The Winds Of Dune Part 29

"We work in the fields, we work in the towns, and this is our lot in life.

For the rivers are wide, and the valleys are low, and the Baron-he is fat."

He shook his head to drive away the bad memories. "When the Harkonnen troops heard me sing that, they smashed my baliset, beat me to within an inch of my life, and threw me into a slave pit."

Jessica covered his hand with hers, silently acknowledging everything he had gone through. "So you see, Gurney, we should ignore Bronso. He'll probably just go away."

But she knew that Bronso of Ix was just getting started.

PART V

10,207 AG

Two months after the end of Muad'Dib's reign

Knowledge is an impotent thing if a person refuses to believe.

-Bene Gesserit axiom

By the time Jessica finished her story and glanced back at the moonlit silhouette of the landed 'thopter, both Irulan and Gurney were deeply shaken. For the past seven years, that hidden knowledge had weighed like cold lead inside of Jessica.

She had paid a terrible price. Even after so much time had pa.s.sed, the pain still burned deeply. To this day, Bronso of Ix continued to pay his share of the price, doing what Paul had asked him to do, even while the hounds of Alia pursued him ... even while the populace reviled him for the truths he exposed.

" 'A secret shared is a burden shared, but the weight can still be crus.h.i.+ng.' " Gurney hung his head. "Ahh, my Lady, all these years! I feel like a fool for not having guessed, for some of the things I said to you, which made your pain even heavier, and more lonely." His scar looked like a dark line of blood in the light of the two moons. "I understand war, and I thought I knew the logical reasons for what you did to those ten ringleaders ... but even so, I didn't understand it all. I was bound by my oath to House Atreides, and to you. Now at last I comprehend all of what you were doing, and why ... but it isn't easy knowledge to have."

"I sacrificed a great deal for Paul-something of my humanity,perhaps, but the options before me were difficult." Jessica led them back toward the 'thopter, knowing it was time to go. They could only cover up their secret meeting for a short while before Alia would grow suspicious.

She paused before they reached the ornithopter, still wary that there might be listening devices hidden inside, despite the precautions they had taken. "Now you understand why I had to speak of these things away from the Citadel. The Qizara Tafwid would call it blasphemy and execute me before I could tell anyone else. And they would kill you for what you know. I'm not sure Alia would try to stop them. She doesn't recognize what she owes me-or Bronso."

"What could Alia possibly owe Bronso?" Irulan asked.

Jessica smiled. "He is the one who revealed to me the plot of Alia's priests, Isbar's intention of a.s.sa.s.sinating her and Duncan during their wedding. She doesn't know she owes him her life."

Gurney's eyes grew large. "Bronso was your secret source? Your spy in the Citadel?" was your secret source? Your spy in the Citadel?"

"He wasn't actually there, but Ixians have their ways of collecting information. Rest a.s.sured, he doesn't have any personal vendetta against Alia. He only wants to spread the real story about Paul."

Gurney's features looked sallow in the starlight. "Oh, I wish I had brought my baliset along, since now is the time for a long, sad song."

Jessica drew a deep breath. "Even though some of his harshest criticisms are as wildly untrue as the glorifications Alia wants written, Bronso still serves a vital purpose, and must be allowed to continue. It's a purpose that Paul himself asked him to take on, to counterbalance the things done in his name, a necessary weakening of the too-powerful bureaucracy and the priesthood that he could not defeat any other way. Paul saw only danger ahead if his myth grew even more out of control." Her voice hitched. "Bronso of Ix is the only hope I have of keeping my son human human instead of letting him be reduced to a legend." instead of letting him be reduced to a legend."

Over the years, Princess Irulan had taken a great deal of offense at Bronso's writings because they directly clashed with her version of history, but now she wrestled with the reality, obviously finding it difficult to accept the hard truth. "If I believe you that Paul requested this himself, Lady Jessica, then you're placing me in an impossible situation. Paul's wishes are utterly incompatible with what Alia wants me to write about him." Paul's wishes are utterly incompatible with what Alia wants me to write about him."

"And where does your true loyalty lie?" After opening herself, Jessica felt empty and naked before her fellow Bene Gesserit Sister, her daughter-in-law. "Won't you protect Paul and what he he wanted for his legacy?" wanted for his legacy?"

In the low light, Irulan's face was distraught. "Would Alia let me? That is not a simple question! There are already too many people who think that the daughter of Shaddam Corrino is more threat than benefit to the Regency. Alia could have me executed for not cooperating. Or she might send me away to Salusa Secundus and never let me see Paul's children again."

Jessica was a bit surprised by this last statement. "They are not your children."

"They are Paul's, and I loved him."

