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lizbeeTitle: Sisterhood
Summary: The Sisters of Valeria summon Delenn and her son.
Rated: PG
Notes: Set during "The Lost Tales". Possibly I have a Thing about the ambiguous role of mothers in B5. Thanks to cesario for providing useful beta comments like "that bit is awesome" and "your title sucks, by the way".
The Face of Valeria
by LizBee
"I wanted to go to Babylon 5."
The mountains of the south pole were rising up before them, vast and icy, weirdly beautiful, but also terrifying. Normally David would have been excited, seeing such a place for the first time, but not now, when he might have been in space. The polar mountains seemed to taunt him, and so the complaint had slipped out.
"Yes," his mother said, her gaze distant, "so did I."
"Why did we have to come now? I mean, the anniversary--"
"We were summoned," his mother said, her tone final.
She looked so unhappy that David swallowed the rest of his complaints. Instead he said, "The mountains are pretty."
"They're the highest on Minbar. The temple was built here to honour Valeria." But she didn't look like she was seeing them. "We're almost at the landing site."
The temple was at the very top of the highest mountain, but the flyer set down at a point some distance below. Stairs were cut into the crystalline rock leading to the Temple of Valeria. David eyed them warily, his breath misting in the thin, cold air. He pulled his coat tighter around himself.
"The stairs symbolise the distance between Valeria and her supplicants," his mother explained as their pilot-guide began the ascent.
"Pretty solid symbol," said David, in English, so the guide wouldn't understand. He waited for the inevitable lecture about respect and obedience and not repeating the incident with Elder Callenn, but his mother had that faraway gaze again, and said nothing.
*
Ascending the mountain, Delenn felt as if she were David's age again, visiting the Temple of Valeria for the very first time. She had been scared by the scale of the place, and her father had reassured her that nothing here could harm her. He had held her hand tightly in his as they made their way up the staircase, and she had done her best to leave her fears behind. David, by contrast, seemed fearless; when she looked at him, all she saw was naked curiosity. But then, he didn't understand the significance of this place. They never spoke of his grandmother.
The sun was sinking by the time they reached the summit. In the entrance chamber, they were permitted to sit and rest. A veiled acolyte brought them hot spiced tea. Delenn wrapped her hands around the cup and inhaled the familiar scent.
When it was fully dark, the acolyte presented them with the brightly coloured ceremonial robes worn by visitors to the temple. David regarded the shimmering fabric with distaste, but he donned the cloak without comment.
"The hood, too," Delenn told him. "There are no bare faces in Valeria's temple."
She pulled her own hood low, thinking of the Grey Council, her years in shadow. She had played so many different roles in her life; sometimes it felt like a million years lay between her and the girl who had been chosen by Dukhat. She tried to imagine walking away from her current life as mother-politician-wife, exchanging it all for this temple on the mountain, but she recoiled from the thought. This was not her home; this could never be her life.
They were led through the temple, their footsteps echoing through the vast corridors. It was almost silent, but for the occasional whisper of voices coming from other rooms. They were brought to the contemplation chamber, set into the side of the mountain. A fountain trickled in the centre of the room; the pool of water reflected the mountains outside.
They waited for a long time. The sun set. A young man, a lay brother, brought them a modest meal and more tea.
"How long are we going to be here?" David asked.
"As long as necessary."
"I bet Dad's almost at Babylon 5 by now." He scuffed his shoes against the floor. "I wish I was there." He hesitated. "Mother," he said, then lowered his voice and switched to English. "Mom, I don't understand. In temple, Sech Merana said Valeria was how ancient people saw Vorlons -- that primitive Minbari worshipped her as a god. But now we know about Vorlons, and we don't worship gods, so why is this still here?"
"Did you ask Sech Merana that question?"
"She said the ancient traditions of our people are not to be questioned," he recited. "Then Harvenn said that Valeria manifested on Babylon 5, and later Yallis said that his mother said that was Interstellar Alliance propaganda, so I showed him that Ranger trick where you get the arm and--"
"Much about your school reports becomes clear."
"But Yallis said--"
"You can't fight every person who disagrees with us." Trying for a lighter tone sheadded, "we spend enough time in meetings with your teachers already." He ducked his head but didn't smile. Seeing that he was not about to be distracted, Delenn said, "Did Sech Merana tell you that the word 'Vorlon' meant 'god of light' in the language of ancient Minbar?"
"No."
"The Vorlons have been coming here for longer than we've had recorded history. Ties between the Vorlons and the Minbari were so close then that no one knows if that was really a Minbari word, or if we took it from the Vorlons themselves."
"So it was like the Minbari and the humans?"
"Not quite." Despite herself, Delenn smiled. "Not an alliance of equals, more like the relationship between siblings." She hesitated. She was, after all, speaking to an only child. "We went for thousands of years without a manifestation of Valeria, but the Sisters remember her gifts. They observe all that happens on Minbar, and the colony worlds. They watch, and they record, but they never interfere. Much of our culture comes from the Vorlons. Our value for order, conformity, symmetry. Even now, most Minbari are taught not to ask questions, and it is not permitted to look into the face of the Nine."
There was a rustle of movement in the shadows. "You even speak like an outsider, Delenn."
