Brian Herbert - Navigators of Dune

“Me? How can I help?”

“You were trained in the Sisterhood. Even if they spurned our offer of an alliance, you can still use the skills you learned. Go to Salusa and find a way to deliver a message to Roderick. Tell him I request a détente meeting, here in orbit above Arrakis. It is not exactly neutral ground, but considering recent events, I will not make myself any more vulnerable. He can bring whatever security he deems necessary. But we must have a discussion.”

“Will he listen?” asked Tomkir.

“Manford Torondo just proved he is a mad dog with no respect for the laws or morals of humankind. How many more atomics do the Butlerians possess? Enough to threaten Salusa Secundus itself? What is to stop them from unleashing atomics on the capital world if Manford is displeased with the Emperor? Roderick knows it is a valid possibility. No matter what the Emperor thinks of me, surely he’ll be more frightened of the Butlerians.” He flashed a hard smile. “I’ll offer to destroy Manford Torondo for him, if he will grant me amnesty.” In fact, he would relish the job.

Cioba pondered. “What if the Emperor still believes you want to take his throne?”

Josef placed his fist on the table in the conference room. “No one but a deluded fool would want to be the Emperor of the Imperium. Roderick himself never wanted it, and I don’t want it either.” He beseeched Cioba. “Make him see that. Convince him that this is a sincere offer and not a trick.”

She rose from the table. “I shall do my best, Josef. I’ll use everything I learned from the Sisterhood—and Fielle can affirm the truth of my words. If Norma Cenva will guide a ship, I’ll depart for Salusa immediately.”

The atomic cleansing of Kolhar had blistered the face of the planet and erased Venport’s machine contamination. As far as Manford was concerned, the nuclear blasts had forever ended the hubris of that godless man. Venport was on the run, and soon he would be completely defeated. Any VenHold remnants elsewhere in the Imperium would be hunted down and dealt with as a matter of priority.

After that was accomplished, Manford would solidify his political influence and ensure that Emperor Roderick ruled with the proper mindset. The soul of humanity would be saved, at last.

Sitting in a custom chair at the window of his office on the fourth floor, Manford’s heart swelled with joy. He had not felt such perfect satisfaction in a very long time. The spirit of Rayna Butler must be watching over him with pride, and he kept her beautiful icon painting close.

As his victorious Butlerian ships returned to Lampadas, the size of the crowds astonished even him. So many people! More than half a million souls had gathered from all across the world, and more had emigrated from other planets, just to be closer to him. Warm tears filled his eyes, and his heart pounded as if it might burst from his chest.

Beside him, Anari Idaho gazed out the window at the incredible gathering, as if vindicated that Manford had finally received his due. His look-alike double wanted to go out to be seen by the public, to “take the risk” among so many people, but Manford knew there was no real danger to his person. He sent the body double away and out of sight; the real Butlerian leader would face his followers himself.

Even after such a resounding success at Kolhar, Deacon Harian remained grim. “There will be hell to pay because of the atomics. The Emperor will not ignore it, and people will hate what you have done.”

“Some have always hated what I do, but I do what is necessary anyway.”

Anari added, “The battle for the human soul is not an easy one. We will silence those who complain too loudly.”

Manford left unsaid: Even Emperor Roderick.

Now, when he looked out the high window at the throngs crowded across Empok, their faces uplifted in a delirious hope of glimpsing him, he knew that every one of them would forfeit their lives in service to his goals—Rayna Butler’s goals. By carrying her eternal message, he possessed a weapon far more powerful than atomics.

Uniformed men stood around the Butlerian headquarters. So many pilgrims had arrived in recent weeks that guards had to drive the supplicants away, sometimes using brutal measures. New converts and avid recruits flocked to Lampadas, filling the city to capacity, straining its resources. Manford had returned from the cleansing of Kolhar with tens of thousands of additional followers who had joined him at Salusa Secundus.

Beside him at the window, Anari stared across an endless sea of faces. “You can feel the waves of their devotion, Manford. They want you to lead them to more victories. They want you to save them.”

“I will save them, in whatever way I can. Our numbers swell with every triumph.”

His clashes with Venport had been an extremely effective recruiting tool. The ultimate victory of the Butlerian movement was all but ensured now, but Manford secretly wondered what he would do after he won this struggle for the soul of humanity. Alas, the war would never be completely won, for humans would always be weak and unreliable, and their doubts would open them to new dangers against which Manford would have to protect them.

Anari continued to stare. “Of all your followers on planets across the Imperium, you know that I am the most devoted.” She turned to him with those wide, guileless eyes that seemed to open straight to her faithful heart.

“I’ve never harbored any doubts of that, Anari.” He wondered why she felt any need to remind him of her dedication. “No one else comes close.”

Deacon Harian bustled back in with sweat glistening on his bald pate. “Security informs me the crowd is getting restless. They clamor to see you. They need to see you.”

“Then I shall give them what they require. I’ll both inspire and calm them.” He did not reveal his concerns, though. These people were angry and ready to do something, anything. After Kolhar, their emotions burned like a wildfire that could slip out of his control. He needed to direct the explosion away from himself, somehow.

He remembered what had happened during the rampage festival in Zimia. The death of little Nantha Corrino had damaged the trusting relationship he should have had with the Emperor; no memorial statue, however large, would make up for it. The victory at Kolhar would not last these Butlerians for long. They needed to be unleashed elsewhere.

Anari fitted the saddle-harness onto her shoulders and lifted him without the necessity of asking permission, then settled him into place. She looked up at him. “Are you ready to receive their applause, Manford?”

“Yes. It is what they need.”

The Butlerian security troops cleared a path, and announcements rippled across the city. With Deacon Harian beside them, Anari strode out of the headquarters into the sunlight and the roar of the adoring crowd.

Earlier, Manford had reconsidered bringing out his stand-in for at least the beginning of the event. The designated body double looked very much like him, a man so devoted that he’d voluntarily let his legs be amputated so he could serve the Butlerian cause. The duplicate was his public face in dangerous situations.

But today Manford knew that his followers would have noticed the subtle difference in his appearance and voice. They needed him in person. That other legless man, the backup, could be used under lesser circumstances, where he was only seen from a distance or inside a carriage, but not here. Today, on this momentous occasion, no cheap substitute would do.