By Elizabeth Ann Lewis

Part 1

It was by the sheerest force of will that Mingala kept her head up and her back straight. A week of negotiations with Ximenn was wearing her out. He asked for ridiculously easy concessions. She gave them. He asked for more. She gave herself headaches trying to figure out what he was working towards with his requests, trying to see some pattern that could be used to destroy Earth. So far she could see nothing except for the fact that, despite her facile tongue, she was not an experienced enough negotiator to deal with a wily Minbari.

It didn't matter, she reminded herself. It didn't matter. She wasn't here because she was such an experienced negotiator. She was here because Mingala Chang was a symbol. She won no matter what. She could concede until the sun went nova, but no matter what, she won.

Across the table, Talia Winters stiffened and looked sharply at her. Mingala returned the stare. It didn't matter. It didn't matter...

A chime at the door was a welcome interruption. "Enter," she called, relieved.

The door slid open to reveal Chief Garibaldi. "I'm sorry for interrupting," he said with credible sincerity, "but there's a problem. Ms. Chang?"

"Yes?" Mingala rose, eyebrows arched in question.

"I was hoping you could come down to the public sector."

"What's wrong?" Talia rose as well.

Garibaldi turned to the telepath, somehow finding it easier to tell her what was going on rather than asking Mingala's help. "There are fights breaking out. Humans attacking other races. I was hoping Ms. Chang would be willing to come speak to them."

"Yes, yes, of course," Mingala said instantly. Belatedly, she turned to Ximenn. "If we are done for the day...?"

"Tomorrow morning?" he offered.

She nodded, smiling slightly. "Tomorrow morning. Until then."

She followed the security chief to a section of the station she had not been to before, a place she had been warned not to walk alone. Sounds of violence echoed through the passageways. Alarmed, Mingala quickened her steps to keep up with Garibaldi. "Does this happen often?"

"Only when we get the HomeFront league up in arms," Garibaldi said shortly.

Mingala made a sound of disgust. "Lovely. What got them started?"

"You did."

"What?" Mingala stopped short. "I have nothing to do with that group!"

"Yeah, but you're the shining hope of every damn isolationist on this station. That's why we're hoping you can talk to them."

Shaken, Mingala followed silently until they turned a corner. They stood a level above an open-air bazaar, looking down at a milling crowd below, listening to the screams and hoarse cries of hatred.

"Stop this!" she shouted down at the crowd. "Stop it!"

"Let me get their attention." Pulling out a small device, he calmly advised, "Cover your ears."

The blast that emitted from the machine was ear-splitting and made Mingala's eyes water, even with her ears covered. But she didn't have the time to whimper about it. Below them, the fight faltered as the combatants cried out in startled pain, faltering. When the bleating stopped they cautiously looked for the cause of the noise. Spying the two of them up on the catwalk, the Humans in the crowd did something that Mingala had often dreamed off and never heard before.

They cheered her. Bloodied and violent, they saw her and hailed her as their guide, their shining light. With their acclaim, they made her a part of them.

For a moment, the nails on her right hand threatened to break the skin as she fought for the control not to be sick. She moved forward to grip the railing of her perch, leaning over as far as possible. "Stop this! Listen to me! This isn't the way to win!"

The cheers turned abruptly to disgruntled mutters. "Damn aliens." "Kill them all!" "I thought you were on *our* side!" "Humans first!"

"Stop this!" Mingala tried again, helplessly. "I never said --" Since she wasn't saying anything they wanted to hear, the crowd turned back to the fight. "Listen to me!" she demanded.

Nothing. They ignored her.

"OK, we tried it the captain's way. Now we try it my way," Garibaldi said grimly. Turning, he beeped his link and began issuing orders for security personnel to break up a riot in Brown Section, Level 2.

Behind him, Mingala waited until she was certain that her legs would stay under her, and fumbled her way back to Red Section. Finding Gideon's rooms, she requested entrance, and had it immediately granted.

"My dear," he said, concerned. "You're white! What happened?"

"There... there was a fight." Half-blindly, she found a chair and lowered herself into it. "A riot, actually. They asked me to try to break it up."

Gideon immediately pressed a glass of tea into her hand. "Yes, I was just getting reports on that. My dear," he said in his faintly censuring tone, "it was foolish of you to attempt to intervene."