Delenn rose to her feet as the priestess of Valeria approached; she bowed, motioning David to do the same. "My soul is as it was," she said.
"And you, child?" the priestess asked David. "Is your soul Minbari, or human?"
"Our souls are the same," David said.
"Well. You're Delenn's son, if nothing else. Lower your hood," she said, more gently. "I would like to see your face."
He obeyed, looking up at her without fear or shyness. The priestess's breath caught in her throat.
"You have my father's eyes," she said. "I ... was not prepared for that."
She lowered her own hood, and for the third time in her life, Delenn looked upon her mother's face.
*
David stepped back, reeling. Once he had found a picture of his mother as a child, in the arms of a solemn man with gentle eyes. "My father," she had told him, and taken it away. He had his human family, grandparents on Earth, an aunt and uncle and cousins. And he had his Minbari clan, the family Mir and the Tenth Fane of Elleya. But his Minbari relatives were distant; Callenn disapproved of him, and there were only a few cousins of his age. A Minbari grandmother was a concept that had never before occurred to him.
She was still studying him, her expression unreadable.
"You remind me of Delenn at this age," she said. "I had not expected such familiar features in a half-Minbari child. Not in the son of the man the warrior caste called 'Starkiller'. The man who exiled the Vorlons."
"He is my son, too," said Delenn sharply, throwing her own hood back. "And I was part of that victory also."
His grandmother cupped David's face in her hands for a moment.
"Listen to me," she told him, ignoring his mother, "you are the last direct descendant of Valen. There are others -- many others -- but my ancestors were among the very few who kept records. In another life, you would have belonged to my family, but we are a diminished people, and I was the last of my family. I joined with a man of the family Mir, and his people adopted me. But I never forgot who I came from." She smiled. "You already live in the shadow of great parents, but I think you would have done well, in my own family."
David swallowed. Conversations he had overheard as a child and only half-understood were coming back to him, and somehow the world suddenly seemed much older and stranger than before. He was suddenly very cold, and very tired.
"I need to speak to your mother," the high priestess said. "Wait for us. There is a room down the corridor." She pointed. Doubtful, he looked to his mother for confirmation; she nodded, but he remained still.
"David," she said. "Please."
He left. The waiting room was empty except for a bench, but the walls were made from mosaics depicting the manifestations of Valeria. David studied them, trying to figure out how the coloured had all been fitted together so tightly, in the days before they had tools to carve minute pieces of crystal, and computers to ensure the construction was stable. And what it was like to leave everything behind to live here and serve.
"Is there someone there? One of the acolytes? Stupid girl, I don't bite. Speak up, I can hear you breathing."
He jumped, reaching guiltily for his hood. Then he realised the newcomer was very old, and blind.
"I'm here," he said. "My name's David."
She moved carefully to the bench and sat down beside him.
"Delenn's child," she said, and took his hand. "I've seen you in my dreams."
*
"Why?" Delenn demanded. "I was an adult before I learned of my heritage, and the knowledge didn't come from you."
"No," her mother agreed. "I gave the records of my family to Dukhat. I trusted him to do what was right."
"Did you not trust me? Or my father?"
"One of the sisters here is a seer. I'm told that precognition is common among other races -- the Centauri, for example. But Ennala is the only Minbari I've ever heard of with the gift. She came to me, when I was a postulant, and told me that my daughter would grow up to destroy Valeria." She smiled sadly. "Ten years ago, you and your husband banished the Vorlons. In the civil war of that year, the warrior caste surrounded this temple and accused us of worshipping aliens. As if Valeria were nothing more than a god. As if we worshipped." She pronounced the word with distaste. "Now I'm told that the religious caste believes that the Vorlons were no better than the enemy they taught us to fight. As if order is merely a shadow of chaos, an equivalence." She circled Delenn. "I have meditated on this for some years. Now the time has come to ask: having cast out Valeria, what will you do to her sisters?" She stopped. "What do you want, Delenn?"
"I will not answer that question," Delenn snapped. "Not for you. Not in this place."
"Your respect for our traditions is conveniently selective."
"The Vorlons are gone," said Delenn, "because we could not allow them to stay. They destroyed the worlds that offended them, just as they taught us to--" she stopped; blaming the Vorlons for her war was an indulgence of cowardice she could not permit herself. "They taught us order and symmetry, and we thought them a manifestation of the universe's perfection. But they were imperfect creatures fighting a war of their own, and to most of them, we were no more than pieces on a board. Like parents who do not truly care for their children."
"Like me?" her mother said.
"No. I've never doubted that you loved me." Delenn looked away. "At times I envy you your vocation. I made myself a tool of prophecy. Now the prophecies are complete, and I am left without a guide. My husband calls it freedom. But..."
"You crave order. Guidance. Knowledge. The gifts of Valeria."
"No," said Delenn. "Not that."
"Listen," said her mother. "There's something you must know."
*
"I see the future," the old woman said. "Sometimes we can change it. Other times it's set as solid as these walls."
David said, "What did you see?"
Her hand was tight around his.
"Before you become a man, your parents will betray you, all unknowing. Your mother will give up her deepest secrets to save you."
