Summoning Light (20 page)

"Not anymore."

He laughed. "It is fortuitous, our meeting. Some of the clientele here, they prey on tourists. I can protect you."

"I would much prefer companionship to protection."

Londo inclined his head, clearly enchanted. "As would I. Your accent is curious. Where are you from, if I may ask?"

"I was raised by a Human." Though Carvin was young, she handled herself well.

"Ah. That explains your delightfully direct manner. We Centauri play far too many games between men and women."

"I've always found sex far too enjoyable to postpone with games." She picked up one of her chips, ran her thumb over it in a circular motion. "Yet games, too, have their place. They are a great measure of character. I can tell by gambling with a man whether I'd enjoy having sex with him."

The dealer was beginning a new game, and Carvin tossed in her ante while Londo tried to get his mouth to close.

"Will you play?" Carvin asked.

Londo roused himself. "By all means, dear lady."

"I'm glad," she said. "But I must tell you, I'm no lady."

Five players were in the game. The first few hands passed uneventfully. Carvin bet heavily and lost. Londo bet more modestly, folding each time before Carvin. He had to keep rechecking his cards, unable to concentrate.

Then Londo seemed to get a good hand, raising several times, until only he and Carvin remained in the game.

Londo pushed a stack of chips into the center of the table, raising a hundred credits. "And what kind of gambler do you prefer?"

As he drew his hand back, she brushed hers against it. "The kind who is fearless." She pushed a pile of chips to the center, raising by two hundred.

Vir came up behind Londo, his timing nearly perfect. "I should have known. Here I am risking my life for you, and you're off – being you!"

"Vir! Never sneak up on someone playing poker. How many times have I told you that?"

Vir raised his hands in a placating gesture, bowing slightly. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just a little rattled right now. I need to talk to you, Londo. I have news, on a matter you were eager to pursue."

"What, now? I am in the middle of–" Londo studied him. "At last! You are as slow as a Narn ordered to fetch the whip."

"Hey!" another player said. "Are you playing or not?"

Londo looked longingly from the large stack of chips in the center of the table to Carvin, then back to the chips, then back to Carvin. "I must fold, dear lady. Affairs of state – the type that are rather less entertaining, I'm afraid. I hope that we may play again sometime."

"I would enjoy that," Carvin said.

Londo stood, took her hand, and kissed it. Vir's eyes widened as he saw the signet ring on her finger. It carried the rune for solidarity, the same rune that had been prominently displayed in the hallway Down Below. He had made the connection, as he was intended to do. Part of an idea had been planted. If the Shadows continued with the same strategy they had used in the past, they would provide the other part of the idea.

Vir pulled Londo anxiously away from the table. Within a few minutes, Londo would be forming a new scheme for obtaining the mages' blessing. Londo would raise the stakes, and Elric would have his excuse to retaliate.

Everything was going according to plan. Elric released a heavy breath and brought his hand to his temple. That cavity of darkness in his skull pushed outward, pressing at the backs of his eyes, at his forehead. The pain pounded stronger with each beat of his heart, as if a great darkness would burst fullblown from his skull.

He must monitor Londo closely. And very soon now he must arrange his meeting with John Sheridan. And then he and Morden must face each other.

But all that could wait a few minutes. Just a few. Until the pain passed.

C
HAPTER 10

The customs agent on Thenothk 4 opened the sample case with the FTL relay. Galen looked across the spaceport's vast lobby of black stone, feigning disinterest, though adrenaline was pumping through his system. The tech echoed his anxiety.

The agent, a skeletal alien of a species Galen had never seen before, gave the relay a cursory examination, closed the case, and passed them on. He had a long line of passengers to check. Blaylock picked up the sample case and his suitcase, and Galen followed with his valise.

The lobby was busy with activity. The port seemed understaffed and overwhelmed by the number of beings passing in and out. Galen accessed his sensors, scanned various frequencies, searching for well-defined areas of static. Blaylock walked beside him across the lobby, head turning casually from side to side. Blaylock nodded subtly toward a far corner. At the upper end of the infrared band, Galen found a large area obscured by static. A cluster of Shadows.

