Shon and his parents had been on a pilgrimage of sorts, stopping at Kazomi 7 during their return to their home planet. They had been caught by the arrival of the Drakh. Shon's father had been killed instantly; his mother had been badly wounded, but had lived for almost two weeks before dying quietly here. Shon was not wounded, but the sight of the Drakh.... the sight of his parents.... he had been losing the desire to live for some time. Delenn wondered if the respiratory condition he was now developing was a release. He would be lucky to survive more than a few days.
"We should make our way to the Central Command," Vejar was saying. "Perhaps we can re-access interstellar communications, call for some ships.... some medical assistance."
Delenn recognised the validity of that, but she could not say anything. They had been operating here for so long with so little, eating what little food the survivors brought with them, or what could be found. They had no equipment, no bandages, no medicines. The technomages, with all their vaunted power, had not been prepared to stoop to heal dying children.
"I will go," Londo said, rising to his feet. "You stay here, Delenn."
"No.... I will go as well. I.... need to."
She needed to see what was left of Kazomi 7, needed to torture herself by looking at the bodies of the dead, those she had not been able to save.
"I'll go and talk to a few of the scouts," Vejar said. "Their help will be necessary, especially if the Drakh have left a few.... surprises behind."
Delenn nodded, but she was still not listening. All she could hear were the screams of the dying.... and the louder screams of the living.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

There was a still moment, as two ancient enemies locked their gaze. Minbari and Soul Hunter. Soul preserver and soul destroyer. Servant of life, minion of death.
Two spirits come to war for the soul of the dying.
"Stand aside, Minbari," rasped the Soul Hunter. "This is not your place."
"My place is wherever I choose to make it," spoke Sinoval, his voice calm and at peace.
Alone still, even in company, Aldous Gajic could only watch, as much as his failing eyesight would allow, could only listen to as much as he could understand.
He was not sure which moved first, and all motion was blurred, would have been blurred even to eyes far clearer than his. The Soul Hunter was not using a weapon, but it did not seem to need one. The Minbari was; a short, sharp dagger.
The fight was over within seconds, the Soul Hunter lying on the floor, alive, but unconscious. Sinoval was the consummate warrior of his generation. There had only been two who were ever his equals. One was dead and the other.... lost.
And then Sinoval was speaking directly to Aldous himself. This.... angel of life, this.... bringer of death.
"Rest easy, true seeker. It is a hard thing, to live your whole life in search of a dream and never to find it. It is perhaps harder still, to live your whole life in search of a dream, and then find it, wondering just where your life lies now.
"Rest easily...."
Aldous tried to speak, but the words would not come out. It was probably just as well. He did not know what to say in any case.
His eyes closed, and his part in history was over.
Sinoval had turned to the downed Soul Hunter even before Aldous' eyes were closed.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"A small matter, Alyt Kozorr...."
Kozorr resisted the temptation to express his irritation. With all of Minbari society seemingly collapsing around his head, he had no time for small matters. Or for medium matters, middling matters or even fairly large matters, in fact. Sometimes, Kozorr believed he was the only warrior on Minbar who had kept his sanity.
"Yes, Administrator Forell?" A priestling, by Valen's name. Kozorr might have expected that in the new society, priestlings would hesitate before even speaking to a warrior, the ordained of Valen. But some things never changed.
"The Togashi has not returned from its patrol around the Norsai territories and the outlying colonies."
Kozorr stepped backwards, keeping his face blank. A routine patrol, that was all. Still, he knew the Alyt of the Togashi. Not the sort of person to delay on patrol. Had there been a problem?
"Any news from the sensors along our defence line?" he asked. It could be the Enemy. They had made no decisive action since the disastrous attack on the Earthers, but that did not mean they were silent.
"I.... haven't checked them yet, Alyt...."
"Then do so!" Kozorr snapped. In Valen's Name, he should not have to put up with this from a priestling! Had contact with the Earthers rotted Forell's mind? Had he been ruling the captured colony for so long that he had become just like a human?
"And may I remind you in future, Administrator Forell, that I am not to be bothered for anything that is not serious! You know the procedure when a ship is late from patrol! Contact the defence lines, send out a search party, and contact a higher authority only if and when you have something worth saying.
