With each stirring in the corridors outside the thick-walled cell, he sat up, remembering how Paul had come to him the last time he was here. The Emperor Paul-Muad'Dib himself had dismissed or diverted all the guards, then opened the cell door to let Bronso flee down empty corridors and dusty tunnels.

It made him smile to think of that now. Yes, even all those years after they had been boys together, Paul had remembered his promise. He had protected his Ixian companion-saved his life-by secretly setting him free. Bronso had followed the escape path out to the dark alleys of Arrakeen.

Weeks of public outrage had followed, and an unsuccessful search for traitors in the prison levels of the fortress palace. The hated Bronso of Ix had vanished from the most secure prison on Dune, like a magician, or a demon.

Not long ago, he had escaped execution again when the Face Dancer Sielto had died in Bronso's place-much to Alia's embarra.s.sment. Now, though, the young Regent would take no chances. Her priests would interrogate and torture him, try to make him recant while she devised some particularly horrific execution for him. He had humiliated her too many times, and her animosity was personal. interrogate and torture him, try to make him recant while she devised some particularly horrific execution for him. He had humiliated her too many times, and her animosity was personal.

He needed only to remember what Rhombur had endured in his life: the skyclipper explosion, the pain of living with cyborg replacement parts for years, the shock of watching his young son denounce him. And he thought of his mother, crushed by guilt-casting but finally finding her way back to consciousness, waiting for years to be rescued from the Bene Gesserit's clutches.

If his parents could endure all that, then surely Bronso could tolerate a few hours of pain, knowing it would be over soon enough.

He paced the perimeter of his cell, then forced himself to sit calmly, sure that hidden spy-eyes watched him. He would not slip into empty despair. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

The temperature in his cell increased, as if the baking sun from outside penetrated even this deep belowground. He perspired heavily. Wasted water Wasted water. What irony.

If he had sheets of rough spice paper, he could have written his final thoughts, a masterpiece of sorts. He tried to write in the dust on the wall, but his words were unreadable and easily erased.

After his father's death, the Ixian technocrats had taken everything from House Vernius, bleeding away his family's power and influence, keeping him as a figurehead, and finally discarding even that. Bronso had given everything he'd had left to Paul Atreides, and at least he had made a difference. The legacy of "Bronso of Ix" would endure far longer than anything "Bronso Vernius" could have accomplished in the Lands-raad.

He sat on the hard surface and stared directly into the glowglobe without blinking, not caring what damage it did to his eyes. Paul had been blinded in a stone-burner blast-so what difference would his own loss of sight make now? Muad'Dib's fanatics were the blind ones ... unable to read, or understand, the messages Bronso had written. The glow-globes were far too weak to do any more than make his eyes burn.

His writings had emphasized the unvarnished facts, flaws and all, to hammer home the point that Paul was human, not a G.o.d, and just as subject to weaknesses as any man. One day, when he and Paul Atreides were joined in the dust and grit of Arrakis, it would matter little how many people knew why Bronso did what he did. The important part was that some people would heed the message. many people knew why Bronso did what he did. The important part was that some people would heed the message.

However, when some forger-Alia, presumably-co-opted his name and spread an outrageous false manifesto, it marred the purity of Bronso's purpose. She had wanted to inflame anger against him, to drive people into the comfortable delusions of Irulan's version of history. That made him angry, but Lady Jessica knew the truth, and he trusted her to help historians navigate through the treacherous waters of fact and fiction.

My ego, he thought. My ego lingers, but I must let it go My ego lingers, but I must let it go....

He wished Alia would throw him to the crowds outside. He knew they must be shouting and chanting, demanding his blood. They would beat and trample him, but at least their fury would make the end swift.

"Shall I tell you how you're going to die?" A female voice filled the cell.

