Londo paced the hallway, losing his patience when he saw Illyia. "Where is she? We are going to be late! Everyone is waiting!"
Illyia crossed the room to Londo's side, patiently watching as Mollari fumed. "She has not emerged, Majesty."
Londo's face reddened, and he stomped briskly off, pausing before the door to his quarters. Leaving Illyia at the door, he barked at the lights in the bedroom, and they rose to illuminate an empty room.
Londo glanced about before tramping through the adjoining rooms, looking for his wife.
"You may stop huffing about," Timov's voice greeted him from the next room. "I'm in here."
Londo entered the bath. But upon entering the room, his angry scowl faded as his eyes fell upon the array of medications on the vanity.
Timov tugged her sleeve down, replaced one of the vials on the counter and turned to face Londo.
Makeup was hiding her sallow complexion, drugs were fueling her strength, but nothing could hide the pain evident in her eyes. Before Londo could say anything, she held out her hand, dismissing the topic before it could be spoken.
Placing one hand behind his back and the other palm down just underneath her hand, Londo accompanied her to the waiting carriage and the nearby motorcade. The vehicles hastily deposited them at the palace.
"Oh good, you are here," Vir smiled as he saw them arrive. "It is almost time," he pointed to a nearby wall clock, ready to tick off the moment that young Senna had been born so many years before.
"What is the progress on finding Toscanelli?" Mollari growled at Vir.
Vir took his eyes off the crowd in front of him and he leaned toward Londo, his face becoming serious. "The search is methodically progressing. He won't get away – don't worry. And there's something we should talk about – when there is a little down time."
Londo pursed his lips in annoyance, knowing that Senna's funeral would be followed by Vir's inauguration, and there would be little time for discussion until after the festivities had subsided later in the week.
Timov gestured, drawing their attention back to the clock. It snapped into position, and it clicked the minute of Senna's birth so many years before. The cheers of the crowds lining the streets outside the palace could be heard. As the entourage walked over the tiled path of the palace, an impressive holographic image of Senna was projected to the entire city from over the palace's fountains and pools.
"Arise," she flashed a holographic smile, "and celebrate all the blessings the gods have seen fit to give us."
Along each side of an extended parade route that wound its way through the Capital City and curled back to the Royal Cemetery, small powerful cannisters lined the roadway on either side. As Senna's holographic announcement launched her funeral party, the cannisters shot steam and smoke upwards hundreds of feet in the air. The steam and smoke contained colored powder that floated back down over the crowd as the steam's water evaporated and the smoke dissipated, leaving the route drenched in blues, pinks, oranges, greens, and yellows.
Large caskets of mendchu wine brewed in the year of Senna's birth and brivari aged in barrels for the same amount of time were unsealed by priests along the parade route, and within minutes, the golden and tauwny liquids were pouring into the cups of funeral attendees.
From the vantage of the palace, the royal court and their extended entourage could see the festive parade progressing down through the streets, headed by three mammoth kajelika beasts, a rare and nearly extinct mammal native to the Great Plain kept exclusively in the royal sanctuary. The large, lumbering beasts blew air through their thick tusks, trumpeting their arrival. When their heads shook and their feet stomped, the colored powder along the parade route puffed into the air, creating a fog of color through which the rest of the parade moved like eerie ghouls celebrating the sunrise.
A wedge of falconers followed the kajelika's rumbling footsteps, hefty baguan birds squatting on their thick leather gauntlets, their talons wrapping around their falconer's gloves. Every few minutes, one would soar above the crowds, dipping his wings in salute toward the palace before descending to his handler once again.
Thousands of young women dressed in white, the color normally reserved for the Emperor or the Empress, knelt before the palace steps before turning and walked serenely down the parade route, one after another, each symbolizing a day in the young Empress's life, the very last clad in robes of woven gold.
Senna's schoolmates joined the parade, walking adjacent to the women symbolizing the days that Senna had attended the girls' school. Others who wished to celebrate a particular day joined the parade as well, accompanying the "day" they wished to honor, often plying everyone within reach with a fresh decanter of brivari.
After the days of Senna's life had passed, a young man symbolizing the day after she died was enveloped in a somber gray, plates of lead sewn into the folds of his robe, forcing him to drag the heavy weight after him, his head bowed with unhappiness. Fortunately, the lead plates also protected him from the drunken crowd, for the crowd pelted him with whatever they had at hand, their anger at losing their Empress placed squarely on his shoulders. In the whole of the parade, his was the only somber moment in a funeral dedicated to celebrating life and not dwelling upon death.