"Let me know what you find, assuming you actually find anything!"
Kozorr shut off the communication and stormed from his chambers in a blind fury. So that was the face of Kalain's new Minbar, was it? Incompetent priestlings still ruling everything, just as they always had! So much for a return to the days when the warriors ruled all. Perhaps Kalain should do to the religious caste what he had done to the workers....
He stopped that thought the instant it arose, but that was too late. The workers....
The massacre had slowed down by now, the fire having burnt itself to an ember, but the cost.... in almost half a cycle, at least two thirds of the worker caste population had been systematically butchered - hunted down, killed, tortured, mutilated. They had fled as best they could, many seeking refuge off-planet, or in cities such as Tuzanor, isolated places where they could hide and where warriors did not go. Not even Kalain would order blood shed in Tuzanor.
But still, the cost.... the sheer, dreadful cost.
The purging had begun the instant Kalain returned from the débâcle at Proxima. Sinoval might have stopped it, but Sinoval had disappeared. According to Kalain, Sinoval had gone to seek Valen, to bring him back to aid their cause, and he, Kalain, was to rule in his absence. Perhaps that was true, perhaps it was not, but Kozorr doubted very much that Sinoval had had this slaughter in mind for 'ruling'.
But then, there were reasons enough for the massacre. The Grey Council, a thousand years of history, destroyed, killed by one of their own.
Old Hedronn had been the first to die of course, although few realised it at the time. He had returned to Minbar somehow and had made his way to Tuzanor, the City of Sorrows. He had knelt there, in public, uttering rasping, sorrowing prayers to Valen, waiting for the warrior caste, led by Kalain himself, to come for him.
Kozorr had been there. He remembered the sight of Kalain standing before Hedronn, threatening to kill him. He remembered Hedronn begging Kalain to spare his caste, and Kalain's agreement, if Hedronn went with him. The former Satai did, and two steps outside the threshold of Tuzanor, Kalain had killed him, nailing his body so high up on the mountain that everyone could see it and yet no one could fetch it down.
Kozorr remembered what Kalain had said then, to those within the city and those without.
"This city is cursed! In Valen's Name, it will be destroyed, crushed by his fury from the heavens. I will not shed blood here, but I will not need to. Valen himself shall erase this very place from existence. When Sinoval returns, with Valen and the Gods of old at his side, this place shall cease to be."
Kozorr was very afraid that maybe Kalain actually believed that. He did not know where Sinoval had gone, but he did not believe that he was coming back, and he was certain that Minbar as he knew it was gone.
"Valen bless us all," he whispered. He had never prayed before Proxima. Now he found himself doing so every day.
No Grey Council - although Kalain had been promising to re-form it ever since it had been broken - no unity, no workers. Minbari had slain Minbari.
Kozorr suddenly looked up and realised that he was lost. His wanderings had taken him to a part of the ship he had never seen before. Unsurprising, really. This was the ship of the Grey Council, after all, and few who were not Satai or chosen to serve them had ever come here.
They did now. In twisted mockery, Kalain now ruled from here.
Kozorr did not like this ship. Everything was haunted. He half expected to find the ghosts of Shakat, Matokh, Rathenn.... even Dukhat.
He did not expect to find Deeron.
Rounding a corner he almost literally walked into her. Stopping and inclining his head slightly in respect, he looked at her. Heir to Kalain aboard the Trigati and therefore heir to Sinoval, she was an imposing figure, having seen a great deal more front-line action than Kozorr himself. If there was anyone Kalain trusted, it would be her.
But there were rumours, whispers that Deeron had once been far more than she was now, rumours that she and Sinoval had once undergone the sleep watching and she had rejected him.
Just rumours.
"Shai Alyt," Kozorr said, acknowledging her presence. Strictly speaking the title was not hers, but the entire hierarchy had been badly shaken up since Proxima, and she certainly wielded the power of a Shai Alyt, if not the name.
"Alyt Kozorr," she replied formally. "Are you going somewhere?"
"Merely.... thinking."
"Oh. And what were you thinking about?"