Blinking away the glare from staring into the glowglobe, Bronso turned to see that the cell door was open. He caught a glimpse of three angry-looking amazon guards outside, and young Alia standing there in all of her dark splendor. Only sixteen years of age ... a few years older than when he and Paul had run away from Ix to join the Jongleurs. The black robe fit her closely, following the contours of her figure; the red hawk of House Atreides adorned one side of her collar. Interesting that she chose to wear the Atreides emblem, rather than the trappings of a fanatical cult.

He rose to his feet, acting aloof. "You are a poor hostess, Lady Alia. Am I to receive no food or water?"

"On Dune, we learn not to waste resources. It's the Fremen way. Your body's water will be reclaimed in a huanui deathstill."

He shrugged. "I know the Fedaykin death chant: 'Who can turn away the Angel of Death?' Are you my dark angel, Alia Atreides? On with it then. I have long been prepared to die."

He wondered how she would react if he told her now that he he had reported to Jessica the conspiracy in the priesthood to a.s.sa.s.sinate Alia and Duncan. Bronso doubted if she would express any grat.i.tude, though ... and the information would only throw suspicion on her mother. had reported to Jessica the conspiracy in the priesthood to a.s.sa.s.sinate Alia and Duncan. Bronso doubted if she would express any grat.i.tude, though ... and the information would only throw suspicion on her mother.

Alia remained haughty. "Don't expect pity from me, after all the pain you've caused, all your years of trying to destroy my brother's reputation." pain you've caused, all your years of trying to destroy my brother's reputation."

"All my years of trying to keep him human." Bronso did not harbor any hope that she would understand, or desire to understand. "You've read my a.n.a.lysis of History a.n.a.lysis of History and other works, and I know you comprehend the purpose of my writings. You've even twisted them to your own ends. Isn't imitation supposed to be the highest form of flattery?" and other works, and I know you comprehend the purpose of my writings. You've even twisted them to your own ends. Isn't imitation supposed to be the highest form of flattery?"

Alia shook her head sadly, her expression filled with disappointment. "For seven years my brother and I hunted you. Now ... you are just a dismal, uninteresting little man." Straightening, she raised her voice. "We have chosen a style of Fremen execution reserved for only the most heinous criminals. You will be put in the deathstill while still alive. We will draw out the water from your body, bit by bit, leaving your mind aware until the last."

Bronso did not let her see his expression of revulsion. Fear screamed inside him. But now, at least, he knew. He wiped sweat from his forehead in the excessively hot cell and summoned what little bravado he had left. "You'd best hurry then. At the rate I'm dehydrating in here, there won't be any moisture left to squeeze out of me."

She turned and departed, letting the amazon guards seal the cell behind her, leaving Bronso alone with his thoughts. She had wanted to intimidate him and make him fear his fate, but he knew that a cringing, whimpering death for Paul's greatest critic would only serve to weaken the impact of his writings. He could still help Paul a while longer. He vowed to himself that he would march forth proudly and face the deathstill with his head held high. He was sure Lady Jessica would be watching.

Outsiders call some of our procedures "Fremen cruelties," without understanding what we do. Consider the huanui, the deathstill that enables the tribe to recover and save moisture from those who have died. On a planet where water is the most precious of all commodities, how can this possibly be called cruel? It is practical.

-The Stilgar Commentaries

Bronso of Ix ... infamous traitor ... the man who tried to paint Muad'Dib as a man instead of a G.o.d. Though she knew the true heroism of what he had done, Jessica could not save him.

But she could not just abandon him, either.

Alone, she strode into the Arrakeen prison complex, down brightly lit corridors, tunnels, and wings protected by guards and yellow-robed priest-warriors. She had dressed herself carefully in the hooded black robe of a Fremen Sayyadina, covering the lower portion of her face with a nezhoni scarf, leaving only her eyes exposed. As she walked, the voice of Duncan Idaho came to her through a concealed earpiece. "At the next door, the entry code is 10191."

The year we arrived on Arrakis, she thought. An oddly easy number to remember. She wondered if they were hoping someone would try to break Bronso out, as had happened before. More wheels, schemes, and plots ... more possibilities. Paul would have wanted that.

