In the court of public opinion, suspicion alone is often enough to convey guilt. Mentats do not think that way. We ask questions.

-The Mentat's Handbook

Because so many people in the demolished shantytown of Arrakeen were unofficial immigrants-without citizens.h.i.+p papers, jobs, or families-the total number killed in the sandworm attack was impossible to determine.

Workers, former soldiers, pilgrims, and beggars threw themselves into the recovery effort, working tirelessly because Alia called upon them to, in Muad'Dib's name. For his own part, Stilgar thought the Regent's request had an impatient edge. Though it was an unkind thought, he believed she summoned so many workers not because she wanted to help suffering people, but because she wanted to clean up the mess as quickly as possible.

Meanwhile, the Qizarate issued a joyful p.r.o.nouncement that all those devoured by the rogue worm had been transported immediately to Heaven and incorporated into Shai-Hulud. Stilgar was not surprised to hear it.

Despite the destruction, he was glad for the fact that even greater mayhem had not been done. The wild worm might well have torn a path all the way to the Citadel of Muad'Dib, but Stilgar had diverted it in time. Sooner or later, Alia would probably present him with a medal for what he had done, but he had no time for trinkets or celebrations. Instead, he was determined to find out who had caused the disaster. He had spent his life understanding the desert and the magnificent worms. He knew in his heart that it was no accident. Instead, he was determined to find out who had caused the disaster. He had spent his life understanding the desert and the magnificent worms. He knew in his heart that it was no accident.

Stilgar gathered a handpicked team of sandwalkers and wormriders, desert men who could interpret the whispered secrets of the dunes, to read signs even though the winds tried to erase them. His grim a.s.semblage went to the gap in the s.h.i.+eld Wall and combed over the scene.

Stilgar stood by the wrecked qanat, briefly removing his noseplugs so he could absorb the atmosphere around him, staring and sensing as he tried to pick up hints of what had occurred here. He stationed eight spotters out in the open desert to watch for other worms. He turned, looked around, felt the sting of grains against his exposed cheeks with the skirling gusts near the s.h.i.+eld Wall. Cueshma Cueshma, he thought, the Fremen name for a twenty-klick wind, strong enough to stir the desert but not enough to be considered a storm.

Other than the wind, though, the desert was silent and secretive. He couldn't understand what had drawn the beast here in the first place, why it had crossed the moisture line and attacked Arrakeen with such a single-minded purpose. What could have driven it to such erratic, unnatural behavior?

His men dug through the sand, pulling out chunks of the plazcrete ca.n.a.l wall. The worm had destroyed much of the evidence, but that did not stop the Fremen from searching. Several men poled the sand in widely separated locations, pus.h.i.+ng probes down far enough to mea sure any detectable moisture.

Finally the lead man reported, "It's dry, Stil."

"If that qanat was full when the worm smashed it, there would still be water down deep. The bulk of the flow was diverted beforehand, the water drained. Sandtrout would have gotten the rest," Stilgar said. No accident. Someone wanted the worm to have access into the basin. No accident. Someone wanted the worm to have access into the basin.

Turning around, he pa.s.sed his gaze along the impressive mountainous barrier that blocked all encroaching worms. During the Battle of Arrakeen years ago, the Padishah Emperor had stationed his forces inside the basin, a.s.suming the area safe, not expecting Muad'Dib to use atomics to blast through the cliff, which enabled his Fedaykin to ride worms into the battle. It had been the turning point in modern history.

But those creatures had been deliberately deliberately guided through the gap by guided through the gap by seasoned wormriders. How had a lone worm threaded the needle and entered the sheltered area? Even if the barrier qanat had dried, how had the sightless creature seasoned wormriders. How had a lone worm threaded the needle and entered the sheltered area? Even if the barrier qanat had dried, how had the sightless creature found found such a relatively small opening? such a relatively small opening?

Stilgar was not surprised when his men discovered the remains of a thumper. This suggested that several more might have been strung along like bread crumbs to lead the creature onward. The inexorable throbbing beat would have drawn the blind worm like a magnet, luring it through the pa.s.sage.

"Treachery," one of the Fedaykin murmured. "Shai-Hulud was summoned intentionally."

Stilgar had suspected as much. But by whom?

One of the men held up a lump of twisted metal. "See this thumper's unusual design. Looks like Ixian technology to me. Bronso of Ix!"