"I don't--"
"Don't interrupt," she snapped. "Your father will die very young, and you'll be far away. Your mother will die very old, and you'll be far away. You will save the man who lost himself. You will fight enemies old and new. You will be worker, warrior and religious. You will walk in the dark places." She stopped, tears shimmering in her milky eyes. "Isil'zha."
"I don't understand," David whispered.
"But you will." She stood up,getting to her feet with a grunt of pain. "I'm tired," she said. "I've been waiting too long. Where's that acolyte? Silly girl, can no more achieve enlightenment than she can brew tea--"
She shuffled away, muttering to herself. David knew he should go and help her, but he was rooted to the spot, wishing more than ever that he'd never come.
*
"Seven years ago, a man came to us," said the priestess. "He had served in the war against the Shadows; later he joined the Anla'shok. He came to us as a lay brother. His experience in the war left him with profound questions, about the Vorlons and ourselves. And, I suppose, about his own soul. He sought to understand their motives. More than anything else, he wanted wisdom. And, perhaps, forgiveness. Perhaps for himself. Perhaps for the Vorlons."
Delenn's throat was tight.
"Did he speak of me?"
"Often."
"What did--?"
"I gave him my word I would not repeat it."
"Please." Delenn clutched at her mother's arms, but the priestess of Valeria was unyielding.
"I gave my word," she repeated, her voice harsh. "Do not ask again, Delenn, you insult us both."
"Where is he now?"
"Gone away." Her mother's voice was low, sad. "To the Vorlon homeworld, if it remains. To salvage what knowledge he can." Her fingers plucked at the wide sleeve of her robe: the first careless movement Delenn had ever seen her make. "It is, after all, the legacy of Valeria."
Delenn stared at the fountain. Postulants would spend hours in this room, using the movement of the water to focus their meditation. She was well past being an acolyte, but it took all her discipline to bring her thoughts under control.
Her voice, when she spoke, was even, betraying no emotion.
"The Alliance declared Vorlon space a total exclusion zone. The Sisterhood is still subject to Minbari law, is it not?"
"There are considerations beyond legality."
"Only one person has ever returned from Vorlon space," said Delenn. "She was irrevocably changed by the experience."
"I won't pretend it was an easy decision," the priestess admitted. "We prayed. Meditated. Argued. I often wished Dukhat was alive. More than anything, I wanted his guidance."
In other circumstances, Delenn thought, they might have approached her for guidance. The acolyte speaks with the master's voice, the old saying went. The thought was a bitter one.
"Dukhat was on his way to Z'ha'dum when he died," she said. "He could not bear to leave a puzzle unsolved, a question unanswered."
"He once said the same of you."
"I learned better."
Her mother's face was unreadable. She stood up, drew her hood up, and walked away, as unknowable as Valeria herself.
Delenn lingered for a long time, watching the play of light on water.
*
It seemed like David had been sitting in the antechamber forever, but when he returned to the room with the fountain, the heavy doors were closed and sealed.
For a moment he entertained himself with a vision of a heroic rescue, one boy fighting a hoard of hooded priestesses to rescue his mother. Then he remembered the old woman's words: Your father will die ... your mother will die ... you'll be far away...
Suddenly angry, he marched back to the antechamber, but the floor absorbed the noise of his heavy footsteps, and even the mosaic seemed to mock him. Valeria-on-High and her priestesses could take a jumpgate to hell for all he cared, along with their legacies and prophecies and manifestations.
He wished he'd gone to Babylon 5.
Eventually the doors opened. David, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, didn't bother looking up until his mother was standing directly in front of him. He tried to keep his face blank, but the first thing she said was, "What happened?"
"Nothing."
She looked as bad as he felt, but she pulled him to his feet with an attempt at a smile, straightening his cloak and raising his hood.
"A room has been prepared for us," she said. "It's late. You should sleep."
"I don't think I can sleep here," he admitted.
"Then we can meditate together."
*
But he did fall asleep, and quickly, and Delenn abandoned her prayers to watch him at rest. Even a child learned to conceal his true face in the waking hours, but David seemed almost unchanged. Sleep left him looking younger, perhaps more fragile, but he was still the brave, stubborn child he had always been.
And what, Delenn wondered, would an observer make of her true face right now? What would her mother see? She wished now that she had not swallowed her anger. But raging against the universe would do nothing to restore what had been lost; she had learned that lesson long ago.
No one comes back from the Vorlon homeworld.
If you go to Z'ha'dum, you will die.
John had returned from Z'ha'dum. Lyta had returned from the Vorlon homeworld. Both irrevocably changed, but alive.
What did she want, she asked herself. Nothing that could be guaranteed with a promise: the health and safety of her family, the success of the Alliance.
Lennier, alive and whole.
Her mother.
Like Lyta Alexander, her mother had given up everything for a Vorlon. Lyta had escaped; so could her mother -- but the Temple of Valeria was a prison inhabited by volunteers, and it had held her mother for five decades already.
Her thoughts were running in circles. What she wanted was to take her questions to someone else, let another's wisdom help her deal with the problem of wanting what she was not supposed to desire. Her father would have understood, but he was long dead, another victim of her war.
The Sisterhood had been right not to seek her guidance, she thought.
She thought she might sleep, but she had no sooner wrapped her cloak around herself when there was a knock at the door.
