To Dream in the City of Sorrows (9 page)

“And did you report this to your government?” asked Jenimer.

“Yes, we did. But when we returned to the site, there was nothing to be found, not a trace, not a scrap of evidence, and though I know some of my superiors believed me, my report was ultimately just filed away and I never heard anything more about it. I never forgot about it, though.”

“A thousand years ago, the Shadows threatened all life in the known galaxy,” Jenimer said. “Minbar led the fight against them. But we were fairly new to space flight and our technology was no match for theirs. We would have lost had not help arrived–“

“Valen,” Sinclair said simply. This part he knew, at least some of it.

“Valen,” agreed Jenimer, who looked to Delenn.

“Valen arrived with another race of aliens new to us, the Vorlons. They brought a powerful battle station with them, and something even more powerful – they brought hope, and with that hope the promise the war could be won. Valen became the first Chosen One, reorganized Minbari society, formed the Grey Council – and established an elite fighting force to lead the battle against the Shadows.”

Suddenly the pieces fell into place for Sinclair. ‘‘The Anla’shok.”

A visibly pleased Jenimer nodded in agreement. “Yes. Loosely translated into your language as the Rangers.” He motioned for Delenn to continue.

“Slowly the tide of battle turned in our favor. Eventually the Shadows were driven out of all of their places and into hiding, into what we believe is a form of hibernation. But after a thousand years of silence we now know what you discovered yourself: the Shadows have been awakened and are once again following their course of destruction. We believe that the growing Narn-Centauri conflict is part of their plan. We have tried to warn the governments of both planets that they are merely pawns in a much larger conflict, but their passions run too high to listen to any voices outside their own anger and hatred. And so they willingly march into a war that will eventually destroy us all.”

“Who are these Shadows?” Sinclair asked. He had been told everything but what seemed the most important thing. “Where do they come from? What do they want?”

All the Minbari in the room, including Delenn, froze with displeasure, as if he had just asked the most impertinent question imaginable.

“We do not know,” said Delenn. “and do not believe it is wise to follow that line of thought. We know only that the Shadows bring destruction wherever they go and must be stopped.”

“Now wait a minute,” said Sinclair, wondering briefly why he was pursuing this. He still wasn’t sure what any of this had to do with him being on Minbar. But he was a military man, first, last, and always, and the first thing the wise soldier finds out is who the enemy is and what the enemy wants, for that will dictate what the enemy does.

Which meant at least part of him already saw these Shadows as the enemy, Sinclair realized.

“They have to have a reason for what they do,” he persisted. “Do they destroy simply to destroy, or do they want something? Power? Worship? A universe empty of all creatures but themselves? And they didn’t just suddenly spin themselves out of the vacuum of space a thousand years ago. They have to have a history, a culture, perhaps even conflict among themselves about what they are doing or why. What do you know about them?”

“Only what we have told you,” said Jenimer. “That they are an ancient race, and that they are the enemy of all life.”

“And who told you that?”

None of the Minbari answered, but it wasn’t hard to guess. The Vorlons. Of whom Sinclair, and probably the Minbari, knew no more than they knew of the Shadows. Even Kosh, who had been on Babylon 5 for most of the time Sinclair had been there, was as enigmatic now as he had been on their first meeting. Kosh, who came to Babylon 5 as an ambassador, had always gone through the motions of attending council meetings and making his presence felt, but almost always saying nothing, almost always refusing to participate in any action the council would decide on. When Kosh did act, it was usually unilaterally. And when he did speak it was usually in obscure phrases that required interpretation, so that it ended up being half what the Vorlon said, and half what the listener thought he said.

Sinclair had made an effort to break through that wall of detachment, an effort Kosh seemed to welcome, encouraging Sinclair’s efforts to speak with him, even allowing Sinclair to visit his quarters anytime he wished. Even so, Kosh had rigorously revealed nothing of himself or what he thought.

Interesting that the Vorlons seemed to want to keep the Shadows as much a mystery as they kept themselves.

