Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

Inside the headquarters building, the morning air was filled with the loud and chaotic sounds of construction work. Heavy haulers and small hand wagons carted away the residue of shattered buildings, thousands of tons of rubble. By Emperor Roderick’s order, they would build a new, simpler city.

Because of the numerous threats against his life, Manford had always kept a body double who could make public appearances in his stead. On that terrible day when the cymeks attacked Empok, Manford had refused to let the double serve his destiny, and now Anari resented this man who looked so much like Leader Torondo; he had failed utterly, for he remained alive while Manford was dead.

Anari had failed in the same way.

Now, the body double seemed too eager to fulfill his role again, and to broaden it. “I can become a new Manford Torondo,” he insisted. “Stronger than ever. The people will know I’ve returned. They will believe in me.”

“Only the gullible ones will. It’s not a good idea.”

He had come to her in Manford’s old administration offices—her offices now. She was annoyed that he had allowed himself to be seen, since the double’s very existence had always been a carefully kept secret. Seeing him had caused a few ecstatic and terrified followers to claim that Leader Torondo’s ghost had returned to guide them, a spirit from beyond who could offer the truth and wisdom that the Butlerians sorely needed right now.

Anari angrily dispatched her own people to quash the rumors. She closed the curtains in the offices so that others could not glimpse him now.

Propped up on cushions, seated like Manford in a chair designed to accommodate his legless form, the double looked at Anari with a fiery determination in his eyes. She didn’t know his original name, but his name didn’t really matter. He had pretended to be Manford for so long that without his physical resemblance to the charismatic leader, he was nothing.

Deacon Harian—his forehead bandaged from a severe wound, and one eye blinded from the acid mists sprayed by the cymeks, his arm in a sling—was also in the office. Though he was just as determined to do something significant in the aftermath, he looked uneasily at the double. Anari would have to make the necessary decision, and she was perfectly willing to do so.

The surrogate said, “We have an opportunity now. You need me!” His voice sounded strident. “I will make the Butlerians strong.”

She looked at him closely, but his face was wrong. Yes, the features were similar, but this was not Manford. Anari knew the real Manford more intimately than any other person, and this ambitious creature was a far cry from the man he resembled.

“You can use me,” said the double, and now his voice took on a whining edge. “As Manford Torondo, I will lead the Butlerians back to prominence, and we will be stronger than ever.”

“Your role was to appear to be Manford Torondo.” Anari hardened her voice. “But you are not Manford. You were chosen for similarity of features and for your willingness to sacrifice part of your body, not because of any skill or charisma you possess.”

Angry now, she stepped around the furniture that had once been Manford’s. She kept her long sword lying across the surface of the desk so she would never forget who she really was. “We do not need you. Your appearance would only cause confusion and raise questions.”

“I should have been there to die for him, I know that,” mumbled the duplicate. “I tried, but Manford wouldn’t let me. He ordered me to stay away.”

Anari reminded herself that Manford’s spirit carried on inside her, as well as inside his most loyal followers. That would have to be sufficient.

The look-alike’s burning ambition disturbed her. It had been difficult enough to cover up and salvage the truth after so many witnesses in Arrakis City saw an earlier “Manford” shot in the head with a projectile pistol. Now, convincing the mass of followers that Leader Torondo still lived was impossible, since countless thousands had watched the real Manford ripped to pieces by the demon cymek.

“The Butlerians will move forward under my leadership,” Anari said. “I will guide them myself, because I understand what Manford would have wanted. I know his true goals.” She had never wanted to lead the movement, but perhaps not wanting it was a criterion for the task. Anyone who desired a position of such great power might not be worthy to have it.

The look-alike had a stubborn streak. “But I am trained! I am perfect for the job.”

Anari corrected him. “You were taught how to read scripts. That is all.”

“Don’t you see?” the look-alike said. “We can say it was a body double torn apart by the cymek, not the real Manford! I’ll become the real Manford!”

“It’s not going to happen,” she said, glowering at him.

With his one good eye, Deacon Harian regarded her, drank in the conversation, and saw where it was going. He gave her a slight nod.

The double continued, openly whining now. “But I made so many sacrifices. I gave everything I had to the movement, even agreed to have my legs amputated.”

“Yes,” Anari agreed, and picked up her sword. “And now you must make one more sacrifice. You are no longer needed.” She strode closer to him and raised the blade.

He looked at her with terrified eyes and tried to scramble away, but without his legs he was not nearly as nimble as Manford had been.

Just as she swung the blade in a classic arc, she looked at the man’s face and felt a disquieting shiver of recognition, for it almost seemed as if she were killing Manford. But Anari had already been responsible for his death once, and this man was just a pale, irritating imitation.

Her sword cleanly sliced off the duplicate’s head, just as she had decapitated Headmaster Albans in front of the Mentat School. She took no great satisfaction in the task. With Manford dead and an empty hole in her soul, Anari doubted if she would ever feel real satisfaction again.

Still, she had to perform her duty for the human race, in Manford’s memory.

Deacon Harian stood, accepting her decision. “Yes, it is better if you become the face of the Butlerians now. They don’t need any further confusion.”

She called in the bearers who had carried the legless man into the office and told them to take away the garbage. Deacon Harian followed them out. He gave her a quick glance, and Anari read his expression, knowing he would take care of the bearers as well, removing the last witnesses.

Yes, it was time to move on.

Manford had left her with a very heavy burden. She felt uncomfortable occupying this place that had been his sanctuary after the initial cymek attack killed Sister Woodra and destroyed his cottage. She didn’t feel right usurping everything that had been Leader Torondo’s, but she had to do it for the sake of the movement, for the sake of Manford and Rayna. If she didn’t do this, the Butlerians would fall apart, and the efforts of those great and inspirational leaders would have been for naught.

Their space fleet had been almost completely destroyed in the battle, and the remaining ships had been seized by Emperor Roderick for his own fight against Directeur Venport. Anari suspected the Butlerians would never get their warships back again. Without access to space transportation, she and all of Manford’s followers were mostly stranded on Lampadas, but that was fine for now. They could rebuild here and grow stronger … no matter how long it took.

Though she did not fully understand such things, she’d been told that Roderick had confiscated Butlerian financial assets on other planets to add to the Imperial coffers, claiming the movement’s money as repayment of the debt incurred by this horrific war. These followers had already given everything of themselves, and hundreds of thousands had sacrificed their lives in the last battle.