The Winds Of Dune Part 11

Jessica let out an audible sigh of relief, but Leto remained suspicious. "So, where are they? Are you returning them to us?"

The Guildsman blinked in confusion. His two burly companions remained silent, staring straight ahead. "We did not come here for that purpose. We came to collect the fee for their pa.s.sage. Your sons traveled great distances without paying for transport. House Atreides and House Vernius owe the s.p.a.cing Guild a significant sum."

In a tone of disgust, Leto muttered a curse. Jessica pressed, "Will you at least tell us where the boys are?"

"I do not have that knowledge."

"Vermillion h.e.l.ls, you already said you caught the boys!" Rhombur took an ominous step forward, but the two muscular companions did not flinch.

"The boys were put off-s.h.i.+p, according to Guild policy, at one of our stops."

"Which stop?" Leto was growing more and more exasperated.

"We pride ourselves on confidentiality, and do not discuss the movements of our pa.s.sengers."

Leto called his bluff. "In that case, we have no proof of their travels, and we refuse to pay for their pa.s.sage."

The Guildsman was startled. "Those are separate matters."

"To you, perhaps, but not to me. Tell me where my son is, if you want to be paid."

The representative deferred to his ma.s.sive companions, who consulted each other in quiet tones before nodding. Jessica wondered who was really in charge. "Payment first," the man said.

"No. Location first," Rhombur countered.

Leto fumed. "Enough of this! House Atreides guarantees payment to the Guild. If you tell us what we need to know, I'll release the solaris immediately."

The representative gave the slightest bow. "Very well. Bronso Vernius and Paul Atreides were granted sanctuary among a Jongleur troupe that disembarked on Chusuk four days ago."

There is a natural compatibility between our two groups, don't you think? Your "gypsy" Wayku and my Jongleurs are both inveterate s.p.a.ce travelers, and in a sense we are both performers-my people put on spectacular shows, while yours perform tasks so efficiently that pa.s.sengers hardly notice they're being served.

-RHEINVAR THE MAGNIFICENT, from a letter to his Wayku friend Ennzyn

When the shuttle dumped the Jongleur troupe on Chusuk, Bronso shouldered closer to Paul, eager to drink in all the details at once. "A Jongleur's life is full of such things. If we stay with Rheinvar's troupe, we'll see a new planet every week."

"We just joined the troupe." They hadn't even met the other performers yet. Still, Paul was glad to see his friend enthusiastic again, because Bronso had been so bitter for weeks.

"Yes, but we're on Chusuk!"

Gurney Halleck had told stories and sung many songs about the planet Chusuk, renowned for its fine balisets. Paul doubted Gurney had ever been here before, though he talked like an expert. The thought of the big, lumpish man made Paul miss Caladan. He was sure his parents would be greatly concerned about him, though he hoped his mother and father had sufficient faith in his resourcefulness. Maybe he could find a way to at least send a rea.s.suring message home, so long as he did not reveal too much....

Rheinvar sauntered up to them, dressed in his sparkling white suit. "You two have to earn your keep. A favor for Ennzyn only goes so far."

"I've always wanted to work with Jongleurs," Bronso said.

The troupe leader let out a loud snort. "You don't know the first thing about Jongleurs. Rumors, embellished stories, superst.i.tions-hah! I'll bet you think we're sorcerers living in the hills who can use telepathy to manipulate audiences."

"Exactly. And your performances are so emotionally powerful that audiences can die from the experience."

"That wouldn't help us get repeat customers, now would it? Those are just tall tales and rumors, ridiculous exaggerations. We're professional showmen, acrobats, entertainers." Rheinvar leaned closer, and his eyes twinkled. "The powerful skills you mention are only used by Master Master Jongleurs." Jongleurs."

"And are you a Master Jongleur?" Paul asked.

"Of course! But using my powers would be strictly against Imperial law." Paul couldn't tell if the man was serious or not. "Ages ago, House Jongleur founded an ancient school of storytelling, employing clever showmans.h.i.+p and performing skills ... but some of us had an extra gift, mental abilities that let us share emotions-strictly for entertainment purposes, you understand-to enhance the experience and increase the fear, romance, and excitement."

He let out a booming chuckle. "Or so the stories say. My people from the planet Jongleur used to be the best troubadours in the Imperium. We traveled from House to House, entertaining the great families, but some Master Jongleurs made the mistake of getting involved in intrigues with inter-House feuds, spying and the like ... and ever since, we've been shunned by the Landsraad." Rheinvar's eyes glinted playfully. "As a result of our disgrace, some say there are no true Master Jongleurs left."

