The Winds Of Dune Part 9

Rhombur turned to Jessica. "And what about those three Bene Gesserits? They were here to demand that Tessia become a breeding mistress. Could they they have done this? Do they have such powers?" have done this? Do they have such powers?"

Jessica paused long enough to be certain of her answer. "I've never heard of any such skills."

Seeking answers, he called for the three Bene Gesserits, and the women were ushered in so swiftly that they nearly tripped on the hems of their robes. They did not seem overly upset as they regarded Tessia, who lay curled up, s.h.i.+vering, lost in some inner maze of pain.

Rhombur demanded, "Well? Are you responsible for this?"

Stokiah raised her chin haughtily. "We have seen this before-it is peculiar to members of our order, very rare. The conflicting pressures of your demands upon Tessia and her obligations to the Bene Gesserit order were too much. But we have ways of treating her on Wallach IX."

The youngest of the Bene Gesserit trio spoke to Yueh. "Your medicine can treat diseases or poisons, Wellington, but this ... this appears to be a condition of the mind. Yes, I am aware of similar collapses among the Bene Gesserit. The mind ties itself into a Gordian knot, and it requires a skillful sword to cut apart the twisted strands without destroying the mind." She turned to the cyborg leader. "Earl Vernius, as Reverend Mother Stokiah suggests, let us take her back to Wallach IX. Only the Sisterhood has ways of treating this."

"I will not leave her side! If she goes there to be treated, then I go with her."

"You are not welcome on Wallach IX, Rhombur Vernius," Stokiah said. "Release Tessia to our care. There is no telling how long our treatment might require, and no guarantee of success. But you cannot cure her here. If you love this woman, as you claim, then give us an opportunity to work on her."

The Suk doctor remained at a loss. "I'll continue to run tests, my Lord, but I suspect my diagnosis will not change. If there's a chance, and time is of the essence ..."

"Don't worry, Rhombur. I I can go see her as the treatment progresses," Jessica offered. "The Sisterhood takes care of its own." can go see her as the treatment progresses," Jessica offered. "The Sisterhood takes care of its own."

Bronso knelt beside Tessia, his reddish hair tousled with sweat. "Mother, come back to us! I don't want them to take you." But she did not respond.

Rhombur realized that he had already lost. He felt cast adrift, a man floating in s.p.a.ce with no lifeline and no oxygen tank. "Keep trying, Yueh. I will give you two more days. If you can't do anything to save her by then, then I'll have to trust the witches."

Everyone lies, every day of his life. The effect of such untruths is a matter of degree, of purpose, and of benefit. Falsehoods are more numerous than the organisms in all the seas in the galaxy. Why then are we Tleilaxu perceived as being deceptive and untrustworthy, while others are not?

-RAKKEEL IBAMAN, the oldest living Tleilaxu Master

Bronso watched helplessly as his father allowed the witches to take Tessia away to their far-off world. After two seemingly unending, painful days had pa.s.sed, there was no better option. Though he had attempted every esoteric Suk treatment, Dr. Yueh had been unable to penetrate her mindless state.

Tessia was clearly in pain, in terror, in misery, and she would not wake up. And the Bene Gesserits claimed they could help.

Bronso knew where to place the blame. The technocrats had done something to her mind, he was sure of it. In the past several years, the bureaucratic b.a.s.t.a.r.ds had tried repeatedly and unsuccessfully to get rid of Bronso's father. They had sabotaged Bronso's own climbing gear only a few days ago, in hopes of killing him. Now the enemies of House Vernius had found a way to make his mother vulnerable and strike her down....

The interrogation of an indignant Bolig Avati revealed nothing useful, though the technocrat leader did admit that if Ix were to be "unenc.u.mbered by archaic n.o.ble traditions," business would proceed more smoothly. But there was no proof to link him to any of the sabotages or a.s.sa.s.sination attempts.

While Yueh tried in vain to revive Tessia, a distraught Rhombur gave full investigative authority to Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck. Along with loyal House Vernius guards, they searched the Ixian research facilities, studied the test records and prototype apparatus being developed by Ixian research teams, broke down doors to high-security areas-and found one researcher dead. gave full investigative authority to Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck. Along with loyal House Vernius guards, they searched the Ixian research facilities, studied the test records and prototype apparatus being developed by Ixian research teams, broke down doors to high-security areas-and found one researcher dead.

A man named Talba Hur, a solitary genius with an abrasive personality, lay in his locked lab with a broken neck and his skull crudely bashed in, dead among the cinders of research papers and diagrams. According to the only known records of his work, Talba Hur had been developing a technological means to erase or disrupt the human mind. Such a device might explain what had happened to Tessia.

Rhombur had no proof, no direct suspects ... and no doubts. But even that didn't help cure his wife. The damage had been done, and Yueh was unable to do anything to aid her.

