The Winds Of Dune Part 20

"Because Bronso has escalated his campaign against the Imperial government. Therefore I am escalating the response."

"By reacting so extremely, you give his words a legitimacy they do not deserve. Just ignore Bronso's criticisms."

"Then I would look weak, or a fool, or both. My response is entirely appropriate."

"I disagree." Jessica considered using an appropriate s.h.i.+fting of Voice, in an attempt to bring her daughter to her knees, but that could precipitate a confrontation between them. Alia was not without her own defenses. Still, she wanted to make Alia see what she was doing. "Your father was called Leto the Just. Are you your father's daughter, or are you something else? A changeling?"

With a sudden movement, Alia slapped Jessica on the face. It stung.

Jessica saw it coming, and chose not to evade the blow. Was this a petulant retribution for when she had struck Alia only weeks before? Marshalling all the calmness she could, Jessica said, "The mark of a true leader, a true human, is to find a reasonable solution to intractable problems. You have stopped bothering to try. The ripples spread wide from here, Alia. There are consequences for everything."

"You threaten me?"

"I counsel counsel you, and you would be wise to listen. I am only here to help you-and I won't be here for long." Gathering her dignity, Jessica left the room. you, and you would be wise to listen. I am only here to help you-and I won't be here for long." Gathering her dignity, Jessica left the room.

The hearts of all men dwell in the same wilderness.

-TIBANA, one of the leading Socratic Christians

Standing in row after row, the men looked like a sequence of images in a hall of mirrors, one Bronso Vernius after the other, each indistinguishable from the next. Dressed in identical white tunics and brown trousers, with similarly unkempt hair, they stood side by side in morning mists on the distant world of IV Anbus.

Only one of the Bronsos was real; he looked surrept.i.tiously at the others. The Face Dancers a.s.serted they were all the same; some still claimed to be Sielto, despite the very public execution in the Arrakeen square. Bronso didn't think the shape-s.h.i.+fters even knew the difference among themselves, but that did not diminish the sick feeling he felt inside. He would never be able to wash away the nightmarish memory of Stilgar's crysknife flas.h.i.+ng into a body that looked indistinguishable from his own.

That was meant to be me.

After the spectacle, Face Dancers had appeared all around the Imperium, dozens of them in Arrakeen itself, providing enough diversions and distractions that the real Bronso could escape from Dune. In countless star systems, the shape-s.h.i.+fters would continue to take his place, and sightings of Bronso would occur on planet after planet. After much wasted time and effort, after interrogations and blood tests, all the captives would be exposed as imposters. Already, he was making Alia look foolish in her pursuit of him. the captives would be exposed as imposters. Already, he was making Alia look foolish in her pursuit of him.

At least five additional shape-s.h.i.+fters had been executed, but none had revealed anything during protracted interrogation sessions. Such great and n.o.ble acts were seemingly incongruous among Face Dancers.

As Bronso thought about it, he remembered that the original Rheinvar the Magnificent had selected only the finest shape-s.h.i.+fters for his troupe, those who would adhere to n.o.ble Jongleur traditions. And as perfect mimics, picking up on nuances of behavior, the Face Dancers must have imitated the Master Jongleur at some point and absorbed his sense of honor.

Now Bronso was in the midst of those he could trust, humans of a different cut. He and his doppelgangers were meeting on a planet whose once-powerful civilization had long ago faded into history. The group stood together on a wide, flat promontory above the confluence of two rivers whose waters churned and flowed far below in the deep canyons they had cut. A sparkle of closely orbiting moons rode in the sky, visible even in daylight.

Long ago, a monastery had stood on this site, where the first Socratic Christians had gained and consolidated political power. IV Anbus was a spiritual place, a beacon for their souls, but in the distant past, unremembered enemies had killed every person on the planet and erased most evidence that their sect had ever existed; the victors had shattered the stones of the monastery buildings and tossed the fragments into the raging torrents below.

Only the evening before, Bronso and the Jongleur troupe had ventured down to the planet, which remained only spa.r.s.ely inhabited after so many centuries. Bronso had made certain that several Wayku attendants and others on the s.h.i.+p realized who he was and where he was going. Boarding another Heighliner under an a.s.sumed ident.i.ty afterward, altering his features and clothing with sophisticated Jongleur makeup and costuming, he would continue his journey, staying for a while and then moving on, as usual.

