Flying over the open desert, Gurney pa.s.sed several low ridges, black islands in the sand that he did not find satisfactory. At last he selected a reef of rock far enough outside their antic.i.p.ated flight path. He circled, then fiddled with the control panel. "I can contrive a minor malfunction in one of the engines so that the 'thopter log shows we were required to land and make repairs." circled, then fiddled with the control panel. "I can contrive a minor malfunction in one of the engines so that the 'thopter log shows we were required to land and make repairs."

"Good thinking, Gurney."

He set them down on the rugged surface, where they were entirely alone. "There, my Lady, I hope this place will serve. I know of no Fremen caches or formal sietches near here. It's too small to be worth anything." His gla.s.s-splinter eyes were bright, but she saw a dread within them: He did not relish the prospect of what she would have to say.

Jessica fitted her noseplugs, adjusted her face mask, checked other fittings on her stillsuit. "Come, we will go outside onto the rocks, away from the 'thopter." She couldn't be too careful. Saying little, she and her two companions went outside into the quiet desert night.

Jessica led them to a sheltered overhang of dark rock, where they could still see the 'thopter sitting like a large, ungainly insect where it had landed. Wind whispered around them as they found places to sit on the hard surfaces. "This will do fine," she said.

Irulan composed herself, waiting attentively in the shelter of rock. "I'm eager to hear you explain why you seem to keep defending, or at least s.h.i.+elding, Bronso."

Gurney perked up. "I would like to know that as well, my Lady, but I refrained from asking questions, as you requested."

"You'll know the hard truth I learned about Paul, and you'll know why-wrongly-I decided that I had to kill my own son."

Before her listeners could recover from what she had said, Jessica drew a long breath, marshaled her thoughts, and spoke openly. "After the death of Earl Rhombur in 10,188, House Vernius remained estranged from House Atreides for a long time. But twelve years later, during the worst excesses of the Jihad, while Paul was Emperor, events conspired to bring the two Great Houses together again...."

PART IV

10, 200 AG

THE R REIGN OF E EMPEROR P PAUL-MUAD'DIB

It has been seven years since the fall of Shaddam IV, who remains in exile on Salusa Secundus. Two years have pa.s.sed since Count Fenring's failed a.s.sa.s.sination attempt on Paul Atreides.

Muad'Dib's Jihad rages across hundreds of worlds, but Lady Jessica and Gurney Halleck have withdrawn to Caladan, hoping to avoid the bloodshed and fanaticism.

There are those who think that to revere Muad'Dib takes nothing more than the utterance of a prayer, the lighting of a candle, and the casting of a pinch of sand over one's shoulder. There are those who think that building shrines, waving banners, and collecting trinkets is sufficient. I have even heard of those who slice open their hands to spill blood on the ground because they think this honors Muad'Dib. Why does my son need more careless blood spilled in his name? He has enough of that. If you truly wish to honor Muad'Dib, then do it with your heart, heart, your your mind, mind, and your and your soul. soul. And never a.s.sume you know the complete Muad'Dib; there is much about him that can never be revealed. And never a.s.sume you know the complete Muad'Dib; there is much about him that can never be revealed.

-LADY JESSICA, address to pilgrims at the Cala City s.p.a.ceport

Following the fall of Shaddam IV, Paul's zealous followers had surged across the Imperium for seven years. The prospect of peace seemed as distant as suns.h.i.+ne during Caladan's months-long stormy season.

Unable to stomach the absurd distortions spread by the Qizarate and Muad'Dib's propaganda machine, Jessica had left Arrakis and returned to Caladan, where she kept her opinions private and ruled her people with the a.s.sistance of Gurney Halleck.

But because of the fervor that Muad'Dib inspired, pilgrims followed her-great numbers of them-and clamored for her blessings.

Before the end of the Corrino Imperium, Caladan had been only a secondary world ruled by a somewhat ordinary Landsraad family. Though the leaders of House Atreides were well liked in the Landsraad, they had never been as wealthy or powerful as House Harkonnen, House Ecaz, House Richese, or others at the front ranks.

Ruling the Imperium from his distant throne on Dune, Paul-Muad'Dib had not visited his home world in some time, yet pilgrims still came to Caladan, and they kept coming. The Cala City s.p.a.ceport was not designed to accommodate the relentless traffic that swept down like a raging flood. Veterans of uncounted battles, desperate refugees, and pilgrims too infirm to fight-all went to touch the soil upon which Muad'Dib had spent his childhood, and to take a little of it home with them.... raging flood. Veterans of uncounted battles, desperate refugees, and pilgrims too infirm to fight-all went to touch the soil upon which Muad'Dib had spent his childhood, and to take a little of it home with them....