"There is an urgent message for you," said the lay brother, looking apologetic. "From Babylon 5. Come at once."
David stirred. Delenn was already on her feet, following him out.
*
He had woken up at the first knock, and was heading out into the corridor before he was fully alert. His mother, moving ahead, didn't see him. David followed them down a long, steep staircase -- he wondered, briefly, how the older sisters coped -- but when they arrived at their destination, he realised there were no older people here. It was a communications hub, as modern as the one at ISA headquarters, yet somehow ineffably ancient at the same time. His mother was huddled over a monitor. Her hair was falling into her face, obscuring David's view; he slipped closer, holding his breath until he heard his father's voice.
"--Seemed like a safer option than sending him back to Centauri Prime," he was saying.
"I agree," said his mother. "He needs a family."
"Londo will--"
David missed the next bit, ducking to avoid passing acolytes. He lingered in the doorway.
"--Forgot about the time difference," his father said. "Are you--"
"I'm fine," said his mother, in that tone that meant she wasn't, but would not speak about it now. "I'll see you soon."
The channel closed, she turned to look at him.
"David," she said, then just shook her head.
"I just thought," he felt foolish, now. "Babylon 5's a long way away. Anything could happen."
"Yes," his mother agreed. She squeezed his shoulder and led him out. "But nothing did. Go back to bed."
This time, she fell asleep before he did. David lay awake for a while, looking into the darkness, before he, too, slept again.
*
They were woken at dawn, and broke their fast with bread and winter fruits. David toyed with his food until he saw Delenn watching him.
"The flyer to Tuzanor will leave shortly," Delenn promised David. He nodded, but said nothing.
"It will be good to get home. I left a great deal of work behind."
No response. Delenn sipped her tea and let silence fall, like the snow.
An acolyte intercepted them on their way to the entrance chamber.
"The priestess wishes to speak to you before you leave," she said. "The flyer will wait."
Delenn found her mother waiting, bare-faced, in the chamber where they'd spoken the night before.
"I," the priestess hesitated, "I was, perhaps, unfair to you last night. I summoned you as a leader of the Religious Caste, but when you stood before me, I saw -- an object of resentment. A Minbari who abandoned consensus and rejected our ways. Who -- who hurt a friend deeply. Even if she did not intend to."
"And a daughter?" Delenn asked. "Did you see that?"
The whole world seemed to fill with the splash of the fountain.
"Yes," her mother said. "But that goes without saying."
Her eyes were very bright.
Delenn circled the pool slowly.
"I shall take the news of the Sisterhood's expedition to Vorlon space to the Grey Council," she said. "The Nine shall inform the Alliance. I expect the advisory council will vote for a censure against Minbar, but your order won't be touched."
"I didn't call you here to protect us, Delenn," her mother said. "Or to punish us. The Religious Caste had to be told, and Lennier asked me particularly to tell you."
"Why?"
"He said that a brother should forgive his older sister for any unintentional hurt."
Delenn sat down, tears pricking her eyes. Her mother joined her, taking her hand, stroking her fingers.
"Tell me," she said, "what it is like to look at a Vorlon."
"All doubts are erased. Even in madness and death, they are beautiful."
"I should have liked to see one," her mother admitted. "I would have asked if ... if all this was worth it."
"You would not have received a straightforward answer."
"I would not have expected one."
Delenn said, "I didn't know you had doubts. Or -- regrets."
"There's not a person within these walls who does not wonder sometimes what might have been, had our hearts called us differently."
"Then leave," Delenn said suddenly. "That is what I want. This temple will stand for another five thousand years, but it doesn't need you. Come home with me. Meet my husband. Teach David and I the history of your family." Delenn's voice cracked. "I've seen Vorlons. They don't deserve you."
Her mother looked down at their entwined hands, temptation visible in her face.
"I would like that," she admitted.
"But you won't."
"This is the calling of my heart. I couldn't leave the Sisterhood, any more than you could leave your family to come here. I belong here, Delenn."
And there could be no further argument. Her mother walked her to the entrance chamber. Her hand was warm in Delenn's. David straightened as they approached, almost knocking down an acolyte in his haste to be outside.
Delenn and her mother paused in the threshold. Delenn wanted to speak, but words had deserted her. Perhaps her mother felt the same way.
"In our next lives," she murmured, and released Delenn's hand.
*
"What did she say?" David demanded as they descended the staircase. "What happened? Why did we have to come?"
But his mother offered no answer.
"Do you really believe in prophecy?" he asked suddenly, kicking a loose rock.
"Yes," said his mother.
"Yallis said we shape our lives to fit prophecy's mold."
"That, too, is true."
He picked up a rock, leaned back, and threw it as hard as he could. It landed, shattering, an outcrop far below.
"That's not safe," his mother said automatically.
"So which is it?" David demanded. "Are prophecies self-fulfilling, or--" He didn't want to finish that thought. In his mother's face, he saw an echo of his own dread.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Both. Neither. It doesn't take clairvoyancy to predict that a journey to the Shadows' homeworld will end in death. And someone did return from Vorlon space, once."
"I don't understand," said David.
His mother just smiled. She picked up a rock of her own, examined it for a moment, then threw it.
He didn't see it land.
end
Summary: The Sisters of Valeria summon Delenn and her son.
