Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

“This is a private facility, set aside for the use of nobles and visiting dignitaries,” said the young doctor as she bandaged Vor’s head. “The Princess authorized us to treat you—Vorian Atreides.” She said his name with a slight smile. “I’ve never had a true war hero as a patient before.”

Princess? Vor thought. A chill went down his back. “How do you know my name?”

The doctor raised her eyebrows, apparently amused. “Your young companion does not know how to keep a confidence.”

Vor looked over at Willem, who remained unconscious. “No, I suppose he doesn’t.” Had he also inadvertently tipped off the disguised Sisters who had been watching over Tula? Even the murderous Harkonnen girl hadn’t seemed to know she was being guarded.

Due to his life-extension treatment, Vor healed quickly, but Willem was much more seriously injured. He remained unconscious for hours and suffered from internal bleeding, along with several broken bones. Even after Vor felt recovered enough to leave, he stayed beside his companion. Vor slept restlessly on the portable bed, remaining on guard in case Tula sent anyone to finish the job. He suspected, though, that she had escaped from the planet by now, fleeing justice.

In the morning Vor’s injuries had dwindled to a lingering headache. His thoughts still spun from what had occurred in the dance hall. He knew he was a gifted fighter with exceptional reflexes, but those women watching Tula were experts in personal combat, trained by the Sisterhood. They were skilled enough that they could easily have killed both him and Willem. And they would have if the added force of guards hadn’t arrived when they did.

Young Willem had suffered a concussion, broken ribs, and far more serious internal injuries, yet he had the good fortune of being aided by his friend Harmona. Who was she?

The pretty brunette and her retinue had come into the medical center before dawn and gathered at Willem’s bedside as he awoke, groaning. When his eyes opened to see her there, he showed confusion, then smiled. He tried to sit up, but winced. He tried to take a deep breath and touched the tight bindings on his ribs, glanced at the medical apparatus connected to him. Harmona propped pillows behind his back and helped him to sit as comfortably as possible.

“Thanks for your help,” Vor said to her. “I am Vorian Atreides … but I think you know that already.” He wished his “nephew” weren’t so forthcoming with details, but he chastised himself for not being more alert.

“I am Harmona Bach, a member of the ruling Landsraad family on Chusuk. You needed help—and it was about time my bodyguards did something. They’re not usually needed here.” She gave him a cursory smile, but her attention remained on Willem.

The young man spoke to Vor, sounding sheepish, “I didn’t get a chance to introduce you. She’s a princess.”

Harmona showed embarrassment, but Vor could tell she was proud of her station. “It is mostly an honorary title. Chusuk is generous with such things.”

Two of Harmona’s large bodyguards stood outside the doorway, and Vor found their presence reassuring, even though—from what he had seen in the performance hall—the warrior Sisters could likely defeat them.

Harmona continued, “Willem told me the tragic story of his brother. I used some of my resources to help you find that woman, and I’ve been working with the authorities all night to try to intercept her. I fear that she managed to escape off-planet, though. Apparently, she had a lot of allies here.”

He and Willem had come to Chusuk to hunt down the Harkonnen woman who killed Orry. It had been naïve to think she would be an easy mark, and that mistake could have gotten them killed. At the very least, they had lost her trail.

And now the Sisterhood was forewarned. They would shelter Tula.

“Good thing you had extra security,” Vor said. “I certainly didn’t expect her to be protected like that. If not for your bodyguards, the battle might have gone far worse.”

With a grim expression, Harmona read Willem’s medical chart. “This looks bad enough.”

“He’ll recover. He’s strong,” Vor said. “But we shouldn’t stay here long. Either we have to go after Tula Harkonnen, or we need to move before they come after us.”

Harmona placed her hand on Willem’s shoulder, and the attending doctor came close, shaking her head. “That one isn’t going anywhere soon, especially not off-planet. He’ll need at least a few weeks to mend.”

Barely conscious, Willem tried to argue, but his insistence made him swoon from the pain. Harmona eased him back down to the pillow. “You are staying here—under my care—until you are considered fit enough.”

Unhappy, Willem said, “But we have to go. Tula’s getting away—”

“I can go,” Vor said. “Let me do some investigating.”

“Orry was my brother!”

Vor shook his head. “And the entire Atreides-Harkonnen feud is my fault.”

It had been eight decades since he’d fought in the Jihad, when he spent each day in a constant state of heightened alert. After retiring from service—and from public life—Vor concealed his identity and vanished into his own legend. For a long time he had tried to be a normal man, clinging to an ordinary life in hopes of putting the horror and bloodshed behind him. But it had been foolish to hope he could simply become a common man again. He could never escape the events in the Jihad, nor could he escape the enmity that generations of Harkonnens held toward him. He could never run away from the fact that he was Vorian Atreides.

He guessed that by now Tula Harkonnen had been whisked off to Wallach IX. Her sister Valya was there, someone who also hated him. And if Tula was enfolded in the arms of the Sisterhood, Vor and Willem would never reach her. He feared they had lost their chance.

Unless he could entice them out.

Vor said to the Princess, “Stay here and watch Willem. He may still be in danger, so guard him carefully and get him the best possible medical care. I can pay for anything he needs.”

She shook her head. “Oh, he’ll receive the best care, and we won’t accept any money from you. I’m a member of the noble family here, so funds are not an issue.”

He nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I need to leave today—I’ll draw them out, find a way to get the Harkonnens focused on me instead of Willem.”

“I will keep him safe,” Harmona said. “He can heal on my estate, and no one will get through our security.”

Vor nodded. “When the time is right, I’ll send for him.”

Willem again tried to argue, but he was fading, both from the pain and from a powerful sedative the doctor had given him. Harmona regarded Vor with a pragmatic look. “For years your face was on Imperial coins—Vorian Atreides, the greatest hero of Serena Butler’s Jihad. My grandparents and great-grandparents spoke of you with admiration. It’s terrible what happened to Willem’s brother at the hands of that monstrous girl!”

“Someday this feud will be over,” he said. “I want to end it—without putting Willem at even greater risk. This problem is of my own making, and I have to take care of it.”

He had already begun planning his trap. Maybe he could lure Valya and Tula into coming after him. He knew they wanted him more than any other target. For his legacy and for House Atreides, he had to deflect the danger away from Willem.

Vor had spent a lot of time mentoring the young man, trying to envision him as the leader of the Atreides family. Yes, Vor could see it. In so many ways, Willem reminded him of himself, and he could still make something of his life. It was important for him to do so.

When Vor looked at Harmona, he knew he was leaving Willem in good hands. No regrets. “I am going to Corrin—a place where if the Harkonnens hunt me down, few innocent bystanders will get hurt. Maybe I can lure them to me, and turn the tables on them.”