Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

Vor thanked him. The inspection flyer completed its circuit as they looked down at the flooded areas, the recovery crews, the temporary shelters, the large refugee towns. Roderick smiled wistfully, as if thinking of Haditha down there in the thick of the efforts.

When the craft finally headed back to Zimia, Roderick said, “I will dispatch more resources, so Haditha has everything she needs. In fact, if the Butlerians won’t help, maybe I should command some of the nobles to join the effort.”

Vor smiled. “With the Butlerians I suspect you may be inviting more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Many things are more trouble than they’re worth.” Roderick looked intently at him. “The Butlerians … Josef Venport—how would you deal with two extremes pulling my Imperium apart? If you were Emperor?”

Vor sat back, smiled thinly. “That is precisely why I never wanted to be Emperor, Sire.”

The Emperor’s shoulders fell slightly. “Manford Torondo and his followers are dangerous and destructive, yet they did save me from Venport’s siege. But now they won’t leave. Under other circumstances, I would ally myself with Venport Holdings, but that man murdered my brother and tried to overthrow my throne.” He shook his head. “Haditha wants me to negotiate with him, but how can I try to reach a resolution with someone like that? A murderer on one hand and a madman on the other.”

Vor frowned. “Negotiations are often conducted between rivals. Which solution holds the best future for the Imperium?”

“The solution that eliminates both extremes.”

As the aircraft returned to the rooftop landing zone, the Emperor reiterated his promise to make a place for Willem. “Will you be here to introduce young Willem when he arrives? It would increase his standing if a Hero of the Jihad vouched for him in front of the other nobles and courtiers.”

Vor did not look at the unobtrusive Truthsayer, but was aware that the woman was listening intently. “I’m afraid not, Sire. I doubt if I will ever see Willem again, in fact. I am about to undertake a dangerous mission, one that I must handle alone.” But Vor’s plan to lure the murderess, and perhaps her sister as well, all depended on whether Truthsayer Fielle reported to Mother Superior Valya … and he felt certain she would.

“I need to go where the Harkonnens won’t find me. I’m sure you will understand, Sire, that I cannot discuss details even with you. I must vanish.”

“You’ve earned the privilege,” Emperor Roderick said. “I wish you all the best.”

Eventually, Vor would reveal his destination, but not in the manner anyone would expect, and not until the proper time. Secretly, he had hired two operatives to plant a rumor after his departure that he was on Corrin, when he was assured of already being there. Knowing that Fielle had Sisters in the palace and in the government buildings, he had set it up so that the rumor would begin in the Imperial Court, and from that talkative throng it would spread outward, so that Fielle would be sure to hear it.

And as soon as the Emperor’s Truthsayer learned of the rumor, Valya Harkonnen would be informed soon afterward.

Vor would be ready.…

In his pavilion among the encamped Butlerians in the central plaza, Manford Torondo used his muscular arms to pull himself off his sleeping pallet. The night was still dark around him. If he pressed the issue, he was sure he could have forced the Emperor to grant him opulent visitor’s quarters in the Palace, but Manford was among his people out here. He could sense their energy all around him, their wild enthusiasm, their absolute devotion to him.

And soon he would call them to action.

Even with so many thousands of his followers crowded together, Manford felt alone now that Anari Idaho was gone. Following Manford’s command, she had traveled with Lord Udorum Pondi in a Butlerian spacefolder, to inspect and quietly retrieve the secret atomics from his planet. When she came back with the unexpected treasure, Manford knew exactly what he was going to do with it.

In the meantime, though, he felt incomplete without her.

Although he could have summoned hundreds of eager helpers, Manford was capable of getting around on his own. He slid onto a custom mobile chair that his aides had placed here for him. Rolling the chair forward, he parted the pavilion curtains and looked out into the starry Salusan night. The capital city blazed and bustled even in the hours before dawn, but most of his followers were quietly asleep in the camp.

Around him Manford could see the Imperial gardens, coiffed trees and colorful flowers, statues of Jihad heroes lining the wide main path. Manford respected those champions who fought against the thinking machines. If only he could have been alive in those glorious days, when the enemies of humanity had been obvious to all.…

At the head of the plaza, far more prominent even than the statue of Emperor Faykan Corrino, towered the Three Martyrs—the most important icons of humanity’s freedom: the religious leader Iblis Ginjo, Serena Butler, and her martyred child, the baby whose murder had sparked the entire war.

Looking at those legendary figures, Manford recalled the many planets his Butlerian followers had stormed. So many populations were yet to be saved from their own temptations, and Manford would press and press until they capitulated. For their own good.

As soon as Josef Venport was disposed of—oh, Manford could not wait to use his unexpected stockpile of atomics!—the rest of the Imperium would fall neatly in line. Then his sacred work would finally be done.

Along with Anari, Manford’s most trusted military advisers were developing plans to smash Kolhar. He was certain that Emperor Roderick would be delighted to hear of this, and would give his blessing, no doubt secretly hoping the Butlerians would be decimated as well. Roderick Corrino’s true feelings were not well concealed.

Manford had decided that the Emperor didn’t need to know about the forbidden atomics. Roderick’s approval was not necessary.

But Manford also had to convince the Emperor to ease the resentment he and his family felt toward the Butlerians. At least his Truthsayer had verified that Manford was innocent in the matter of Anna Corrino, but Roderick would still not forgive him for the accidental death of his young daughter.

But that would change very soon. Manford had concocted a way to honor little Nantha, something that the Imperial family would appreciate.

The Butlerian leader remained awake and alert for hours, enjoying the quiet peace of his own convictions while his hordes of followers slept. Inside the pavilion, without Anari to scold him, he surreptitiously reread parts of the Erasmus journals that he kept hidden. After he finished, he locked away the volumes again, then watched the dawn light suffuse the sky.…

Deacon Harian entered his pavilion with a breakfast tray and Manford’s favorite pungent tea. The bald man was surprised to see Manford up. “Are you troubled? Did you get enough sleep?”

“Enough. I am just anxious for our unveiling today. The Emperor will be so pleased.”

Harian frowned. “Will he?”

“He’d better.”

As the camp stirred and people emerged, Manford sent out a crier to call for the Emperor’s attention. Imperial guards emerged from the Palace, looked curiously at the activity, and retreated inside, no doubt to report to Roderick.

Manford relaxed and finished his tea. Harian had already rallied the dozen burly followers he would take with him.