Only the Bene Gesserits offered a slender hope, though they seemed to be without compa.s.sion. Distraught, Bronso stared as the three dark-robed Sisters whisked his mother away as if she were some sort of package to be delivered. He hated their att.i.tude. The young man had already said goodbye to her, struggling to contain his tears. The Bene Gesserits merely brushed him aside, hurrying her along. Bronso thought he saw a knowing look in their eyes, which he presumed meant they had a particular treatment in mind.

But he wondered if he could truly trust them.

Bolig Avati stood among the party, wearing an expression of studied grief. "My Lord Vernius, perhaps it would be best if you withdrew from public life for a time." Avati sounded drippingly sincere. "Rest and spend time with your son."

Bronso wanted to strike the leader of the Technocrat Council. How could the man seize this opportunity to make Earl Vernius loosen his hold even further? Rhombur stood looking lost, devastated, speechless-he did not know what else to do, couldn't conceive of any alternative. Not bothering to answer Avati, Bronso's father stared in disbelief as the shuttle's doors sealed and the vessel withdrew, rising up to the launching area.

Jessica and Paul both watched, keeping their distance but ready to show their support if Rhombur needed them. In light of the turmoil and tragedy, Jessica had suggested that it would be best if Paul returned to Caladan, leaving Bronso alone with his father and their shared grief. to Caladan, leaving Bronso alone with his father and their shared grief.

No one could do anything to help. All of Bronso's preconceptions and a.s.sumptions were crumbling. Throughout his life, he had expected his father to solve all problems, to be a decisive leader. Right now, he should have forced the technocrats to confess, or at the very least extract promises from the witches for the treatment they proposed. When could they visit Tessia? When would they know something about the treatment? How would the Sisters take care of her?

But Rhombur remained paralyzed and ineffective-and Bronso seethed at his failure. And now his mother was gone, with no guarantees that he would ever see her again. The young man spent the rest of the day in misery and anger, locked in his quarters, refusing even to see Paul.

When Bronso couldn't stand it anymore, he burst into his father's private office to find the patchwork man sitting on a reinforced chair. Rhombur's scarred face did not easily show a full range of emotions, but he wiped a tear from his natural eye. "Bronso!"

When he saw his father in such despair, most of his anger and frustration dissipated. Just looking at the tapestry of scars and artificial limbs, the oddly matched melding of polymer skin with human flesh-everything reminded Bronso of how much physical and mental pain his father had already suffered.

Bronso faltered, but he still had something to say, and his frustrations overtook all compa.s.sion. Over the past year, he had noticed the decline in respect with which influential members of Ixian society regarded his father. At one time, according to the glorious stories, Prince Rhombur had shown uncanny daring and persistence, fleeing into exile while continuing to fight against the Tleilaxu invaders. Or were those merely stories? Now Bronso felt only scorn. Rhombur was no longer a hero in his eyes.

He lashed out. "People walk all over you, don't they? I've seen it with my own eyes."

Rhombur's synthetic voice made an unusual sound, a humming in his throat. He seemed too weary to move. "The Sisters said they could help. What else could I do?"

"They said what you wanted to hear-and you believed them!"

"Bronso, you don't understand."

"I understand that you're weak and ineffective. Will there be anything left when it's time for me to be Earl? Or will the technocrats murder both of us first? Why don't you arrest them? You know Avati's guilty, but you let him just walk away."

Rhombur half rose from his seat, scowled angrily. "You're upset, but you have no idea what you're saying." Daunted, he locked his hands together, kneading them, making the artificial material strain. He hesitated, as if afraid to speak further, and finally said, "Uh, there's something else I've been meaning to tell you, but your mother and I never found the right time. I'm sorry I kept it from you. Now you're all I've got left-until your mother gets better."

Feeling a sense of foreboding, Bronso lashed out in a clumsy attempt to protect his own feelings. "What? What else don't I know?"

Rhombur sagged further into his reinforced chair. "After my body was nearly destroyed, I could never father children, could never hope for an heir to House Vernius. Tessia might have returned to the Sisterhood and become a concubine for some other n.o.ble." His voice hitched. "But she stayed with me and insisted on marriage, even when I had nothing to offer. We managed to overthrow the Tleilaxu and regain control of Ix, but I still needed an heir, or House Vernius would vanish after all. And so we-"

He stopped, willing the rest of the words to come. "You see, I had a half brother, a child that my mother bore a long time ago when she was a court concubine to Emperor Elrood IX, before she married your grandfather. At least he had half of my bloodline, so Tessia ... she obtained, uh, genetic samples. And with my approval she used them."

"Used them? What are you talking about?" Why couldn't his father just speak plainly?

"That is how you were conceived. I could not contribute the ... the sperm, but I could grant my blessing. Artificial insemination."

Bronso heard thunder in the back of his head. "You're saying that you aren't my real father. Why would you say that? And why tell me now?"