As the days of Senna's lives walked through the city, young Centauri would approach the priests, dedicating their lives to the calling of the gods in Senna's honor. Upon receiving their vows, the priests would beckon the religious inductee into the funeral procession, their dedication being received with celebrations and congratulations by all who surrounded them. In addition to those who dedicated themselves to the gods in Senna's honor, other Centauri would come forward to donate money to Senna's designated charities, or they would donate a certain number of hours of their time to public service, or they would donate a prized possession to the treasury, or they would donate an artistic creation to the memory of the Empress. Orchestras had flown in from every corner of the planet, donating compositions and the joy of their music to their slain Empress, so the route was filled with music. As each donation was made, the Centauri making the donation would join the parade, and so, as it wound around the city, the progression grew and grew, and the festivities rolled into streets beyond the main parade route.
As the festivities spread, Centauri with homes near the parade route opened their homes to strangers who had made the trek to attend the funeral party, and not one cup was allowed to be drained empty before it was refilled by a generous hand on the day that celebrated the life of Her Majesty, the Empress Senna Refa.
Not only was the Capital City hosting the grand funeral procession, but festivals celebrating Senna's life had erupted around Centauri Prime and throughout the other eleven Centauri worlds.
At last, after four hours of the funeral parade winding its way through the city, Senna's casket, hovering on a magnetically drawn catafalque, emerged from the palace. Its appearance divided the crowd into two throngs. As the casket slowly passed by, the color cannisters shot out again, this time puffs of purple radiating through the parade route to herald Senna's appearance, followed by shots of white and gold as the foot of her casket passed each color cannister.
Surrounding the casket were fanciful beasts of every description. They majestically guarded its progress. Behind the beasts, a Centauri with a cloak drawn closely over her face walked silently by herself. The crowd murmured to itself, noticing by her clothing that this was one of the famed technomages, and technomages were rarely seen, even more rarely on Centauri Prime. The presence of one technomage was always construed as a good omen, but if more than one appeared, it was a dire warning. For whatever reason, this petite technomage had returned for the funeral to the homeworld she had left decades before to assume her technomage training, and she had made her services available in a homage to the deceased Empress. The technomage's hands worked quickly, casting new incantations and technical spells to create the magical images of beasts flanking the funeral procession.
The entire royal entourage followed the floating casket and its magical guards. Servants flanked the route, providing the crowds with edible delicacies reserved exclusively for royal funerals.
Several members of the entourage became wobbly on their feet, passing out from the alcohol and alcohol-infused food. "They are one with the gods," shouted one nearby Centauri, toasting the fallen as the crowd pulled the intoxicated individuals to safety off the parade route.
As Vir walked with Corianna behind Senna's casket, he smiled as the crowd projected Senna's 3d image from handheld recorders, each observer armed with holographic images from her speeches or events that they particularly wanted to remember. Corianna would point to the small holographic images, her eyes lighting up as she recognized her mother, and Vir lifted her up to see the celebrations of her mother that surrounded them.
One third of the way through the funeral, partygoers approached Senna's casket, and after being chased away by the magical beasts, they returned more bravely, plying Senna's honor guard with alcohol and food, and the honor guard abruptly turned down a side street off the parade path.
Vir's eyes widened, "Where are they going?" he asked, a frantic note in his voice.
"Virrrrr," Londo slurred, putting an arm around his shoulder, "she'll be back. We'll wait here," he put up a hand to stop the entourage's progress while the casket disappeared down the street.
Vir stared at Londo, "What are you talking about? They are taking her somewhere!"
"Don't worry," Londo said lightly. "She is needed elsewhere – this is the last opportunity for the people to spend a moment with her."
"Londo, they are kidnapping her," Vir whispered.
Londo snapped at a nearby servant before taking a glass from the servant's tray and pressing it into Vir's hand, "Don't be ridiculous - they are taking her for an adventure nearby. They will be back – surely you have heard that in the old days, they used to kidnap the emperor's body 12 to 13 times on the funeral route. It is," he smiled drunkenly, "an honor. Besides," he shrugged, "her guards are with her. Nothing will happen to the body or her casket."