"Thank you, Duncan," she subvocalized. "Thank you for trusting me."

He did not answer. So many things going on behind the scenes, so many secret motives....

During the uproar following Bronso's capture on the Carthag rooftop, after the military teams had rushed into Arrakeen in triumph, Jessica had met Gurney and Duncan on the loud and bustling landing field outside the Citadel's perimeter. 'Thopters rose and landed, and service personnel rushed about. Firmly bound and gagged, Bronso had already been whisked into the highly secure levels of the death cells. The prisoner had put up no struggle; he had completed his mission and would no longer fight. rooftop, after the military teams had rushed into Arrakeen in triumph, Jessica had met Gurney and Duncan on the loud and bustling landing field outside the Citadel's perimeter. 'Thopters rose and landed, and service personnel rushed about. Firmly bound and gagged, Bronso had already been whisked into the highly secure levels of the death cells. The prisoner had put up no struggle; he had completed his mission and would no longer fight.

Jessica could tell immediately by their expressions that something had happened between Duncan and Gurney, and she wondered if the ghola had recognized her on the rooftop. When she faced the two men on the landing field, the tense silence had dragged out until finally Jessica broke it. Gurney already knew the answers, but now it seemed that Duncan held her fate in his hands.

She decided to take yet another gamble, hoping that this was more than a Tleilaxu ghola. "Duncan, if you are the real Duncan Idaho, hear me. Paul Paul asked me to help Bronso if I could, in utmost secrecy." She could have used Voice to manipulate him, but she needed this to be Duncan's own, honest decision. "I can explain Paul's reasons, prove it to you. Or is my word enough?" asked me to help Bronso if I could, in utmost secrecy." She could have used Voice to manipulate him, but she needed this to be Duncan's own, honest decision. "I can explain Paul's reasons, prove it to you. Or is my word enough?"

She saw him struggling to control the questions that reeled through his Mentat mind. He regarded her for a long moment with his metal eyes. "Your word is sufficient, my Lady." He bowed, sweeping one arm across the front. When he straightened and looked at her, his expression clear and readable, she felt convinced that this was the real Duncan Idaho Duncan Idaho, and he would never let his loyalty falter....

Now, as she made her way through the prison levels, Jessica focused on completing what she had to do. She tapped the appropriate numbers onto the keypad of the sealed door, and a heavy barrier ground away on tracks, closing itself again after she had stepped through.

She had visited here once before, to free Irulan from her own death cell. Mohiam had also been held in a place like this before Stilgar executed her. Bronso, though, was on an even more secure level.

Duncan's voice guided her to the appropriate confinement section, but the additional security already told her that this was Bronso's cell. She let her scarf fall away and shrugged back her hood to reveal the gray-flecked bronze hair, and summoned her presence and majesty, as if she were a Jongleur performer. I am the Lady Jessica, the Mother of Muad'Dib I am the Lady Jessica, the Mother of Muad'Dib.

The amazon guards and the angry-eyed Qizaras saw her, recognized her, and immediately straightened. "My Lady!"

Now she did use Voice, letting the intonations of her words as well as the commanding stance of her body push the guards and priests into cooperation. "I will speak to this man who has insulted my son. He has blasphemed against Muad'Dib, and he has much to answer for. He shall answer to me to me."

The priests seemed resistant to Voice, because four of them crowded together, blocking her access. One said, "We have strict orders that the prisoner is to be allowed no visitors before his execution. No food or water. Nothing at all."

Jessica let her anger hint that if she grew any more displeased with them, she would order their executions. All of them. "Should I wait and speak to him after after he has been executed?" They looked as if they might all wither at once. "I demand a moment of privacy with this Bronso of Ix. I invoke the desert tradition. It is my right to face him." he has been executed?" They looked as if they might all wither at once. "I demand a moment of privacy with this Bronso of Ix. I invoke the desert tradition. It is my right to face him."