“Okay,” Sinclair said at last. “I’ll admit that just one encounter with these Shadows was enough to convince me they pose a potential threat. And I’m willing to grant you there is evidence that points to involvement by these Shadows in certain recent events. But why are you telling me this? To warn EarthGov? You should be having this conversation with President Clark, or the Senate, not with me. I’m just a fighter pilot and a former space station commander and now an ambassador without portfolio, it would seem. I’m not part of the upper echelons, and not exactly in favor with my government at the moment.”

“We have tried to warn your government,” said Jenimer. “It proved to be as unproductive as our attempts to warn the Narn and the Centauri. No, we tell you this, we brought you to Minbar, and before this had you named commander of Babylon 5 because we believe that you, Jeffrey Sinclair, are the fulfillment of prophecy.”

“Now wait a minute,” he began. “I know you have this idea that I somehow possess a Minbari soul, but–“

“Jeffrey, please,” said Delenn gently. “Hear us out first.”

Reluctantly, Sinclair waited.

“The threat the Shadows pose is not a potential threat,” Jenimer said. “It is real and present. Ten thousand Narns were killed in only a few minutes when the Shadows attacked their military outpost in Quadrant 37 at what we can only assume was the request of the Centauri. I assure you, Ambassador, that was only the opening salvo. There will be millions upon millions of more lives lost to the Shadows unless something is done – if even now it is not too late. But the leaders of the military caste refuse to believe it. Perhaps they have lost the will to fight. Perhaps their anger and their hurt pride at being ordered by the religious caste to surrender to Earth has blinded their judgment. Perhaps they truly believe Minbar can only survive if it stays neutral this time, as if such a thing were possible. We do not know. We only know they refuse to act on their own, and through their representatives keep the Grey Council from taking action.”

“Forgive me if I have misunderstood something here,” said Sinclair, “but my reading of your history tells me that the Chosen One has the power to make certain decisions and even proclaim some policy without the approval of the Grey Council if–“

“If he can demonstrate to the satisfaction of the Council of Caste Elders that the action is justified,” said Jenimer. “Yes, that is the law, and it has been invoked in our past, though only a few times, and never to declare a war. And much has changed since the time of Dukhat.” He smiled a little sadly at Delenn.

“Some on the Grey Council,” said Delenn, “have grown to like leading our people without a Chosen One to counter their authority. It caused much dissension over who should be selected to follow the honored Dukhat.”

“I was chosen,” said Jenimer, “to be only – what’s the Human expression?”

“A figurehead,” said Delenn. “Yes, yes. A figurehead by the Grey Council, an old religious-caste scholar in failing health who they assumed would be quiet and malleable to their purposes. I’m afraid I shocked a number of people when I spared your life, even if it was unquestionably within my authority to do so.”

“For which I am grateful, Chosen One,” said Sinclair, aware that this was the second time today he had been pointedly reminded of that action.

Jenimer simply smiled and continued. “My office no longer carries the authority to persuade the Council of Elders on my word alone. Many of the worker-caste leaders tend to agree with the military caste in this matter, if for different reasons. And opinion is not undivided among the religious caste. But there is a way and we believe it is the only way – to convince enough of the Grey Council, enough of the Minbari-caste leaders, and enough of the Minbari people that the great battle is upon us once again and that we must meet the challenge immediately. Our people hold prophecy in high regard, so we must show them that prophecy has foretold this moment in time and the events unfolding now, and that this prophecy must be fulfilled.”

Perhaps Jenimer wanted his pronouncement to sink in, or perhaps he wanted Sinclair to respond, for he simply paused and studied Sinclair – who waited, keeping his expression as polite as he could.

At last, Jenimer nodded to the Minbari he had earlier introduced as Turval.

“Ambassador.” Turval bowed politely to Sinclair. “As I believe you know through your studies of our history, when Valen first came to us, we were losing our fight against the Shadows – as much from fighting among ourselves as from the superior weapons of the enemy. Valen’s first task was to unify us – first forming the Grey Council to unify our government. Then forming the Rangers to unify our military. This last was essential because before Valen, each of the military clans had its own fighting force. They argued over tactics and strategy and who was best qualified to lead the battle. Tensions escalated until, tragically and shamefully, soldiers from two of the clans clashed in anger, and some were killed.