"Everything, and nothing." Criticising Kalain was not wise, let alone hinting that his actions had brought anything but good to Minbar. Kozorr doubted that he would be killed for such presumption - Kalain had not yet gone that far - but a transfer to a less than prestigious position might easily result. Kozorr's position as aide and emissary was one he had worked too hard for to lose.
"Very deep of you, Alyt Kozorr," Deeron said, making a noise that might have been a laugh. "Are you sure you aren't turning into a priest?"
"My heart has always been that of a warrior, Shai Alyt."
"I do not doubt it. Well, I will not interrupt your thinking. Isil'zha veni, Alyt."
"Isil'zha veni, Shai Alyt."
Kozorr watched as Deeron walked away, and then he continued his wanderings, convinced that soon enough he would find his way back to areas he knew. At least with regard to this ship. With regard to society and the future, he knew he would never return to anything he had ever known.
Things had changed far too much for that.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Delenn wished she could avert her eyes from the scenes she witnessed as she passed through the streets of Kazomi 7. Inwardly, that was. Outwardly she walked as proud and as straight as any ruler or priestess. A ruler with rags for clothes, covered in dust and dirt and blood, with the gaze of the dying in her eyes and their screams in her ears.
All around her were scattered the bodies of the dead, some almost unrecognisable, some evidently fresh, recent corpses. The smell of death tainted her, but she endured it. She had to.
Londo put his hand on her shoulder. She flinched instinctively at his touch. "Delenn, you are walking too fast." Was she? It seemed as though she was walking through air that was as thick as stone.
"We had better wait here. The Command Centre is just beyond that street. Wait for the scouts to return."
Delenn nodded, barely able to speak. She sat down against a wall. It was dirty, but she didn't mind. She didn't care.
She wondered why she was so affected by the sight of this place. She had been here for months - surely she knew what had been done here. She had heard tales from those who had come to her. She had imagined what the Drakh would be doing....
She did not remember whether the devastation here was worse or less bad than she had imagined. The buildings demolished, the streets torn, the débris and rubble and tattered remains of people's possessions everywhere.... these she had expected. The sight of the dead.... no matter how horribly she had seen them in her mind's eye, the reality was worse.
She wondered if....
A movement behind her. She rose and slowly walked around the wall. Once it had been part of a guardhouse, where dull Bulloxian mercenaries had served to keep order at the behest of the Drazi who paid them. Now it was a shell with only one wall standing, scattered with the bodies of the Bulloxians. Not even their strength had saved them from the Drakh.
Slowly, Delenn moved around and over the rubble. She had heard movement. A survivor perhaps? Maybe a prisoner trapped in the rubble. It was possible that some in the cells had been missed by the Drakh. It was possible....
She clambered over a pile of rubble and saw a Drazi, lying still before her. She could not see any movement. Slowly, she knelt down beside him and reached out to touch his forehead. If he was alive, she would feel the warmth of the frontal lobes there. Delenn had learnt a great deal about alien anatomies recently.
The Drazi's eyes snapped open and his arm lunged out, catching her by the throat, forcing her backwards. She gasped, thrashing at his wrist with blows as ineffectual as insect stings. She had always known the Drazi to be strong, but surely they had never been this strong.... His arm felt as though it were formed from stone....
"Make.... it.... stop!" he hissed in guttural, awkward Trader Speak. "Make.... it.... stopppp!"
Delenn could not breathe, her vision swimming.
"Make it stop!"
He forced her backwards, practically hurling her to the ground. She gave up fumbling at his arm and scrabbled for a piece of rock, anything.
Her fingers closed around a shard and she clawed it up. Her fingernails tore and broke.
"Make.... it...!"
The Drazi never finished. Delenn brought the rock up against the side of his skull. She could hear the thick, heavy bones crack. He released his grip and fell back, as she stared at his body in mute horror. She hadn't meant to strike him that hard.... Surely....
She was not allowed to complete that thought. Her legs gave way and she crumpled, only just holding on to consciousness. Her body fell on top of the Drazi's. Even through the haze surrounding her, she could see him.
He could not be dead.... please Valen let him not be dead.
But he was.
