The Long Night of Centauri Prime (24 page)

"It is all in the original proposal, Majesty, which you appro–"

"The report is not here, Durla. You are here. I am here. We can speak to one another, yes?"

"Well ... yes, of course, Majesty, but I..."

"So? Explain."

Ohhhh, the keeper was not happy with the direction of the conversation. In a way, the keeper's reaction was of morbid fascination to Londo, for Londo was curious as to whether or not Durla knew of the Drakh's existence. His actions, his attitudes, had led Londo to wonder about it, but he could not be sure. So by pushing Durla, gently but firmly, Londo was taking a stab at answering the question for himself. If Shiv'kala or one of his associates made themselves known right then and there, that would certainly settle the question, wouldn't it.

"Well ... unemployment is obviously a serious problem for us, Majesty. A number of key businesses were destroyed during the bombing." Durla shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "So my office felt that reclamation and exploratory projects might be of benefit in terms of building a sense of accomplishment and pride. The salaries paid to the excavators in the case of K0643 are minimal, but they have room and board, in addition to–"

"This world" Londo said, tapping some research he had done, "is reputed to be haunted, yes?"

Durla laughed scornfully at that.

"Haunted, Majesty?"

"A place of lost souls. A world of darkness, tainted by evil. Have you heard these things?"

"Yes, Majesty," Durla said, his lips thinned nearly to a sneer. "I have also heard tales of Rokbala, the evil soul-stealing monster who hides under beds and swipes the souls of naughty children. My older brother told me of him when I was three. It kept me awake at night at the time. Now, however, I sleep quite soundly."

Londo nodded slightly in acknowledgement of the apparent childishness of the concern, but then continued.

"Nevertheless ... we certainly have projects that could employ willing members of our race in a fulfilling manner right here on Centauri Prime. K0643 is on the Rim, of all places."

"Majesty" said Durla slowly, "we must look for that which no one else knows about. There are other worlds, worlds that the Alliance is not interested in. Remote worlds such as this one. We must mount archaeological investigations. We must dig. We must locate. While we do this, the Interstellar Alliance will laugh at us. They will sneer and say, `Look at the once-great Centauri Republic, rooting around on barren worlds and scraping about in the dirt like the basest of creatures.' " Durla's voice hardened. "Let them say these things. Let them lull themselves into a false sense of security. It will not last, and they will see the error of their ways ... but by then, it will be too late. We must look outside Centauri Prime, Majesty. There, and only there, will we find our true greatness."

Slowly, Londo nodded.

"That is a very impassioned speech, Minister."

"Thank you, Majesty. I believe passionately in the things that I do."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," Londo told him. "But I would be most curious to know ... from where you got the idea."

"From where? Majesty ..." And he shrugged. "It just came to me."

"Just ... came to you."

"Yes, Majesty." He felt an even more pronounced stirring on his shoulder that told him all he desired to know. "Very well, Durla. Since you have such passion for your work ... who am I to gainsay you, eh?"

"Thank you, Majesty. And now, if you wouldn't mind, there are some other–"

But Londo put a hand to his temple and sighed heavily.

"In point of fact ... I am a bit fatigued. Let us discuss other matters later, if that is acceptable to you, Durla."

"I am but here to serve your wishes and the best interests of Centauri Prime," he said graciously, and walked out rather quickly.

Londo had the sneaking suspicion that he had been quite anxious to get out of the room.

He sat back and waited. It didn't take much time at all. He sensed Shiv'kala's presence, and he turned to face the Drakh. Shiv'kala stared at him for a long moment, and then said quite softly, "What are you playing at, Centauri?"

Londo smiled, and said two words: "Quack. Quack."

Shiv'kala tilted his head slightly, looking at Londo – for once – with utter lack of comprehension. Then, to Londo's delight, he simply glided back and away into the shadows without another word.

"Quack quack," Londo said once more, this time with relish.

1
6.