“Valen created the Rangers to be a fighting force made up of warriors from all of the military clans. They were trained in customs and traditions that were drawn from all of the clans, but recast into a form unique to the Rangers. Most importantly each Anla’shok would no longer swear allegiance to his clan or fight on its behalf, but swear allegiance only to the Entil’Zha and fight only on his behalf.”

“The Entil’Zha?” asked Sinclair.

“The meaning of the word is unknown,” said Turval. “It is thought to be of Vorlon derivation.”

Sinclair couldn’t help a small look of disbelief. They had two Vorlons in the room. Just like the Minbari to refuse to ask out of politeness. Though, given what he knew of the Vorlons, the Minbari could have been asking that question for a thousand years and not been given an answer.

“Okay, I take it then that Valen was the first Entil’Zha?”

“Yes,” said Turval. “He personally led the Rangers and all the forces of light against the Shadows and defeated them. Under his leadership, the Anla’shok were the most efficient and deadly fighting force the galaxy has ever seen. But Valen also recognized a danger in this. He knew that without an enemy to fight, such a group could become restless and dissatisfied, and should the wrong person become Entil’Zha under such circumstances, he could use that dissatisfaction to turn the Rangers into an army for conquest and power.

“But neither would he disband the Rangers, for Valen believed that without the unifying symbol of the Anla’shok, the Minbari military might once again become a collection of warring clan factions. And Valen believed the Shadows would return again some day and would succeed this time if there were not a unified Minbari to fight them, and a living Ranger tradition to lead that fight. So before Valen traveled beyond–“

Sinclair noted the strange phrase, often used with Valen, but with no one else. It was not a euphemism for death, and the Minbari never spoke of Valen actually dying.

“–he gave a new mission to the Rangers. They were not to be a fighting force anymore, but were to become sentries and watchers, collecting information quietly here on Minbar from returning travelers and friendly sources on other worlds. They would keep alive the traditions of the Rangers while they kept watch for any sign of the return of the Shadows. Their leader would be known by one of the same titles Valen himself carried – Anla’shok Na, or in your language, Ranger One – but he would not be Entil’Zha. And over the centuries, we have carried out our orders from our Entil’Zha. We are at present few in number, and we are as many old warriors as young, but entrusted with the title of Anla’shok Na, I have done my best to keep the Rangers ready for this day. I am honored and overjoyed to meet the new Entil’Zha.” And he bowed to Sinclair.

C
HAPTER 8

“ME?” said Sinclair, genuinely startled. He looked to Jenimer. “Listen, you think you have trouble with the military caste now, wait until you tell them you want me to be Entil’Zha. I don’t think they’ll go for it. And I’m not sure I want the job.”

Rathenn stepped forward, speaking for the first time since they had entered the presence of the Chosen One. “You are the fulfillment of a prophecy which was precisely written and specific in its vision. There is no doubt, for it was written in the time of Valen that a time would come in the distant future when the Shadows would awaken and once again threaten all life. And it has come to pass.”

“No offense intended, but as prophecies go, that probably seemed like a pretty safe bet back then,” Sinclair said. “Even I could have made such a prophecy.”

Rathenn continued as if Sinclair hadn’t spoken. “But prophecy also says that out of the darkness, hope would emerge in the form of one who comes from outside the three castes, yet is of the three castes; a Minbari not born of Minbari who shall become Entil’Zha and awaken the Anla’shok, as the Shadows have been awakened, and lead them in the battle to defeat the Shadows.”

And that, Sinclair thought, is just a reworking of the description of Valen, projected into the future.

“It is also believed,” Rathenn continued, “that the prophesied one may even carry a part of Valen’s soul itself.”

That seemed like a massive contradiction to Sinclair since the Minbari believed absolutely that Valen himself, in the flesh, not just his soul or part of his soul, would be coming back. He decided not to press the point, fearing a theological argument would get them off the track. After all, he’d never come across any religion on Earth that didn’t have its own share of contradictions.