The Winds of Dune (53 page)

He slipped away before she could ask more questions. Looking down at the mysterious message, Jessica cut the seal with a fingernail and unrolled a sheet of instroy paper bearing the purple and copper helix of the Vernius family.

My Dearest Lady Jessica—

Though I turned my back on House Atreides for reasons that are painful to both of us, I now call upon the close relationship that our Great Houses once had. I know you have just visited Wallach IX, and I eagerly await word—the truth!—about my mother. I would be greatly in your debt if you would stop over at Ix and visit me, on your way back to Caladan.

I still live in the Grand Palais, though I have been deprived of virtually all power. The Technocrat Council has stripped me of any real
influence, and they dominate our society. It is also most urgent that I speak with you about Paul.

With all respect and admiration,
Bronso Vernius

Rolling the message tightly and returning it to the cylinder, Jessica marched off down the corridor to arrange for her departure at Ix. The planet was three stops away.

When she reached the subterranean city of Vernii, Jessica noticed many changes over the past dozen years since she’d last visited—signs of great wealth, including many new buildings, expanded industry, throngs of people of various races bustling about in expensive clothing. The inverted skyline of stalactite buildings had grown more complex; the numerous new administrative buildings looked designed for utilitarian purposes rather than beauty.

Inside the Grand Palais, Jessica was greeted by a copper-haired man, whom she recognized immediately. Bronso looked careworn and tired with shadows under his eyes and fatigue etched into his features. His shoulders drooped. All happiness seemed to have been sucked out of his demeanor. “Lady Jessica, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. It was imperative that you come.” When he extended his hand to her, she noticed the fire jewel ring of House Vernius on his right hand, Rhombur had worn one just like it.

“Oh, Bronso! It has been so long.” Words flowed from her like a flood. “I just saw your mother. She is alive and awake on Wallach IX, out of her coma.”

The young man brightened. “That much I know, because she has smuggled out brief messages to me over the years, and I to her. If I had military strength or political influence, I would demand her release.” His bony shoulders bounced up and down in a quick shrug. “But what could I do for her here? Are the Sisters taking good care of her?” He gestured for Jessica to follow him. “Tell me about her. How does she seem?”

Jessica talked quickly as he led her along a corridor, where the surfaces of tables and statues looked dusty. The furnishings were still of tremendous value, but did not look cared for. He stopped at the doorway of an inner room with no windows. As she finished her story about Tessia, she realized that he had been trying to distract her, and now she was puzzled that he would choose to bring her to a secure area rather than one of the more spectacular balcony chambers.

Bronso opened the door, and he was plainly nervous. “We can talk more inside.” Jessica hesitated before entering, sensing something unusual, but unable to determine what. The room looked bright and sterile.

He sealed the door behind them, activated a series of security systems, and then visibly relaxed. Gesturing for her to take a seat near the faux fireplace inset in the wall, Bronso said, “House Vernius is not what it once was. Our factories hum, and customers pour in from every corner of the galaxy. All around me, Ix is an efficient machine of activity, generating vast profits. Yet, here I am in the midst of it, a lonely, forgotten man. Bolig Avati and the Technocrat Council do not see any need for a royal family on Ix. Instead, they have proposed an independent confederacy.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” She wasn’t sure what he wanted from her, or what she could do to help him. “I wish I could do something to improve your circumstances. But your message said you needed to talk . . . about Paul?”

She could not reveal the crushing decision she had made.

“The summons did not come from me, my Lady.”

A door opened on her right, and Paul strode into the room, wearing a black formal uniform of House Atreides with a red hawk crest rather than the Fremen desert garb he often wore, even away from Dune. He carried himself with an icy demeanor that reminded her of Duke Leto.

“I’m the one who asked you to come here, Mother.”

If making a difficult decision is considered a strength, then does changing one’s mind indicate weakness?

—
The Book of Mentat

J
essica froze as Paul emerged to stand beside Bronso Vernius, the man who had supposedly broken all ties with House Atreides.

Paul!

Time funneled down into a pinprick of an instant, and all of her Bene Gesserit schooling came to bear. If she truly meant to commit the unthinkable act, this was her chance. Paul suspected nothing.

Something had annealed inside her when she made up her mind to stop him. Her son had vowed to sterilize eleven more worlds. She
had
to remove him from power, end his reckless path of destruction.

She stepped closer, cautiously hoping for an embrace. She could deliver a single mortal blow—fast, irreversible . . . and necessary.

Seeing his strong-boned face and remembering the dear boy who had been such a dedicated student and eager learner, the pride of her beloved Duke Leto, Jessica almost lost her resolve. But this was what she
had
to do—not because the Bene Gesserit had suggested it, but because her own conclusions required it.

