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The Shadow of His Thoughts page4
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The Shadow of his Thoughts
by J. Michael Straczynski
page 4
But now, in her words, the the first time he allowed himself the possibility of hope.  That a world might live, she had said.  But which world?  Narn or Centauri Prime? 
    He stirred, realizing that he had sat silent for too long. 
He cleared his throat.  "And what else do you see?" 
    Her face darkened again, and her gaze drifted to his shoulder. Londo felt for a moment that she could see 
what was there, what no one else could see.  Impossible, 
he thought.  But the Keeper felt it too, and Londo sensed 
it go quiet . . . watching, waiting. 
    "I see  . . . shadows," she said.  "It is hard for me to see what sort of shadows, or what throws them, but I see 
pieces of shadows all over the palace, and beneath it, gradually spreading across our world.  They are the ones who will bring the fire. They are the ones who will bring the pain. 
    "I do not know who they are," she said, "I know only 
that that they are.  And that they are here." 
    Londo said nothing, knowing with cold certainty how 
close her words were to the truth, that the Drakh had 
once served an advanced race known only as the 
Shadows, gone now, but who left behind thier weapons 
and their servants and their allies. 
    Pieces of shadows indeed.  Slowly he realized that 
this was not just a hit-and-miss prophetess, guarding her words or disguising them in metaphor and imagery.  She 
was, as the humans said, the Real Deal.  And she knew things that the Drakh would not want her or anyone else 
to know. 
    An instant later, from the Keeper on his shoulder came 
a whisper that slipped into the back of his thoughts, instructions relayed from the Drakh in the capital city 
who monitored the Keeper as it monitored Londo. 
    The girl must die, the Keeper whispered, and Londo's blood ran cold in his veins. 
    Do it yourself if you have to, the whisper continured, 
but it must be done before she can take up her position. 
    Before she can speak with authority, and betray our presence. 
    She must die.  The rest of the day's ride was conducted in an 
uneasy silence punctuated only by occassional polite comments. Where Shiri had ben the one to avoid his gaze, now Londo did the same, knowing what he knew.  His thoughts raced back and forth between two poles: 
    If he had to do as the Drakh instructed, how could he 
ensure her death without compromising himself or 
revealing their intentions? 
    And, deeper in his thoughts, where he hoped the Drakh 
could not find it, how could he avoi having to kill her? 
    He was greatful for the interlude when they reched the 
final rest stop.  The next day's journey would see them in 
Tuwain.  While his entourage set up his tent and prepared dinner, he moved apart from them and opened the portable 
viewer that would put him in touch with the royal palace. 
    Minister Vole's face appeared on the viewer within a second of it's being acitvated.  He's probably been sitting 
by the screen all day again, waiting for the call, Londo concluded, Vole's eagerness could make even a dead man nervous.  "Yes, Excellency?" 
     "Any news?" Londo asked. 
    "I'm told that repairs to the spaceport are nearly 
complete; we should be able to reopen the rest of it by week's end." 
    "Good.  Contact the ministry for urban repairs and tell 
them to take at least an hour off to celebrate." 
    "I will, Excellency." 
    "Anything else?" 
    "Nothing significant.  The usual requests for your 
attention, debates in the Centarum that need to be resolved--" 
    "They can wait.  I need you find out everything you can 
concerning a woman, Delasi of House Miro." 
    "Of course, Excellency.  Is it important?" 
    Londo stared at the screen. "I'm sorry.  For a moment there I imagined myself to be the emperor.  You see, when the emperor points to something--anything--it automatically becomes important.  I am pointing to this, Vole.  If you are suggesting it might be something other than important, then I must no longer be the emperor.  Of course, that would imply sedition on your part, which last I heard was punishable by death, so--" 
    "I will get on it immediately, Excellency." 
    "Thank you, Minister." 
    The screen blipped off.  Londo allowed a smile; 
playing with Vole was almost too easy. He found he 
actually missed sparring with G'Kar and Sheridan, 
even Vir . . . at least there he had some competition. 
    He closed the viewer and decided to take a walk before 
retiring.  He signaled to the Imperial Guard, who would maintain their distance out of respect, while staying near enough to intervene should he run into trouble. 
    The woods near the campsite were thick with trees, 
their silver and gray leaves already turning black and gold in anticipation of winter.  A narrow path ran through the plae where they grew together the thickest.  Londo walked the well-worn path with confidence, knowing he need only 
make a sound to attract the guards, when he heard another sound nearby. 
    Someone was crying. 
    He slowed, edging toward a clearing in the woods. 
There in the double moonlight he saw Shiri in the arms 
of a young man.  He was holding her so tightly that Londo thought she might be pulled through him to the other side. 
    "You shouldn't have come, Corlo," she was saying. 
"It's dangerous." 
    "I don't care.  I had to see you.  I spoke with your 
father.  He doesn't want you doing this any more than I do.  It's that woman, Delasi . . . she preassured him into making her your guardian.  She uses people.  She doesn't care 
about you, Shiri. All she cares about is power." 
    "I know that, Corlo.  I know what she is, and what price 
I will pay.  But this is the only way to keep our family's 
honor. House Dei is without power and without money.  Soon all we have will be sold or taken away.  My father could even be sold into bond slavery to pay off our debts. 
I have a gift that guarantees that no matter what happens to me, my family will be taken care of forever.  My father 
needs this, even if he can't see it himself  I can't turn my 
back on him." 
    Corlo pulled her from his chest and looked at her.  "Can you turn your back on me?" 
Page  1   2 3   4 5   6 7
 Glass Tattoo


The Shadow of His Thoughts page4
This is G o o g l e's cache of http://www.glasstattoo.net/TSofHTpage4.htm.