"I wasn't going to let violence tear apart everything I'm working for," she said fiercely. "Chief Garibaldi said that the fight was sparked by HomeFront members."

Gideon tsked disgustedly. "Damn radicals. They give all of us a bad name. You are better off not being connected in any way with them, do you understand?"

"I understand that I'm trying to help my people. And what I saw out there today can't do anything but harm."

Gideon smiled at her, brushing the top of her head with a parental hand. "Little idealist," he said fondly. "Don't worry, we will be finished here soon, and then you will know that you have helped Humans to take the first, irrevocable step away from their involvement with alien races."

Mingala took a deep breath. "I don't know if it will be soon. These negotiations... they could drag out forever. Months. I don't seem to be *getting* anywhere."

"You're accomplishing more than you know," Gideon soothed. "Every day your progress is hailed in the papers at home. You have no idea how much good you have already done. Julian and I are quite impressed, you know."

"I didn't want this victory bought in blood," she said wearily.

"It will be our blood if we do not win."

Slowly, Mingala rose to her feet. When she looked up at Gideon, she could feel the mask that shielded her from the rest of the universe fall into place, and she watched him with the impenetrable calm that had made her a success. "But we have already won," she said softly. "By coming here, by my ability to attract public attention. We've shone a light on the station, revealing what is crawling around. We're already won."

"Yes, my dear," Gideon smiled. "You should be proud."

Mingala didn't speak for a moment. "I think I shall return to my quarters, lie down. It's been a long week."

Covered by Gideon's solicitude, Mingala left his rooms behind. Her own were in Green Sector, a walk of less than five minutes. She'd made the trip so often in the past week that her feet led her automatically, her mind consumed by the image of the riot she had seen... that she had started. Sighing with exhaustion, she began to pluck the numerous hairpins that held her braids up out of her hair, her fingers searching for them buried deeply in her braids.

She didn't expect the attack.

Someone grabbed her arms and flung her at a body. She fetched up sharply, and winced when a pair of hands dug into the flesh of her upper arms. She looked up into the face of an alien -- a Drazi, her dazed mind cataloged. "Human," he hissed at her.

With a snap, he shoved her at another of his companions. "You want to throw us off this station."

He pushed her on to another one of the attackers. "We don't want to go."

They were closing in around her, propelling her around their circle. She couldn't catch her breath or her balance long enough to scream, let alone fight back. Their battering caused the last of her hairpins to slide out, and her braids fell against her back. Reminded, she dropped the pins that she held except for one. It was a pitiful weapon, but she couldn't stand to be helpless...

Closing her eyes, she waited until she was thrown solidly at one body, so that only one of them had control of her for a moment. Then she raked the point of the pin across his face, turned on her heel, and ran.

Only to be yanked back when one of her long braids was caught. Her head snapped painfully on her neck at the abrupt motion, and she fell to her knees.

A cry of fear behind her made her turn. All she could see was the backs of four Drazi, disappearing down the corridor -- and Ximenn, looking as cool and unruffled as he did in their negotiations. He lowered his hands and rose from a slight crouch, turning to look at her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly, glad to find her voice worked. She rose, testing her knees for the second time that day for the ability to hold her upright. He offered his hand to help her up and she gratefully took it. "I... Obviously, I'm useless in a fight. No one's ever threatened me before. Physically, at least."

"The Drazi are single-minded people. They don't care for being told what to do. Everyone knows your intention is to remove all aliens from this station. You did well for someone who has never been taught to fight," he added calmly before she could react to his comments.

Mingala realized she still had his hand and dropped it. "Were you watching?" she demanded.

"Only for as long as it took me to get from one end of the corridor to the other. I saw you try to run."

"I'm sorry. I'm... scared." It was a hard admission to make.

"Understandable," Ximenn said briskly, relieving her of the need to feel ashamed. "Were you on your way to your rooms?"

"Yes, I --"

"I'll walk you the rest of the way, if you will allow me."

"I... yes," Mingala said. Apparently, her wits were gone and not planning on coming back any time soon. "Um.... what--"

Putting one hand on the small of her back to guide her, Ximenn continued walking down the corridor to her rooms. "I was walking my gog."

"Your... dog?" she asked, disconcerted by the fact that he seemed to be reading her mind.

