I think you know her name, cousin.

He moved up another flight of stairs, his muscles burning with the unaccustomed exercise. He could not risk the elevators. Any one of a number of things might go wrong.

So how do I find her?

He could feel the tingle on his skin that spoke of the magic Galen was performing elsewhere in the city. Illusionary Drakh or Shadows, or even dragons if he had been listening to Alwyn too much lately. Anything that would draw attention away from this building. Not the guards, for they were next to nothing and there were hardly any here anyway.

She will be in the network somewhere. You can access it from the Vorlon's quarters, if you need to. We need to find her.

He moved up even further. Another couple of floors and he was near the top of the building. The Vorlon, Ambassador Ulkesh, had take over the top three floors when he had arrived here. He had remained, despite all the other Ambassadors relocating to Babylon 5. They had all kept offices here, a skeleton staff for the sake of appearance and tradition and respect for the memory of Kazomi 7, but for the most part it was an empty gesture. Ulkesh was the only one actually to remain here.

So why me? Why not do this yourself?

Vejar reached the doors to the Vorlon's chambers. They were unguarded, of course. Usually anyone penetrating so far up the Neuadd would have passed several stringent security checks. It didn't matter, anyway. No one would be stupid enough to try to break into a Vorlon's private rooms.

He breathed out slowly and reached for the door. Light formed around his hand.

You have been here for years, cousin. Do not try to tell me you have not identified the Vorlon's wards. Do not try to tell me you have not learned how to bypass his security. Do not try to tell me you cannot pierce his veil and enter his chambers. I would be caught. You may escape.

The door remained closed, but Vejar, who could see things that others could not, breathed a slow sigh of relief and passed through it as if it were no more than a reflection.

Once inside he knew he had to act quickly. The Vorlon's attention would be distracted by Galen's light show, but time would be limited. Fortunately there was no need for a scrying spell or a search incantation. He could feel her pain, feel the light and the screams and the rush of power and energy and knowledge that encompassed the network. He could feel it slightly even on the other side of the wards, but here....

The difference was as between looking at a picture of a waterfall and standing beneath it.

He headed quickly in the direction of the network, dropping his disguise. There was no point maintaining it here. If the Vorlon caught him, it really would not matter.

He entered the room and stopped. There it was, Kazomi 7's node of the network. A greater node, funnelling the power and authority of the Vorlons from here to all the Dark Star ships in orbit or in the area, and to any one of hundreds of other places. Just one of countless millions of links including Babylon 5, Centauri Prime, Proxima 3 and worlds unnoticed and unnamed by humanity.

You truly expect me to succeed in this? You truly expect me to find her?

He looked up at the still, silent form of Lyta Alexander. Bonded to the wall by the growth of greenery around her body, crucified on a giant, monstrous cross. Veins and tendrils and nerve sheaths ran from her mouth, her eyes, her heart, all over her body. Her eyes were open, and he could see within them the awareness that lurked there. She was conscious, aware of what was being done to her.

I have faith in you, cousin.

Vejar tried to force himself to care. He did not know her. She meant nothing to him. She was just one of billions who had suffered at the hands of the Vorlons. What made her special? What made her so deserving as to merit his being sent on this mission?

And if the Vorlon catches me?

He raised his hand, now glowing with red light, tiny bolts of electricity shooting from it.

Why are you always so negative, cousin? Think of the good that will come from this when you succeed.

He took a step forward.

Ulkesh glided into view.

I am, Galen. I am thinking that the Vorlon might find me....

Ulkesh's eye blazed bright red.

.... and that he might just kill me.

There is nothing the Dark Masters send us that is not a challenge. Through adversity there is strength. Through defeat there is experience. Through experience there is understanding. Through understanding there is strength.

I fulfill their will. I bring blessed chaos to the galaxy. I rain death upon the weak and the complacent. I bring fear and pain to those who do not understand. The weak will be defeated and die in misery. The strong will learn and grow and become stronger.

They will evolve.

I will evolve. The Dark Masters have sent me a challenge in this Marrago. The others here are nothing, chattels and fools. They will break before the onslaught, but he....

He is my challenge. Through him I shall become stronger. We shall make each other stronger. We shall war upon each other. There is no growth in fighting the weak. Those whom I do not destroy I shall make stronger, but they shall not make me stronger. The weak are no challenge.

Marrago will be a challenge.

My Warriors think he looks like a Master, and he does.

My Warriors think he acts as a Master, and he does.

My Warriors fear him.

Thank you for sending him to me, Masters. I understand now. He is the gateway to my destiny. He is the next step on my road of evolution. He may break me, or I may break him, but, should we both be worthy, both of us will become stronger.

I do not fear — not death, not weakness, not failure.

I must test him and prove his strength and his lack of fear.

I must bring him back to me as an enemy.

Moreil opened his eyes and looked up at the Wykhheran. They stood around him, still and statuesque, awaiting his command. Legends of his people said that the Masters had carved the Wykhheran from the heart of the Holy World and given them life through the heat of the forges at Thrakandar. Moreil could well believe it.

He looked at the biggest, and spoke to it. It stirred, opening its great eyes, the light there filled with devotion and service.

Warrior, do you love me?

Yes, lord.

Warrior, do you fear me?

Yes, lord.

Warrior, would you die for me?

Yes, lord.

Warrior, soon we will go to war. We attack the home of the Sin-tahri. We bring death and holy chaos to them, we cast our shadow over their land. There will be much destruction. When we ride there, I have a task for you.

Yes, lord.

Find the Sin-tahri called Marrago, and kill him.

Yes, lord.

Dexter could not sleep, and for once it was not a combination of too much alcohol and too many worries. Nor was it even the thought of a beautiful woman lying in the next room. It was not even the difference in relative comfort between the couch and his bed.

It was something preying at the back of his mind. He was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, drawing patterns with his eyes as he had done before. He could feel that moment of communion between them, and he yearned for it again. That was special — not her kisses, not her touch. He could truly say it was her mind he desired more than any other part of her.

He chuckled at the thought, wondering if she would believe him were he to tell her.

After several hours of staring upwards, he rose from the couch and went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He devoured it greedily, spilling a great deal on the floor in the process. It alleviated his thirst, but not his headache. As he walked back to his impromptu bed, he could not resist looking in at her through the slightly ajar bedroom door.