G o o g l e's cache is the snapshot that we took of the page as we crawled the web.
The page may have changed since that time. Click here for the current page without highlighting.

Google is not affiliated with the authors of this page nor responsible for its content.
The Shadow of his Thoughts
by J. Michael Straczynski
page 4
But now, in her words, the the first time he allowed himself the possibility of hope.  That a world might live, she had said.  But which world?  Narn or Centauri Prime? 
    He stirred, realizing that he had sat silent for too long. 
He cleared his throat.  "And what else do you see?" 
    Her face darkened again, and her gaze drifted to his shoulder. Londo felt for a moment that she could see 
what was there, what no one else could see.  Impossible, 
he thought.  But the Keeper felt it too, and Londo sensed 
it go quiet . . . watching, waiting. 
    "I see  . . . shadows," she said.  "It is hard for me to see what sort of shadows, or what throws them, but I see 
pieces of shadows all over the palace, and beneath it, gradually spreading across our world.  They are the ones who will bring the fire. They are the ones who will bring the pain. 
    "I do not know who they are," she said, "I know only 
that that they are.  And that they are here." 
    Londo said nothing, knowing with cold certainty how 
close her words were to the truth, that the Drakh had 
once served an advanced race known only as the 
Shadows, gone now, but who left behind thier weapons 
and their servants and their allies. 
    Pieces of shadows indeed.  Slowly he realized that 
this was not just a hit-and-miss prophetess, guarding her words or disguising them in metaphor and imagery.  She 
was, as the humans said, the Real Deal.  And she knew things that the Drakh would not want her or anyone else 
to know. 
    An instant later, from the Keeper on his shoulder came 
a whisper that slipped into the back of his thoughts, instructions relayed from the Drakh in the capital city 
who monitored the Keeper as it monitored Londo. 
    The girl must die, the Keeper whispered, and Londo's blood ran cold in his veins. 
    Do it yourself if you have to, the whisper continured, 
but it must be done before she can take up her position. 
    Before she can speak with authority, and betray our presence. 
    She must die.  The rest of the day's ride was conducted in an 
uneasy silence punctuated only by occassional polite comments. Where Shiri had ben the one to avoid his gaze, now Londo did the same, knowing what he knew.  His thoughts raced back and forth between two poles: 
    If he had to do as the Drakh instructed, how could he 
ensure her death without compromising himself or 
revealing their intentions? 
    And, deeper in his thoughts, where he hoped the Drakh 
could not find it, how could he avoi having to kill her? 
    He was greatful for the interlude when they reched the 
final rest stop.  The next day's journey would see them in 
Tuwain.  While his entourage set up his tent and prepared dinner, he moved apart from them and opened the portable 
viewer that would put him in touch with the royal palace. 
    Minister Vole's face appeared on the viewer within a second of it's being acitvated.  He's probably been sitting 
by the screen all day again, waiting for the call, Londo concluded, Vole's eagerness could make even a dead man nervous.  "Yes, Excellency?" 
     "Any news?" Londo asked. 
    "I'm told that repairs to the spaceport are nearly 
complete; we should be able to reopen the rest of it by week's end." 
    "Good.  Contact the ministry for urban repairs and tell 
them to take at least an hour off to celebrate." 
    "I will, Excellency." 
    "Anything else?" 
    "Nothing significant.  The usual requests for your 
attention, debates in the Centarum that need to be resolved--" 
    "They can wait.  I need you find out everything you can 
concerning a woman, Delasi of House Miro." 
    "Of course, Excellency.  Is it important?" 
    Londo stared at the screen. "I'm sorry.  For a moment there I imagined myself to be the emperor.  You see, when the emperor points to something--anything--it automatically becomes important.  I am pointing to this, Vole.  If you are suggesting it might be something other than important, then I must no longer be the emperor.  Of course, that would imply sedition on your part, which last I heard was punishable by death, so--" 
    "I will get on it immediately, Excellency." 
    "Thank you, Minister." 
    The screen blipped off.  Londo allowed a smile; 
playing with Vole was almost too easy. He found he 
actually missed sparring with G'Kar and Sheridan, 
even Vir . . . at least there he had some competition. 
    He closed the viewer and decided to take a walk before 
retiring.  He signaled to the Imperial Guard, who would maintain their distance out of respect, while staying near enough to intervene should he run into trouble. 
    The woods near the campsite were thick with trees, 
their silver and gray leaves already turning black and gold in anticipation of winter.  A narrow path ran through the plae where they grew together the thickest.  Londo walked the well-worn path with confidence, knowing he need only 
make a sound to attract the guards, when he heard another sound nearby. 
    Someone was crying. 
    He slowed, edging toward a clearing in the woods. 
There in the double moonlight he saw Shiri in the arms 
of a young man.  He was holding her so tightly that Londo thought she might be pulled through him to the other side. 
    "You shouldn't have come, Corlo," she was saying. 
"It's dangerous." 
    "I don't care.  I had to see you.  I spoke with your 
father.  He doesn't want you doing this any more than I do.  It's that woman, Delasi . . . she preassured him into making her your guardian.  She uses people.  She doesn't care 
about you, Shiri. All she cares about is power." 
    "I know that, Corlo.  I know what she is, and what price 
I will pay.  But this is the only way to keep our family's 
honor. House Dei is without power and without money.  Soon all we have will be sold or taken away.  My father could even be sold into bond slavery to pay off our debts. 
I have a gift that guarantees that no matter what happens to me, my family will be taken care of forever.  My father 
needs this, even if he can't see it himself  I can't turn my 
back on him." 
    Corlo pulled her from his chest and looked at her.  "Can you turn your back on me?" 
Page  1   2 3   4 5   6 7
 Glass Tattoo