By Elizabeth Ann Lewis

Part 3

The image before her mind's eye was a dragon. She held it there, focusing, concentrating the way Ximenn had taught her. It was capable of protecting or destroying, wisdom or cruelty. All it had to do was make a choice.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. After a week in MedLab, the surroundings were familiar -- and held the dangerous allure of sanctuary. Her fractures had healed, the bruises faded. MedLab, as safe and sterile as it was, was no longer a refuge for her.

"Mingala," Doctor Franklin said when her attention wandered. She turned back to him and smiled, remembering his start of surprise when she had first invited him to call her by her given name. Somewhere along the way, she'd lost Ms. Chang and become Mingala. That remote person was who she had needed to be for eleven years. Now she had to find someone new.

"Are you done prodding me?" she asked.

"Last minute scan, just to make sure..." Franklin murmured over her.

"I'm fine," she assured him with an impatience peculiar to her almost-healed state.

"And ready to go, no doubt. All my patients can't wait to get away from me." What would have been a comically mournful tone from just about anyone else fell slightly flat with Franklin; bantering at a bedside was not his greatest medical skill. After a moment, he glanced up at her, then back at the datapad in his hand. "What are you going to do?"

Mingala's hands folded in her lap in her habitual gesture. This time she did it so they would not clench convulsively. That was a question she'd asked herself over and over in the past week. She knew there was somewhere she needed to go, something she needed to do. She knew that she needed a purpose in life. She just didn't know what it was yet. Before too long of a silence had fallen, she responded with, "I've been informed that I do not need to return to Earth to testify against Julian."

"So... if you're not going back to Earth...?" Franklin let the question trail off, and Mingala suddenly realized he was going somewhere with this. After a week in MedLab, she'd gotten to know him fairly well -- well enough to know that for the past couple of days he'd been distracted and worried.

"I don't know where I'm going." She sighed with frustration. "I have the entire universe in front of me, and I don't know what to do with it."

Franklin finally put the datapad he was using to avoid her eyes down and glanced around. There were alone, and likely to stay that way. "How do you feel about telepaths?"

Mingala blinked at him, thrown by the question. "Telepaths? I don't understand."

"Do you have any problem being around telepaths?" Having asked the question, he seemed committed to following through doggedly.

Mingala thought for a moment. "No," she said finally. Then she qualified that to, "Not really. I know some people are uncomfortable around them. And I wouldn't want them scanning me if at all possible. But in general... no, I don't. Why?"

Franklin's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Because... I need your help."

Mingala closed her eyed and took a deep breath, surprised how shaken she was by those words. When she thought she'd mastered her expression, she looked at Franklin. "What can I do?" she asked.

The words seemed to be drawn from him with a great deal of difficulty. Secrets were hard to keep, and harder to tell. "There's a colony of telepaths here on the station." He paused again, weighting his words. "We've been helping them escape from PsiCorp, sending them on their way, helping them settle in other places."

"Good," she said evenly. When he shot her a relieved glance, she shrugged. "I've never had to deal directly with PsiCorp, but I've got no love for them."

Franklin nodded, dropping his voice in instinctive caution. "We've been hiding them here. On station. But this place has been compromised. I need someone to help get them off the station and get them to a new place, to set up a new transfer point. Someone with absolutely nothing to hide, and no reason to be investigated. I know I'm asking a lot of you, but I don't have anyone else to turn to. Can you do this?"

Mingala didn't say anything for a long moment. "You're trusting me a lot for a week's acquaintance."

"I saw you give that interview yesterday. I don't think that I'm wrong in trusting you to be honest."

"That interview's going to play merry hell with TerraFirma's attempts to finance their purchase of this station," Mingala said with grim satisfaction. "Their shares are already dropping after the rumors of my assassination were greatly exaggerated." She paused to consider for a second. "With that interview about to hit the interstellar airwaves, it would make sense that I'd want to... how should I say, get away from it all?" She folded her hands and looked up at him. "Any ideas for a good vacation spot?"