"It doesn't matter, because you are my heir. Through my mother, Lady Shando Balut, you still have my bloodline. My love for you is the same as if-"

Bronso reeled. First, he'd lost his mother, and now this! "You lied to me!"

"I didn't lie. I am your true father in every way that matters. You're only eleven. Your mother and I were looking for the right time-"

"And she's not here. She may never come back, may never recover. And now I learn that you're not even my father!" His voice was as sharp as a dagger. He turned his back on Rhombur and stormed out of the apartment.

"Bronso, you are are my son! Wait!" my son! Wait!"

But he kept going, without looking back.

Fuming and unable to concentrate, Bronso grabbed his climbing gear and strapped on new traction pads and a suspensor harness. He wanted to run away, but had no destination in mind. Breathing heavily, fighting the clamor in his head, he went to an upper floor of the Grand Palais and opened the slanted plates of transparent plaz. Not caring about anything but movement, he wormed his body through the gap as the processed wind drifted in. Barely bothering to look where he was going, Bronso vaulted out into the vastness of the chamber and scrambled up the sheer wall. He had no fear, nothing to lose.

"Bronso, what are you doing!"

He looked down to the window he'd left open and saw Paul Atreides sticking his head out, looking up. He ignored his friend, kept climbing the wall. He didn't think he could ever get far enough away.

Moments later, however, he saw Paul ascending with his own set of traction pads and harness, moving awkwardly but making surprising speed. Annoyed, Bronso shouted, "You don't have the skills for this. One mistake, and you'll fall."

"Then I won't make a mistake. If you you stay out here, then I'm staying with you." As Bronso hung there, Paul caught up with him, panting. "Just like climbing sea cliffs." stay out here, then I'm staying with you." As Bronso hung there, Paul caught up with him, panting. "Just like climbing sea cliffs."

"What are you doing here? I don't want you with me. I need to be alone."

"I promised to keep you safe. Our bond, remember?"

Dangling there on the rock wall, Paul looked at him so earnestly that Bronso surrendered and agreed to accompany him slowly, and safely, back to his rooms. "Well, you'll be free of that promise. You're going back to Caladan soon-and I'll still be here with nothing but lies." that Bronso surrendered and agreed to accompany him slowly, and safely, back to his rooms. "Well, you'll be free of that promise. You're going back to Caladan soon-and I'll still be here with nothing but lies."

Paul regarded him with calm seriousness. "Then we'd better talk now, while we still can."

With emotions building up in him, but unwilling to admit his confusion and shame, Bronso said, "On your honor, swear that you will tell no one else what I'm about to say to you. I need to know I can trust you."

"You should know about Atreides honor." Paul gave his word, and after they returned to Bronso's private chambers, with the entrance sealed, they sat together for a long time afterward. Far from anyone else, Bronso explained what Rhombur had told him. Caught up in distant thoughts, the redheaded boy stared out at the twinkling cavern city. "So here we are. My mother is gone, and my incompetent father isn't really my father. I'm not even truly a Vernius! Ix has nothing to do with me anymore. I don't belong here." He ratcheted up his courage. "I'm running away from home, and no one can stop me-not Rhombur, not his guards, no one."

Paul groaned. "I wish you hadn't told me what you're going to do."

"Why? Are you going to stop me? You swore to keep this secret!"

Backed into a corner of responsibilities, Paul reached the best solution he could. "My promise to you is clear-I won't turn you in or reveal what you're doing. But I also made a promise to my father that I would watch out for you. I can't have you getting yourself lost or killed, so I'm going with you. Now tell me, where are we going?"

"As far away from Ix as we can get."

Each breath carries the risk that there may not be another one to follow.

-ancient saying

After slipping out of the cavern city and emerging into the starlight near a subsidiary s.p.a.ceport, Paul followed Bronso toward a large, silent cargo s.h.i.+p on the landing field, its hold open and waiting. "Up the ramp and look for a hiding place aboard! After they finish loading in the morning, this thing will take off and enter the hold of a Heighliner-bound for points unknown."

Paul wrestled with his friend's impetuous decision, but he saw no honorable way to abandon him or report his intentions. Duncan and Gurney would never suspect that Paul intended to do something so foolhardy. He couldn't say goodbye to them, or to his mother. If he saw her, Jessica would instantly sense the change....

Hidden among hard, sharp-edged containers, the boys s.n.a.t.c.hed a few hours of restless sleep until noises woke them: clanging, voices and men moving about, engines humming, loaders stacking cargo.

"Don't worry, they've already loaded this compartment," Bronso said in a loud whisper. "They've got no reason to come here. Nothing to worry about." Paul listened to the tone of the voices, but detected no hint of hunters, no determined search teams. These were just men at work.