Rated: PG
Notes: Set during "The Lost Tales". Possibly I have a Thing about the ambiguous role of mothers in B5. Thanks to cesario for providing useful beta comments like "that bit is awesome" and "your title sucks, by the way".
The Face of Valeria
by LizBee
"I wanted to go to Babylon 5."
The mountains of the south pole were rising up before them, vast and icy, weirdly beautiful, but also terrifying. Normally David would have been excited, seeing such a place for the first time, but not now, when he might have been in space. The polar mountains seemed to taunt him, and so the complaint had slipped out.
"Yes," his mother said, her gaze distant, "so did I."
"Why did we have to come now? I mean, the anniversary--"
"We were summoned," his mother said, her tone final.
She looked so unhappy that David swallowed the rest of his complaints. Instead he said, "The mountains are pretty."
"They're the highest on Minbar. The temple was built here to honour Valeria." But she didn't look like she was seeing them. "We're almost at the landing site."
The temple was at the very top of the highest mountain, but the flyer set down at a point some distance below. Stairs were cut into the crystalline rock leading to the Temple of Valeria. David eyed them warily, his breath misting in the thin, cold air. He pulled his coat tighter around himself.
"The stairs symbolise the distance between Valeria and her supplicants," his mother explained as their pilot-guide began the ascent.
"Pretty solid symbol," said David, in English, so the guide wouldn't understand. He waited for the inevitable lecture about respect and obedience and not repeating the incident with Elder Callenn, but his mother had that faraway gaze again, and said nothing.
*
Ascending the mountain, Delenn felt as if she were David's age again, visiting the Temple of Valeria for the very first time. She had been scared by the scale of the place, and her father had reassured her that nothing here could harm her. He had held her hand tightly in his as they made their way up the staircase, and she had done her best to leave her fears behind. David, by contrast, seemed fearless; when she looked at him, all she saw was naked curiosity. But then, he didn't understand the significance of this place. They never spoke of his grandmother.
The sun was sinking by the time they reached the summit. In the entrance chamber, they were permitted to sit and rest. A veiled acolyte brought them hot spiced tea. Delenn wrapped her hands around the cup and inhaled the familiar scent.
When it was fully dark, the acolyte presented them with the brightly coloured ceremonial robes worn by visitors to the temple. David regarded the shimmering fabric with distaste, but he donned the cloak without comment.
"The hood, too," Delenn told him. "There are no bare faces in Valeria's temple."
She pulled her own hood low, thinking of the Grey Council, her years in shadow. She had played so many different roles in her life; sometimes it felt like a million years lay between her and the girl who had been chosen by Dukhat. She tried to imagine walking away from her current life as mother-politician-wife, exchanging it all for this temple on the mountain, but she recoiled from the thought. This was not her home; this could never be her life.
They were led through the temple, their footsteps echoing through the vast corridors. It was almost silent, but for the occasional whisper of voices coming from other rooms. They were brought to the contemplation chamber, set into the side of the mountain. A fountain trickled in the centre of the room; the pool of water reflected the mountains outside.
They waited for a long time. The sun set. A young man, a lay brother, brought them a modest meal and more tea.
"How long are we going to be here?" David asked.
"As long as necessary."
"I bet Dad's almost at Babylon 5 by now." He scuffed his shoes against the floor. "I wish I was there." He hesitated. "Mother," he said, then lowered his voice and switched to English. "Mom, I don't understand. In temple, Sech Merana said Valeria was how ancient people saw Vorlons -- that primitive Minbari worshipped her as a god. But now we know about Vorlons, and we don't worship gods, so why is this still here?"
"Did you ask Sech Merana that question?"
"She said the ancient traditions of our people are not to be questioned," he recited. "Then Harvenn said that Valeria manifested on Babylon 5, and later Yallis said that his mother said that was Interstellar Alliance propaganda, so I showed him that Ranger trick where you get the arm and--"
"Much about your school reports becomes clear."
"But Yallis said--"
"You can't fight every person who disagrees with us." Trying for a lighter tone sheadded, "we spend enough time in meetings with your teachers already." He ducked his head but didn't smile. Seeing that he was not about to be distracted, Delenn said, "Did Sech Merana tell you that the word 'Vorlon' meant 'god of light' in the language of ancient Minbar?"
"No."
"The Vorlons have been coming here for longer than we've had recorded history. Ties between the Vorlons and the Minbari were so close then that no one knows if that was really a Minbari word, or if we took it from the Vorlons themselves."
"So it was like the Minbari and the humans?"
"Not quite." Despite herself, Delenn smiled. "Not an alliance of equals, more like the relationship between siblings." She hesitated. She was, after all, speaking to an only child. "We went for thousands of years without a manifestation of Valeria, but the Sisters remember her gifts. They observe all that happens on Minbar, and the colony worlds. They watch, and they record, but they never interfere. Much of our culture comes from the Vorlons. Our value for order, conformity, symmetry. Even now, most Minbari are taught not to ask questions, and it is not permitted to look into the face of the Nine."
There was a rustle of movement in the shadows. "You even speak like an outsider, Delenn."
Delenn rose to her feet as the priestess of Valeria approached; she bowed, motioning David to do the same. "My soul is as it was," she said.