Striding to the front of the group, the Face Dancer replica of Rheinvar the Magnificent scrutinized the identical Bronsos. The Jongleur leader scratched his head and muttered to himself, unable to identify the real Ixian among the imitators. Finally he said in a booming voice, "Even to a Face Dancer of my perceptive abilities, your voices, eyes, and mannerisms reveal nothing." "Even to a Face Dancer of my perceptive abilities, your voices, eyes, and mannerisms reveal nothing."

All of the Bronsos smiled, in unison.

Despite regent Alia's strict prohibitions against anyone possessing or even reading Bronso's inflammatory publications, the new manifesto was widely distributed and discussed. The extreme writing was more insulting and hateful than anything he had published before.

The problem was, Bronso hadn't written it.

When he read the provocative insults against Alia, Duncan, and even Lady Jessica, Bronso simply stared in disbelief. Even Ennzyn, who brought him a copy while the Heighliner was en route to its next destination, a.s.sumed that it was genuinely one of the Ixian's writings. Wanting to help, the Wayku had surrept.i.tiously spread it to a wider audience, as usual.

But it was a forgery. Bronso found that extremely disturbing.

He wondered if the author could possibly be Irulan. The Corrino princess had spread plenty of her own falsehoods, but nothing in her writing-especially the recent insipid and glorified "revisions" to history-had contained this sort of maliciousness. Even his most critical a.n.a.lyses of Paul Atreides had never been so boorish and rude, had never contained such vehement and personal attacks.

Sealed in a small inner stateroom, he pored over the alarming counterfeit manifesto, searching for clues. The words sounded as if they'd been written by a madman. No wonder Regent Alia had ordered her guards to hunt him down at all costs and had increased the bounty on his head. No wonder the people were growing more unified against him in common disgust.

A chill went down his back as the answer dawned on him. Alia herself Alia herself had the most to gain from such invective! If she had not written it with her own hand, one of her agents must have compiled it. And the Regent had the ability to distribute many, many copies. had the most to gain from such invective! If she had not written it with her own hand, one of her agents must have compiled it. And the Regent had the ability to distribute many, many copies.

Anger clenched his muscles. Of course, Alia did not know that he he was the one who'd sent Lady Jessica the covert recordings of the priest Isbar's a.s.sa.s.sination plan. Bronso had many secret surveillance devices was the one who'd sent Lady Jessica the covert recordings of the priest Isbar's a.s.sa.s.sination plan. Bronso had many secret surveillance devices planted in strategic places in the temples and in the Citadel of Muad'Dib itself. He had saved Alia's life, even if she didn't realize that he was her benefactor. planted in strategic places in the temples and in the Citadel of Muad'Dib itself. He had saved Alia's life, even if she didn't realize that he was her benefactor.

And now she had done this to him!

The sole purpose of his writings was to provide the unvarnished truth about Paul-Muad'Dib, exaggerating his weaknesses to make up for the fictions that were being written about him by starry-eyed Irulan. The pendulum had to swing both directions. Trying to set the record straight, Bronso had already sacrificed his wealth and n.o.ble t.i.tle, risking his life for years on the run.

And now Alia was publis.h.i.+ng lies-under his name.

Writing feverishly, he began to compose another manifesto to refute the forged doc.u.ment and deny responsibility for it. He could not allow such lies to go unchallenged.

There comes a time when every relations.h.i.+p is tested, and the true strength of the bond is determined.

-from The Wisdom of Muad'Dib The Wisdom of Muad'Dib by the by the PRINCESS IRULAN PRINCESS IRULAN

Weary after a long day, Irulan entered the northwest wing of the great citadel, interested only in reaching her private quarters. She carried a ridulian crystal recorder under one arm, which she had used to collect information from people on the streets of Arrakeen. How strange for the eldest daughter of Shaddam IV, the lawful wife of Emperor Muad'Dib, to be employed as a gatherer of data, a survey taker. Alia had given her the capricious, nonsensical instructions; Irulan didn't understand what she really wanted.

Even while Paul still lived, Irulan's role had been unclear, her a.s.signments beneath her abilities. The eldest daughter of Shaddam Corrino, relegated to a mere chronicler ... but even that was preferable to performing such menial work. Did Alia intend to demean her?