Jessica glided down a staircase to the main level of Castle Caladan, knowing that a crowd waited inside the audience chamber, where Leto had once listened to the complaints, demands, and needs of his people. More than twenty generations of Atreides had done the same before him. Jessica could not break that tradition now.

Outside on the winding path that led up from the seaside village, she heard the clink of hammers as stonemasons repaired cobblestones and added gravel. Gardeners uprooted dying shrubs and planted new ones, knowing they would have to repeat the process in less than a month. Despite posted signs and guards patrolling the road, offworld pilgrims pocketed pebbles and plucked leaves from bushes as keepsakes of their visit to holy Caladan.

Offworlders came in a variety of clothing styles, carrying ribbons with the name of Muad'Dib, holding tiny sacks filled with sand that purportedly came from Arrakis, or collectibles said to have some connection with the Holy Emperor. Most of these items were cheaply made or fraudulent, or both.

Entering the chamber, Jessica strengthened her resolve when she saw the sheer number of people there. Gurney had arrived early to sort those who wished to present pet.i.tions from the larger number of visitors who simply wanted to glimpse the mother of Muad'Dib. Of those who asked to address her directly, Gurney gave precedence to the true Caladan natives, and relegated to the end of the line those who merely wanted to prostrate themselves before her.

When Jessica walked down the aisle to the front of the room, a hush rippled before her, followed by a curling aftershock of whispered awe. She kept her gaze forward, knowing that if she deigned to notice any particular supplicants, they would reach out their hands or raise up their children for blessings.

If Reverend Mother Mohiam could see her now! Jessica wondered if her old teacher would be impressed or disgusted. The Bene Gesserits despised and feared what Paul had become, though they themselves had worked for many generations to create a Kwisatz Haderach. Under Muad'Dib's reign, the Sisterhood had fallen on excessively hard times, and Paul made no secret of how much he resented them. Even so, the women continued to make overtures to Jessica, pleading for her a.s.sistance and understanding. So far, she had ignored them. They had done enough damage, as far as she was concerned. Muad'Dib's reign, the Sisterhood had fallen on excessively hard times, and Paul made no secret of how much he resented them. Even so, the women continued to make overtures to Jessica, pleading for her a.s.sistance and understanding. So far, she had ignored them. They had done enough damage, as far as she was concerned.

Beside her elevated chair at the front of the room, Gurney stood like a master at arms. Though he was an earl in his own right and an esteemed hero of many battles, he abdicated authority to Jessica whenever she took her duchy seat. "Very well, let's begin," she said. "You people must have more important things to do than stay here all day." The audience members seemed not to notice her wry humor.

Jessica recognized the first supplicant who stepped forward, a bearded old man clad in traditional fis.h.i.+ng clothes, wearing a medallion on a blue ribbon around his neck. With a potbelly and stick-thin legs, Mayor Jeron Horvu had been the elected leader of Cala City for most of his life, groomed by the Old Duke himself.

The mayor was obviously distressed. His cheeks were gaunt, his eyes red and weary from lack of sleep. He gave Jessica a quick formal bow, which some in the audience regarded as an insufficient display of reverence. "My Lady, we are besieged besieged. I implore you to help us. Save our world."

Many pilgrims looked from side to side with clenched fists, ready to fight anyone who dared to threaten Caladan ... not realizing that the Mayor referred to them them.

"Describe exactly what you mean, Jeron." She leaned forward to encourage him. "I've always known you to have the best interests of Caladan and its people at heart."

"All these offworlders!" Horvu gestured behind him at the crowds. "They say they come to honor Paul Atreides, the son of our n.o.ble Duke, yet they plunder our towns, trample the headlands, muddy the sh.o.r.es! I'm sure they mean well," he added quickly, trying to placate the angry buzzing that rose in the audience chamber, "but their intentions are irrelevant when everything we hold dear is stripped barren."

"Go on, man, be specific," Gurney prodded. "These others need to hear it."

The old man began to tick off items on his fingers. "Just last week, we had to replace three docks down in the harbor because the wood was so badly splintered and weakened from countless people taking slivers as mementos. Simply because Duke Leto Atreides used to dock his boat so badly splintered and weakened from countless people taking slivers as mementos. Simply because Duke Leto Atreides used to dock his boat Victor Victor there!" He rolled his eyes to show how absurd he considered the idea to be. there!" He rolled his eyes to show how absurd he considered the idea to be.