"And you, child?" the priestess asked David. "Is your soul Minbari, or human?"
"Our souls are the same," David said.
"Well. You're Delenn's son, if nothing else. Lower your hood," she said, more gently. "I would like to see your face."
He obeyed, looking up at her without fear or shyness. The priestess's breath caught in her throat.
"You have my father's eyes," she said. "I ... was not prepared for that."
She lowered her own hood, and for the third time in her life, Delenn looked upon her mother's face.
*
David stepped back, reeling. Once he had found a picture of his mother as a child, in the arms of a solemn man with gentle eyes. "My father," she had told him, and taken it away. He had his human family, grandparents on Earth, an aunt and uncle and cousins. And he had his Minbari clan, the family Mir and the Tenth Fane of Elleya. But his Minbari relatives were distant; Callenn disapproved of him, and there were only a few cousins of his age. A Minbari grandmother was a concept that had never before occurred to him.
She was still studying him, her expression unreadable.
"You remind me of Delenn at this age," she said. "I had not expected such familiar features in a half-Minbari child. Not in the son of the man the warrior caste called 'Starkiller'. The man who exiled the Vorlons."
"He is my son, too," said Delenn sharply, throwing her own hood back. "And I was part of that victory also."
His grandmother cupped David's face in her hands for a moment.
"Listen to me," she told him, ignoring his mother, "you are the last direct descendant of Valen. There are others -- many others -- but my ancestors were among the very few who kept records. In another life, you would have belonged to my family, but we are a diminished people, and I was the last of my family. I joined with a man of the family Mir, and his people adopted me. But I never forgot who I came from." She smiled. "You already live in the shadow of great parents, but I think you would have done well, in my own family."
David swallowed. Conversations he had overheard as a child and only half-understood were coming back to him, and somehow the world suddenly seemed much older and stranger than before. He was suddenly very cold, and very tired.
"I need to speak to your mother," the high priestess said. "Wait for us. There is a room down the corridor." She pointed. Doubtful, he looked to his mother for confirmation; she nodded, but he remained still.
"David," she said. "Please."
He left. The waiting room was empty except for a bench, but the walls were made from mosaics depicting the manifestations of Valeria. David studied them, trying to figure out how the coloured had all been fitted together so tightly, in the days before they had tools to carve minute pieces of crystal, and computers to ensure the construction was stable. And what it was like to leave everything behind to live here and serve.
"Is there someone there? One of the acolytes? Stupid girl, I don't bite. Speak up, I can hear you breathing."
He jumped, reaching guiltily for his hood. Then he realised the newcomer was very old, and blind.
"I'm here," he said. "My name's David."
She moved carefully to the bench and sat down beside him.
"Delenn's child," she said, and took his hand. "I've seen you in my dreams."
*
"Why?" Delenn demanded. "I was an adult before I learned of my heritage, and the knowledge didn't come from you."
"No," her mother agreed. "I gave the records of my family to Dukhat. I trusted him to do what was right."
"Did you not trust me? Or my father?"
"One of the sisters here is a seer. I'm told that precognition is common among other races -- the Centauri, for example. But Ennala is the only Minbari I've ever heard of with the gift. She came to me, when I was a postulant, and told me that my daughter would grow up to destroy Valeria." She smiled sadly. "Ten years ago, you and your husband banished the Vorlons. In the civil war of that year, the warrior caste surrounded this temple and accused us of worshipping aliens. As if Valeria were nothing more than a god. As if we worshipped." She pronounced the word with distaste. "Now I'm told that the religious caste believes that the Vorlons were no better than the enemy they taught us to fight. As if order is merely a shadow of chaos, an equivalence." She circled Delenn. "I have meditated on this for some years. Now the time has come to ask: having cast out Valeria, what will you do to her sisters?" She stopped. "What do you want, Delenn?"
"I will not answer that question," Delenn snapped. "Not for you. Not in this place."
"Your respect for our traditions is conveniently selective."
"The Vorlons are gone," said Delenn, "because we could not allow them to stay. They destroyed the worlds that offended them, just as they taught us to--" she stopped; blaming the Vorlons for her war was an indulgence of cowardice she could not permit herself. "They taught us order and symmetry, and we thought them a manifestation of the universe's perfection. But they were imperfect creatures fighting a war of their own, and to most of them, we were no more than pieces on a board. Like parents who do not truly care for their children."
"Like me?" her mother said.
"No. I've never doubted that you loved me." Delenn looked away. "At times I envy you your vocation. I made myself a tool of prophecy. Now the prophecies are complete, and I am left without a guide. My husband calls it freedom. But..."
"You crave order. Guidance. Knowledge. The gifts of Valeria."
"No," said Delenn. "Not that."
"Listen," said her mother. "There's something you must know."
*
"I see the future," the old woman said. "Sometimes we can change it. Other times it's set as solid as these walls."
David said, "What did you see?"
Her hand was tight around his.
"Before you become a man, your parents will betray you, all unknowing. Your mother will give up her deepest secrets to save you."
"I don't--"
"Don't interrupt," she snapped. "Your father will die very young, and you'll be far away. Your mother will die very old, and you'll be far away. You will save the man who lost himself. You will fight enemies old and new. You will be worker, warrior and religious. You will walk in the dark places." She stopped, tears shimmering in her milky eyes. "Isil'zha."