But something was not. Fixed to the Drazi's neck, only just becoming visible to her eyes, something dark and malevolent and every bit as evil as the Drakh opened its single eye.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Sinoval made sure the bonds on the Soul Hunter were tight, then sat back, waiting for it to wake. He had not really meant to hit his opponent so hard, but there were some things the Vindrizi had not been able to tell him, and that included just how to hit Soul Hunters so that they fell down and stayed there just long enough.
He flicked a quick gaze at the human. In death, he actually looked vaguely content. Imagine, the first true seeker he had found in a long time and it was a human. There was no sense in the galaxy.
Of course, Sinoval supposed that he was now a true seeker as well. Now there was an unpleasant thought.
The idea for this particular bit of insanity had arisen shortly after his confrontation with the Soul Hunter back on the Vindrizi's sanctuary world. It had claimed that its order had Valen's soul. Now Sinoval wasn't sure if he believed that or not, but the Vindrizi had little about Valen which was any help to him. They had concentrated on sights and wonders rather than specific people.
Out of curiosity, the germ of an idea forming in his tactician's mind, he had begun talking to the Vindrizi about the Soul Hunters. The two groups paths had crossed on a number of occasions, and he had learned a great deal. Not the location of their homeworld, or whether they had Valen's soul, or a great deal about their political structure, but.... enough.
The most important piece of information, though, was how to find one.
Which souls did they consider the most important? He already knew that the Shagh Toth could sense death - even a Minbari child knew that. Therefore, find someone suitable for the Soul Hunters to harvest, wait for him to die and....
"Leaders, thinkers, poets, dreamers, blessed lunatics...."
Sinoval supposed this human true seeker fell into the category of 'blessed lunatic'.
The final fruiting of his idea now surfaced, he had gone to see Durhan and had outlined his plan. The great warrior had listened, and then said:
"It is foolish, insane, tactically suicidal and it will never work. I suppose you know all these things?"
"Foolish and insane, maybe. But it will work, Sech Durhan, assuming the Vindrizi are correct in their information."
"Which is, at best, incomplete. At worst, wrong. And even if it does work, then think about what you will have to give up."
"Nothing of any importance to me, Sech Durhan."
"So you say.... Well, Sinoval, I knew you would leave this place soon. You are a warrior, not a thinker, and you could hardly stand back while the rest of the galaxy was consumed by fire.
"Do you want to use my forge? I note you have no pike, and you can hardly go unarmed."
Sinoval had shaken his head. "I will wield a pike when I am worthy of one and not before. That will not be until I have found Valen. But I will take some other weapons, if I may. A nu'zhan blade, and perhaps a ka'trool glove."
"Weapons for children and cripples?" Durhan snorted. "A tiny dagger and a glove covered in spikes? If you insist, Sinoval."
"I do, Sech Durhan."
"I cannot bless you, but I will wish you every luck. Return when you have found what you are looking for, or when you think the time is right. May the Fortunes go with you, Sinoval."
"I will not need them."
"So you say."
The quest had been swifter than Sinoval had anticipated. He had certainly not expected to find a Soul Hunter after a mere two months. Still.... what was the priestling babble for situations like this? 'The universe puts us in places where we may do the most good?' Maybe they actually had a point there.
The Soul Hunter began to stir, and Sinoval smiled. He hadn't struck too hard then. This Shagh Toth was no use to him dead.
"Greetings," he said, in full knowledge that the Soul Hunter understood Minbari. A talent doubtless gained from trapped souls.
"I am Sinoval, Holy One of the Minbari, and you are now my prisoner. You will take me to your ship and from there to your homeworld and your leader. Resistance.... would not be an option. Do you understand?"
The Soul Hunter nodded, a bitter fury in its eyes.
Sinoval smiled again. Almost there....

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Delenn!"
She could not move, paralysed by the sight of that twisted, alien eye staring directly into hers. It was.... dying, she supposed. In Valen's Name, she prayed that it was not what she thought.
"Delenn!"
Londo and Vejar came into view, scrambling over the débris and making their way down to her. A Drazi was with them. Londo and the Drazi hauled the body of her attacker away from her. With their help, Delenn made it to her feet.
"What happened?" Londo asked.
"He.... attacked me."
"Charon," muttered the Drazi scout. "He worked with the Command. Purple." He spat the last word out and Delenn looked up. The Drazi had been in the middle of their traditional leadership contest when the Drakh invaded, but surely none of them would still hold to that now.... not with so many dead and so much to do?