The Naib scowled. "A thumper is no proof of that." With their clockwork mechanisms and syncopated tampers, the devices were quite simple. "No Ixian expertise is required to make one."

Under the bright sun and the briskly blowing grains, Stilgar's searchers kept sifting through the sands. Toward dusk they uncovered the fused circuitry of a s.h.i.+eld generator, and another one farther along. Again some of the discoveries suggested Ixian technology, perhaps evidence against Bronso ... though s.h.i.+eld generators could be purchased anywhere.

s.h.i.+elds would drive a worm into a frenzy. Always. After thumpers attracted it to the remains of the qanat, the hidden s.h.i.+eld generators would goad the creature into the Arrakeen basin. Someone had meant to create havoc here.

He knew why the men were so quick to conclude that Bronso was to blame. Alia had already announced her suspicions, and the Ixian's guilt would be proven to her her satisfaction, one way or another. satisfaction, one way or another.

I see darkness everywhere, but also the tiniest pinpoint of light marking the hopes of mankind.

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

Inside the Citadel's vaulted exhibition arena, Lady Jessica sat on a hard stonewood bench between Alia and Irulan, watching a private performance of barefoot Jervish Updancers. They moved in a lissome blur, dressed in the blue and gold costumes of their remote planet.

On the other side of Irulan, Harah dutifully kept an eye on the twin babies, who were propped up in traditional Fremen baskets. Though only three months old, little Leto and Ghanima watched the dancers with obvious delight. Irulan also watched over Paul's children, still in the process of redefining her own role. Duncan and Gurney were both offworld, chasing a lead in the endless hunt for Bronso of Ix....

For the past several days, Jessica had watched Irulan wrestle with her conflicting obligations to balance the difficult thing that Paul wanted with the equally impossible task that Alia demanded.

Following the sandworm attack, Alia had sponsored the day's private show in the Citadel to prove that all was right with the Imperium. "The people are done with mourning, and it is time to find things to celebrate. The Regency is strong, Muad'Dib is remembered, and all worlds will prosper."

The performance floor was made of rough paver bricks, like broken rubble, but the Updancers handled themselves with no missteps in a remarkable series of airborne flips and inverted moves, using their hands and feet interchangeably. rubble, but the Updancers handled themselves with no missteps in a remarkable series of airborne flips and inverted moves, using their hands and feet interchangeably.

"Once when I was a girl, a similar troupe came to perform at my father's Palace," Irulan said, brus.h.i.+ng a bit of grit off the lap of her elegant white dress. "My father placed hot coals across the dancing arena."

Jessica found it difficult to concentrate on the dance. A fly buzzed near her, and she swatted it away; somehow it had gotten inside the huge conservatory arena.

Paul had pondered deeply about his dangerous legacy, about the risks of letting himself be deified ... but what had it done to the Atreides name and to those in the family he had left behind? His sister Alia was not ready to be thrust into the middle of such a windstorm of history, though she was struggling mightily to prove to all of her followers, and to herself, that she could be the equal of her brother.

And, Jessica knew, there were the twin babies-her grandchildren-to consider. In attempting to destroy the false holy aura that surrounded Paul's actions, what if Bronso was creating even more danger for the twins? She hadn't considered that before.

Ignoring the Updancers, Jessica watched how Irulan behaved next to the children. Jessica wondered how much Irulan could possibly have learned about being a mother from all her Bene Gesserit training and her experiences growing up in the Imperial court on Kaitain. Still, she definitely seemed devoted to the babies now.

The twins and their potential raised so many questions in Jessica's mind. If Paul was the Kwisatz Haderach, what powers might he have pa.s.sed on to his children? How soon would anyone know if the two babies had access to Other Memory-and if so, would it become a challenge for them, as it was for Alia? Already, Leto and Ghanima demonstrated advanced behavior, oddities of personality. They were the orphaned children of a messianic Emperor who had been surrounded by fanatics: Of course these two would not be normal children.

During a lull in the performance, Jessica leaned closer to Alia and finally raised the point that had weighed on her for some time. "As your mother, I remember how difficult it was for you to be different at a young age, an unusual child treated as an outsider, an ... abomination."

Alia responded sharply. "My differences made me strong, and I had my older brother's help."