"No, my gog." He tiled his head to draw her attention to a ball of fluff on his shoulder that she had assumed in a distant way was an ornament of some kind She jumped when it stretched four impossibly tiny paws out of the central sphere.

"Oh!" she said, surprised. The creature turned its head to look at her, and she caught sight of bright eyes buried deep in the fur. It seemed to be amused by her reaction. So was its owner.

"Hold up your hands, like this," Ximenn invited, cupping his palms together. Mingala lifted her hands to his shoulder and obeyed, and the gog curled into her hands.

Ximenn watched as she lowered her arms, cuddling Brwyn under her chin. Presuming that signs of Human shock were pale skin, rapid breathing, and the inability to fix the mind on one point, he watched her as he would any young Minbari in first battle. Worse for her, since she'd had no training, no guidance, nor even considered what battle would be like. The Drazi who attacked her were cowards three times over -- to attack someone unable to defend, to overwhelm her four to one, and then to run when faced with someone who could actually fight.

She keyed open the door to her rooms and paused on the threshold. "Come in. Please."

Ximenn smiled and followed her in. "Since Brwyn doesn't seem to be inclined to leave you yet, I haven't a choice."

"Brwyn?" she asked as she entered.

"That shameless creature you are holding. She loves anyone willing to adore her." Ximenn's reward was a small laugh as Mingala settled onto a couch, lowering Brwyn to her lap. The gog immediately began nuzzling the long braid that spilled over Mingala's shoulder.

Her room was as starkly impersonal as his own, merely a resting place, not an expression of personality. Usually, the force of her will was more than enough to overwhelm any space. Now, as she slowly stroked Brwyn and let her breathing settle, he could see past the image she projected, past her mask. He could see the strain.

"Thank you," she said suddenly. "I... why? Why did you help me? We're enemies."

Her eyes were honestly bewildered. She'd expected from him no better than what she had received from the Drazi. "Do you know anything about my people?" he asked abruptly.

Swallowing, Mingala shook her head. "Precious little. There isn't much to know. And the Minbari Embassy on Earth wasn't very forthcoming."

"We divide our society up into three castes, religious, warrior, and worker. Each has an important function to fulfill. None could perform those functions if all were required to have knowledge of all three."

Amused, Mingala leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes, hands still stroking the soft, warm creature in her lap. "So I'm forgiven being useless in a fight?"

"You would be religious caste, I think," he mused in oblique answer to her question, "concerned with matters of the spirit, the soul, the intellect. I wouldn't ask you to know how to wage a war any more than you would ask me to understand grave matters of the soul."

"And you are the warrior," she murmured.

He nodded. "I defend those who need me."

"Even your enemy?" she asked quietly. She opened her eyes to look at him.

He smiled at her, rising to wander the room again. "Oh, I'll fight you. I'll fight you where you are prepared to battle me. But..." He spread his hands again in a gesture that conveyed all or nothing, and fell silent.

She rose, still holding Brwyn, and moved to stand beside him. "That's my prize possession," she said.

Ximenn looked down and realized he was standing before the one personal item in the room, a metal sculpture he could not identify. "What is it?"

"A dragon," she said, reaching one finger from Brwyn to stroke the surface. "In Earth mythology, it had two faces. The West saw it as a creature of destruction, the East as a creature of wisdom and learning."

Ximenn stepped back from the rathenn -- or dragon, as she called it -- to see her face more clearly. The shock was fading, and her eyes were distant and thoughtful. "In our stories, it is a protector."

"A warrior?" she asked, transferring Brwyn to her shoulder and folding her hands before her. Her face was vivid with interest.

"Not always. In the days of Valen, there was a rathenn. It was the first of its kind, and no one knew what it was or what it could do -- not even the rathenn itself. There had never been a creature like it before, so it had no idea how to behave, how to be. Everyone who saw it feared it, because it was large and powerful and -- sad to say -- clumsy. So it seemed that was it was fated to be was a monster, something that inspired fear. And before long, that was exactly what it was, a hideous beast who wreaked destruction because that was all it knew.

"This continued until word of the creature reached Valen. It had terrorized a settlement, and a cry went up for the rathenn to be destroyed. But not even the entire Wind Swords clan could defeat it, and the people resigned themselves to destruction.