Finally reaching the 'thopter, they climbed in silently, each of them deep in thought. The interior of the cabin glowed with greenish light from the craft's standby control panel. Looking out glumly, Jessica saw that First Moon was just setting into the rugged horizon.

Beside her, Gurney reactivated the systems, prepared to take off. One of the panels on the console sent a signal, and he reacted quickly, gazing out through the curved c.o.c.kpit window, scanning the starry skies. "Searchers are out there, trying to find us. They've locked on to our locator beacon."

"Already?" Irulan said. "Sietch Tabr could not have reported us overdue or missing yet."

"Even though we switched 'thopters, Alia's men could have been tracking us ever since we left Arrakeen," Jessica said. "When we dropped off their screens, searchers would have been dispatched immediately." She pointed to approaching lights in the distance.

Gurney worked the controls, pus.h.i.+ng his emotions aside and focusing his mind on the ornithopter, running through a checklist. All business. "Time to fix our little mechanical problem, then." He activated the comm, took up the microphone, and spoke brusquely into it. "This is Gurney Halleck, pilot of Imperial flight six six five alpha. Sorry if we caused you concern. We needed to set down to adjust an unbalanced rotor and fix a stabilizing linkage."

A voice crackled back, "Do you require a.s.sistance?"

"No, no, it's just a minor inconvenience. Nothing a good field mechanic couldn't handle. Both pa.s.sengers are fine." He powered up the engines, set the wings in motion. "We're on our way."

"We warned you against taking one of the 'thopters that had not been approved for your use," the voice said.

Gurney looked meaningfully at Jessica, then picked up the transmitter. "I'll remember that next time. No harm done."

Jessica and Irulan sat in silence as the 'thopter lifted off from the rock outcropping into the empty, moonlit sky. In a matter of moments, the focused lights of search 'thopters swirled around them like the luminous night insects in a Caladan marsh.

"We will escort you safely to Sietch Tabr," transmitted one of the 'thopter pilots. Gurney thanked them as they flew together over the harsh desert.

I have long disagreed with the fundamental Bene Gesserit admonition against falling in love. Love Love itself is not the danger. People who do not understand the sentiment, or who care nothing for it, are far more dangerous. itself is not the danger. People who do not understand the sentiment, or who care nothing for it, are far more dangerous.

-LADY JESSICA in a letter to Mother Superior Harishka on Wallach IX in a letter to Mother Superior Harishka on Wallach IX

The next day, returning from Sietch Tabr after an uneventful visit with the Fremen, Jessica went to her private chambers in the great Citadel of Muad'Dib. She felt exhausted, and was experiencing second thoughts about having shared her heavy secrets. The knowledge of Bronso's mission would only make circ.u.mstances more difficult for Gurney, and especially for Irulan. She had placed the Princess in an untenable situation, and Jessica wasn't entirely sure that Irulan wanted to believe what she had heard.

But they were truths, painful and necessary truths.

Forcing calm upon herself, Jessica prepared to meditate and practice subtle exercises of precise muscular control, to relax her body and clear her mind. Soon she would return to her Atreides homeworld. Caladan, oh Caladan! She missed the sound of the rus.h.i.+ng sea and the fresh smells, in stark contrast with the sensory-deadening rasp of blowing sand from the constant winds of Dune. Even so, she didn't think she could ever leave the desert planet behind entirely.

When she entered her main chamber, however, she discovered that Alia had left her a grim gift.

Two battered literjons of water rested on the writing table. The containers looked old and scuffed, as if they had been carelessly tossed out of a spice factory to be weathered on the sands. She didn't understand the significance. Intriguingly, the literjons bore the worn mark of the Regency. of a spice factory to be weathered on the sands. She didn't understand the significance. Intriguingly, the literjons bore the worn mark of the Regency.

Considering her growing disagreements with Alia and the tensions brewing in the government, Jessica wondered what her daughter could mean by this gift. No person on Dune would refuse a gift of water, especially such a substantial amount. Was it a peace offering? Alia was certainly aware that her mother disapproved of the purges, the growing repression, the willful exaggerations of Paul's myth. Still, Jessica did not want to be at odds with her daughter, and she sensed that Alia longed for acceptance as well.

A spice-paper note written in Alia's hand sat beside one of the literjons. "This water belongs to one who was close to both of us, Mother. Dispose of it as you will."

Looking more closely at the containers, Jessica saw code letters in Atreides battle language. Even the amazon guards who had delivered the literjons would not have been able to read the message: Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam.

Jessica froze. This was the reclaimed water of the scheming old woman who had called Alia an Abomination, who had worked repeatedly to destroy Paul and bring down his rule. The water of Jessica's own birth mother, whom Stilgar had executed.