"Our inns have been ransacked. Our streets overflow with people who sleep in the gutters, steal things from merchants, and justify their thievery by claiming that 'Muad'Dib would be generous to all of his followers'! And let's not forget those charlatan souvenir vendors who sell counterfeit sc.r.a.ps of things they say Muad'Dib touched or blessed. It is well known that they simply gather any items they can find and sell them to gullible pilgrims, who pay sizeable sums, with or without proof."

Now that his pa.s.sion had gained momentum, Horvu did not slow down. "The fis.h.i.+ng waters are so crowded with tourist boats that our catches have drastically decreased, at a time when there are thousands more mouths to feed! Our very way of life is being trampled, Lady Jessica. Please help us." Horvu raised his hands. "Please, make them stop coming."

"You must not, Sayyadina!" someone cried from the audience. "This is the first home of Muad'Dib, a sacred place on the Hajj. The Messiah will strike down anyone who denies us, with a vengeful bolt from the heavens!" Shouts of support sounded.

Horvu quailed at the sheer venom in the audience's reaction, but Jessica rose to her feet. She'd had enough. "It is not for the Emperor Paul-Muad'Dib to strike anyone anyone down from Heaven. That is the purview of G.o.d Himself. How dare you insult both G.o.d and my son by pretending he has such power!" The people were shocked into silence by her words. "Don't you want to be protected from those who would cheat you? Very well, this is my command. As a first step, I order that all vendors must prove their claims to down from Heaven. That is the purview of G.o.d Himself. How dare you insult both G.o.d and my son by pretending he has such power!" The people were shocked into silence by her words. "Don't you want to be protected from those who would cheat you? Very well, this is my command. As a first step, I order that all vendors must prove their claims to my my satisfaction before they are allowed to market any artifacts. satisfaction before they are allowed to market any artifacts.

"Second, I hereby alter our law: Anyone caught stealing from the good people of Caladan will be considered to have stolen from Muad'Dib himself. Let a Qizarate court deal with them." That stunned them into silence, since all knew how harshly the priests would punish such a crime.

"And third: We will limit the number of pilgrims who come here, and those who are allowed to visit Caladan will henceforth be charged a substantial fee for their visa, with the funds used to replace things damaged or stolen by pilgrims." Satisfied with the p.r.o.nouncement, she nodded to herself. "Gurney, please work with Mayor Horvu to develop and implement a suitable plan." She added a hard edge to her words, a ripple of Voice to take advantage of the reverence these followers held. "Thus, I have spoken, in the sacred name of Muad'Dib." a substantial fee for their visa, with the funds used to replace things damaged or stolen by pilgrims." Satisfied with the p.r.o.nouncement, she nodded to herself. "Gurney, please work with Mayor Horvu to develop and implement a suitable plan." She added a hard edge to her words, a ripple of Voice to take advantage of the reverence these followers held. "Thus, I have spoken, in the sacred name of Muad'Dib."

Jessica saw tears of grat.i.tude br.i.m.m.i.n.g in the Mayor's rheumy old eyes, but she did not detect any similar reaction in the faces of the bystanders. They respected and feared her, but did not like the p.r.o.nouncements she had made.

So be it, she thought. Elsewhere in the Imperium, Paul's fanatics could run loose and out of control. But not on Caladan. she thought. Elsewhere in the Imperium, Paul's fanatics could run loose and out of control. But not on Caladan.

Few forces can match the power of fanaticism. One that comes close is wounded pride.

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

Over the past several years, Jessica had already heard enough news about the Jihad's atrocities, things that Paul allowed to be done in his name. But more stories found her, whether or not she wanted to hear-or believe-them.

Each time a Heighliner pa.s.sed over Caladan, Mayor Horvu and the redoubtable village priest Abbo Sintra hurried to the Castle to report the travelers' tales. Meaning well, the two men showed Jessica official Qizarate releases as well as unofficial doc.u.ments spread by horrified survivors of Jihad attacks. "We beseech you to review these stories, and please do do something, my Lady!" Horvu pleaded. "He is your son!" something, my Lady!" Horvu pleaded. "He is your son!"

"Help him return to the just and honorable path," said the priest, who had long ago officiated at Duke Leto's disastrous wedding ceremony. "Paul will listen to his mother. Help him remember that he was an Atreides long before he became this fanatical desert leader."

After Jessica shooed the men away, she avoided looking at the reports for a long time. Finally, she retired to a private room, calling Gurney to join her. The two sat with disturbed expressions as they read the reports.

Three more planets had been completely sterilized, scalded clean of all life, their populations exterminated. Every living thing. And this was condoned by was condoned by Paul, Paul, a man who espoused the ecological awakening and careful terraforming of Arrakis, a man who had just established and endowed a new School of Planetology in honor of Chani's father. a man who espoused the ecological awakening and careful terraforming of Arrakis, a man who had just established and endowed a new School of Planetology in honor of Chani's father.