Suddenly the idea that they could come here, could gather information without being discovered, seemed ridiculous. They kept walking, two businessmen anxious for wartime profits. The gravity was slightly heavier here than on Soom, making Galen's feet drag. With each step he expected someone to denounce them, to demand that they stop.

Galen glanced at the many beings that surrounded them, telling himself that among all these, they would be overlooked. Blaylock had stressed that they would have the best chance of success if they avoided any conjuries that might be detected. By this he meant messages, illusions, shields, or weapons. But the truth was, they didn't know how many of their conjuries could be detected by the Shadows. And even if they cast no spells, they constantly radiated mage energy that could well be noticed. Now Galen understood why Blaylock had said their visit here would be brief.

Blaylock had stressed the use of probes. Since the microscopic devices utilized a more conventional technology, if they were discovered, they would not betray the presence of mages. Already he and Blaylock had planted them on many of the ship's passengers, including Rabelna Dorna, and Blaylock had skillfully slipped them onto several of the spaceport employees.

The two of them came out of the port onto a narrow street, towering buildings surrounding them on all sides. The noise was terrific – like a thousand stet-hammers breaking through metacrete. Great engines roared, metal screeched on metal. The sour-smelling air seemed to become lodged in his throat, and Galen started coughing.

"Breathe lightly," Blaylock said. "The air is filled with poisons."

As Galen struggled to bring his breathing under control, he studied the area. He knew it was afternoon, but he could not find the sun. Plumes of smoke rose into the sky, creating a black haze that made it seem like twilight.

A new wing for the port was being built to their right, the source of much of the noise. To their left, an oversized lift was negotiating its way out of the port and onto the narrow street. It carried a massive energy generator, its sharp silvery edges standing out against the dark buildings.

The streets were busy with traffic and filled with many different species: Drakh, Streib, Wurt, and in smaller numbers, Humans, Centauri, Drazi, Pak'ma'ra. There were several species he couldn't identify at all. In the doorway of the building across the street, Galen caught a glimpse of static. Another up the street, moving away from them. Two more beyond that. Galen realized the impossibility of their task. One Shadow had nearly destroyed them before. This place was filled with them.

Rabelna Dorna came out of the port several doors away and headed off down the street, looking as if she knew where she was going.

"I will follow her," Blaylock said, handing Galen his suitcase and keeping the sample case. "Go to the hotel. Wait for me there."

He strode away before Galen had a chance to reply.

Galen glanced quickly at the Shadows, at the other pedestrians on the street. No one seemed to take an interest in either him or Blaylock.

Blaylock would want him to use the time to work on the spell for listening to the Shadows. And he would, no matter how much he wanted to avoid it. But he had something else to do first.

The port city was vast, and was filled with energies, many of types Galen had never seen before. He scanned slowly, searching for the energy characteristic of a mage. He detected his own, of course, and Blaylock's. Yet beyond that, he could not be sure. The energies he sensed were strange, and powerful, and he could not easily eliminate them to discover whether subtler mage energy lurked beneath. If it was present, he would have to do a much more detailed scan to find it. He put his sensors to work on the job, knowing it could take days, and even then the results would likely be inconclusive. Yet one way or another, Galen must know if Elizar was here. And if he was, no matter how many Shadows protected him, he could not be allowed to live.

The hotel was fifteen blocks away. Galen would walk there, and plant as many probes along the way as he could. Though he had his own reason for coming to the rim, he would do everything he could to help Blaylock and the mages, as he'd promised. Fed had said it was a suicide mission, and he was right. Blaylock knew it; that was why he'd brought the relay, so that any information they gained could reach the mages, even if they could not. Galen was at peace with that; it was the only thought, lately, that brought him any peace. He had hoped for an end to this, and Thenothk would most likely provide it. But he was determined that, if there was any way it could be accomplished, Elizar's end would come before his.