"Mine, as well. And now I am concerned for my grandchildren. They need special study, special training."

"Leto and Ghanima will have my care and a.s.sistance. As the children of Muad'Dib, they will grow up to be strong." She gazed wistfully at the babies in their baskets. "I'll make sure of it. Don't worry about them, Mother."

Walking on their hands, the Updancers circled in front of the small audience, kicking their bare feet and calling out boisterously in their own language. The distracting fly came back to buzz around Jessica's head again.

"Of course I worry about them. The court of Muad'Dib is not the safest place in the Imperium. They would be perfectly protected with me on Caladan. I could raise the twins in the ancestral home of House Atreides, away from conspiracies and schemes here. You know how many threats you have already faced. Let them come back with me."

Alia reacted with surprising vehemence. "No, they will stay here! As Muad'Dib's children, they must be raised on Dune, and be part of Dune."

Jessica maintained a hard calmness. "I am their grandmother, and I have more time to spend on their welfare than you do. You're the Regent of the Imperium. Caladan is a place where Leto and Ghanima can study careful meditation, learn to control any voices that might be inside of them."

"The Atreides homeworld would only make them soft, water fat, and complacent. How many times did Paul speak of that? Paradise and ease make men lose their edge." She half rose out of her seat. "No, the twins are children of this planet, and they belong in the desert. I will not allow them to leave."

Irulan interceded. "I have already sworn to watch over his children and care for them as if they were my own." The Princess looked from Alia to Jessica and back again, torn between the choices. "But the Lady Jessica also has a point, Alia. Perhaps Leto and Ghanima could live alternately on Caladan and on Dune? It would give the children balance and a sense of their own history."

"They are also Atreides-" Jessica said.

"No!" Alia seemed on the verge of violence, and Irulan flinched despite her best efforts at control. "No one can understand those children better than I do. I will be the first to note the danger signs of possession. I will hear no more of this-from either of you."

Irulan fell immediately silent. Jessica realized that, even after she returned to Caladan, the Princess would remain here, at the mercy of Alia's whims, forced to keep herself useful and prove her loyalty to the Regency.

Barely noticed by their auspicious audience, the Updancers finished their performance and stood in a line on their hands. One by one, they flipped right-side up, bowed, and scampered out of the building.

With the show over, and the discussion about the children still stinging in her mind, Jessica rose from the stonewood bench. "Please pa.s.s along my personal appreciation for the fine show. I will retire to my chambers to meditate." She walked away swiftly.

As Jessica reached a sunlit stone garden, the per sis tent fly buzzed near her again, swirling around her face and darting close to her ear. Jessica wondered which sloppy door seals in the enclosed citadel had allowed the annoying desert insect inside. She tried to swat at it, but the fly maneuvered itself close to her face.

She was shocked to hear it emit a tiny voice. "Lady Jessica, this is Bronso Vernius. I have placed my recording in this disguised device. I need your help-for my mother's sake. Please meet me in secret. Listen carefully." The Ixian insect device recited a location, and a time two days hence.

Knowing that she might be observed, even here, Jessica continued to walk away. She showed no surprise at the clever way that Bronso had found to contact her. Putting a hand over her mouth as if to cover a cough, she said, "I understand, and I'll be there."

The fly darted off.

A long-dead poet a.s.serted that it is better to rule in h.e.l.l than to serve in Heaven. That man never saw Salusa Secundus.

-EMPEROR SHADDAM IV, private journals private journals

The new soldiers were already dead to start with, but not so mangled that they couldn't be repaired. They would fight again. And Shaddam recognized that ghola soldiers had certain special advantages.

Under the blistering orange sky of Salusa Secundus, far from any of the terraforming activities, Count Hasimir Fenring and Bashar Zum Garon accompanied the former Emperor out to an isolated dry canyon. The next corpse s.h.i.+p would arrive soon.

Muad'Dib's inspectors constantly monitored cargo transports to and from Salusa, but the Tleilaxu handlers of the dead moved freely. In the normal course of events, so many struggling exiles died that a s.h.i.+p to carry off bodies was no particular oddity; no one, however, would suspect that the arriving Tleilaxu vessel was already full-with bodies that had been reanimated by axlotl tanks.