That makes four worlds gone now. And each atrocity seemed to be getting easier for him. Her voice was a chilling whisper. "What can he be thinking? It's murder!" And each atrocity seemed to be getting easier for him. Her voice was a chilling whisper. "What can he be thinking? It's murder!"

"Paul's first step down that slippery slope was when he punished Earl Thorvald and his rebels, wiping out the planet Ipyr, my Lady."

Jessica frowned. "In that instance, Thorvald was en route to Caladan, to annihilate us. All of Caladan was threatened, the Atreides home-world. That was an attack aimed at Paul himself, something he could not ignore."

"Most of those who died on Ipyr-women, children, ordinary people-were undoubtedly innocent." Gurney could not tear his eyes away from the images he saw now.

Jessica's tone dropped off in sadness. "It was a dreadful price, but I can almost accept what he did in response. He had to send a message that would prevent further rebellious acts. But these other planets ..." She shook her head and set her jaw firmly. "He must have had his reasons. I know my son-I raised him, and I cannot accept that he does this capriciously or vindictively." Making it more difficult on them, the Emperor had not explained himself, and his followers took it on faith that what Muad'Dib foresaw, and decreed, must must be necessary. be necessary.

Jessica could not brush aside her vivid memories of Paul as a precocious child, a talented youth who struggled against adversity and emerged victorious, stronger, and-so she'd always believed-with his core of Atreides honor intact. As his mother, she could not simply condemn him out of hand ... nor could she ignore, excuse, or rationalize his recent actions.

"I would feel better if I understood his overall plan. I'm afraid Paul is slipping and sliding toward oblivion, making up new excuses as fast as he finds fresh targets, my Lady."

The pair reviewed images of smoking battlefields. A Qizarate spokesman, speaking into the imager, proudly identified the numerous bodies strewn across the fields as "those who refused the blessings of Muad'Dib." On each battleground, the slain numbered in the tens of thousands.

Jessica saw that the celebrants who ran across fields and plundered the bodies of the dead were Paul's jihadi fighters. In the foreground, vessels were clearly marked as medical s.h.i.+ps carrying hospital troops and battlefield surgeons. But Jessica spotted something in the background of the high-resolution image that the Qizarate had either not noticed, or never intended to report upon. She enhanced the view, zeroed in on several large, unmarked s.h.i.+ps that hovered at the edges of the b.l.o.o.d.y field.

There, small-statured men scurried out of transport vessels to comb over the slain, discarding many corpses, marking others. Handlers came afterward with suspensor-borne pallets and loaded bodies aboard, stacked them like split logs, then carried their grisly harvest back to the unmarked vessels.

"G.o.ds below, those are Tleilaxu. Handlers of the dead retrieving corpses."

"But not all of the corpses," Jessica pointed out with a frown. "They're using some kind of selection process. If those were simply mortuary vessels, the Tleilaxu would gather every dead body. Why do they choose particular particular ones? And what are they doing with them?" ones? And what are they doing with them?"

As soon as each cadaver craft was fully loaded, the cargo doors sealed shut and it lifted off, groaning with the weight of so many bodies aboard. As soon as one vessel departed, another unmarked s.h.i.+p dropped to the battlefield and began the same process.

Before either Jessica or Gurney could postulate any answers, a brisk knock at the door interrupted them. A young castle page spoke quietly, "A Guild Courier is here, my Lady, bearing a message from your son, the Holy Emperor."

The uniformed Guild employee who appeared moments later was female, though her short hair and loose singlesuit gave her an androgynous appearance. She handed over a message cylinder with a slight and efficient bow. "My Lady Jessica, Muad'Dib commissioned me to deliver this to you."

She accepted the cylinder and dismissed the woman. After the door closed, Jessica promptly unsealed the message, which was written in Atreides battle language. A personal letter from Paul. Jessica had no secrets from Gurney, and she allowed him to look over her shoulder: "Dear Mother, I know you prefer to remain on Caladan away from Imperial politics, but I have an important favor to ask. It would mean a great deal to me. After my victory on Arrakis, I promised Shaddam in his exile that I would send terraformers to Salusa Secundus. Once I established my School of Planetology, I dispatched skilled workers to begin the task, and now the time has come for a thorough inspection of their work.

"I am sending both Chani and Irulan, who can speak and observe for me, but I would greatly appreciate your attendance. You see things from a different perspective, Mother. I'd like you to be my independent eyes and ears."