Vir blinked, "You're sure? This is normal?"
Londo snorted, "Of course I'm sure. If you are going to serve as emperor, you should start paying a little more attention to our traditions. Just because you haven't been on homeworld when the imperial funerals have been held doesn't mean that you shouldn't be aware of the traditions. Now drink this," he pushed the drink toward Vir again, "and perhaps you will be one with the gods before this funeral is done. And if you are very lucky, perhaps Senna will be waiting for you in the dreaming."
Vir looked at the drink, took a deep breath, and threw it back, a relieved smile appearing as he saw the unblemished casket in the distance making its way back to the parade route.
Over the course of the day and the better part of the night, the casket moved through the city, feted and celebrated by the Centauri. The casket traveled through the Row of Heroes, down through the Royal Gardens, and finally, at long last, Senna's casket arrived at the Royal Cemetery. There, it was placed inside a carved marble vault prepared for her, four of her beloved gods holding the vault upon their carved fingertips, the lid of the vault appearing to peek open as if Senna had just begun to move it in preparation for the coming day.
As the lid was sealed, a final 3d image of Senna appeared above the crowds, a blush upon her cheeks and serenity in her gaze. "I am one with the gods now, as one day so shall you be," she said, and with that, she disappeared.
Vir woke up the next morning in his own bed, but to his surprise two hands were roughly shaking him. "What is it?" Vir sprang upward with a jolt, but he let out a nervous sigh as he saw the hands belonged to Londo.
"There is much to do," Londo told him, handing him a drink.
Vir blinked, a headache pounding against his temples. "What is this?" he looked at the slimy beverage Londo was offering him.
"You drank enough to become one with the gods last night," Londo grinned, "and this concoction will cure your hangover. We must prepare for your inauguration."
Vir rubbed his head and took the drink, a whiff shocking his nose. "It smells awful," he tried to hand it back to Londo.
"Drink it," Londo commanded, and dutifully Vir obeyed, although he struggled for a few moments, trying to keep the liquid down.
"It has more alcohol in it?" Vir coughed.
Londo nodded tranquilly, "Of course it does – that is the only cure for a hangover. It was a good funeral, yes?"
Vir agreed with a smile, "It was spectacular. It was so wonderful to see everyone come together and celebrate Senna's life," Vir tried to hold back his emotion. "And everything everyone gave in her honor . . . ."
"And, eh, did Senna come and see you in the dreaming last night?" Londo asked.
Vir didn't reply but a small smile curled the edge of his mouth, and his eyes lightened.
Seeing his response, Londo clapped him on the back and sat down beside him, "Of course she did."
Vir's smile faded, "I don't know how I'll do it without her," he said softly. After a moment, he added, "When I saw her in the dreaming, she was insistent that Corianna will need a mother."
"She is right," Londo replied. "Perhaps more than one."
"I can't fall in love again," Tears appeared in Vir's eyes.
"Senna wouldn't want you to be sad and alone forever, Vir. It is early yet, I know, but Senna would want you to find happiness again one day. Besides, you are going to be emperor, and you must set an example for our people. You cannot be single forever. You married Senna for love, but now it is time to be practical, to consider the old ways of marriage, for Corianna's sake, if not your own."
"I wouldn't even know where to begin," Vir shook his head.
"The female is a wonderful creature," Londo grinned. "They come in infinite varieties and shapes and sizes and temperments, and you haven't even started to sample their delights. I could arrange a marriage of one or four—"
"I'm not ready yet," Vir said quietly.
"Of course not," Londo nodded, patting his shoulder agreeably. "Our Senna is impossible to replace, but one day . . . ."
"I won't find anyone like her," Vir said sadly.
"No," Londo replied, "You will not be able to find another Senna, but perhaps there will be other women that can keep you from the darkness that is loneliness. Senna wants that for you – and for Corianna – she told you as much. It is too soon now, but do not close your hearts when you are finally ready, yes?"
Vir stared at the ground, and slowly, he nodded his head. Looking up, he asked, "How do you do it? With Timov's illness – knowing that . . . ."