She looked at the Drazi scout. Taan Churok. He had been the owner of a bar in the colony, and had survived the initial invasion by hiding from the Drakh. It had disconcerted him to meet a foe he could not handle and he had made it a very personal mission to hinder the Drakh as much as he could. He knew Kazomi 7 very well and his skills as a scout made him invaluable.
"Great Maker," Londo spat. "That.... thing on his neck. What is it?"
"I dread to think...." Delenn whispered. She knew, but she did not want to admit it.
"It is called a Keeper," said Vejar, his voice more hollow and sepulchral than she had believed possible. He sounded more like Elric than ever before. "It is.... a creature in service to the Darkness. Whether they created it or whether it lives naturally I do not know. It.... attaches to a being, like a parasite, and drains the free will from it."
"What is one doing here?" Londo asked. "Did.... the Drakh bring them? But why?"
"Think I know the answer," grumbled Taan Churok. "Found someone. Follow."
He began making his way back over the rubble. Londo looked at Delenn. "Not very talkative, is he? But then, what can one expect from a Drazi? And what, may I ask is so wrong with purple? I happen to look very good in purple, you know. A damn fine colour."
Delenn let his normal stream-of-consciousness babble wash over her gently. She did not want to think at the moment. The sight of the.... Keeper, reawakening old legends. Had the Drakh brought them? And if so, why?
Taan Churok led them back to the place where the others waited, to reveal several newcomers. Flanked by three Bulloxians stood a Drazi, wearing military garb and a proudly ornamented purple sash. Beside him was a Brakiri, dressed in little more than rags. He seemed to be favouring his left leg.
"Vizhak," introduced the Drazi. "Governor." He looked at Taan Churok and spat out the word, "Purple."
"Green," barked the reply.
"I am Lethke," said the Brakiri, stepping forward. He was limping heavily. "I.... was the head of the Brakiri Merchant Guild here. I was.... lucky to escape. You must be Delenn. A pleasure. I.... heard of your work, but alas could not get to your place of sanctuary to lend my assistance."
Delenn stepped forward and let him take her hand and drop his head down to it. The part of her mind that she liked to think of as herself was still in shock, but the part of her that was the politician, the leader, was thinking fast.
"We survived the initial attack," Lethke continued, releasing Delenn's hand. "Vizhak and some of his companions formed a sort of resistance movement. We were not getting very far, however. Then, the Drakh left.... I hope you can shed some light on this, Delenn, because none of us can."
"Perhaps what they came here for was here no longer," she said softly, casting a sharp gaze on Vejar. He said nothing. "And perhaps they have left something behind.
"Either way, our first priority is to the injured and the starving. I hope that we can now get some sort of message out to your Governments. We need help, food, medicine, workers...."
"This is our planet," snapped Vizhak. "We need no help."
"Well, you have it anyway. Where were your concerns for the dead and the dying, Governor? Where are your concerns for the injured, and the starving? I have.... contacts who may be able to send aid, but we have to get some form of communication set up."
"It will not be easy," Lethke said. "The main communications satellite was destroyed by the Drakh. Perhaps some sort of smaller communication device...."
"Delenn," whispered Londo. She turned to him. He had been making a considerable effort to keep himself hidden. "It might not be a good idea to call for aid from the League Governments."
"Why not?" she asked. "We need aid, and they must surely know what has happened here?"
"I have my reasons.... Just talk to G'Kar. I do not think it will be difficult. He will be able to provide everything we are likely to need."
"But the League...?"
"Trust me, Delenn. I pray to the Great Maker that I am wrong here, but we will soon find out, and if I am right, then their help may not be as helpful as we would like."
"Londo?" asked Lethke. "Minister Londo Mollari? It is you, is it not?"
Londo muttered a quick swear-word under his breath. "Yes, Lord Lethke. It is I."
"I had heard that you were dead."
"Yes, well.... I got better. I would.... appreciate it if you would not inform certain.... parties as to my state of health."
"Centauri politics again, Londo? I always knew that one day you would be in over your head. You have my guarantee."
"Thank you, Lord."