Franklin smiled suddenly, showing all the spontaneous charm that he could never fake for his patients. He crossed to his office, and returned with a datapad in his hand. "This should give you all the information you need. You'll have a few days to make decisions, set up the transfers, whatever you need. And with that, you're free to go."

Mingala took the pad and nodded, rising to her feet. She'd have to go over the information thoroughly, commit it to memory the same way she'd committed EarthAlliance policies and politics to memory for years. The doors to MedLab swished open before her as she reflected that it was nice to know all her training was going to come in useful somehow --

Mingala froze on the threshold, unable to move. A cold sweat broke over her body. She shuddered, fighting her body's instinctive panic.

The last time she had set foot outside in the corridors of Babylon 5, she'd nearly died. She had been beaten and nearly broken. The memory of pain was bad. The memory of helplessness was worse.

A warm hand covered her shoulder, and she turned to look at Franklin. "Are you all right?" he asked gently.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, bringing up the image of the dragon. Protect. It would protect her, she knew. That was the choice. "Yes," she said. "I'm fine."

And stepped over the threshold.

When his judge entered, however, it took all his training to control his expression. Jarron had been his mentor in his new Calling the way Delenn had been in his old. He respected and depended on the older Minbari's wisdom and strength. And no one in any of the known worlds would be able to destroy him quite as thoroughly.

Except, perhaps, one slim Human woman with clear, calm eyes...

Jarron didn't say anything for a long moment while the door slid shut behind him, merely surveyed his student. "I have not received your report, Ximenn."

"I have not issued one. The situation was... volatile enough that I wished to examine it before attempting to report."

"Volatile situations need to be acted on, not examined. Do you study a mine to see which way it will blow?"

"No," Ximenn countered. "But I do study it to see how one might defuse it."

"Acting too slowly could have the same result as not acting at all."

"Acting too quickly might just have the same result."

Jarron made a frustrated noise, turning away to uselessly inspect the small room. With Jarron's eyes not on him, Ximenn could gather himself. His mission and his duty had been to remove Mingala Chang from the position of influence she held. The inference was that her removal would coincide with her death. She was supposed to be dead by his hand. That she yet lived, and that he had saved her, were betrayals of his duty.

"Do you have a report?" Jarron snapped back to him, a teacher to a particularly obtuse student.

"Yes. Mingala Chang is not and will not be a danger to our people. Her motives, however contrary to ours, were pure --"

"-- I don't care how pure her motives were, we needed her --"

Ximenn ruthlessly spoke over the man he respected above all other warriors, "-- and her aims have changed with her experiences. Not only is she no longer a threat to us, she could very well be an active ally."

"You know this. How?"

Ximenn met Jarron's eyes steadily. "I know her."

"You know her," Jarron repeated. "And on the basis of this, you are willing to risk your people's safety, subjugate them to the Humans who have no sense of honor? Tell me, Ximenn, when did you become so very wise as to decide that a woman who could one day command Earth's forces to attack us is, possibly, an ally?"

"I would not, and will not, kill her, nor harm her in any way."

"You deliberately disobeyed orders, and threw the survival of your people into danger. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Ximenn didn't move. "No."

Jarron seemed to infuriated by the lack of response. "Why not?"

"If I had killed her, if the Humans clothed in Minbari faces had succeeded in killing her, the Humans would have viewed that as one more reason to strike out at us. Who would they kill in retaliation? Who would we kill for that crime? How long until we were at each others throats again?" Ximenn's voice rose in passion and fury. "How long, then, could we live like that?"

"We have nothing to fear from the Humans. We can destroy them." Jarron's voice was cold with his anger.

"Listen to yourself," Ximenn pleaded. "You're talking about the destruction of an entire race. For what? They killed Duket, we killed a quarter million of their sons and daughters. When does it end? Not with Mingala, and not with me. When is her life worth more or less than mine? Jarron, you taught me to protect my people. The greatest enemy I see is ourselves, and the hatred that chokes us until we can see nothing but monsters. Tell me how to protect us from that."