Londo sat back stiffly, "Timov does not let me consider the alternative," he stated simply. Softly, he added, "Some days, when I touch her, even a light touch upon the arm, it causes her great anguish," he stared sadly at the floor before abruptly looking up again. "She brushes it off, pretending as if her discomfort was momentary, but I can see it is more than that." He shook his head sadly, "Sometimes we create a fiction to convince ourselves that it is worth placing one foot in front of the other." Standing up, he dismissed the subject and patted Vir on the back, "Now, is that hangover gone? The royal tailor is outside for your final fitting and they are bringing the royal seal under guard to prepare for the inauguration ceremony."
Vir stood up, feeling somehow both better and worse than before as he headed for the door.
A few hours later, Timov and Londo followed Vir as he descended down the steps of the palace for the Centaurum and temple where the traditional inauguration ceremony would take place. Unlike Londo's inauguration, today's crowd had been invited to the ceremony, and they lined the walk, cheering as Vir made his way to the temple.
"When the ceremony is finished," Londo whispered to Timov, "I will make a speech to congratulate Vir."
Timov stopped walking, folding her arms as she placed two fingers against her temple with an exasperated look. Quietly, she said, "Londo, I hope you will not overshadow Vir today. It is his inauguration day, after all, not yours."
"What do you mean?" Londo was taken aback. "It is my right to congratulate him."
"It would be best if you congratulated him in private."
"This is what I died for?..."
"Oh please," Timov shook her head, "you are going to be unbearable if you start saying that."
"...and defied death for?"
"In private," she repeated sternly.
"You are the same wet blanket that you have always been," Londo grumbled mildly, turning back to watch Vir enter the temple before they followed him in.
Timov arched a brow, "And you are as complimentary as you have ever been." She took Londo's comment in stride. She knew the difficult position he had been placed in, sidelined and silenced by necessity.
Londo gazed at her, "If I started being complimentary now, you would accuse me of being an imposter."
"That is true," she replied, noticing that Londo was suddenly watching someone in the crowd. Following his eyes, she saw the technomage from the parade observing the proceedings from among the crowd.
"A good omen," Londo said, "at last."
Thinking of the last coronation she had attended, Timov bowed her head and took Londo's hand. She knew he had been denied the sight of his daughter taking the throne, but she couldn't push the sight of Vir and Senna, together, at the altar from her mind. "Vir doesn't need omens," Timov replied quietly, perhaps trying to convince herself as she turned from the sight of the technomage. "He'll be a wonderful emperor."
Several days after the inauguration, after everyone had recovered from the funeral party and the inauguration celebration, Vir contemplated the message he had received several days before. He could have summoned Londo, but he felt uneasy sending orders to a man who had been his employer, father-in-law, and emperor, so he ordered the royal carriage to take him to the Great House where he personally called on Londo.
Meeting Londo in the grand reception room, Vir asked everyone else to leave the room.
"What is it?" Londo asked him. "What has the investigation into Senna's murder found?"
"Sit down, Londo," Vir said quietly.
Londo's eyes narrowed, but he complied with Vir's command. "What is it?" he repeated as he settled into an oversized chair.
"Toscaneli never could have gotten through security without the bomb being detected," Vir said quietly. "The investigation by the ministries found a device - a miniature type of changling net - that was able to mask the signature of the bomb and the power generating it. That is how Toscaneli got the bomb through security and into Senna's office," Vir explained.
"We don't have technology that can create miniature changling net fields around inert objects without generating a significant power signature," Londo shook his head as he stood up again, but Vir put a firm hand on his shoulder until he sat down again.
"There's more?" Londo was beginning to lose his patience with Vir's demeanor.
"We've identified the source of the technology."
The two men's eyes met, and finally Vir forced himself to say the words he dreaded, "It's Drakh. The technology of the net that shielded the bomb from detection is Drakh."
Vir could see Londo's head bobble, and he knew that if the older man had not been sitting, he would have toppled to the floor. Londo was utterly stunned, and Vir crossed the room to the wet bar by the door, pouring a brivari for Londo. He returned to Londo's side and placed it in his hand.
Londo stared at it without touching it, at a loss for words.
"The Drakh base in hyperspace," Londo said as if in a daze, "I told you - I told Senna - that they were still out there, they would do anything to get back at us, and we needed to do something."
"I remember what you told us," Vir said gently. "I spoke about it with Senna when you first told her, and we followed up with the ministries. There just wasn't any way we could find it, Londo. You didn't have any further information about the location other than your gut feeling. It would just be a wild chase in search of something that may - or may not - be out there. As Prime Minister, how could I risk our fleet and people's lives on that kind of information?"