It had not been one of Senna's better weeks. Although sections of the capital city had been rebuilt, there were entire areas that still were in desperate need of renovation and recovery. But the money had been slow in coming, for there were only so many directions that the government could go. By startling coincidence – or perhaps not so startling, in truth – it was the areas of the city inhabited by the poorer inhabitants of Centauri Prime that were getting the least attention. And there were fewer sections, it seemed, that were getting less attention than the area known as Ghehana.

Ghehana had a reputation that long preceded it, as a place where one could live if one was in extreme financial difficulty. And if one was willing to do whatever it took in order to survive, then one could easily find a home there. Even during the time that she was on her own, Senna had heard horror stories about Ghehana. It was where no decent person truly wished to go, and yet it was where an amazing number of people seemed to wind up. Senna had never thought that she herself would ever seek refuge there. But it had been to Ghehana that she had fled.

She had tried to remain in the central parts of the city, but those were for the well-to-do or, at the very least, for those who had money to spend and places to live. She had not wanted to be reduced to begging in the streets, but as it turned out, she hadn't had the opportunity. Soldiers attached to the Office of Development had been instructed to make sure that no one was loitering around because it was felt that seeing homeless or out-of-work people would only reduce the morale of those who really counted on Centauri Prime. This was a city, a world, a race that was on the upswing. Prospects were bright. Employment was up. Destiny was manifest. Everyone knew that – sooner or later – there would be a reckoning between the great Centauri Republic and the supremely arrogant races who comprised the Alliance. Piddling, backward, nowhere species who once wouldn't have been worth the Republic's time to conquer. Oh, yes ... the score would be evened, there was no doubt of that. To that end, however, work, dedication, progress, and a patriotic heart were the orders of the day. Homeless beggars, on the other hand, were just too depressing for words. And so, every effort was made to shunt them elsewhere. Where they went did not matter, so long as they went there.

On one or two occasions, as soldiers sent Senna scuttling out of a doorway in which she had taken refuge, or away from a street corner that she was standing on for too long, a soldier would look at her with curiosity, as if he vaguely remembered her from somewhere. But Senna would quickly hustle along, and withdraw from their sight as quickly as possible. So it was that she found herself in Ghehana.

The area frightened her. Even after two years, there were still piles of rubble in places where buildings had been. Worse, there were people actually living within the piles, having carved out spaces for themselves. The streets, rarely cleaned, were thick with dirt and grime. Isolated fires flickered in areas where people gathered to warm themselves. Senna had managed to get a small amount of money to tide herself over by selling a few of the fineries that had belonged to her at the palace, objects that she had grabbed up at the last moment. She had used the money sparingly, managed to buy food with it, but she was running extremely low on funds, and the growling of her stomach made her realize that she was once again going to have to spend some of them. She was also tired of sleeping outside, hunkering down in doorways, lying in alleys. Her clothes were filthy, she desperately needed a bath, and she had so much dirt under her fingernails that she was convinced they would never come clean, even if she had the opportunity to cleanse them.

She leaned against the corner of a building, trying to decide just what in the world she was going to do, and then she heard someone clear their throat quite loudly. She turned and saw a Centauri male, slender, about medium height, short cut hair, with a generally disreputable look about him. He was grinning widely at her and she could see the glimmer of a gold tooth on the right side of his mouth.

"How much?" he asked.

She stared at him.

"What?"

"How much for your time?" He coughed once. There was an ugly rattling sound in his chest. She still didn't comprehend ... but then she got it.

"Oh. No. No, I'm not ... I don't do that."

"Oh, I think you do. Or would." He seemed to be looking right through her, dissecting her with his eyes. His gaze made her feel filthy down to her soul. She drew her tattered cloak around her, but then he stepped closer and roughly drew it aside.

"If you were cleaned up a bit, you'd actually be quite pretty," he allowed. "You're young. How experienced are you? How many have you done at one time? Three? Four?"

"Get away from me!" she said hotly, pushing him. He staggered slightly, and then suddenly took a step forward and pushed her back. The movement caught Senna off balance and she fell, hitting the ground hard. Passersby, on their hurried way to this or that activity, most likely illegal, didn't so much as slow down.