Pursuant to the Regent's instructions, Irulan and an entourage of guards and functionaries had gone out into the city on a special a.s.signment to interview common people. "I want honest opinions, candid responses," Alia had said, obviously knowing she would get no such thing. Considering the recent purges-not to mention the intimidating amazon guards at the Princess's side-no one would voice criticisms of the Regency. Over the course of the day, Irulan had collected thousands of glowing responses. Exactly what Alia wanted. But why?

Irulan had never been averse to manipulating answers herself. No matter what Jessica had told her, she felt obligated to continue building the myth of Muad'Dib, developing and revising his history in order to cement his place as prophet, the Kwisatz Haderach, the Lisan al-Gaib. By extension, that strengthened the legitimacy of Alia's rule. There could be no doubt in the minds of the people, no questions. That was why Bronso posed such a threat.

Irulan feared what would happen when the twins grew older. What if Alia began to scheme against little Leto and Ghanima? As Paul's wife, albeit not the mother of his children, she would continue to watch over the babies, help Harah to raise them, and guard them if necessary.

All the while, her father remained in exile on Salusa Secundus with Count Hasimir Fenring. The fallen Emperor Shaddam had been strangely silent since the "accident" had killed his amba.s.sador Rivato just after Paul's death, but she knew her father-and Fenring-very well: Sensing weakness, they would be like wolves sniffing at Muad'Dib's wounded Empire. She wondered what her father would do next.

Walking along hallways of polished stone, she pa.s.sed priceless paintings, statuary, and sealed bookcases containing ancient illuminated ma.n.u.scripts. After a lifetime of familiarity with ostentatious trappings, both on Kaitain and here, she barely noticed the finery anymore.

But inside her own inner rooms, she sensed that something was not right.

With the door to the hallway still open behind her, she paused, her senses heightened from her years of Bene Gesserit schooling. She detected peculiar odors, things a bit out of place, heavy tables moved slightly, a sheaf of doc.u.ments in a different position, the jewelry case visible through the doorway to her sleeping chamber open just a crack.

It was ridiculous to think that a burglar had broken into her chambers deep inside the Citadel. A quick inspection revealed that nothing had been taken. But objects had been moved around. Why? Had the intruder been searching for something?

Suddenly, she understood why the Regent had sent her on an unusual, and pointless, a.s.signment all day. Alia wanted me away from my rooms Alia wanted me away from my rooms.

Irulan checked a cleverly concealed sliding wall compartment, confirmed that her private journals had not been disturbed. On impulse, she went back to her jewelry case and took out a strand of varnished reefpearls that she had received as a gift during a party game in the Arrakeen royal court. confirmed that her private journals had not been disturbed. On impulse, she went back to her jewelry case and took out a strand of varnished reefpearls that she had received as a gift during a party game in the Arrakeen royal court.

She remembered that celebratory night, an intentional throwback to the early years of Paul's reign. Clinging to their former glory, despite the ongoing destruction of the Jihad, Landsraad members had been invited to an especially lavish celebration intended to resemble similar parties back on old Kaitain. Paul had been much too busy for such court games.

As the highlight of the evening, the partic.i.p.ants opened random packages provided by the organizer, a bubbly woman who had once been a countess but had lost most of her fortune in a scandal that had nothing to do with the Jihad.

Casually, Irulan had selected an item from the a.s.sortment of gifts arrayed on tables around the room-just a light amus.e.m.e.nt for all-but when she opened her package, Irulan had immediately seen that her gift was unusual. The reefpearls appeared to be genuine, which she'd confirmed afterward through a wizened old jeweler. The jeweler had noticed something else on the necklace, which he showed to her under a magnifying lens: an unmistakable hawk crest etched into the golden clasp. "It appears to be an authentic Atreides heirloom, Highness."

Later, Irulan had walked into Paul's private study and interrupted a meeting with Stilgar, freshly returned from an offworld military mission. While the Fremen commander watched, looking at her sourly as he often did, Irulan had handed the reefpearls to Paul. "I believe this keepsake belongs to you, my Husband, not to me."

"I am Muad'Dib now. Atreides heirlooms are no longer important to me." With a casual motion Paul had tossed the reefpearls back to her. "Keep them yourself, or send them to my mother on Caladan, as you like." The Princess had gone away with the necklace, questions churning through her mind....

