The Winds of Dune (43 page)

The priest interrupted her, much to her astonishment and annoyance. “This is about more than their heritage.” He regarded each person who held a flickering torch to ward off evil. Now those lights seemed small and weak. The priest seemed to see nothing but his own importance. “We will provide copies of the proclamation so that they may be distributed among those who are not here. The word of Muad’Dib must be heard by everyone.”

He placed a copy of the document into the trembling hands of Mayor Horvu. He also gave one to Gurney, who tossed it to the ground, where stray breezes snatched it and swept it over the edge of the cliff. The priest pretended not to notice.

The blazing bonfire grew brighter and hotter as the five priests wended their way back down the path, letting the crowd pick up the festival once more. But Jessica was no longer in any mood for celebrating.

The expectations of civilized society should afford all the protection a person needs. But that armor is rendered as thin as tissue when one is dealing with the uncivilized.

—Bene Gesserit archives

Entering the den of a lion . . . a Corrino lion.

Thanks to protocol machinations with the Guild, Jessica arrived at the same time as Chani and Irulan, and all converged at the new complex the exiled Corrinos had built. Shaddam’s new city was a cluster of connected domes, each of which contained shielded buildings so that the inhabitants could, with some amount of imagination, pretend that they were still on Kaitain.

Ages ago, Salusa Secundus had been the lavish capital of the Imperium, but a disgraced noble family had unleashed enough atomics to devastate the world, wrecking the climate and deluging it with fallout and uncontrolled fires. Salusa had been a dead place for a long, long time, but by now the background radioactivity had dwindled to nominal levels, and persistent life emerged in a weak new spring. With the vigorous work of Paul’s terraforming teams, Jessica expected Salusa to reawaken rather quickly.

The exiled court welcomed the representatives of Emperor Muad’Dib with great fanfare. Standing there as Chani and Irulan arrived in a suspensor-borne barge made for showy processions, Jessica wondered what other use Shaddam had for such a vessel here. She watched the fallen Emperor attempt to smile; after all his years of ruling on Kaitain,
Jessica thought he would have been better at it by now. His whole body seemed to cringe. She noted streaks of gray in the nobleman’s reddish hair, and she could also see the unconcealed, simmering resentment on his thin face. Not surprising, since she represented
Paul-Muad’Dib,
the man who had defeated him.

Jessica observed Count and Lady Fenring, both of whom kept themselves surrounded by members of the large reception party. Shaddam’s daughters clustered at the front of the group. Josifa and Chalice seemed eager to see their sister again, or at the very least pleased to participate in royal pomp and splendor again. Wensicia, though, wore a sour expression as she clung to her little boy’s hand so tightly that he squirmed with discomfort.

The loud music played a dramatic sounding Kaitain march, then dropped off into sudden silence. Surrounded by yellow-robed priests and crisply uniformed Fedaykin guards, Irulan and Chani emerged from the ornate barge.

Chani slipped back her hood to reveal elfin features, dusky skin, dark red hair, and blue-within-blue eyes. She wore clothes fitted to desert environments, practical garments rather than showy. Next to the formally dressed Irulan, Chani seemed on edge, a Fremen fighter among known enemies. Jessica knew there was no love lost between the two women, but they had a common goal now.

Irulan regarded her family with an icy gaze and a stony expression. She did not seem overly pleased to visit them, and Jessica detected a similarly veiled animosity from the Corrinos. Such complex relationships here.. . .

The silence lasted an instant too long, as if no one knew who would speak first. Then, with a nudge, the unrealistically young-looking new chamberlain delivered the official greeting. “Shaddam Corrino IV welcomes the representatives of Emperor Muad’Dib.”

The young man’s voice was a bit too high, a bit too thin, and it quavered as if the volume of his own amplified words startled him. Jessica decided he must have been stuffed into a uniform and told what to say, without being given much training. Shaddam’s last formal chamberlain, Beely Ridondo, had been executed in front of Alia six years ago, because he’d made too many demands about the ecological restoration of Salusa Secundus.

This one bowed awkwardly. “May you be inspired to accelerate the terraforming work being done here, in the name of God.”

With a smooth step, Jessica reached out her hands to greet the two women. Clasping Chani’s hand in her right and Irulan’s in her left, the movement also neatly put herself in front of the fallen Emperor. “My son asked me to join both of you here to ensure a successful visit.”

Chani bowed, and her expression showed genuine warmth. “Thank you, Sayyadina. It has been too long, and I’m glad you’re here.”

Irulan chose to address Shaddam, and she did not bow. “We welcome this visit to your home on Salusa Secundus, Father. In return, please accept the good wishes of my beloved husband, the true Emperor.”

So many sharp barbs loaded in that one statement, directed at both Chani and the Corrinos,
Jessica thought. And Irulan knew exactly what she had done.

The willowy lady Margot Fenring escorted Jessica to her quarters inside the domed city, an obvious ploy to keep her, Chani, and Irulan separate. “I am pleased to have a little time with you, Lady Jessica. Our paths do continue to cross, don’t they?”