"But you just told us you're one of them yourself," Paul said.

"You believe everything I say? Good! In truth, I think the audiences come to watch because they hope hope I might demonstrate some supernatural powers." I might demonstrate some supernatural powers."

"And do you?" Bronso asked.

Rheinvar waggled his finger. "The most important rule you need to learn is that a showman never divulges his secrets." The other troupe members began to move across the Chusuk field, and Rheinvar shooed the boys along. "Enough storytelling. I hope you two can do more than take up s.p.a.ce and breathe the air. Tend the birds and lizards, haul crates, set up, tear down, clean up, run errands, and do the dirty work that no one else wants to do." take up s.p.a.ce and breathe the air. Tend the birds and lizards, haul crates, set up, tear down, clean up, run errands, and do the dirty work that no one else wants to do."

"We'll do the work, sir," Paul said. "We're not lazy."

"Prove it. If you can't find something to do on your own, then you're either blind, helpless, or stupid." He strode down the ramp, already looking like a showman. "I'm off to set up the performance venue. We start our practice shows tomorrow."

With astonis.h.i.+ng speed, the troupe members erected, fitted, powered, and furnished the stage inside the largest available theater in Sonance, the capital of Chusuk. The performers, roustabouts, and stagehands-Paul had trouble telling them apart-worked together like the well-coordinated components of an Ixian clock. He and Bronso did their best to help, while not getting in the way.

Rheinvar the Magnificent began promoting the show by going into the city to meet with family-league representatives, taking with him a few of the dancers, who demonstrated some of their more complicated moves.

Paul and Bronso did their ch.o.r.es without complaint, feeding the animals, cleaning equipment, helping move things into proper positions. At every opportunity, however, they gazed restlessly out at the city, wanting to explore.

When the frenetic work had died down, one of the performers came up to the boys, a lithe young male in black trousers and blouse. "I have business in Sonance, and you two are welcome to join me." He smiled at them. "My name is Sielto, and part of my job is to observe the leading locals so that I can glean specific details for use in the show."

Bronso and Paul did not need to consult each other before agreeing. Leaving the Jongleur encampment, the trio went out to explore Sonance. They wandered down narrow streets lined with shops, where artisans worked thin strips of golden harmonywood: planing, carving, and laminating the layers into graceful mathematical arcs and perfect shapes. Their companion gave a dry explanation: "Harmonywood comes from a special stunted tree that grows on the windswept highlands. That wood is the key to the sophisticated characteristics of Chusuk balisets." comes from a special stunted tree that grows on the windswept highlands. That wood is the key to the sophisticated characteristics of Chusuk balisets."

While the three proceeded from shop to shop, craftsmen glanced up at them from their workbenches. The smells of potent lacquers, colorful paints, and sawdust filled the air. As soon as the artisans judged that they were mere curiosity seekers rather than actual customers, they turned back to their work.

"As the harmonywood grows," Sielto continued, "the trees are infested with tiny borer beetles, which create honeycombs in the wood. No tree is the same as any other, so no two instruments sound exactly the same. That special wood gives Chusuk instruments their sweet, rich sound and complexity of resonance." Through various doorways he indicated different coats of arms, varying colors and designs displayed outside the craftsman shops. "Each family league grows its own strain of the trees."

"They're not very innovative, though," Bronso said, "just using the old methods over and over." He bent over to inspect a basket of loose, polished multipicks for the balisets. The shopkeeper watched them closely, suspiciously.

Still wearing a contented smile, Sielto glanced around the workshops. "You may not notice it, but this is an industry undergoing a great deal of turmoil. The Ollic League recently developed a synthetic variety of harmonywood, you see, and it greatly offended the traditionalists. Arsonists burned many of the new arbors to the ground." He looked around warily, as if expecting a mob to appear out of the streets and alleys.

"But what's so special about those trees, and why would somebody want to destroy them?" Paul asked.

"Only a few years ago, the Ollic family was a minor player among harmonywood growers. They had fallen upon extraordinarily hard times, until the patriarch, Ombar Ollic, took a daring chance that offended all the other Chusuk leagues, using Tleilaxu engineers to genetically modify his strains. What would have taken ten years to grow, now matured in a single year. And thanks to the Tleilaxu modifications, clonewood trees have a natural natural honeycombed structure, so there's no need for the time-consuming borer beetles." honeycombed structure, so there's no need for the time-consuming borer beetles."