Now, as she held the strand of pearls up to the light from an overhead glowglobe, Irulan looked through a handheld magnifier and found the minuscule hawk crest, as expected. But something wasn't right. Laying out the reefpearls, she looked at them under a focusing lens. Previously, the second pearl from the clasp had been distinguished by a barely perceptible scratch that the jeweler pointed out to her. Now she could not locate it. Her heart racing, Irulan looked again, increasing the magnification just to verify her suspicions. perceptible scratch that the jeweler pointed out to her. Now she could not locate it. Her heart racing, Irulan looked again, increasing the magnification just to verify her suspicions.

Not there.

Carrying the pearls, she marched off to the grand ballroom where servants were setting up dinner. She still wore wrinkled and dusty clothing from her day on the streets of Arrakeen, but she did not care about decorum.

When Alia arrived with Duncan and took her customary place at the head of the table, Irulan laid the pearls on her own dinner plate. "I must commend you on an excellent job of copying, Lady Alia. However, your craftsmen failed to take into account a small scratch on one of the pearls."

Rather than being incensed, Alia responded with a wide smile. "You see, Duncan! Irulan is not as easily fooled as you expected. She noticed a flaw that even our experts disregarded."

Her new husband wore a slight frown. "I did suggest that we ask her openly for the original, instead of attempting secrecy."

Irulan waited for an explanation, and Alia said lightly, "We confiscated the original because it is a relic of House Atreides. It has nothing to do with you, Irulan."

"Paul himself told me I could keep it."

"You received many items from my brother."

"Legitimately. I was his wife."

"We both know the truth of that, Irulan. Because of their important religious significance, all of your original keepsakes have been replaced with copies. The true relics will be placed under the care and guard of the Qizarate, and select authorized replicas will be made available to certain devout and generous collectors."

Irulan felt anger, but used her Bene Gesserit training to remain calm. "Those were my possessions. Gifts from my husband husband." She was edging into dangerous territory, but she set aside her fear and tried to keep her voice steady. "With all due respect, because of my dedication and loyalty, I have earned the right to keep my own things."

"Oh, enough melodrama, Irulan Corrino! They were never your your things. I don't see how any of this can matter to you. You are not really an Atreides." Giving her a dismissive gesture, Alia called for the first things. I don't see how any of this can matter to you. You are not really an Atreides." Giving her a dismissive gesture, Alia called for the first course. By now, other diners had halted their conversations, and the usual dinner table murmurings had dwindled to a few tinklings of silverware, gla.s.ses, and plates. course. By now, other diners had halted their conversations, and the usual dinner table murmurings had dwindled to a few tinklings of silverware, gla.s.ses, and plates.

Servants rushed about in a great flurry, serving extravagant salads, lush greens, and succulent raw vegetables grown in moisture-sealed greenhouses inside the Citadel. It was clear Alia wanted to speak no more of the matter.

In a voice as brittle as dried bone, Irulan asked, "Will the Lady Jessica be joining us for dinner?"

"My mother has chosen to meditate in her own rooms."

Irulan decided to pay a visit to Jessica later in the evening. It was obvious that the other woman had much more to tell her, but Irulan hadn't been ready to hear it. Irulan ate and then excused herself as quickly as possible.

When Jessica responded to a subdued knock at the door to her private apartments, she found the Princess standing there alone and troubled. In an instant, she read many things in the younger woman's expression. "Please come inside for a cup of spice tea."

After Jessica had closed the door behind them, Irulan used finger talk to silently explain what Alia had done; her coded words were tentative at first, but she gained energy as she allowed herself to become more upset. She felt a need for secrecy-perhaps irrationally, since Alia had just confirmed what she'd done in front of all the attendees at the banquet.

Absorbing the new information, Jessica let out a long sigh. Her fingers flashed in subtle communication, acknowledging the potential danger they faced. "My daughter grows increasingly unpredictable, and the challenge before you is great. You walk a dangerous, fine line-just as Paul did when he looked into the future and saw only a treacherous and uncertain path. Alia is the rightful Regent of the Imperium, and we must accept that. But even Alia doesn't see everything. You have an important role, as do I. As does Bronso of Ix."

Irulan was startled. "Bronso has an important role?" has an important role?"