Two hours later, the hold was full, the heavy hatches sealed, the chambers pressurized. The engines surged on, undamped by baffles or insulation, and since the sealed hold had no windowports, the ride to orbit was long, loud, and nerve-wracking. Finally, after a series of heavy clangs, a shudder through the deck and bulkheads, and a sharp hissing of equalizing atmospheres, the cargo s.h.i.+p went absolutely still and silent. chambers pressurized. The engines surged on, undamped by baffles or insulation, and since the sealed hold had no windowports, the ride to orbit was long, loud, and nerve-wracking. Finally, after a series of heavy clangs, a shudder through the deck and bulkheads, and a sharp hissing of equalizing atmospheres, the cargo s.h.i.+p went absolutely still and silent.

"I think we're inside a Heighliner hold," Paul said.

Bronso stretched and looked around in the dim light of emergency strips mounted to the bulkheads. "Let's go. There are more interesting places to be aboard a Guilds.h.i.+p."

When Bronso found that the access doors had been locked from the outside, he crept up a ladder, pushed open a hatch in the ceiling of the cargo s.h.i.+p, and motioned for Paul to follow. The two of them crawled out onto the main deck. Paul had been aboard Atreides cargo s.h.i.+ps and recognized the same general layout. From here, knowing the docking configuration, they could slip off the s.h.i.+p and go out into the layered decks of the immense Guilds.h.i.+p.

Bronso marched toward an exit hatch, but Paul grabbed his arm. "Once we make our way to the pa.s.senger decks, how do we prove we paid for pa.s.sage? Maybe we should stay in our safe hiding place."

The Ixian boy glanced dismissively back at the hold. "Do you want to hide in the cargo s.h.i.+p all the way to its destination, or would you rather ride the Heighliner from system to system? I want to see the Imperium, not just the home world of one Ixian customer."

Paul relented, and they pa.s.sed through the cargo s.h.i.+p's connecting doors into the receiving decks. Other people milled around, disembarking from the hundreds of vessels in the great s.h.i.+p's hold. Acting as if they had business, the two young men walked briskly away.

Bronso rummaged in his pack for a crystal pad projector and led the way to a quieter alcove. He called up schematics, which he projected in the air for Paul to see. "This Heighliner was built in an Ixian s.h.i.+pyard. I think we're here here, and the levels we want"-he pointed toward a zigzag of ramps on a bulkhead in the hold-"should be in that direction."

They blended in with other pa.s.sengers, and followed them up ramps into crowded public promenades that seemed as vast as the cavern city of Vernii. Bronso pointed to a lavishly decorated lounge, where people filled their plates with food from a sumptuous buffet. Paul realized his stomach was growling, and his companion didn't hesitate. They boldly followed two gentlemen through the door of the lounge, then headed straight to the food-laden table. Trying to act casual, the two filled their plates, then found an unoccupied table. his stomach was growling, and his companion didn't hesitate. They boldly followed two gentlemen through the door of the lounge, then headed straight to the food-laden table. Trying to act casual, the two filled their plates, then found an unoccupied table.

Almost immediately a thin Wayku attendant approached, his eyes s.h.i.+elded behind dark, opaque gla.s.ses. He sported a black goatee on a very pale face; a headset blocked his ears, and Paul heard loud noises-music? voices?-wafting from the earpieces. The steward said tersely, "This food is for a private CHOAM party. You are not members of that party."

Bronso grabbed another bite before he rose to his feet. "We didn't realize. Should we return the food to the buffet? We haven't touched much of it."

"You're stowaways." They could not read his eyes behind the Wayku's dark lenses.

"No," Bronso said. "We're paying pa.s.sengers."

"It is my profession to spot anything out of the ordinary. You must have been very clever to get aboard the Heighliner."

Bronso looked angry, as if the steward had insulted him. "Come on, Paul. Let's go."

The deck vibrated and hummed, and a faint ripple of disorientation pa.s.sed through them. The set of the Wayku man's expression changed, and he let out a resigned sigh. "Those were the Holtzman engines. We have already left the system, so there would be little point in sending you back to Ix. My job is to keep the pa.s.sengers satisfied and maintain uninterrupted service."

"We won't cause any trouble," Paul promised.

"No, you won't, provided you pay attention and follow certain rules. I don't intend to turn you in. I am Ennzyn, one of the chief stewards, and I have jobs for both of you. We're somewhat understaffed." He lifted his dark gla.s.ses to reveal pale blue eyes. His tone suggested that they had no choice. "I need help with the cleanup duties."

Paul and Bronso exchanged glances and nods of acceptance.

"Finish your meals first." Ennzyn motioned them back to their seats. "I abhor waste. When you're done, I'll show you where to stow your gear."

Is it better to remain blissfully ignorant of a tragedy, or to know all the details even when you can do nothing about it? That question is not easy to answer.

-DUKE LETO ATREIDES