Years earlier, Shaddam had concocted the scheme, and it both pleased and startled Count Fenring that his friend had actually come up with a good idea. The fallen Emperor's loyal Sardaukar commander, Zum Garon, had negotiated secret terms with the Tleilaxu, and Shaddam had paid for many s.h.i.+ploads of gholas ... soldiers that were already counted as dead and not marked on any rolls. Legion after legion of completely untraceable fighters to be trained as fierce Sardaukar warriors. completely untraceable fighters to be trained as fierce Sardaukar warriors.

For years now, in exchange for a ridiculous portion of the remaining Corrino fortune, the Tleilaxu had harvested the corpses of dead soldiers from Jihad battlefields and placed them in axlotl tanks to repair their wounds. They restored the fighters to a semblance of life, their memories washed away, their personalities clean slates. Regardless of the various flags under which these men had originally fought, the laboratory-made gholas retained no feelings of loyalty or patriotism. But their muscles remembered how to wield a weapon, and they obeyed orders. Fenring himself had watched the test subjects during a series of mock battles near the Tleilaxu city of Thalidei when dear, sweet Marie was still alive.

Shaddam paced the dirt restlessly. "I am sick of this place, Hasimir, and I want to leave. How many will be enough? The Tleilaxu charge an outrageous amount for each s.h.i.+pment of soldiers. My resources are not boundless!"

"But your ambitions are, Sire, and you must have the army to match them. There is, aahhh, something to be said for soldiers who do not fear death."

A flash of indignation crossed Bashar Garon's face. "Sardaukar do not fear death." The military commander waited next to his Emperor, sweating in his full uniform as the big Tleilaxu s.h.i.+p finally came into view and lumbered toward the ground.

Fenring gave a deferential bow. "As you say, Bashar. I meant no disrespect." He did the mental arithmetic. "Now that the usurper is dead, ahh, yes, it is time for us to make our move. The Regent is weak and frightened-her own actions demonstrate that."

Shaddam scowled. "She killed my envoy Rivato after he suggested a perfectly reasonable compromise. Don't forget that she killed my Chamberlain Ridondo, too, back when she was much younger. A devil of a child."

"Ahh, hmm, and that shows her impulsiveness. What did she have to gain by slaying Rivato? She must have been afraid of him. And of you, Sire."

Shaddam kicked a dry clod of dirt as they waited for the Tleilaxu transport to settle onto the landing area. "We have been building-and feeding, and caring for-our ghola army for years now. We need to take advantage of the Imperial power vacuum, and advantage of the Imperial power vacuum, and now now. That girl cannot possibly hold her brother's government together."

"Hmmm, Sire, you yourself saw what that 'girl' was capable of when she murdered Baron Harkonnen before your eyes. And she was just a toddler then! Later, she killed my dear Marie, who was herself a trained a.s.sa.s.sin. As Regent, now, Alia is even worse." The Count cleared his throat. "Even so, she is incapable of being the leader that Muad'Dib was. She has no finesse, and her tendency to overreact will build resentment among the populace. Fanaticism can go only so far." He grinned at Shaddam. "Ahhh, yes, I am convinced that our ghola army is nearly ready. A few more s.h.i.+pments, a few more training exercises."

Bashar Garon had already spent years with the ghola soldiers, testing them with brutally efficient Sardaukar methods, fighting techniques that had made the Imperial terror troops unstoppable for centuries. Both Fenring and Shaddam had seen these huge new legions perform military maneuvers with cold precision that brought a thrill of awe and a shudder of intimidation. The Emperor longed for the restoration of his former glory, and Garon wanted the same thing-to bring back the proud Sardaukar name from the ash heap of history.

But Shaddam's secret army needed to attack at a precise time and place, a carefully calculated strike that would send shockwaves throughout the fragile structure of Muad'Dib's Imperium. Regent Alia could never withstand it.

Though the Jihad had officially been over for years, battles still raged on scattered planets, while new signs of strain appeared on the dominated worlds. The writings of Bronso of Ix continued to prod sore spots, raising doubts and emboldening many people to question the supposed "Messiah." Fenring could not have planned it better himself. As Regent, Alia Atreides must already be feeling her brother's power slip through her fingertips, after only a few months.

Bashar Garon remained cool. "I am eager to begin an open battle to restore you to the Lion Throne, Majesty. The rogue sandworm in Arrakeen was a good preliminary strike, an opening gambit."

