FLARN MANAGES
by Luthienn
CHAPTER 1: ACTS OF SACRIFICE PART 3"I am being ordered to do what?"
Alyt Neroon of the Star Riders was, unmistakably, furious. Although he would never act disrespectfully towards his Shai Alyt, his voice was trembling with barely-concealed rage, and he had only paused for a second in his pacing back and forth across the meeting room in order to speak.
"You are being asked," Shai Alyt Branmer said calmly, "to perform a great service to your caste and to all of Minbar. But the choice is yours."
"By marrying a naïve Shai'mira (1) I have never even met? She was raised in a temple! She will know nothing of life outside prophecy, and sacred texts, and whatever else the Religious caste teach their children."
"Yes, but I have been assured that she is an excellent student."
Neroon slumped into a seat and cradled his face in his hands. "I am not hearing this."
Leaning forward, Branmer addressed him again, this time more seriously. "The Religious caste are offering us a gesture of peace and new life, to recognise our losses during the war and our anger over their surrender order. This is the closest they will come to an apology."
Neroon waved a hand dismissively. "Religious never apologise, not if it would mean admitting we are not so inferior as they all think." Seeing his Shai Alyt's half-amused look, he sighed and added "Not you, of course. But you are a Warrior now."
"If we refuse this offering, we might start a civil war."
"So they suggest this... this insult as a way to atone for their actions, after all we did, after all we sacrificed – and if we do not accept it, then it will be our fault if war breaks out?"
"It is no insult, Neroon. This girl is the Chosen One."
For the first time in many years, Neroon found himself unable to speak. All Minbari, even the Warrior caste, knew of the prophecy concerning the Chosen One. A child born to bring peace to their world, a child who would carry the future of Minbar in her hands, was born? "Are you sure?" he managed to whisper, finally.
"I did not believe it myself, not at first, but the priests I spoke to have confirmed it beyond all doubt. I have the documents here to prove this is true."
Wordlessly, Neroon took the papers from his Shai Alyt's hand and leafed through them. The genealogy, the place and time of birth, the distinctive shape of the blue cerulean patches that radiated from her dun'ri (2) – it was all there, as prophesied. "Then why are they giving her away like this?"
"They believe this joining is what the prophecy has called for."
"And is it?"
Branmer sighed, and for a moment Neroon saw such weariness in his eyes, as though he had aged twenty years since the call to war. "I am a Warrior now, as you said. I do not interpret prophecy."
"But you were a high priest of the Religious caste, you know as well as they do what such things mean. Do you believe this?"
"They believe this. And if they believe it, then enough of our caste will believe it to avert civil war. Our caste leaders chose you for this because the Star Riders are the oldest and most respected of the Warrior clans, and because you have spoken out so openly in your disapproval of their surrender order. You can refuse, if you wish, but know that if you do the Religious caste will take it as a rejection of their attempt to make peace. Go and consider this matter in private for a time. I... need to meditate."
Neroon bowed, fist against palm in the ancient Warrior salute, and left without saying another word.
In the darkness of his personal quarters, with only the flickering, unsteady light of candles and the faint sound of the Ingata's engines humming in the distance to distract him, Branmer recalled what Delenn had told him. One of the Grey Council coming to see him in person would have caused a great deal of commotion among his crew, but they did not know who his visitor was. Neither did they know of the history between their Shai Alyt and Satai Delenn. That thought caused a wry smile to flicker across his face for a moment – if any of them knew he had once been so close to a member of the Grey Council, he did not doubt their opinion of him would change.
Too long a time had passed since he last saw Delenn. He had appeared before the Nine after the war ended, demanding to know the reason for the surrender order, but she would not speak to him then or afterwards. Maybe that was best; their last conversation proved beyond all doubt that she would not say why the Grey Council ordered the Minbari to surrender. Not even to him.
At times, when he remembered those lost in the war, he imagined her robed in grey and stood with the other Satai in nine bright circles of light, and he was furious with her for what she had done. At other times – like this one, when only a few hours ago she had been standing before him, and for a moment he could imagine she had never left – he only missed her.
Brushing a gloved hand over his eyes, Branmer reminded himself that he had better things to do than think of such things. He had told Delenn that his Alyt might not agree to the proposed joining, but in truth he did not expect a refusal. Neroon truly did care for their world, and would never wish to see it plunged into civil war. If this joining could prevent that, if this was what the ancient prophecy had foretold, then it should happen.
He wondered what the Sisters of Valeria had told this girl, barely more than a child, about her fate. Would she agree to this? Would she, herself, truly believe it was her calling? It was a great sacrifice, but she would have been raised to think sacrifice was required of her. Words of the prophecy rang through his mind: Though her soul shall be a guilt offering – well, that much was certainly true.
While Delenn would not say so, it was clear that she disapproved of this interpretation of prophecy, although she was prepared to arrange this joining for the sake of Minbar. Was the Religious caste really prepared to give away the Chosen One in this manner? True, she would remain in the Temple until her maturity and would continue in her sacred task, but this was asking so much of her. Neroon did not understand that, yet, and Branmer did not entirely blame him – it would be a great sacrifice for him also – but maybe he would, in time.
She will carry our sorrows, and by her wounds shall we be healed. Branmer knew the prophecy as well as any mir'aal (3) of his former caste would, and tried to find solace in its words, wishing that he did not have to play a part in what he was increasingly sure was a blasphemy. But it was for the good of Minbar, whether or not it was indeed foretold, and if the Chosen One accepted that then he could not argue with the Religious caste leaders.
And she would accept her fate, of course, as the prophecy told her to. She shall be oppressed and afflicted, yet she shall not open her mouth. The poor child, Branmer thought. The poor child.
Neroon knew, even before Branmer dismissed him to think about the matter, what his decision would be. He despised the idea of being forced into a joining, despised even more the knowledge that the Religious caste would hold him and his own caste responsible for refusing to make peace should he refuse, but he could not allow war to break out. Still, he could not bear to agree at first, and so he spent a day avoiding his Shai Alyt by teaching some of the younger crew members the finer points of denn'bok combat.
He waited for Branmer in his office that evening, wincing as he felt his shoulder begin to stiffen and ache under the armour. Several of his trainees had been rather more enthusiastic and talented than he expected, and he was too distracted to block several of their attacks in time. They were learning well, then, although the over-confidence which would inevitably come from doing so well against their Alyt would need to be addressed at another time.
Branmer bowed. Shai Alyts should not usually bow in such a manner to those they outranked, and for a moment Neroon's surprise broke through his pain and bitterness. "Have you made your decision?"
Neroon sighed. "I have. Although I do not wish for this joining, and I very much doubt I ever shall, it is necessary for the sake of Minbar. I agree."
Branmer clapped him on the shoulder, and Neroon tried not to wince again in pain. "Your caste will thank you for this, Neroon."
"And my intended –" he tried his best not to choke on the word, but it was difficult – "will she accept this?"
"She has already given her agreement, although I doubt she ever had any real choice. She is young, still, and will stay in the Fal'min Mir (4) until she is older. I do not think she has ever known a life outside those walls. It is a great sacrifice for her, as well."
"Yes," Neroon said quietly. An emotion he had never expected from this situation had caught him by surprise, and he found himself feeling true pity for this Chosen One. "Yes, I imagine it is."
Notes:
Shai'mira – female acolyte
Dun'ri – headbone
Mir'aal – high priest
Fal'min Mir – temple