The same priest said, "He is a dangerous prisoner, my Lady. We should have at least two guards accompany you-"

"I once bested Stilgar himself." Her look silenced the priest. "I have nothing to fear from this pathetic man."

At a signal from the priest, one of the amazon guards unsealed the door and allowed her inside. "Close it! I don't need an eager audience of gossipers." The woman left her alone in the death cell with Bronso.

Although the haggard, copper-haired man was clearly weak and thirsty, he sat straight, as if supported by the throne of House Vernius. It struck her what a tragic and lonely figure Bronso was. And yet he smiled as he recognized her. "I hoped we would have a chance to talk before the end, my Lady."

She silenced him with a quick hand signal, then reached into her robes and removed a small device, which she activated. The air pressure seemed to change in the room, and a subsonic thrumming vibrated at the roots of her teeth. "A blanketing field. Now we can speak in complete privacy." She smiled at the device. "It's of Ixian manufacture. Alia has many Ixian devices that have never been tested, and I've ... borrowed some of them."

"Oh, I recognize that one," he said with a rueful smile, then looked up at her with red-shot eyes. "But even taking such precautions, you come here at great peril." up at her with red-shot eyes. "But even taking such precautions, you come here at great peril."

"You've risked much more over the years, Bronso. But don't worry-I have a legitimate reason to be here."

Bronso understood. "They think you have come to spit on me?"

"Ah, but on Dune, that would be no insult."

He just shook his head. "There is nothing you can do for me. I need you to be free, to remain beyond suspicion. I need you to be sure my mother is safe."

"She will be, Bronso. I promise."

He nodded. "I will not reveal our relations.h.i.+p, or Paul's plan, no matter how much torture they inflict upon me. If this execution makes me a martyr, well, then even more people will read my treatises. My writings will take on a life of their own ... and some readers will believe what I say. The truth is a powerful weapon."

Jessica took a step closer. "So, Alia has told you the manner of your execution?"

"Huanui deathstill, while I'm still alive. I don't imagine it will be very pleasant."

With a sudden move, Jessica brought up one of her hands, revealing a silver needle in her grasp. "Bronso, this is the high-handed enemy, the gom jabbar. One p.r.i.c.k of the poison on this tip and your miseries will be over-quick and painless."

He didn't flinch. "Alia has sent you as my executioner, then, just as she earlier used Stilgar? It's to be you? That needle would certainly silence me. You'd have nothing to worry about."

"I chose this, Bronso, as a kindness to you, and a reward for your bravery. The others will see it as the act of an outraged mother. Not even Alia would dare punish me for it." She held the needle only centimeters from his neck. chose this, Bronso, as a kindness to you, and a reward for your bravery. The others will see it as the act of an outraged mother. Not even Alia would dare punish me for it." She held the needle only centimeters from his neck.

Though Bronso was obviously not afraid of the needle, he shook his head. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but I cannot let this happen-not only for you, but for my own legacy. Remember, I worked with the Jongleurs. What sort of finale would this be, a quiet and painless death, witnessed only by you? No, I prefer playing my part to the end. Let me finish this show and leave the audience satisfied. You must permit this, my Lady-for the Atreides name, for Paul Paul." He pushed her hand away, and she lowered the gom jabbar. "Give me a last moment of dignity and worth. I am protecting Paul's legacy the way I was supposed to watch out for him when we were just boys. By holding to that promise, I honor not only him, but my father." pushed her hand away, and she lowered the gom jabbar. "Give me a last moment of dignity and worth. I am protecting Paul's legacy the way I was supposed to watch out for him when we were just boys. By holding to that promise, I honor not only him, but my father."

Jessica had not expected him to accept her offer. "Then take what comfort I can offer you." After secreting the deadly needle in a fold of her robe, she produced a small flask. "I brought water."

Trusting her completely, he drained the flask, sighed. "I won't need that after tomorrow. But thank you."