"I don't understand," David whispered.
"But you will." She stood up,getting to her feet with a grunt of pain. "I'm tired," she said. "I've been waiting too long. Where's that acolyte? Silly girl, can no more achieve enlightenment than she can brew tea--"
She shuffled away, muttering to herself. David knew he should go and help her, but he was rooted to the spot, wishing more than ever that he'd never come.
*
"Seven years ago, a man came to us," said the priestess. "He had served in the war against the Shadows; later he joined the Anla'shok. He came to us as a lay brother. His experience in the war left him with profound questions, about the Vorlons and ourselves. And, I suppose, about his own soul. He sought to understand their motives. More than anything else, he wanted wisdom. And, perhaps, forgiveness. Perhaps for himself. Perhaps for the Vorlons."
Delenn's throat was tight.
"Did he speak of me?"
"Often."
"What did--?"
"I gave him my word I would not repeat it."
"Please." Delenn clutched at her mother's arms, but the priestess of Valeria was unyielding.
"I gave my word," she repeated, her voice harsh. "Do not ask again, Delenn, you insult us both."
"Where is he now?"
"Gone away." Her mother's voice was low, sad. "To the Vorlon homeworld, if it remains. To salvage what knowledge he can." Her fingers plucked at the wide sleeve of her robe: the first careless movement Delenn had ever seen her make. "It is, after all, the legacy of Valeria."
Delenn stared at the fountain. Postulants would spend hours in this room, using the movement of the water to focus their meditation. She was well past being an acolyte, but it took all her discipline to bring her thoughts under control.
Her voice, when she spoke, was even, betraying no emotion.
"The Alliance declared Vorlon space a total exclusion zone. The Sisterhood is still subject to Minbari law, is it not?"
"There are considerations beyond legality."
"Only one person has ever returned from Vorlon space," said Delenn. "She was irrevocably changed by the experience."
"I won't pretend it was an easy decision," the priestess admitted. "We prayed. Meditated. Argued. I often wished Dukhat was alive. More than anything, I wanted his guidance."
In other circumstances, Delenn thought, they might have approached her for guidance. The acolyte speaks with the master's voice, the old saying went. The thought was a bitter one.
"Dukhat was on his way to Z'ha'dum when he died," she said. "He could not bear to leave a puzzle unsolved, a question unanswered."
"He once said the same of you."
"I learned better."
Her mother's face was unreadable. She stood up, drew her hood up, and walked away, as unknowable as Valeria herself.
Delenn lingered for a long time, watching the play of light on water.
*
It seemed like David had been sitting in the antechamber forever, but when he returned to the room with the fountain, the heavy doors were closed and sealed.
For a moment he entertained himself with a vision of a heroic rescue, one boy fighting a hoard of hooded priestesses to rescue his mother. Then he remembered the old woman's words: Your father will die ... your mother will die ... you'll be far away...
Suddenly angry, he marched back to the antechamber, but the floor absorbed the noise of his heavy footsteps, and even the mosaic seemed to mock him. Valeria-on-High and her priestesses could take a jumpgate to hell for all he cared, along with their legacies and prophecies and manifestations.
He wished he'd gone to Babylon 5.
Eventually the doors opened. David, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, didn't bother looking up until his mother was standing directly in front of him. He tried to keep his face blank, but the first thing she said was, "What happened?"
"Nothing."
She looked as bad as he felt, but she pulled him to his feet with an attempt at a smile, straightening his cloak and raising his hood.
"A room has been prepared for us," she said. "It's late. You should sleep."
"I don't think I can sleep here," he admitted.
"Then we can meditate together."
*
But he did fall asleep, and quickly, and Delenn abandoned her prayers to watch him at rest. Even a child learned to conceal his true face in the waking hours, but David seemed almost unchanged. Sleep left him looking younger, perhaps more fragile, but he was still the brave, stubborn child he had always been.
And what, Delenn wondered, would an observer make of her true face right now? What would her mother see? She wished now that she had not swallowed her anger. But raging against the universe would do nothing to restore what had been lost; she had learned that lesson long ago.
No one comes back from the Vorlon homeworld.
If you go to Z'ha'dum, you will die.
John had returned from Z'ha'dum. Lyta had returned from the Vorlon homeworld. Both irrevocably changed, but alive.
What did she want, she asked herself. Nothing that could be guaranteed with a promise: the health and safety of her family, the success of the Alliance.
Lennier, alive and whole.
Her mother.
Like Lyta Alexander, her mother had given up everything for a Vorlon. Lyta had escaped; so could her mother -- but the Temple of Valeria was a prison inhabited by volunteers, and it had held her mother for five decades already.
Her thoughts were running in circles. What she wanted was to take her questions to someone else, let another's wisdom help her deal with the problem of wanting what she was not supposed to desire. Her father would have understood, but he was long dead, another victim of her war.
The Sisterhood had been right not to seek her guidance, she thought.
She thought she might sleep, but she had no sooner wrapped her cloak around herself when there was a knock at the door.
"There is an urgent message for you," said the lay brother, looking apologetic. "From Babylon 5. Come at once."