Jarron was frozen into immobility, his eyes reflecting fires that burned Ximenn to his bones. He'd left the religious caste because he knew it was not his place. If he was cast out of his clan, he'd have nowhere to go. An outcast wandered until he died. Or, as Olwenn had, until he found another new place. But how many new beginnings could he have?

"You shame me," Jarron said hoarsely. He gathered himself to speak, the words labored and heavy. "I took you in, when you had left the only place you'd ever known. I taught you, I guided you. I took pride in your ability and your accomplishments. I knew you to be extraordinary. I never expected you to leave me behind so thoroughly." He paused briefly. "I -- I can't look on the people who killed Duket with the eye that you can, with the clarity you have gained. I can only envy it."

With dawning relief, Ximenn realized what was being said, what was being offered. "I learned only what you taught me -- how to serve my people as best I might."

"You won't be thanked for it," Jarron said bluntly. "Blind hatred is nothing compaired to clearly being shown to be wrong."

"I have a Calling," Ximenn said simply. "I must protect."

"You will face opposition wherever you turn," Jarron said. "The warrior caste will revile you, the religious caste will not trust you. In hatred we killed, in hatred we remain locked. If you would free us from this hatred, you would free us from a darkness that could destroy us. So, in Valen's name, I wish you success. And promise you that you will have whatever aid I can give."

Ximenn nodded, once. He knew what was being promised. He could not even depend on the support of his own clan. But to not to try was to deny what he was, what he had chosen to be. To deny Olwenn, who chose to help her people despite their contempt of her. "In Valen's name," he echoed.

Opening her eyes, she looked around her. The garden reminded her of ones she had seen in her childhood. Slowly exhaling the pain that the memory caused, she focused on the forms and shapes. When she'd lost her life's work and the detachment that she needed to pursue it, she'd also lost the layer of protection that shielded her from heartbreak. Li-an's memory was much closer than it had been since the Battle of the Line, but without the bitterness and rage that had poisoned her for more than a decade.

A soft noise made Mingala look up. Ambassador Delenn was entering the garden, although she paused when Mingala saw her. "I'm sorry. Am I disturbing you?"

Mingala breathed deep and shook her head. "No. Please."

Delenn watched her for a moment more before sitting on the bench next to the Human woman. "I'm glad I found you here. I wanted to speak with you, and I never had the chance."

Without any apparent discomfort, the Human and the Minbari regarded each other. "You've been informed that TFC is pulling out of the negotiations?" Mingala asked finally.

"Yes. 'Ideological difficulties,' was the reason, I believe."

"Their ideology, my difficulties with it," Mingala summarized. "Ambassador... I know that you have no cause to do me any favors, but I wondered if you could pass a message on for me."

"Certainly," Delenn said quietly. "I have no ill will toward you." She paused, then said sympathetically, "It is never an easy thing to believe something so absolutely, and to lose that belief so completely."

Mingala nodded slightly in acknowledgement, and pulled a data crystal out of her pocket. "Would you give this to Ximenn? There is no way that I thank him for all he's done for me, but I needed to try. And there's no way I can repay him for my life except to do something with it." She laughed a little. "I never would have chosen to leave the narrow world I lived in, but having left, I've found more than I ever dreamed. It frightens me. And exhilarates me." She looked up to find Delenn's eyes fixed on her, an arrested expression in them. "I'm sorry. Please, tell Ximenn I am more grateful than I can say. And that I hope... I hope one day we meet again."

"You will," Delenn said with absolute confidence.

Mingala rose. For a moment, her hands hovered awkwardly, as though she wanted to express farewell in touch or gesture. Then she raised her chin and nodded respectfully to Delenn. Without another word, Mingala turned and left.

For a few moments after Mingala left the garden, Delenn sat in quiet contemplation. When she heard a footstep, she looked up at Ximenn. "You heard?" He nodded briefly. Delenn sighed. "So Olwenn must once again leave all she knows behind to find herself. And you must wait."

Ximenn smiled briefly. "It is as it should be. I have much to do myself."

Sinjun emerged. "I'd recommend that you lower your voices, except for the fact that you both are too cryptic to be understood. Was that Mingala Chang leaving?" At Delenn's nod, Sinjun asked, "Why would you want to speak with her? She hates everyone and everything that isn't familiar."