"Valen, however, being a wise ruler, announced that he was going to face the rathenn, and stop it. His advisors were horrified, of course. This rathenn had never done anything but destroy. If an entire clan of warriors could not stop it, then how could one do so? And Valen was too precious, too important. But he refused to be swayed by their warnings. He listened to his heart, and his heart told him that he must do this."

Ximenn turned his attention back to the creature curling in sinuous coils on the low table before him. He had heard this tale as a child, in temple, and later the essential truth of the story helped him make the most difficult -- and inescapable -- decision of his life.

"So he went out into the wilderness to find the creature. Deep in the mountains of Eyeri, he found a quiet pool in a quiet forest. The pool was filled by the rathenn's tears, and Valen could not help but have compassion for a monster so obviously miserable.

"So he found a rock, and sat, and waited until the rathenn lifted its head and peered at him. 'What are you doing here?' the creature demanded. 'Do not be near me. I kill everything I touch. I am always alone.'

"Valen continued to say nothing, merely sat in silence. Finally the rathenn ceased its lamentations, and said, 'Why are you still here? Do you not understand that I am an abomination? I exist only to destroy -- without reason.'

"Quietly, Valen asked, 'Have you ever tried to be aught else?'

"The rathenn was struck dumb by the thought, for in truth it never had considered that it could be anything else than it was. Valen told it, 'All creatures have two paths before them, the one chosen for them and the one they chose. The lucky are the ones for whom those paths cross and entwine and become one. The brave are those who follow the path they chose, despite hardship and despair.'

"From that day forward, the rathenn chose its own path. It used its great strength to help rather than harm, and rapidly was acclaimed by all in joy and gratitude. But its greatest gift was that once it finally knew who it was, other rathenn came to learn from it, to bear it company. In finding its own path, it helped guide others. And it was never alone again."

Mingala's face was glowing. "That's a wonderful story," she said. "I wish I remembered any of the stories I heard growing up."

"That one... meant something to me." Why was he telling her this? Calming terror by telling stories was one thing. Admitting something this deeply personal was quite another.

Very gently, she put her hand on his arm. Her eyes were soft and dark with feeling and understanding. "I remember the first time I saw this sculpture. It was beyond exorbitant... but I had to have it. This... has always looked familiar to me. Do you... you spoke earlier of souls, but I honestly don't know if the word means the same to me that it does to you."

"A soul is the... lifeforce, that which makes every living thing individual, unique."

She nodded, smiling, eyes still on the sculpture before her. "Yes. Some Earth religions believe that the soul can have many lifetimes, many bodies. This reminds me of one I remember." Brwyn began climbing one of her braids as Mingala continued, slowly pulling the words out of a quiet place inside of her. "I've never been able to place when and where it was -- I think it was Imperial China -- but I have a very clear memory of a garden. There is a fountain in the center, and sunlight is pouring down on me. I'm dressed in stiff, ceremonial robes, and in the palm of my hand is a flower I've never seen before. I turn my head, and someone is beside me, holding another one. Then I lift my hand, and the flower turns into a... bird, or something, I've never been able to identify it. I follow it with my eyes until it's too bright to stare into the sun any more.

"That's all I remember, really," she finished softly. "There's a... sense of other things, but that's the only thing I clearly remember. It's a hobby of mine, to try to sketch the flower, the bird, the garden, the buildings in the distance, try to see if it matches anything I can find in history. So far, I've found nothing."

Ximenn was silent. After a long moment, she continued shakily. "I'm sorry. I'm babbling. It must be... I was surprised, and scared. And... damn it, I'm so good with words, why can't shut up when I need to?" she said on a despairing laugh.

"I will see you tomorrow," he said, his voice hollow. Why did it hurt to see the clarity of her eyes fade? He went from being able to see her thoughts to being only able to see his own reflection.

She withdrew physically as she already had mentally, holding Brwyn out as she stepped back. "Yes," she said politely, "tomorrow."

Without another word he bowed without his usual mockery and left her rooms. This time, if the Drazi had come back, they would have caught him completely by surprise. All he could think of was to get to Delenn's quarters.

The time it took for him to request entry and be admitted was an eternity. With barely leashed violence, he stalked inside and confronted her. She was calm, reserved -- but she no longer reminded him of the legendary Olwenn. Olwenn, who had changed a flower into a bird in the gardens of Fenella.

Without preamble, he demanded, "How does a Human remember a Minbari legend?"