David stirred. Delenn was already on her feet, following him out.
*
He had woken up at the first knock, and was heading out into the corridor before he was fully alert. His mother, moving ahead, didn't see him. David followed them down a long, steep staircase -- he wondered, briefly, how the older sisters coped -- but when they arrived at their destination, he realised there were no older people here. It was a communications hub, as modern as the one at ISA headquarters, yet somehow ineffably ancient at the same time. His mother was huddled over a monitor. Her hair was falling into her face, obscuring David's view; he slipped closer, holding his breath until he heard his father's voice.
"--Seemed like a safer option than sending him back to Centauri Prime," he was saying.
"I agree," said his mother. "He needs a family."
"Londo will--"
David missed the next bit, ducking to avoid passing acolytes. He lingered in the doorway.
"--Forgot about the time difference," his father said. "Are you--"
"I'm fine," said his mother, in that tone that meant she wasn't, but would not speak about it now. "I'll see you soon."
The channel closed, she turned to look at him.
"David," she said, then just shook her head.
"I just thought," he felt foolish, now. "Babylon 5's a long way away. Anything could happen."
"Yes," his mother agreed. She squeezed his shoulder and led him out. "But nothing did. Go back to bed."
This time, she fell asleep before he did. David lay awake for a while, looking into the darkness, before he, too, slept again.
*
They were woken at dawn, and broke their fast with bread and winter fruits. David toyed with his food until he saw Delenn watching him.
"The flyer to Tuzanor will leave shortly," Delenn promised David. He nodded, but said nothing.
"It will be good to get home. I left a great deal of work behind."
No response. Delenn sipped her tea and let silence fall, like the snow.
An acolyte intercepted them on their way to the entrance chamber.
"The priestess wishes to speak to you before you leave," she said. "The flyer will wait."
Delenn found her mother waiting, bare-faced, in the chamber where they'd spoken the night before.
"I," the priestess hesitated, "I was, perhaps, unfair to you last night. I summoned you as a leader of the Religious Caste, but when you stood before me, I saw -- an object of resentment. A Minbari who abandoned consensus and rejected our ways. Who -- who hurt a friend deeply. Even if she did not intend to."
"And a daughter?" Delenn asked. "Did you see that?"
The whole world seemed to fill with the splash of the fountain.
"Yes," her mother said. "But that goes without saying."
Her eyes were very bright.
Delenn circled the pool slowly.
"I shall take the news of the Sisterhood's expedition to Vorlon space to the Grey Council," she said. "The Nine shall inform the Alliance. I expect the advisory council will vote for a censure against Minbar, but your order won't be touched."
"I didn't call you here to protect us, Delenn," her mother said. "Or to punish us. The Religious Caste had to be told, and Lennier asked me particularly to tell you."
"Why?"
"He said that a brother should forgive his older sister for any unintentional hurt."
Delenn sat down, tears pricking her eyes. Her mother joined her, taking her hand, stroking her fingers.
"Tell me," she said, "what it is like to look at a Vorlon."
"All doubts are erased. Even in madness and death, they are beautiful."
"I should have liked to see one," her mother admitted. "I would have asked if ... if all this was worth it."
"You would not have received a straightforward answer."
"I would not have expected one."
Delenn said, "I didn't know you had doubts. Or -- regrets."
"There's not a person within these walls who does not wonder sometimes what might have been, had our hearts called us differently."
"Then leave," Delenn said suddenly. "That is what I want. This temple will stand for another five thousand years, but it doesn't need you. Come home with me. Meet my husband. Teach David and I the history of your family." Delenn's voice cracked. "I've seen Vorlons. They don't deserve you."
Her mother looked down at their entwined hands, temptation visible in her face.
"I would like that," she admitted.
"But you won't."
"This is the calling of my heart. I couldn't leave the Sisterhood, any more than you could leave your family to come here. I belong here, Delenn."
And there could be no further argument. Her mother walked her to the entrance chamber. Her hand was warm in Delenn's. David straightened as they approached, almost knocking down an acolyte in his haste to be outside.
Delenn and her mother paused in the threshold. Delenn wanted to speak, but words had deserted her. Perhaps her mother felt the same way.
"In our next lives," she murmured, and released Delenn's hand.
*
"What did she say?" David demanded as they descended the staircase. "What happened? Why did we have to come?"
But his mother offered no answer.
"Do you really believe in prophecy?" he asked suddenly, kicking a loose rock.
"Yes," said his mother.
"Yallis said we shape our lives to fit prophecy's mold."
"That, too, is true."
He picked up a rock, leaned back, and threw it as hard as he could. It landed, shattering, an outcrop far below.
"That's not safe," his mother said automatically.
"So which is it?" David demanded. "Are prophecies self-fulfilling, or--" He didn't want to finish that thought. In his mother's face, he saw an echo of his own dread.
"I don't know," she admitted. "Both. Neither. It doesn't take clairvoyancy to predict that a journey to the Shadows' homeworld will end in death. And someone did return from Vorlon space, once."
"I don't understand," said David.
His mother just smiled. She picked up a rock of her own, examined it for a moment, then threw it.
He didn't see it land.
end
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Date: 2010-03-09 08:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-10 07:34 am (UTC)