As he started down the street, a ship came in for a landing at the port, poorly maintained engines screaming at the effort of deceleration. The planet seemed to mount an endless assault against the senses. Clouds of haze and fumes drifted down the city canyons. Construction was under way everywhere, confirming what G'Leel had told him about the city's rapid growth. The roads formed a chaotic maze, intersecting at odd angles. New buildings sometimes blocked off entire streets. In other places, roads curled in on themselves and simply ended. There seemed no plan to it, or if there was a plan, it was complex and well hidden. Grand, expensive structures stood beside squat, seemingly abandoned ones. Factories were mixed with residences, businesses with lurid entertainments. Along the way, Galen saw few Shadows. Their concentration was sparse, and they seemed to pass undetected by most. Yet he had a feeling more were here. They liked to remain hidden.

With a growing sense of unease, Galen at last reached the hotel. Inside, it was an island of quiet. In the desire to portray them as well-to-do businessmen, Blaylock had booked them adjoining rooms in one of the more expensive establishments. Galen checked in and went up to his room. He was surprised to find that it was tiny, barely fitting a bed and desk and a miniature bathroom. Space was at a premium here.

In its adrenaline-heightened state, the tech raced with anxious energy. He put the suitcases to one side, found the temperature control, turned it up. The small space made it all the more apparent that there was no avoiding what he must now do. He had a task, the same task he had faced every day since their journey to the rim had begun, and this time he must not put it aside until it was completed. He must no longer resist the memories, must not break away no matter how difficult the work became. If they were to know the Shadows' plans for the mages, including Elric and the others on Babylon 5, they must be able to decode the Shadows' communications.

He pulled the scarf from his pocket, ran his fingers over the small bundle.

To keep you warm,
she said. She grabbed the scarf and wrapped it around his neck, her subtle essence enveloping him. She leaned back, biting her lip.
Quite handsome.

Did you weave this yourself?

She rested her head against his shoulder.
Of course.

Does that mean there's a spell woven into it?

That's for you to unravel.

He sat on the bed, eyes closed, and hunched over the scarf. He forced his fingers, stitch by stitch, down its edge. It was a thought of hers, frozen in time, given to him.

He had already recorded the pattern, yet for some reason he persisted in touching the scarf, as if it held additional information that the recording did not, some essence of hers, something that remained. Yet there was nothing, nothing but an abstract pattern. He had tried to break down the complex sequence of bumps, plateaus, and valleys, yet the sequence seemed random, chaotic, just as the Shadow signals had been.

The simplest way to understand her code, of course, would be to guess what spell or message she had woven into it, and then to search for correspondences between that and the scarf's pattern. He had not wanted to think of her, though, or of what message she might have left him. But now he had no choice.

Beside him, her body pressed against his. Her presence, her smell enveloped him. She leaned back, biting her lip.
Quite handsome.

His name. She might have included his name.

He searched for different ways she might have encoded it within the weaving. She could have used the numerical equivalents to the letters: seven for G, one for A. She could have used the pattern of the rune he had chosen to represent him. She could have translated his name into different languages. She could have used one of many complex codes that had been developed by various species over the years, or a code of her own. Time passed. He did not find it.

He must search for another word.

The scarf clenched in his hands, he stood, shivering. He turned up the temperature control as far as it would go, then stumbled back to the bed.

The word he didn't want to look for, of course, the word that he had never wanted to look for, was
love.
The word she had said to him as she lay dying. The word he had never said to her.

When he searched for patterns connected to that word, he found them everywhere. The word, in different forms, was embedded throughout the scarf, on the small scale and the large, one pattern intersecting the next.

The scarf did not hold some super-complex code, as he had thought. It held many small, simple patterns woven one on top of the other. He didn't know how he'd failed to see it. When he'd sat beside her in the training hall on Soom, when he'd examined her shield, the most striking thing about it had been its simplicity. It had been the order and elegance of her thought that had first drawn him to her.