"This is evidence that it is out there," Londo protested, still dazed, his chest heaving.
"Even if what you think you felt from the Drakh is true - that they could anchor a base in hyperspace - we don't have the technology to find it, Londo. Frankly, the ministries think it is far more likely that the net was just an old remnant of Drakh technology - they've been on the planet now for more than a decade. Toscaneli probably found it on the black market here. There's nothing to suggest that it recently came from offworld."
Londo stood up angrily, his drink clattering to the floor. "Of course there is," he replied. "I have not seen this technology, and I saw it all when the Drakh had me by the throat in the palace. At the end, they did not hide anything from me. They thought I was a mentally feeble old man who could remember nothing. If I was not made aware of it then, the only possible explanation is that it is new!" Londo paced the room. "If they are still out there, they will stop at nothing after all that has happened. We must protect our people by destroying this base. Let me lead the fleet, I will find it. I know that I can," Londo tapped his chest between his hearts, "it is pulling me toward it. If nothing else, the Drakh yearn for revenge on me, and I can use that weakness to find them."
Vir bowed his head before he looked back at Londo, "I can't let you do that, Londo. Your life is too valuable to our people and to me, and I can't risk sending you or our military on a mission that is destined for failure. The universe is too big, space too vast, and the lives of our people too precious to look for this base that you think may be out there. You would make the same decision if you were in my shoes."
Londo ground his teeth, "I am trying to protect our people," he said hoarsely, his voice full of frustration.
"And so am I," Vir said calmly. "The Centaurum trusted me to become emperor because they believed in me, and now I need you to believe in me as well. We are doing everything we can to find Toscaneli and bring him to justice. We have to focus on that right now. And clearly, we need to search the black markets for any other remnants of Drakh technology, ensuring that it is in our hands and not our enemy's hands."
Londo stared at Vir wordlessly before he nodded at last, "Of course," he said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion. "It would be a fool's errand to search for something that I don't know the location of and which we do not know is even technically possible."
"I knew you'd see reason," Vir patted Londo on the arm before he took his leave, needing to get back to the palace to see to the government's affairs.
Londo brooded over Vir's news, but he spent hours in thought on the problem of Toscaneli. The more time that passed, the more likely Toscaneli would slip off world and out of their grasp forever. He asked Palco to set up a live communication with Lord Wesa.
"Wesa," Londo addressed the screen. "I need you to do me a favor."
"Of course, Majesty," came the reply. "Whatever I may humbly–"
"You may humbly pressure Lord Stalio to reveal Toscaneli's whereabouts using every means at your disposal. If anyone knows where Toscaneli is, it would be Lord Stalio."
"It may take considerable effort, sire . . . ."
"Do whatever it takes at whatever cost," Londo said, waiving a hand. "I will have my daughter's killer brought to justice, even if he has paid off half of the Great Plain of Centauri Prime to hide him. If you do this for me, I will ensure that the information Minister Palazzo found on your family will disappear - permanently. You will have a free hand in politics, once again."
Wesa leaned forward, "Permanently, you say?"
"It will be erased," Londo replied grimly. "Permanently."
Wesa inclined his head. "I will see what I can do, Majesty, but the word on the street is that Lord Toscaneli will turn himself in if you declare yourself alive and reassume the duties of the Crown."
Londo shook his head, "He wishes to destroy Senna's legacy one way or another, and I will not give him the satisfaction. I will not erase her reign with a few words, and Vir Cotto has already rightfully assumed the throne."
"In that case," Wesa replied matter-of-factly, "I'm confident in saying that Lord Stalio will negotiate only if his own House is spared the ire of the Crown."
"As long as he had nothing to do with Senna's murder," Londo said, "the name of House Stalio will be spared."
"Even if he is complicit in hiding the errant lord?"
Londo's lips thinned as he tried to suppress his anger at the manhunt which had failed to turn up Toscaneli over the past few weeks. "Even then," Londo rasped.
"I will make all the necessary inquiries, Majesty," Wesa replied before the communication clicked off.
Three days later, the news channels announced that Lord Wesa had successfully conducted secret negotiations resulting in the capture of the fugitive. A ward of the state, Toscaneli had been stripped of his titles, and he was now facing the very serious charges of regicide and treason.