"Lord?" Delenn asked.
"Lethke here has a certain.... eminence back on his homeworld."
"My uncle is the head of our largest Trading Guild," Lethke said. "I inherited his position in our Government when he entered his period of transition. I was organising some trading deals with the Centauri, which was where I met Minister Mollari."
"It pays to have friends, does it not?"
Delenn looked around. "Very well, Londo. I will try and contact G'Kar. I just.... hope he can send some help quickly. We sorely need it."
But her thoughts were not with G'Kar, or with Lethke, or even with the dying and injured. Her thoughts were with a certain human Captain whom she hoped she might see again soon. Her heart almost skipped at the thought, and she briefly hated herself for imagining happiness amidst so much sorrow.
But only for a moment. She had work to do.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Kozorr looked around the circle of nine of which he was now a part, and he wondered at the nature of the universe.
It was said, primarily by the religious caste admittedly, that the universe put people in places where they could do the most good. If that was indeed the case, then Kozorr wondered what good he could do here.
No longer Alyt, but Satai.
He had always believed that the Grey Council would be reformed sooner or later. Valen had spoken of its being broken, and while there were no prophecies Kozorr was aware of concerning its reformation, political necessity made it almost inevitable. He had not expected it to be reformed this way however.
Nine. There had always been Nine. Three, and three, and three. Not any longer.
Five other warriors, two religious, one.... missing. Sinoval perhaps?
Kozorr looked around the circle. Most of those present had their hoods raised over their heads, but that did not matter. Of the warriors, he knew only Deeron and Kalain. The other two.... had been high-ranking officers aboard the Trigati, placed there after Sinoval had been elevated to the Council. They were loyal to Kalain, assuredly. As was Deeron of course. Or was she? She had been Kalain's second, but Kozorr had a feeling about her. If the rumours about her and Sinoval were true, then her loyalties might lie elsewhere.
The two priestlings.... they made even other priestlings look noble and courageous. Gysiner and Chardhay by name. Both weak, spineless, shallow. Little more than pawns, a sop to the religious caste. The warriors had enough of a majority to pass any motion Kalain saw fit, whatever the religious caste thought. Kozorr would not have been surprised if those two were there simply so that Kalain could keep an eye on them.
The religious caste had been all but broken in power recently. Lennann and Rathenn were dead, Jenimer dead, Delenn a traitor. The very fact that these two were the best they had to offer testified to the end of their dominance.
And one space missing. Set aside for Sinoval's return, perhaps. Kozorr had heard little about Kalain's plans for the Council - he was still reeling from his own sudden elevation.
His questions were about to be answered.
Two acolytes entered, dressed in warrior black instead of the traditional white. Had Kalain even gone so far as to install his own people as aides to the Council? Between them, her hands bound behind her back, her head down, walked a broken figure.
Kats. A worker, leader of one of their most prominent clans. Kalain had been searching for her ever since he had murdered Hedronn, but she had always managed to elude him, fleeing Tuzanor in the middle of the night. Rumour had it she had escaped to one of the outer colonies.
Perhaps her presence here explained Kalain's recent softening towards the worker caste.
She looked a pitiful figure, scarred, bruised, covered in welts and sores and wounds. Her eyes were haunted and her walk slow and unstable. When she almost tripped over, the acolytes pulled her roughly back to her feet.
She was placed in the centre of the circle, illuminated by the central column of light, the traditional place of the Minbari leader. The acolytes made gestures of respect in Kalain's direction and then left silently.
Kozorr turned his gaze to Kalain. He had not known the Satai long. Since the Battle of Mars the warrior caste had become increasingly polarised between Sinoval and Branmer, and Kalain had always belonged in Sinoval's camp. Kozorr had been aide to Neroon during the War, and so was firmly established on Branmer's side, and by extension, Delenn's.
Still, Kozorr had met Kalain on more than one occasion, and had heard tales of his deeds. A strong, if proud warrior, victor in numerous engagements. It had been he who had led the attack on the Enemy vessel at Ganymede after the War, he who had assaulted the human base at Orion, he who had done many things.
