“Then you shall have proof,” Sinoval replied.

“You wish to see me, Satai,” said a voice from behind him. A Centauri voice.

“Yes, Ambassador. Thank you for coming.”

Ambassador Refa. A Centauri given the freedom of Minbar. It grated on Sinoval, not because he was Centauri, but because he was a Centauri exile. His plottings on Centauri Prime had led to a power struggle that he had lost, with the result that he had ended up here. Whatever he might say, his position was regarded as a joke by those back on Centauri Prime.

That was what grated on Sinoval, that the Centauri saw Minbar as a place to send their unwanted rubbish.

But then, even rubbish has a purpose.

“What is the current news on the treaty negotiations between the Centarum and the Earther Resistance Government?” he asked.

“Satai, I have no knowledge of any such…”

“Do not lie to me, Ambassador. It demeans my position and it demeans the Council I represent, and that demeans my people. We both have sources on Centauri Prime, and we both know that the overtures of peace made to the Earthers came from your old enemy – a Minister Londo Mollari. Unfortunately I have been distracted lately, and I am not up to date. I am sure that you are, however. So, what news?”

Sinoval could practically feel the anger in Refa’s eyes. Any mention of Mollari tended to do that to him. “The Resistance Government is still considering the matter. At least, that is what they are telling the Centarum. I believe they are debating whether my people or the Narns would make better allies.”

“I see. Then would this not be the perfect opportunity for a Centauri noble and diplomat to visit the Earthers?”

“I have enough supporters in the Centarum to arrange such an act,” Refa said slowly, thoughts running around in his head. “And even to ensure that my… appointment here is not brought up. But why, Satai?”

“Satai Delenn of the religious caste disappeared almost a cycle ago. We know that the Earthers are involved. I… we would like confirmation on whether she is alive or dead, and if she is alive, then in what state. A prisoner, or a welcome guest.”

“I had not heard this,” said Refa, but he caught the unmentioned meaning behind the sentence.

“Undue curiosity is frowned on in our people. We are told what we need to know and nothing more. And, Ambassador, you will not find me ungrateful.” The words ’when I am leader’ did not need to be said. Both knew the score.

“It is always a pleasure to serve, Satai. I will get your information.” Refa bowed and left.

Sinoval returned to his dream, but it was a dream tainted by the corruption he was having to endure. Some must be sacrificed if all are to be saved, but where would the some become too many? Would it end at Delenn, or the rest of the Grey Council? It had already cost him his honour, as he recalled with a foul taste why he had arisen so far, and, he suspected, the true reason Sheridan had escaped and Delenn had vanished.

Not for nothing was she called Deathwalker.

‘And we will reunite with the other half of our soul in a war against the common Enemy…’

So ran the prophecies as set down by Valen a thousand years before. Since then many had studied them, working over countless generations in search of understanding. Delenn had been one of the many, and she had at last found meaning.

She gently laid the last piece on to the machine. All that was needed now was the Triluminary itself.

“Are you sure about this?”

She looked at the speaker. Captain John Sheridan, the Starkiller, greatest enemy of her people. She saw in him an honesty, a nobility and a tenderness buried beneath fourteen years of war and countless deaths. Maybe her actions would be the catalyst that brought the real John Sheridan to the fore once again.

“Yes,” she said simply.

“You won’t be well received,” he warned.

“I am under no illusions as to how your people will view me,” she said firmly. “But my people… once I show them the true meaning of Valen’s words… once I explain to them that I saw Valen on Babylon Four, then they will listen, and they will understand, and I will be able to pull them back from the brink, and set them in the right direction once more.”

“If you’re sure…”

She looked at him again. “You sound… doubtful, John.”

“I am. Blood calls out for blood. You can’t end this, Delenn. I don’t think anyone can. I remember meeting Sinoval in your hall.”

“Like a mirror,” she whispered, remembering the confrontation in the Hall of the Grey Council. Sheridan and Sinoval had seemed almost mirror reflections of each other.

“Sinoval is just one man,” she said.

“That’s all it takes.”

His link beeped. It was Officer Allan, who was in charge of guarding Delenn’s quarters-cum-cell. “Captain, Miss Alexander is here, and she wants to see you.”

“Tell her Marcus is on Proxima. He doesn’t work for me any more.” A deception, but a necessary one. Susan Ivanova was the link between the Resistance Government and the Shadows. She had to be kept under close observation.

“She says she knows that. She wants to see you, sir, and the prisoner.”

Sheridan wasn’t sure of what to make of Lyta Alexander. One of the few telepaths living on Proxima, she was a legacy of the destroyed Psi Corps. She sometimes wore their badge and their uniform, but she also broke their rules, having received a number of cautions for inappropriate use of her telepathic powers. She had also played a part in Delenn’s interrogation. Sheridan had seen the results of that interrogation, and he was inclined to refuse Lyta entry on that alone, but he found himself looking up at Delenn, who nodded once.

“All right, send her in, but just for a little while.”

The door opened, and Lyta entered. She breezed past Sheridan, ignoring him completely and she stopped next to Delenn’s machine. Looking up, she said one word:

“Chrysalis.”

Sheridan looked up sharply. Ever since the incident with Bester a few months ago, Delenn had been teaching Minbari meditation techniques to him, Corwin and Marcus – those primarily involved in their little conspiracy against humanity’s new allies. The techniques were supposed to prevent telepathic scans. They’d seemed to work on Bester. They should work on Lyta.

“I didn’t scan you,” Lyta said, evidently noticing his reaction. “The Vorlon told me.” Sheridan saw Delenn start. “His name is Kosh.”

“He was… once… a part of me,” Delenn whispered.

“And now he’s a part of me, God knows why. He wanted to see you, and to give you a message. ’And so, it begins.’ That’s it. Does that mean anything to you?”

“It might.”

“Good. And… I wanted to give you a message. I’m sorry. For what I did to you.”

A soft, genuine: “Thank you.”

Lyta smiled, and then turned to leave. As she reached the door, she stopped, and said, “Captain, I don’t know what game you’re playing with Marcus, and I know that I can’t stop you, but if he gets hurt because of you, I’ll never forgive you. Never.”

And she left.

Sheridan looked at Delenn. “What can I tell her?” he said. “I don’t know what danger Marcus might be in, but we need his information.”

“More than we need his life?”

“Perhaps. I wish I could give a definite answer, but life’s never that easy.”

“No, I suppose it is not.” She slowly drew out the Triluminary.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She placed the Triluminary on to the machine.

“I will be here,” he said. “Count on that.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

A Centauri on Minbar was a rare sight. A Centauri at a recital of Minbari keela poetry was a rarer sight still.

Vir Cotto was a very rare Centauri.

Officially Ambassador Refa’s aide, head of diplomatic staff and general dogsbody, Vir should have been preparing a number of things for their imminent trip to Proxima 3. Unofficially – and very secretly – a member of a secret conspiracy that included Refa’s favourite enemy, Londo Mollari, he had a few more important matters to attend to first.