Londo made his way to the palace, finding Vir amidst a bevy of advisors, but at Londo's appearance, Vir cleared the throne room.
"You're here about Senna's trial," Vir read the look on Londo's face.
"This country doesn't need a trial, it needs a swift head on a pike in front of this palace as a warning to anyone who dares raise their hand against the Crown," Londo said firmly.
"Well," Vir shrugged, "you know, technically, we raised our hands against the Crown when we – you know – with Cartagia . . . ."
Londo cut Vir off, "You know what I mean," he growled. "You are the Sovereign – we know that he is guilty. If you will not do it, then turn him over to me, and I will do the deed myself," he curled his hand into a fist. "Senna's murder demands immediate justice."
Vir shifted in the throne uncomfortably. "I want justice for Senna too," he replied. "But Senna felt strongly about trials – even for the Drakh – and I think that's what she would want, Londo. She wouldn't want hollow justice – she'd want a trial and a fair judgment."
Londo ground his teeth. "All right," he rasped at last, "But I want your assurance that this trial will not drag out over months. We must put an end to this as soon as possible. And I want your assurance that Toscaneli's head will be on the end of a pike before long, displayed here, at the palace, as it should be."
Vir looked at the tiled palace floor without replying, and Londo studied his face. "You will deliver the judgment yourself, yes?" Londo asked. "This is regicide and treason, the most severe crimes under our nation's laws, punishable only by death. It is only appropriate that you deliver the judgment."
"I will deliver the judgment," Vir said quietly, his eyes still on the ground in front of him.
Londo took a step back, "And the punishment will be death, yes?"
"No," Vir said quietly, finally rising from the throne and meeting Londo's eyes. "The sentence will be life in prison on a work detail in the mines."
"Vir, Senna deserves–"
"–If Toscaneli is sentenced to death, the blood feud between House Mollari and House Toscaneli will continue. One day, House Toscaneli will take your life or maybe Corianna's life in exchange for what is done in the next few days, and the blood feud will go on and on. Senna wouldn't want that. She wouldn't want her family to be placed in jeopardy. It is time to put this blood feud to rest, even if it means that Toscaneli lives out the end of his days in the mines."
"Vir, I–"
"–It is no use, Londo, I've made up my mind. I won't lose anyone else because I need to see Toscaneli's head on a pike.
"Vir," Londo shook his head. "It isn't just my daughter, or your wife, or Corianna's mother that Toscaneli has killed - it is the Empress of the Centauri Republic. It cannot go unpunished in such a manner, and the penalty is clear."
"It won't go unpunished," Vir said firmly. "He will regret all of the days he spends in the mines. He will be the lowliest of all prisoners, the one who killed the soul and the light of our empire. I pity his existence, but I won't take his life. I will let it be taken, day-by-day, by the hearts of the Centauri people who will show him no mercy though he continues to live."
Seeing there was nothing more to say, Londo slowly, wearily, took his leave, returning to the Great House in silence, but that evening, he railed as he recounted the conversation to Timov, "A fine time for Vir to use his backbone!" he complained in the loudest voice his broken vocal cords would allow.
Timov sighed. She knew Londo was genuinely distraught over the precedent anything short of execution might have on future attempts on an emperor's life, including Vir's. "Londo," she said quietly, trying to calm him down, "why did you choose Vir to become emperor?"
"A good question," Londo fumed, throwing up his hands, "why did I choose him?"
Timov replied, "Because of his judgment, of course."
"Is that why?" Londo stalked the room. "Perhaps I have poor judgment."
Timov rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. You know that Vir has very good reasons for doing what he is doing. And he isn't letting anyone roll over him when he has made his decision. It shows Vir's true growth as a leader now that he is willing to stand up to you to do what he feels is right, even when you challenge him. You should be proud of him, not angry with him. He isn't making any of these decisions lightly."
"Then you agree with him!" Londo shook his head angrily.
"I'm not agreeing with either of you," Timov replied tepidly.
Londo fell back into his chair, sighing as he fell into silence, and his eyes took on a haunted look. The look remained with him even as they returned to the Sea Palace after the trial, and its continued presence in the following days troubled Timov deeply.
"I'd prefer him throwing things," Timov thought to herself as she watched him sipping his brivari and staring at the ocean waves from a balcony at the Sea Palace one evening. "This brooding," she thought, "is far more dangerous."