Noting that the shopkeeper was paying far too much attention to them, Sielto led the boys back out into the streets. "Many objective critics say that clonewood balisets sound even sweeter than originals, and such an idea appalls the Chusuk purists. That's why other families wish to destroy the Ollic League."

Despite his natural antipathy toward the Tleilaxu, who had greatly damaged Ix, Bronso sounded surprised, even offended. "But anyone who creates more efficient production methods deserves deserves to get more business." to get more business."

"You're thinking like an Ixian. From your manner of speech, I can tell you are from Ix, correct?" Sielto seemed to be probing for information, but Bronso avoided answering. He turned to Paul. "And you? I have not yet determined your homeworld, though there are a number of options."

Paul smiled calmly. "We're s.p.a.ce gypsies, not unlike Wayku, or Jongleurs." For years, his tutors had drilled an understanding of consequences into him, explaining the complexities of commerce, government, alliances, and trade-all the things a Duke would need to know. "If Ollic clonewood sounds the same and grows faster, then their family's profits are increased at the expense of other leagues. No wonder the rival families hate them so and burned their arbors."

"Progress won't be stopped by a few instances of petty arson." Bronso's nostrils flared. "If the artificial clonewood is better, faster, and cheaper to produce, why don't the other families just adopt it in their own arbors, so they can be compet.i.tive again?"

"Maybe they should ... but they will not. They are far too proud."

Just before noon the following day, Paul and Bronso stood beside Rheinvar in a vault-ceilinged wing of the gilded theater for the first rehearsals. Overhead, magnificent frescoes depicted colorful dancers, actors, and masked performers.

The Jongleur leader had arranged an appropriate time to launch their grand performance, but the troupe needed to practice before the big event. Each planet had its differences in gravity, sunlight, and atmospheric content.

With a skeptical eye, Rheinvar observed a troupe of dancers going through graceful, athletic movements on the stage. The music was quick and uplifting, with stunning harmonics. Above them, a pair of immense Gorun birds, their wings wide and powerful, clung to suspensor bars. through graceful, athletic movements on the stage. The music was quick and uplifting, with stunning harmonics. Above them, a pair of immense Gorun birds, their wings wide and powerful, clung to suspensor bars.

Though this was merely a setup and practice show, Rheinvar allowed a crowd of curiosity seekers to watch. "Their word of mouth is better advertising than all the announcements I could possibly make," he told Paul.

Bronso's eyes sparkled as he took in the elaborate routine of the dancers, all of whom wore pale blue leotards and tight feather caps in a variety of colors. A dozen dancers-ten men and two women-performed backflips and jumped high in the air; at exactly the right moment the Gorun birds spread their wings to provide a place for the dancers to land. Instantly, the enormous birds lifted into the air with slow, powerful sweeps of their wings and six dancers poised on top of them like daredevils, circling the theater and landing back on the stage. Finally, the dancers alighted onto the floor and took a bow as cheers filled the theater.

While the performers peeled away and vanished backstage, Rheinvar motioned to the lithe lead dancer in a red-feather headcap, and the man hurried over. "Outstanding practice performance. Have you met our new roustabouts?"

"Of course I have." The man removed his cap to reveal a bald head that glistened with perspiration. Something looked familiar about him, but Paul was sure he hadn't been among the workers setting up the stage. "How could I forget them? Their Their features don't change." features don't change."

Rheinvar winked at the man, then led him and the boys backstage. Once they were out of sight of the crowd of onlookers, the dancer's face s.h.i.+fted, changed as he twitched muscles, adjusted his appearance all the way down to the bone structure. Paul's eyes widened as the performer became Sielto Sielto.

The man's features altered again, taking on the appearance of someone else whom Paul remembered from their communal meal the previous night. The countenance s.h.i.+fted again, and finally returned to the appearance of the lithe man who had performed onstage. "I'm much more than a dancer, as you can see-I am a Face Dancer."

Paul had heard of the exotic mimics before, and now he remembered that performance troupes often employed shape-s.h.i.+fters.

"A Face Dancer of the Tleilaxu Tleilaxu," Bronso said with a clear growl in the back of his words, but he was unable to reveal the reasons for his aversion to the loathsome race without exposing his connection to House Vernius.