Jessica controlled her voice. “Are you my ally or enemy this time, Lady Fenring? You have been both in the past.” The Count’s wife had left her a secret message in the Arrakeen Residency, warning Jessica of Harkonnen treachery . . . but she had later sent her monstrous little daughter Marie as a pawn to kill Paul.

“This time, I am just an associate of the Sisterhood,” Margot said, showing her to her room. “We have chosen our own paths, for good or ill.”

Left to freshen up inside the room before a planned evening banquet, Jessica regarded the gaudy trappings: the intricate carvings, gold filigree, interlocked stained-plaz windows. The decorations seemed rushed and showy, a desperate effort to demonstrate that House Corrino had not lost all of its glory. Sparse artwork hung on the walls. Jessica gleaned the impression that the exiled Corrinos didn’t have enough possessions to furnish every room. Then she wondered if that, too, was a carefully calculated impression designed to make her believe that the deposed Emperor’s
circumstances were more difficult than they really were. Was that what they wanted her to report to Paul?

Later, Count and Lady Fenring smiled as Jessica entered the banquet room. At the opposite side of the long table, Shaddam Corrino IV sat with his surviving daughters: Chalice, Josifa, and Wensicia. Irulan and Chani had been seated next to each other—an attempt to promote friction, Jessica wondered.

As she faced Shaddam before taking her seat, she hesitated, realizing that she had not decided how to address this man. Shaddam still deserved a certain degree of respect, but not too much. She swept her gaze around everyone in attendance. “Thank you for the kind reception—all of you.”

Irulan turned to the small boy who sat at the table next to Wensicia. Little more than a year old, his eyes were bright and intelligent. “This is your son, Wensicia? Where is his father?”

The temperature in the air seemed to drop. “Farad’n is now the heir to whatever is left of House Corrino.”

Wearing a vinegary expression, Shaddam glanced to his immediate right, where Count Fenring sat. “His father unfortunately passed away in my service.”

Jessica noted a fractional flash of annoyance on Count Fenring’s face, instantly hidden.
Interesting
. What did Fenring have to do with the child’s father?

Chani drank sparingly from a goblet of water in front of her. She did not touch the wine. “His Holiness the Emperor Muad’Dib has dispatched us here to ensure that terraforming operations are being conducted with all due speed, to make Salusa into the garden world he envisions, full of gentle things.”

Jessica wanted to twist the knife. “Paul is always true to his word.”

Shaddam did not try to conceal his scowl, and then called for the first course, apparently anxious to be done with this meal. Jessica made a swift assessment of Shaddam. The Corrino patriarch saw only what he had lost, not what he retained. For a man who could well have been executed as a threat to Muad’Dib, Shaddam still had plenty of comforts, and yet the man must grieve for his palace on Kaitain, which had long since been burned by Muad’Dib’s fanatical hordes.

Count Fenring deftly raised a prickly subject. He looked from
Chani to Irulan, then finally rested his gaze on Jessica. “Aaah, tell me, now that we’ve had seven years of . . .
this,
do you truly believe the human race is better off under your son’s leadership, hmmm?”

Shaddam put his elbows on the table. “Or would you say that more people prospered under Corrino rule? What do
you
say, Irulan? The answer is obvious enough to me.”

“I am sure many planetary populations are asking themselves the same question,” Lady Fenring added.

“And we know what their answer must be.” Wensicia raised her voice, drawing attention to herself. Receiving a rebuking glance from her father, she fell silent again. To deflect her embarrassment, she scolded Farad’n for fidgeting.

Chani spoke up. “Here in exile, you must have endless evenings to debate the same topic, but the question is moot for all of you. Muad’Dib is Emperor now, and House Corrino no longer rules.”

Shaddam drummed fingers on the table and let out a long, weary sigh that sounded rehearsed. “I should have seen it coming. I am ashamed to admit my failings as an Emperor.” He had to drag the words out of his throat, because they would not come willingly. Jessica did not recall any previous instance in which the Padishah Emperor had admitted his own mistakes. She didn’t believe for a moment, though, that he had been humbled. “Alas, I was not attentive enough to my people, and did not notice the growing weaknesses on the planets that served me. Storm clouds were gathering, and I did not see the signs.”

When she noticed a tiny smile of approval on Fenring’s face, Jessica realized who had coached the fallen Emperor for this conversation.

“My failings may have softened the Imperium and allowed the bureaucracy to swell, but what Muad’Dib has done is far more damaging to CHOAM, the Landsraad, the Spacing Guild, everyone. Any fool can see that.”

Count Fenring quickly inserted himself into the conversation when he saw Chani ready to leap to her feet and reach for her crysknife. “Ahhh, my Ladies, forgive us, but my friend Shaddam and I have had many such discussions. And we cannot find a convincing answer as to what Muad’Dib really intends. He seems to be a force for chaos, driven by the blind energy of religious fanatics. How does this ultimately help the Imperium?”

Jessica looked at the first course that had been placed in front of her—sparkling imported fruits and thin slices of raw meat. She picked at it without eating. “I can’t deny that the Jihad has caused a lot of damage, but Paul must fix many generations of neglect. That is, by necessity, a painful process.”