Jessica rolled up the message, deep in thought. "Of course I'll go. But first I have an important duty to perform tonight, for Caladan."

As the sunset colors deepened under a clear evening sky, Jessica led a small procession of villagers up into the coastal hills for the annual folk festival of the Empty Man. Each year, on the night of the autumn solstice, the people gathered to celebrate the legendary defeat of evil with a large bonfire and an effigy burning on the cliffs above the cras.h.i.+ng surf. More so than in previous years, the procession had to be kept carefully private, the Caladan natives not wanting the offworld pilgrims to pollute their culture. Let the offworlders wonder what sort of ceremony was being held, and why they had not been invited.

Villagers streamed up a well-worn trail to the gra.s.sy headlands, leaving the harbor and town behind. They carried firebrands for torches to light after dark. Jessica walked regally at the head of the group with her chin held high.

The crowd reached their destination as the night's chill pulled a thin mist from the sea. A huge pile of twisted driftwood and kindling stood like an island at the edge of the cliff. Atop this, a stick framework held a sagging suit of clothes-the effigy of the Empty Man.

After the villagers took their places and sang a bright, powerful song to drive away evil, Mayor Horvu ignited a piece of kindling and applied the flames to the heart of the woodpile. Parents and children came forward to light their brands in the growing fire, and then stepped back. When the people all fell silent, holding their flickering torches, she had everyone's attention. When the people all fell silent, holding their flickering torches, she had everyone's attention.

Jessica would tell the tale, just as their fallen Duke Leto used to do.

"A long time ago in a quiet fis.h.i.+ng village, there lived a man whose soul died within him after a terrible fever-but his body didn't follow in death. Even though everyone else thought he had recovered, the emptiness inside grew and grew ... and no one could see the change, because his body remembered remembered how to be human. how to be human.

"The man discovered that the only way to stop the emptiness from growing was to fill it up with pain." She paused for dramatic effect, looked at the s.h.i.+ning eyes of her listeners. "Children began to vanish from the beaches, and small fis.h.i.+ng boats were found adrift and crewless. Bodies were discovered at low tide on the sh.o.r.e. Young men went out on errands and never returned.

"And as the emptiness inside the man grew hungrier, he became so bold in his need to find victims that finally he was caught." She whispered, leaning forward to three boys who stood close. "The towns-people pursued the man up into the headlands and cornered him at the edge of a cliff. But when they moved to take him into custody so that the Duke could dispense justice, the man hurled himself off the precipice, down to the wave-washed rocks."

Jessica turned to face the dark sea beyond the edge of the firelight. "The next morning, when they fished his body out of the water, they found only an empty skin, like a discarded suit with nothing else inside. An Empty Man."

Some of the listeners giggled, others muttered nervously. Jessica held up her small brand. "And now, let us all light our-"

A commotion came from behind the group. A party of five men marched up the trail in the darkness, dressed in the garments of Muad'Dib's priesthood, all yellow except the leader. Wearing an orange robe, he exhibited an air of self-importance, as if he were ent.i.tled to attend any private ceremony he chose. "I bear a proclamation in the name of Muad'Dib. These words are for the people of Caladan."

Jessica stepped forward. "Can this not wait? This is our festival."

"The words of Muad'Dib will not wait for a local matter," the priest said, as if the comment should have been self-evident. "This proclamation comes from Korba the Panegyrist, official spokesman for the priesthood and representative of the Holy Emperor Muad'Dib: comes from Korba the Panegyrist, official spokesman for the priesthood and representative of the Holy Emperor Muad'Dib: " 'Because Caladan is sacred as the childhood home of Muad'Dib, its name must reflect its importance. People from ancient times named this planet Caladan, but such a name no longer has sufficient relevance. Just as Arrakis is now called Dune by the faithful, so Caladan has been renamed Chisra Sala Muad'Dib Chisra Sala Muad'Dib, which, in the language of the desert, means the Glorious Origin of Muad'Dib. Korba has hereby decreed that all future maps of the Imperium shall reflect this change. Henceforth, your people shall be honored to use the new name in all of your writings and conversations."

Jessica was amazed at the audacity of this man. She wondered if Paul even knew about this ridiculous idea; the supercilious Qizarate probably deemed the matter beneath Muad'Dib's notice. She cut the priest off immediately, addressing him with the full authority of her position as d.u.c.h.ess. "That is unacceptable. I will not allow you to strip these people of their heritage. You cannot-"

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 doc.u.ment into the trembling hands of Mayor Horvu. He also gave one to Gurney, who tossed it to the ground, where stray breezes s.n.a.t.c.hed 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.