"Paul understood it before I did, Irulan, and he asked us for help." She gave a finger sign for added caution. Alia knew every Bene Gesserit code, and if there were hidden spy-eyes.... She gave a finger sign for added caution. Alia knew every Bene Gesserit code, and if there were hidden spy-eyes....

Feigning casualness, Jessica sat back against her comfortable cus.h.i.+ons, and reached over to pour them tea. Openly, as a diversion, she spoke of how much she missed Caladan and hoped to return there soon; all the while the fingers of one hand flashed subtly with the real message: "You will make your own decisions, Irulan. But in determining what to write, you must first know know the truth, in all of its dimensions. Your special duty is to protect Paul's legacy." the truth, in all of its dimensions. Your special duty is to protect Paul's legacy."

Hunching over, hiding her hands in her lap, Jessica continued her quick finger signs. "You must hear the rest of the story about Bronso and Paul. Only then will you understand why Bronso writes what he does. We cannot speak here. I will arrange a safe time and place."

Alas, history can be rewritten according to political agendas, but in the end, facts remain facts.

-Conversations with Muad'Dib by the by the PRINCESS IRULAN PRINCESS IRULAN

After establis.h.i.+ng an acceptable pretext that she and Irulan wished to attend a Fremen ceremony at Sietch Tabr the following evening, Jessica specifically requested Gurney Halleck to pilot the ornithopter. Preoccupied with a new set of motions that had been delivered from the latest Landsraad meeting on Kaitain, Alia sent them off without any apparent concern.

Gurney made the 'thopter preparations with good cheer, meeting the two women in a vehicle bay that was normally used for Regency business and security operations. "The guards a.s.signed us this craft, my Ladies. I have loaded aboard literjons of water, a Fremkit, and other emergency supplies. We are ready to go."

Jessica paused, then looked over her shoulder. "We'll take that one instead, Gurney. I like the look of it better. You can go over the checklist yourself quickly enough." Any 'thopter that Alia had a.s.signed to them might contain hidden listening devices, and Jessica wanted no one to hear what she was about to reveal.

Though surprised by the unexpected change, Gurney called for a.s.sistance in preparing the second craft. Catching his eye, Jessica made a subtle half-hidden signal with her hand, using an old Atreides battle code to inform him that he was to ask no further questions. A troubled cloud came over the man's face, darkening the line of his inkvine scar, before he returned to his casual demeanor. cloud came over the man's face, darkening the line of his inkvine scar, before he returned to his casual demeanor.

The mechanics and uniformed guards were thrown into confusion by the sudden change, but Gurney brushed them aside and quickly transferred over the supplies, checked the fuel level, and tested the 'thopter systems, while Irulan and Jessica waited in the vehicle bay. Both of the n.o.ble ladies looked out of place.

When he was satisfied, Gurney opened the door of the craft and extended a hand to help Irulan and Jessica aboard. After they had secured themselves inside, he powered up the engines, extended the stubby wings, and activated the jetpods.

The craft flew away from the Citadel of Muad'Dib, into the sparkling traffic patterns of the desert night. Both moons shone overhead, widely separated in the sky. Gurney fixed his gaze ahead through the c.o.c.kpit plaz, guiding them through the thermal turbulence caused by temperatures falling after sunset. They flew up and over the rugged barrier of the s.h.i.+eld Wall.

Jessica drew a long, deep breath. "I wanted you to be my pilot, Gurney, because I trust you completely. Even if Duncan is the old Duncan, Alia has him too ensnared." She glanced over at Irulan, who looked willowy and beautiful, though not fragile. "And I'm not certain that I share Alia's goals in all things. For what I am about to reveal-to both of you-I require absolute privacy. Alia cannot be allowed to know what I tell you."

Though he concentrated on his flying, Gurney was troubled. "I am always loyal to you, my Lady, but for a mother to keep such secrets from her daughter, it's not to my liking."

Jessica sighed. "They are secrets about my son, and they concern you as well, Gurney. Back in Arrakeen, there are too many eyes and ears, as there will be in Sietch Tabr. We need time alone. Absolutely alone." She leaned forward, spoke into his ear over the thrumming of the articulated wings. "Find us a place to land-a rock outcropping somewhere not too obvious. Once I begin, I'll want your full attention, and this could take some time."