"That could be it," Lyta said thoughtfully. "Ulkesh…. doesn't seem to like Vejar much. He didn't say anything, but it's clear he doesn't…. approve of having a technomage around."

"And Vejar has been staying away from the Vorlons as much as he can. You think something is…. wrong, don't you?"

"I know something's wrong," she replied. "Oh, Delenn. You don't know what's he like. He's…. not at all like Kosh. He's very different. He's planning something. He's been waiting for this for a long time. He knows everything I'm thinking and he…. His anger is…. terrible." The last word came out as a plaintive cry, and Delenn stepped forward to embrace her friend again.

"I came to warn you," Lyta said, after a pause. "He's not helping the Alliance…. because he's doesn't want to. It's not that he can't. It's that he won't. There's something here that he doesn't like…. and I think it's you."

"Me?" Delenn was astounded. She had been with the Vorlons for so long. She had even let one of them share her soul for years. Dukhat had believed in them implicitly. "Why could he not…. like me?"

"I don't know, but he is planning something to do with you, Delenn. I don't know what, but…. you won't like it. " Lyta stepped back. "I have to go. I can't stay here too long, or he'll know. I just had to warn you. Be very, very careful of him, Delenn. He's dangerous."

Lyta slipped away from Delenn's embrace and vanished from the shrine. Delenn turned back to look at the arch, and she began to ponder. She was thinking of…. she was thinking of voicing her suspicions to the one person she knew who would share them.

If Sinoval would listen, of course.

If Londo had been told when he was young just what being Emperor would entail, he would in all likelihood have resolved not to take up the position and to remain in bed for the rest of his life. As it was, no one had filled him in exactly and so he had been lumbered with the job. Any position, he had thought to himself, mid-way through suffering yet another six-hour speech by those thieves in Resource Procurement, where so much time is spent sitting down, cannot possibly be worth it.

Fortunately the job was not without its advantages, and one of those was that at least he could be sure his friends got ahead in the world.

The downside to that, of course, was that his friends had to suffer through the same purgatory he did, but at least the misery was spread around.

Marrago, on the other hand, seemed positively to revel in his new authority. He had been Lord-General of the armies long before Londo had risen to his exalted position, but now he had an Emperor who actually listened to him, which was a truly rare thing. Some people seemed to be of the opinion that the Emperor listened to him entirely too much. Then again, those people would much rather the Emperor listened to them instead, so their opinions didn't count for a great deal.

"I'm expecting an attack by the end of the month at the latest," he said, reporting his bleak news to the Emperor in one of their very private, late-night meetings. "The Narns seem to have pressed up their campaign after several recent unexplained and unaccountable delays. A new leadership is a strong possibility. Probably one that actually recognises the concerns of the military."

"What an unusual and fascinating concept," Londo drawled, but Marrago did not smile. He had suffered a great deal from the incompetence and mismanagement of the Court. "Can we withstand an assault on Centauri Prime?"

"I wish I knew," came the reply. "I've gathered every available ship here, and the defence grid is as ready as it will ever be. Apparently the Narns have taken substantial losses in their ground assaults on our colonies, especially at Gorash, but there has not been corresponding damage to their fleets. Ship-wise, they probably outnumber us. Whether that means they can win or not…. I'd say we can defend Centauri Prime adequately with the ships we have, but…. to be honest, Londo, I'd be much happier if I could be absolutely sure we'd win. As it is, I'm expecting a fairly bloody stand-off."

"Isn't that what happened in the last war?"

"Not quite. The last war ended in a stand-off out in mid-space. Preferable by far to it ending at our very doorstep."

"Hmm…. I wonder if we should speed things up with Mr. Morden. A Vorlon ship or two would make all the difference."

"Indeed it would…. if we could be sure we could trust them. Besides, Londo, just how much do we want to owe to this…. Morden?"

"A fine point…. but I would rather be alive and in considerable debt than dead."

"There is little risk of that. No, Centauri Prime will hold, and I think we will be able to drive the Narns away…. but as matters stand the losses on each side are likely to be horrendous. The Narns have by all accounts given considerable thought to the practicalities of a war of attrition, and they're willing to take great risks to win. In this situation in the last war, we'd be able to drive them off once they suffered minimal losses. Now…. we may well have to wipe them all out.

"It's going to be a mess, Londo, no doubt about it. A lot of good people are going to die."

"I know. But they will die for Centauri Prime, and Centauri Prime will not forget that. Not at all. How…. how is Carn?"

Marrago's face broke into a smile. "A fine soldier. By the time I'm ready to retire he'll make a perfect replacement."

"Ah…. I am so glad to hear that, although I doubt you will be retiring short of us putting you on the pyre, old friend."

"Well…. Carn is a little young. I'd be quite happy to tutor him for the next ten years or so."

"Is that all? Great Maker, I had placed a bet on your still serving well past ninety. Ah, if you retire at a pathetic seventy or so, I'll lose a lot of money."

The Lord-General laughed. "Ninety, eh? Who did you place this bet with? I think there's the possibility of some money to be made here."

"That is for me to know, and for you to find out. Besides, don't we pay you enough?"

"You don't pay me at all."

"Ah…. I think you need a talk with those cheats and swindlers at the Ministry of the Economy, then."

"No, Londo. On the whole, I think I'd rather face the Narns than that."

Londo broke out into laughter, as did Marrago. Laughter had been a rare sound in the Royal Court recently, and both of them had the very depressing feeling it would not be heard very often in the future.

All the better then, to enjoy it now. While they could.

"I hate this place."

The woman lounging on the bed said nothing in reply to her companion's complaint. He was standing at the window of their apartment, looking out across the streets below. She could imagine what he was seeing, but she did not want to look at it for herself.

"I hate this place. There are mundanes everywhere, running about living their petty, worthless little lives. Almost like ants. I wonder what it would be like to reach out and squash some of them."

"Don't," she warned, fanning at her face. It was hot here. Very hot. "We're meant to be undercover, remember."

"Yes, I suppose so." He paused, and she turned to look at him, surprised at the hesitation in his tirade against everything that was his surroundings. "There was someone there…. Almost one of us, but not quite. He looks a little…. familiar. Ah, he's gone."

"You shouldn't try to scan them," she muttered irritably, swinging her long legs down from the bed. "We don't know they're all mundanes and we don't want to give ourselves away. Our kind don't go into this area unless they've got something to hide."