Sielto took no offense at his tone. "Is there any other kind?" He gestured to the other performers backstage, who now looked entirely different from their stage appearances. "Most of the troupe is made up of Face Dancers."

Rheinvar brushed imaginary dust from the sparkles on his top hat and placed it back on his head. "The audiences love it when the performers suddenly look like local political figures or recognizable heroes."

"And our Master Jongleur has tricks of his own." Sielto made a comical face. "Go sit out in the audience for the next routine, young roustabouts. Rheinvar, demonstrate what a Master Jongleur can truly do."

"Well, I do need to keep in practice ... and it is just a rehearsal." As the Face Dancer bounded away, Rheinvar directed Paul and Bronso to empty seats in the main theater. "It's the grand finale. Watch it from the front step. You've never seen anything like this."

Dressed in his sparkling white suit under the intense lights, the Jongleur leader stepped to the center of the stage. Paul watched Rheinvar's stiff movements, the deep breaths and trancelike concentration as he seemed to prepare himself for a great exertion.

When he spoke, the man's voice carried throughout the great hall. "For our most spectacular event yet, we will attempt a dangerous routine that has been forbidden on seven planets-but have no fear, there is very little risk to any individual individual audience member." audience member."

Uneasy laughter rippled through the stands. Bronso nudged Paul in the ribs and rolled his eyes.

Rheinvar stood like a stone at the center of the stage, where he drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. Paul felt a strange flicker pa.s.s in front of his vision, a crawling sensation on the surface of his skin, but he shook it off. He felt dizzy, but focused his thoughts as his mother had taught him to do, trying to identify what Rheinvar was attempting. Presently, he focused his vision-and everything seemed normal again.

Sielto and the Face Dancers stepped casually onto the stage behind Rheinvar. They remained motionless except for their eyes, gazing around the audience, to the deepest reaches of the old theater. It all seemed very sedate.

Beside Paul, however, Bronso shuddered and blinked, and his expression took on an odd, dreamy look. The audience sucked in amazed breaths in unison. Groups of people gasped and moved in waves, as if something invisible was darting among them. But Paul didn't see anything.

On the stage, neither Rheinvar nor the Face Dancers had moved.

Audience members clapped and cheered; many did gyrations in their seats as though trying to avoid things that weren't really there. Even Bronso whistled his approval. "But they aren't doing anything!" Paul said, baffled.

Bronso pointed. "See there-oh! I've never seen so much leaping and twirling as the troupe goes out into the audience. Look how clever, the pinpoint landings, and the way they contort their faces to look like monsters. They're amazing! The audience is sure to have nightmares."

Paul, though, merely saw Rheinvar in deep concentration and the group of dancers behind him, standing casual and patient. "But ... everyone is just standing on the stage. They're doing nothing."

"Are you blind and deaf?" Bronso clapped again and shot to his feet. "Bravo! Bravo!"

Finally, the Jongleur leader raised his head and opened his eyes. The Face Dancers bounded to the front of the stage and took a bow to the thunderous approval of the audience.

Then Paul understood. "It's ma.s.s hypnosis on the audience. I thought it was just a legend."

The Jongleur leader called the boys over to him, and doffed his top hat. "What did you see and hear? Were you impressed?" He looked from one boy to the other.

"We were both impressed," Paul said. "But for different reasons."

Bronso gushed about what he had seen, but Paul regarded the elegant old man with a measuring expression and said, "You played the audience like a musical instrument. Generating illusions, hypnotizing them. They saw exactly what you wanted them to see."

Rheinvar was taken aback by Paul's statement, but then he chuckled. "You saw that? Well, it seems we have an unusual specimen here, more interesting even than a shape-s.h.i.+fter." He slapped Paul on the back. "Yes, a very small number of people have a kind of mental immunity. Jongleurs use a resonance-hypnosis technique similar to what the Bene Gesserit use, except these players merely use it to enhance their performances." "You saw that? Well, it seems we have an unusual specimen here, more interesting even than a shape-s.h.i.+fter." He slapped Paul on the back. "Yes, a very small number of people have a kind of mental immunity. Jongleurs use a resonance-hypnosis technique similar to what the Bene Gesserit use, except these players merely use it to enhance their performances."

Bronso regarded his friend with clear astonishment. "You were serious? You really didn't see anything?"

"He is is a Master Jongleur. You were the one seeing things that weren't there." a Master Jongleur. You were the one seeing things that weren't there."

INTERLUDE