The fallen Emperor frowned. "I had hoped for dozens of rogue worms to make it through the breach in the s.h.i.+eld Wall. Does that mean the plan was a failure, Hasimir?" His voice had a sharp accusatory tone.

"Even one rampaging sandworm caused a great deal of destruction, Sire, leaving Arrakeen in an uproar. Alia's Regency already has enough troubles to deal with, and we just added another significant disruption. Some of the locals are claiming it was Muad'Dib's angry spirit, returning for revenge."

"What superst.i.tious fools they are!" Shaddam laughed, then paused. "Or did we start the rumors ourselves?"

"We did not need to, Sire." Fenring consulted his crystalpad, where an intricately coded message described the event on Arrakis. Two of their spies had been killed in the worm's onslaught, innocent bystanders in the Arrakeen slums, but one surviving operative had sent a detailed eyewitness account. "As the locals scramble to repair the damage, they're frightened, and some see it as a sign of G.o.d's displeasure in Alia's rule. That That rumor is one of ours...." rumor is one of ours...."

The rugged red-walled canyon opened into a sheltered valley, far from prison settlements or Shaddam's domed city. On schedule, the Tleilaxu corpse s.h.i.+p settled onto the hard-packed ground, stirring a haze of rusty grit with a roar of suspensor engines.

Garon said, "I do not like these ghola troops, but I recognize the need for them, since my efforts to recruit fighters from the prison population here have met with less success than I had hoped."

Count Fenring knew the secret antipathy Garon held toward the failed Emperor; he blamed Shaddam for the many disasters that had shamed the Sardaukar ranks and cost the life of his own son. "The single legion of Sardaukar loyalists that Muad'Dib let you keep has never, ahh, been adequate for our purposes."

"Why is it so hard to train the prisoners?" Shaddam snapped. "When I was on the throne, Salusa provided a ready pool of Sardaukar trainees, who were already hardened by survival experiences here."

Garon bit back an annoyed retort, and said with forced calm, "In those days the prison population was much greater. Kaitain sent s.h.i.+pload after s.h.i.+pload of dissidents here, political prisoners, outright traitors, and violent criminals. Only a small percentage survived, and an even smaller percentage of those became Sardaukar recruits. When the Atreides Emperor stopped sending his prisoners here, our pool dwindled considerably. And his years of terraforming work-which you wanted-have made the Salusan landscape less of a challenge to harden our available men."

When Paul-Muad'Dib gave his promise to turn this h.e.l.l into a planetary garden, supposedly as a concession to the defeated Shaddam, Count Fenring had detected subtleties in his reasons: In such a difficult environment, where daily life was a brutal challenge, only the strongest, most resourceful, and most hardened prisoners survived, and thus they became perfect Sardaukar candidates. By softening the populace and dulling the edge of Salusa Secundus, Muad'Dib had hamstrung Shaddam's ability to find adequate replacements for his terror troops.

For his own plan, however, Shaddam Corrino had looked elsewhere.

When the corpse s.h.i.+p's hatches opened and a series of parallel ramps extended to the ground, more than six thousand new ghola soldiers marched out. Their uniforms were mismatched-the better to blend in among the planet's ragtag population. Many of them showed scars from mortal wounds. They had already been indoctrinated by the Tleilaxu, their loyalty programmed to the Padishah Emperor. Their old reflexes, muscles, and automatic responses had been reawakened.

As the last ghola soldiers emerged from the vessel, a gray-robed little Tleilaxu man scuttled toward them, crystalpad projector in hand. The Count knew the man would demand his payment now.

Shaddam looked at the new arrivals, satisfied but somewhat bored. "For the sake of humanity, and the sake of history, Hasimir-we have to get rid of these d.a.m.nable Atreides monsters, and those b.a.s.t.a.r.d twins, too. It would be best if someone just drowned the two babies and had done with them."

Fenring smiled. "It would be truer Fremen fas.h.i.+on, Sire, if they could be buried alive out in the sands."

We write our own definitions of grat.i.tude.

-Bene Gesserit axiom

Upon careful consideration, Alia decided to grant an audience to the visitor from the Bene Gesserit. It was a lone Reverend Mother, someone who obviously considered herself important and was willing to take the risk of coming here despite Alia's obvious and dangerous antipathy toward the Sisterhood.