Paul said, “Mother, don’t do what you’re thinking.” With surprising power and authority, his words stopped her in her tracks, just as she was about to strike out. Her arm flickered, hesitated. He added in a softer tone, “I desperately need your help.”

Though he had seen the potential violence in her, he did not step back to put even a small buffer of safety between them. Paul remained exactly where he was. “No one else knows I’m here, and it has to remain that way.”

The Ixian chamber was intensely quiet until Bronso said. “This is a very important matter. No one can know what we plan here. These walls are shielded, so we can speak plainly.”

Paul nodded. “The excesses of the Jihad are too extreme. My own myth has grown too powerful, and Bronso is about to change all of that.”

The Ixian’s expression was hard, his skin pale from a life spent underground in the cavern city. “Paul has asked me to be his secret foil to counter the destructive myth of the messiah, to make people see that he is not the demigod that he’s been portrayed as. And I have agreed to this.” A cold smile crossed his lips. “Wholeheartedly.”

Jessica jerked back her head in surprise. Her heart hammered in her chest.

Paul continued, “Bronso has made no secret of his animosity toward me since the night his father died—so no one will suspect that I put him up to anything. He’s going to take me down a few notches, refute what the Qizarate and Princess Irulan say, ridicule those who blindly revere me. After so much bloodshed in the Jihad, it is time.”

The words gave Jessica great pause. She felt stiff, heard no emotion in her own voice. “This is . . . not what I expected at all.”

“I know the violence I have condoned, and I know that must seem inexplicable to you, unforgivable.”

“At first I thought I was going to take pleasure in this,” Bronso said, “but the more I consider the overwhelming task—and the perils involved—the more I doubt I’ll get out of this with my skin intact.”

Paul gave him a sincere smile. “Yet even with all that, my rediscovered friend has agreed to do as I wish, at considerable danger to himself. He will write the words that no one else has the courage to say, and people will talk about them. More and more, they will talk, and they will
think
.”

“And, oh, how his fanatics will howl for my blood,” Bronso said.

Paul’s expression showed the determination that had overthrown an empire and launched fanatical troops across hundreds of worlds.
“Through destiny or fate, Mother—call it what you will—I found myself unable to prevent the Jihad. Through prescience, I saw horrific aspects of my future, yet I could not prevent it. Similarly, my father found himself caught in his own destiny, knowing that Arrakis was a trap set by his enemies, but knowing that he had to play it out and see if he could emerge victorious. I, too, know my own destiny—and it is not a glorious one. Perhaps it is the culmination of the Atreides curse.” His words trailed away, and he stared at Jessica with his deep blue eyes. “Isn’t there a Bene Gesserit saying—‘Prophets have a way of dying by violence’?”

“Don’t say that!” she said, then realized the irony, since she had been prepared to kill him herself only moments earlier.

“I am no longer just a nobleman making parochial decisions for Caladan and House Atreides. I have become something else entirely, a monstrous leader the likes of which this universe has never seen. When my warriors rush into battle, they shout my name as if it will protect them and strike their opponents dead with fear.”

“I know, I know.” She looked away, sadly.

Paul’s words came faster. “The moment I became Muad’Dib, I reached the point of no return. As the Kwisatz Haderach, I saw portions of my future and of mankind’s future, and I knew that I
needed
to lead my legions across planet after planet, carrying banners dipped in blood. And for what purpose, Mother? Just to kill, just to gain power, just to overthrow the old ways? Of course not!”

Glancing at Bronso, she saw the other man nodding as he listened.

“It was my fate to seize my role as the Lisan al-Gaib and the Kwisatz Haderach, in order to guide people through the whirlwinds of history, so that we could reach this point. The turning point.”

Jessica narrowed her eyes, glanced sidelong at Bronso, then back at her son, without saying anything.

“Because of me, Mother, our noble House will be spoken of with hatred for years, maybe even centuries . . . no matter the noble deeds of our ancestors, no matter the good deeds I committed before the full violence of the Jihad became apparent.”

She felt empty. “Then why are you ordering the sterilization of eleven more planets? How is that necessary to counter your myth?”

“Because I have seen that it must be done. In a way, it is the act that
tips the balance and turns people against me, with a bit of persuasion from Bronso. It gives him a legitimate reason. If not for that, the situation would grow worse, much worse, and if he doesn’t start now, it will be too late.”

“But
eleven planets
? All those people, just to make a point?” Then, thinking of what Mayor Horvu and his followers had done with their foolish cry for independence, she added, “Is one of those worlds Caladan?”

He recoiled. “Caladan is my home planet. I would never harm it.”

“Each of those worlds is somebody’s home planet.” She wondered if she had made a mistake in not killing him when she’d had her chance.