"Don't stand around out here, my dear, unless you intend to do something with what you've got," the man said to her.

And then someone was standing behind him, and the someone said in a calm, measured and controlled voice, "I believe the young lady said she wished you to get away from her. You had best do as she says and move along."

Senna gaped in astonishment as she saw who the newcomer was. Her assailant, however, did not bother to turn around.

"Oh really. And who died and left you in charge?"

"Cartagia. And, after him, the regent." Something about the voice prompted the man to turn slowly and see just who it was that was addressing him. He looked into a very familiar face, and his spine stiffened and his legs began to tremble slightly. Londo Mollari, dressed in rather ordinary garb that was attracting no attention from anyone, continued "And if you wish to be the next to die, I can certainly oblige you." He snapped his fingers and there were two men on either side of him. Although they were likewise clad in unmemorable clothing, from their look and bearing it was clear that they were guards. In synch, they opened their coats slightly to reveal gun butts tucked just inside. Furthermore, each of them had fairly vicious blades dangling from their belts. The man who had been harassing Senna immediately backed up, and now his legs were shaking so violently that he could hardly stand.

"Muh ... muh ... muh..."

"`Majesty,' I believe, is the word you are seeking," Londo said drily. "I believe it would be best for you if you went on about your business now, yes?"

"Yes. Yes ... absolutely," said the man, and he bolted from there so quickly that he practically left a vapor trail behind him.

Londo watched him go with a vague look of satisfaction on his face, and then he turned to Senna. Senna, for her part, couldn't quite believe it. Londo extended a hand to her and it was only then that she remembered she was still on the ground.

"Well," he asked. "Are you going to let me help you up? Or are you, perhaps, going to bounce a rock off my head?"

She took the hand and stood dusting herself off.

"How ... how did you know where I was?"

He shrugged as if it were a trivial matter.

"An emperor has ways, my dear. Come," and he gestured in front of her. "Let us walk for a bit."

"Majesty," one of the guards said in a low voice, looking around with clear suspicion. "Perhaps it would be wise not to remain. From a security point of view..."

"Is the most powerful individual on this planet to be the most helpless, as well?" Londo asked. "Any other Centauri, from greatest to least, can move about with confidence. Is that to exclude me? These are my people. I will deal with them as such. Come, Senna." And he began to walk.

She hesitated, and Londo turned to her, indicating once more that she should follow. This time she did as he specified, falling into step beside him. As they walked, various passersby recognized him and reacted with assorted degrees of amazement. Some bowed. Others looked confused. One or two exhibited airs of scorn. Londo serenely ignored them all, acting as one of them but apart from them.

"I ... did not expect to see you again, Majesty," Senna told him. "After the ... after..."

"After you invaded my privacy?"

"I ... did not mean to–"

He wagged a finger at her.

"Do not say that. Do not think you can fool me. I've had experience with enough wives to know how the female mind works. You did precisely what you set out to do."

"But I thought you were writing a history book. One that would be publicly available anyway. It didn't occur to me that you were writing so private, so personal..."

"It is a history nonetheless. However, it is one that I assume will be published posthumously. Once I am gone," and he shrugged "what do I care of what people know of my innermost feelings and concerns."

"If people knew those, though, Majesty, they ..." Her voice trailed off.

He looked at her with interest.

"They what?"

"They would feel better about the future of Centauri Prime," she said. "Perhaps even about themselves. I ... Majesty, lately I don't feel as if I even know you. And I have been living in the palace for some time, so if I don't know you ... who does?"

"Timov," Londo said ruefully. "If anyone knows me, it is she. She is my first wife. My shortest wife. My loudest wife. Not my most dangerous ... that would be Mariel. But Timov, she was..."

"Is she dead?"

"No. She has sworn to outlast me. She would not give me the satisfaction of having her precede me to the presence of the Great Maker." He waved it off. "It is pointless to speak of her. Why did you run off?"