"Have you ever heard the legend of Olwenn, An'la'shok Ross?" Ximenn asked.

"No," Sinjun said, not mollified by Ximenn's impeccable formality. "My time on Minbar was more usefully spent with weapons, not fairy tales."

At a nod from Delenn, Ximenn clasped his hands behind his back and looked off into the distance. In a resonant storyteller's voice, he began, "In the days after Valen, there was a foolish young girl called Olwenn, who laughed and gossiped and spoke before she thought. Her words were clever and cutting, wit without heart. Even her training in the temple did not curb her tongue. Finally, a magician was disgusted by her cruelty and bespelled her. She could speak no lie, but her truths would never be clear."

Sinjun tapped her fingers impatiently for a moment, then glanced at Delenn. Their weekly meeting was going to get devoured by a fable? But Delenn's eyes were fixed on Ximenn, and she betrayed no impatience over listening to a tale she must have heard many times before.

"From that day forward, Olwenn's life was never the same. She was scorned now as a liar because her truths were uncertain, whereas before no one had called her false even when she had gossiped. Frightened and forlorn, she fled from temple and wandered out into the crystal cities."

A twinge of empathy crossed Delenn's face at the same moment Sinjun breathed deep. Could anyone who had been separated from everything they'd ever known not feel for the young girl Olwenn had been? Stupid, maybe, but not malicious, just thoughtless.

"Slowly, Olwenn learned that her curse had been a gift. Sundered from the life she had always known, she began to see how her unkindness had harmed others. More than that, she found that by being able to speak no lies, she could prophesy, answering questions about the future with her indirect truths. For four years she lived outside of her home, aiding those whom once she would have scorned, both by the work of her words and by the work of her hands."

"She returned to the temple with great trepidation, and was received coolly. No one believed her when she said she had changed, for her words, as always, were unclear and vague. For days she attempted to make herself understood, to prove that she had changed.

"The magician learned that Olwenn had returned to the temple and journeyed to see what had become of the foolish girl he had cursed. What he found was a woman greatly changed. She had taken his curse and made it a gift, and he could not find it in his heart to disdain her any longer. He offered to remove the curse, to let her speak freely and of her own will. She refused, claiming that the adversary of the curse had shaped her, and she did not want to return to what she had been before."

Ximenn paused for a long moment. His face was expressionless, but his eyes burned with emotion. It wasn't until Delenn reached out to him that Ximenn continued.

"One final time Olwenn attempted to prove her worth to the temple. In the gardens of Fenella, she plucked a flower known as a ystrath, named so after the bird it resembled. She told the assembly that it would take wing as its namesake did. No one believed her. The magician stood beside her, holding another flower, ready to use his art to make it change and to save her honor and pride -- ready to lie on her behalf. Instead, her words were made true by his spell, and the ystrath soared into the sun.

"For the rest of her life, Olwenn had a great and honored place at the temple, from which she used her gift to help many. And beside her, always, stood the magician whose spell had changed her life. And ystrath flowers bloom forever in the gardens of Fenella in their memory."

Sinjun opened her eyes, which had drifted shut to imagine the fable Ximenn was telling. "And?" she asked, even though she knew.

Delenn answered, "Sometimes we must be wrong before we can learn what is right. And sometimes, you must leave everything you know, to learn who you are."

She felt the rush of power as the ship exited the bay and sailed out into the stars. It was exhilarating, to be riding that wave of speed. Wide-eyed with child-like wonder, she watched the starfield around her ship, and the alien planet below.

"I don't have any legends to tell you," her recorded voice said. "I have spent my life twisting and manipulating words for my own use, and yet I have no perfect words to say to you. Only that..." She hesitated, then said softly, "I am grateful that you saved my life. I am more grateful that you changed it. No matter what happens, I won't forget. I swear."

Ximenn watched the screen go dark. "Neither will I," he answered her quietly. And smiled. "Until we meet again."

The vortex closed, and she was inside of it.