When he was off guard, she embraced him. "I'm grateful to you, Bronso. And so sorry." In doing so, she brushed the back of his neck with a different needle, leaving just a trace of potent residual chemical-another one of the new Ixian toys that the technocrats gave to Alia in hopes of impressing her. Bronso didn't even notice. As they drew apart, she thought, I've done everything I can for you. Paul's good and loyal friend, and a true patriot of the Imperium I've done everything I can for you. Paul's good and loyal friend, and a true patriot of the Imperium.

Then Bronso said, "Before you leave, slap me hard across the face. For appearances sake."

She concealed the Ixian device in her robe and switched off the blanketing field, then resurrected her infuriated demeanor. "Guards!"

The door burst open as if the amazons expected to find her under attack. Before they could step into the cell, Jessica swung her open hand, striking Bronso's face with such force that he reeled to the side. He pressed a hand against his throbbing cheek.

She sneered at Bronso and spoke for the benefit of her observers. "When you feel the pain of the deathstill, think of me. I have nothing more to say to the prisoner."

I have seen enough acrobats and dancers. I have seen amazing pyrotechnic shows and solido-hologram illusions. I have seen audiences swoon, scream, and cheer. But the greatest spectacle of all is Life-and Death.

-RHEINVAR THE MAGNIFICENT

At the hour of Bronso's execution, Lady Jessica sat on a high observation platform, gazing down at the teeming crush of humanity in the square, the hawkers and gawkers, the unseemly carnival atmosphere. Next to the observation dais stood the ominous death-still, portending a slow and horrific end for the despised traitor. This time, there was no chance that the victim was a mere Face Dancer in disguise.

Jessica had wanted to remain out of sight, to avoid witnessing the execution, but Alia demanded her presence. She had to play her role in this show, just as Bronso did.

On a high seat next to her mother, Alia seemed exceedingly pleased. Duncan sat at her side, expressionless. While he had grudgingly agreed to trust Jessica and not expose her alliance with Bronso, Duncan would not cooperate in any plan to free the Ixian, even if he did believe the man was following Paul's true wishes.

To Jessica's practiced eye, Irulan appeared sickened, though the crowd would misinterpret her expression as one of disgust. In her position as Muad'Dib's official biographer and historian, everyone a.s.sumed the Princess was impatient to see the end of the malicious gadfly.

The crowds pressed even closer, and Jessica thought more people had come to see the violence than had attended Paul's funeral ceremony. Watching the preparations with interest, Alia turned to her mother and spoke in a casual tone. "You should be glad it is almost over, Mother. By insulting Paul, Bronso insulted both of us." had come to see the violence than had attended Paul's funeral ceremony. Watching the preparations with interest, Alia turned to her mother and spoke in a casual tone. "You should be glad it is almost over, Mother. By insulting Paul, Bronso insulted both of us."

Jessica could not disguise her bitter undertone. "And you think Paul would have wanted this? Even after all Bronso has written against him, the two were once close friends."

The crowd was getting louder, buzzing with antic.i.p.ation.

Alia laughed. "Of course this is what Paul would have wanted. I don't think you understood my brother very well at all."

Two Qizara guards escorted the condemned prisoner toward the central dais, where the gray, slick-walled deathstill stood, its hinged lid thrown back like the hood of a tribal robe. It reminded Jessica of a sarcophagus for a giant. Taken from one of Arrakeen's many mortuaries, the huanui was round and utilitarian, with tubes, separators, vaporizers, and collectors. Its sides had been replaced with transparent panels, so that the observers could see the victim's agonized writhings.

Bronso walked toward his fate without hesitation or apparent fear, holding his head high. Yes, a true Jongleur show Yes, a true Jongleur show, she thought.

When Bronso stood facing the transparent walls of the deathstill, he looked at the workings. Although he was fully aware that he would die inside that chamber, his back remained straight. After focusing on the means of his execution, he turned to Alia. "Will I be allowed to speak? Or will you silence me here, just as you tried to silence my writings?"

