Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

“Who is she?” Valya asked in a quick interrogation. “Family line? Rank?”

Danvis gave an embarrassed grin. “Second daughter of the planetary leader of Ix. She has direct access to the Empress. They play weekly games together.”

“Consider it practice. You can do better. Look for the first daughter of a noble house. Never forget that you are a Harkonnen.”

TWO DAYS LATER, the Mother Superior rode in a private stateroom aboard a spacefolder that was now part of the Spacing Guild. In complete isolation, she blocked out the voices of Other Memory that had been pestering her. She had proved her strength and her vision, and she would make her own choices, in the manner she saw fit.

Valya understood the momentous changes she had wrought—the relief and triumph they had brought her. Vorian Atreides was dead. Her brother was at court. House Harkonnen was on the rise. The Sisterhood grew more powerful day by day.

Everything was as she had hoped. The long struggle was over … and it was just beginning.

And yet she felt inexplicably adrift. Now what? All alone in a moment of weakness aboard the spacefolder, Valya finally cried softly to herself, not from sadness but from emotional release, for the joy of the victory she had achieved and for the brightening paths of destiny in the future, stretching into infinite possibilities.

Yes, Vorian Atreides was dead. After generations of shame and marginalization, her family would emerge from the shadows. The lie about Abulurd’s cowardice, the terrible injustice of it, would finally fade in the light of steady triumphs. Danvis was a key part of it, and his descendants would be as well.

It was one more secret she carried in her mind, in a universe of secrets.

After much soul-searching, Willem Atreides knew that his clearest path lay here on Salusa Secundus, building himself up in the Imperium. He had done as Vorian asked, although with a heavy heart. Vor had made his wishes quite explicit.

A generous Korla had delivered the young man to Salusa as promised, in a trading ship filled with treasures salvaged from Corrin. Willem had not known what to expect when he arrived in Zimia and presented his credentials, invoking the Atreides name. But, just as Vor had said, the Palace did have a place for him after all, along with a substantial fund for all of his expenses. He had everything he needed to build a noble family and make his mark on the Landsraad.

He had a chance, a future, whatever he could achieve for himself.

Willem had been a nobody on Caladan, a member of the air-rescue service along with his brother, and now he was a minor nobleman. He had even received a message from Princess Harmona of Chusuk, that she looked forward to finding important Landsraad business that would take her to Salusa Secundus so she could see him again. His heart warmed at the thought, and he could not wait to be with her.

The Landsraad League was still crystallizing, and not every planet had a ruler who was part of the Imperial Parliament. Caladan was considered a distant and insignificant world, but if the young man built his reputation and earned respect, and if the Emperor himself took notice of him, then perhaps Willem could become Caladan’s provisional Landsraad representative. Vorian had instilled a steely resolve in him. He was an Atreides, and knew he could do it.

At court, Willem would attempt to advance himself through his dedication and good work, as Vor would have wanted. Objectively, his future looked bright indeed.

But he was his own man, with his own conscience and responsibilities … and it was his older brother who had been killed so brutally. He expected to learn things here in the court by developing important contacts. And perhaps, through any political influence he gained, he could do something good in Orry’s name.

Now, with the violent death of his mentor, the need for Atreides revenge had only increased. Although Vor had insisted that he wanted the blood feud to end, he could not have anticipated his own assassination the way it happened, through Harkonnen treachery. Surely, he would not have wanted Willem to ignore that!

Tula had gotten away with murder, and the fact that she carried Orry’s child did not absolve her in the least. He could not forget the pleased expression on Valya Harkonnen’s face as she watched Vor’s ship explode in the air, and then she and her sister had returned to Wallach IX, where Willem would never be able to reach them.

The Harkonnens had their vengeance, but he didn’t have his, nor was he sure he ever would. Yet for honor, Willem could not ignore his own blood responsibility.…

Back on Caladan, he had heard stories that the Imperial Court was populated by useless dandies, and in the two weeks he had been here, Willem saw that the assessment was essentially accurate. He took heart, though, to hear that Emperor Roderick had vowed to change the situation, promising to make the courtiers perform useful services to the Imperium. Willem would see if such a thing truly came to pass.

This morning, as he gathered with others on the Palace’s upper rooftop landing zone, he knew the new arrivals at court were about to see their circumstances change. Willem was surprised but not shocked by what the Emperor intended to do. He had never been afraid of hard work himself, but many of these others seemed completely unprepared.

Unlike the pampered people around him, Willem wore serviceable clothes without lace or frippery. New and fresh-faced, he’d met only a handful of his comrades here, and had kept a low profile. This day’s adventure would be no lighthearted gala or private party at some nobleman’s estate, as most of these attendees would prefer. He smiled to himself, thinking of how much good it would do them to help others.

In the river delta remote from the lavish towers of the capital, outlying villages were filled with people who lived without the opulence or conveniences of Zimia—not because they adhered to strict Butlerian beliefs, but because they had nothing else. Since these people caused no trouble and made no demands, Salvador had paid little attention to their isolated settlements, but the recent flood disaster had changed everything. Haditha had already done great work to rescue and aid as many of the victims as possible, but much more needed to be done.

In celebration of his new Imperium, Roderick made no secret that he intended to create a golden age of human civilization. “And that includes everyone. We will start here at home, with these people who need it the most.”

The Emperor had announced he would bring several groups from court out to the disaster site. The sycophants and glory hounds, the opportunists and fops who simply wanted to bask in the halo of the Imperial presence, would now get their hands dirty. Willem was perfectly happy with that—in fact, he was eager to do something worthwhile. Vorian had established him at court, providing whatever the young man needed, but Willem wanted to earn whatever he received. As he had promised Vor, he would do the best he could for himself and for House Atreides.

At the landing zone in the rear of the sprawling Palace, Emperor Roderick had ordered the preparation of transport ships that would be filled with aristocrats, seasoned hangers-on, and young nobles who had come to serve after their families made special arrangements for them.