He did not look a proud, strong warrior now. He looked sick, hobbling like an old man. His skin was pale, and his beard streaked with grey. However, there was a gleam in his eyes which spoke of genius, or of madness. One thing Kozorr noticed especially, though. Kalain remained out of the columns of light as much as he could.
"Do you have something to say?" he asked Kats. His voice, at least, indicated the warrior of old.
"Yes...." she said hesitantly. "I.... wish to confess.... the sins of.... my caste.... I.... had knowledge of.... Hedronn's.... intentions.... in the destruction of.... the former Council. I.... was a.... party to.... his plans to kill.... Holy One Sinoval and.... make himself.... leader.
"I.... wish to seek.... forgiveness.... for my caste. I.... and a few others alone.... knew of this. My.... caste should not be.... unfairly.... punished.... for our actions....
"I.... wish to seek.... atonement.... for what I have done.... If there is.... any way I can.... repay.... those I have harmed.... if there is.... anything.... I can do.... to.... I.... throw myself.... and my caste.... upon the mercy.... of the Grey Council.... I.... seek your mercy...."
"That confession has been recorded," Kalain said, after a brief pause. "It will be disseminated throughout the Federation."
Kozorr had watched the whole spectacle with a sick feeling in his stomach. This.... what had been done to her.... this was not the Minbari way. This was not the warrior's way.
"She has thrown herself on our mercy," Kalain said. "It is up to us, her chosen leaders, to decide her fate and the fate of the rest of her caste. The holy war we have waged against the workers has purged this cancer from our society. She is the last remaining. Should she be killed.... should the rest of her caste be extinguished, erasing this whole tragic interlude from our history?
"Or should we show the mercy she has asked for? We are not them, after all. We are not scheming Centauri or treacherous Narn or vengeful Drazi. We are Minbari, the children of Valen, protectors of the right and the truth, servants of the Light.
"I move that we show her mercy. She was misguided, I am sure. Hedronn was the one whose actions destroyed our Council, and he has paid the price for his sins. What to do with his accomplice?
"I move for mercy. Let her live, let her take the place of her caste on this Council, let her be the ninth and final member of this circle, so that it be complete once more, when Sinoval returns to us, bringing Valen with him.
"Let the first act of this Council be one of mercy, and life.
"That is my motion, but as ever, it is for you to decide."
The method of voting was the one used ever since the formation of the Council by Valen. The columns of light that remained lit signified 'yes' votes. Those that turned to darkness were 'no'.
Kozorr tore his gaze away from Kats and looked around the circle. He knew full well why Kalain was doing this. Kalain's crusade against the workers, especially his murder of Hedronn on the holiest of holy grounds, had attracted a great deal of criticism, and not just from the priestlings but from the warriors as well. Oh, no one had dared take action, but had Kalain pursued his policy to extinction, that would have changed.
Offer mercy, offer kindness, offer a helping hand.... and the criticism would end.
Kozorr looked around. No one looked as if they were even thinking about turning their light to darkness. Not even one seemed to recognise this for the sick charade it was.
Not even himself.
"Then, we have chosen mercy," Kalain said. "I thank you, Satai, for the wisdom of your decision." He hobbled over to Kats, wincing slightly as he entered the central column of light. Releasing her from her restraints, he swiftly scurried back into the darkness.
"Take the place that has been left for you, Satai," he said.
"I.... thank you.... Satai," she whispered. "Your.... mercy has been greater.... than I.... deserve." She limped across the hall, and took her place in the circle. She looked even less comfortable there than Kozorr felt.
"Mercy is the greatest tool we possess," Kalain said, still not standing in his column of light. "This is a mercy I am sure Valen, and Sinoval, would have approved. Justice has been done, after all.
"When Sinoval returns from his pilgrimage, I am sure he will thank us for what we have done this day, and when he does, he will restore to us a new era of greatness."
When Sinoval returns? Kozorr saw Kalain clearly now, his eyes piercing the darkness to look directly at him.
"I am merely his voice, his second, his disciple. Sinoval is the saviour who has long been prophesied, and we are all blessed to be able to stand beside him, as he will make us great once more."
Hurry back, Sinoval. We need you.
Looking into his eyes, Kozorr saw the truth. Kalain was completely and utterly insane.
Minbar was doomed.
Where are you, Sinoval? We need you.