Alia's face darkened. "You have spouted far too many words." She made a quick gesture, and one of the priest guards strapped a gag across Bronso's mouth.

Jessica made no attempt to hide her disapproval. "Alia, by tradition the accused has a right to speak."

"He is not accused-he is condemned. And he has said quite enough, in his heretical writings. We have no need to hear more."

With a glance, Jessica tried to convey an apology to Bronso, but he did not seem dejected, or even surprised by Alia's p.r.o.nouncement. Instead, he nodded to himself and turned his gaze out to the crowd.

Before Alia could command her guards to wrestle him into the deathstill chamber, a commotion occurred out in the vast throng, accompanied by sounds of unrest and surprise. In the sea of faces, several men stood forth ... all identical, all with reddish hair. They looked precisely like Bronso Vernius. More appeared, then dozens, then at least a hundred of the doppelgangers. deathstill chamber, a commotion occurred out in the vast throng, accompanied by sounds of unrest and surprise. In the sea of faces, several men stood forth ... all identical, all with reddish hair. They looked precisely like Bronso Vernius. More appeared, then dozens, then at least a hundred of the doppelgangers.

As they were recognized, a resonating gasp rippled through the packed crowd. Face Dancers, Jessica was sure-Bronso's allies. It seemed the gallant Ixian had guessed long in advance that he would someday face this fate; he must have asked the shape-s.h.i.+fters to deliver this last message, should he be prevented from doing so himself.

When the Bronso lookalikes spoke, their voices boomed out from artificial amplifiers, and their words-in Bronso's familiar voice-thrummed high into the yellow sky in a vibrating, convulsive harmony. "I am Bronso of Ix, and my final statement will not be silenced. I have opened your eyes and ears. I have diluted your myths with the truth. I have demonstrated that your revered Muad'Dib was Paul Atreides Paul Atreides as well. And I have a.s.sured you that your emperor was only human, not anyone's messiah. By showing you who Paul Atreides really was, I have done him a greater service than all of your temples and all of the battles in your Jihad! I die without regret, for even when my body is gone, my words will remain." as well. And I have a.s.sured you that your emperor was only human, not anyone's messiah. By showing you who Paul Atreides really was, I have done him a greater service than all of your temples and all of the battles in your Jihad! I die without regret, for even when my body is gone, my words will remain."

Alia dispatched her guards, but the hundred or more lookalikes dispersed into the confusion of the crowd. The Face Dancers ducked and moved, altered their features. They yanked off their capes, rags and hoods, and tossed them away, discarding them into the stunned and astonished throng.

From her vantage, Jessica watched the flurry. The Face Dancers were like moths, slipping away, flitting, mingling, vanis.h.i.+ng. Within moments, they were indistinguishable from others in the crowd, and she doubted if any of them would ever be caught. Although the spectators roared in indignation, they were clearly fascinated by the trick that had been played upon the powerful Regent and her priestly guards.

Trying to regain control of the moment, Alia raised her voice in a shrill command: "Commence the execution."

The priest guards cuffed Bronso forward, and he stumbled toward the deathstill. Jessica felt her heart burning with tears that her eyes could not shed, and decided it was time. She had her own trick that Bronso did not expect. In her conscious thoughts she triggered an activation code, then formed words, which she spoke silently deep in her throat and in her mind. shed, and decided it was time. She had her own trick that Bronso did not expect. In her conscious thoughts she triggered an activation code, then formed words, which she spoke silently deep in her throat and in her mind.

Bronso. Can you hear me? She saw the prisoner's unmistakable reaction, as his head jerked in surprise and he looked around. She saw the prisoner's unmistakable reaction, as his head jerked in surprise and he looked around.

Communication by nerve induction, she explained, never opening her mouth. A prototype Ixian technology-extremely expensive, designed for espionage and surveillance. I applied the chemical to you in your cell. I wanted to be there for you. Now A prototype Ixian technology-extremely expensive, designed for espionage and surveillance. I applied the chemical to you in your cell. I wanted to be there for you. Now.