"But those are the sorts of things that Shiri could not
help
but tell them, because they are true. Sadly, I
suppose,
they are always true. But truth has nothing
to do with
what people like you and I want from the
world.
Position. Influence. Money. As prophetess,
you can
say what you want, couch your intentions any
way you wish,
without having to include any unfortunate
or untimely
truths."
"And when my prophecies fail to
materialize?"
"Just be sufficiently
artistic---that is to say, vague--
-in your prophecies so that they
can be interpreted later
in whatever fashion best serves
you. A prophetess
once told me, 'You must save the eye
that does not see.' " Londo shrugged. "It's five years later, and I
still don't
know what she meant."
For the first time, Delasi relaxed. Londo thought he
might
actually see a smile forming but couldn't be sure.
"Tell me, Majesty, has a prophetess ever retired
from
Tuwain?" she asked.
"They have
all been retired by death. But to all things there must be a first
time. Why?"
"Well, after five or ten
years of work in His Majesty's service, holding a position of such
authority, I would think that a title and land would be only proper
compensation.
To have the presence of a renowned prophetess
placed
in the royal court itself would be most . . .
advantageous."
"It would indeed," Londo said,
and this time there
was no mistaking it.
She was definitely smiling now.
Londo found the enshrinement at the
river
Tuwain to be a magnificent ceremony, rich in color and
texture. Delasi, he thought, was quite stunning in her
gown of white and gold, as she looked across the open expanse of stone
and water at him with eyes that
glittered like small silver
coins.
Which was most appropriate. What
was it the humans said about the eyes being the window of the soul . . .
?
No matter, he decided. The understood one another.
The ride back to the capitol seemed shorter and
less odious than the ride out, even with the presence of the Keeper
intruding into his thoughts from time to time.
She is still a potential threat, the voice
whispered
in his thoughts.
True,
but she has been publicly discredited. No one will listen to her
now. She is far from the palace, and
will never be
allowed closer, so your secret is safe.
You should be
reasonable. Even you cannot eliminate
all of the
potential threats. |
Not today, perhaps, the Drakh sent back,
but there
is still tomorrow.
Yes, Londo thought, there is always
tomorrow.
Upon arriving back at the royal palace,
after his
briefing from Minister Vole, Londo returned to his
suite, where he found a letter waiting for him. Though he had
not seen her handwriting before, he knew even before opeining it that
it came from Shiri.
Thank you,
the note read. There is no gift that I can give you that would be
the equal of the one you have
given me: my freedom, and
the restoration of my father's House. So I give you the only thing I have
to give, the
last prophecy I intend to make.
One day, Emperor, you will be free of your
burden. One day you will save our people, and all the sacrifices you
make will not have been in vain.
Londo
set the note down again and looked out at his
dear city, framed
by scaffolding, climbing its way back
from the horrors of war,
and was surprised to find tears running down his face.
The dream was the same. It was always
the same.
The chakat lay on the ground before
him, its four legs
bound by ropes, horns scratching the dry
ground beneath
its head. The sun was hot overhead.
A voice, always the same voice, whispered from
behind
Londo. You know what you have to do. What
you have
always done.
Londo
stared at the creature, and its gaze met his own. The eyes that looked
back at him were fierce, proud, unbowed.
And
in the dream, the eyes that looked back at him
were the eyes of
Shiri, firghtened and alone . . . they
were the eyes of his
people as he passed them on the
street . . . and then, at the
last, he recognized them for
what they were---his own eyes,
looking up at him.
It is duty, a voice
whispered. You cannot fight duty.
Londo looked down. The sword was in his hand.
Yes, I can, he thought back, and brought
down the
sword, severing the ropes that bound the creature's
feet.
It staggered upright and met his gaze
one last time.
Then, with a power and a freedom he had
never
experienced before, he watched it race away, disappearing
into the distance, into the woods, into the future.
The dream never came to him
again. |