The water of her mother ... Did Alia mean this as some kind of threat, warning Jessica that she too could be removed and distilled? No, that didn't seem correct.

Despite her n.o.ble birth, Alia considered herself a Fremen, and the people of the desert revered the water of the dead, considering it a gift to the tribe. The distilled water of one's mother was also considered sacred, yet Jessica knew what this hateful old woman had done. And she knew how close Mohiam had come to succeeding, not only in her conspiracy to start revolts on numerous worlds, but in duping Jessica. If not for a moment's hesitation, Jessica might have killed Paul....

Alia was letting her her decide what to do with the old witch's water. decide what to do with the old witch's water.

Jessica glowered long and hard at the literjons, and said, as if Mohiam could still hear her, "My son always meant more to me than you could imagine-far more than my mother ever did." Having just relived all those emotions from telling the story to Gurney and Irulan, she could not contain her bitterness. "You tried to make me murder him." all those emotions from telling the story to Gurney and Irulan, she could not contain her bitterness. "You tried to make me murder him."

Fremen also said that water tainted by an evil spirit must be spilled upon the ground.

Not caring if Alia watched through a hidden spy hole, Jessica twisted off the sealed caps of the literjons. Without hesitation or regret, she poured the water of the loathsome old witch onto the dry stone floor.

Shai-Hulud manifests himself in different ways. Sometimes he is gentle, and sometimes not.

-The Stilgar Commentaries

Arogue sandworm broke through the moisture barrier that blocked the gap in the s.h.i.+eld Wall, and now the rampaging monster found its way through the narrow pa.s.sage. It plunged into the squalid settlements that spread outward from Arrakeen like dust seeping through a ragged door seal, and plowed a track of destruction, swallowing entire buildings in monstrous gulps.

Receiving emergency reports, Stilgar grabbed two reliable Fedaykin soldiers and raced for the nearest launchpad. He was not a man to ponder overmuch during a crisis, but the very idea puzzled him. "This makes no sense. The qanat should have made an impenetrable water barrier."

"Maybe sandtrout got into the ca.n.a.l and broke it open, Stil," said the Fedaykin pilot, throwing himself into the craft and activating the prestart sequence on the rotors. "Millions of them could have breached the liner seal and stolen the water."

Stilgar shook his head as he made sure the 'thopter was desert-rigged, complete with Fremkit, ropes, and survival tools. "How could the inspection teams not have noticed the water line drying out?" He already suspected a far more sinister answer.

The city of Arrakeen had considered itself safe. No sandworm had managed to pa.s.s through the gap in all the years since Muad'Dib had blasted open the s.h.i.+eld Wall during his final battle with Shaddam IV. managed to pa.s.s through the gap in all the years since Muad'Dib had blasted open the s.h.i.+eld Wall during his final battle with Shaddam IV.

But something had allowed this monster worm through. It could not have been an accident.

Scrambling into the c.o.c.kpit, he settled in beside the pilot, who set the articulated wings in motion, just as the third man jumped into the back. Within moments, the craft lifted off like a predatory bird startled from a fresh kill.

They soared out over the patchwork mosaic of Arrakeen, above the helter-skelter shacks of people who had given up everything to make a pilgrimage to Dune. Stilgar touched the comm in his ear, listening to frantic descriptions. He guided the pilot, although the area of tumult was clear even from a distance.

In a rush, the craft came upon the large segmented worm rolling through and crus.h.i.+ng habitation complexes, with no apparent goal. The Fremen pilot stared in such open amazement that he reacted sluggishly to a sudden downdraft, and the 'thopter gave a sickening shudder before he regained control and brought them level again. The second Fedaykin uttered an automatic prayer before adding, "It is the spirit of Muad'Dib! He has taken the form of Shai-Hulud and returned to avenge himself upon us."

Remembering his earlier encounter with a worm in the desert, when it seemed that Paul might might have been inside the beast, Stilgar felt a thrill of superst.i.tious fear himself. Nevertheless, he infused his retort with scorn. "Why would Muad'Dib be angry with have been inside the beast, Stilgar felt a thrill of superst.i.tious fear himself. Nevertheless, he infused his retort with scorn. "Why would Muad'Dib be angry with us us? We are his people, and followed his orders."

That other worm had not tried to harm him.

Even so, he knew the awestruck people down there would make up their own stories. Stilgar could imagine the chants that the doomed victims would shout as the behemoth approached, "The spirit of Muad'Dib! The spirit of Muad'Dib!" Those devoured by the rogue worm would be celebrated as martyrs by the Qizarate.

Though he did not understand what drove this sandworm, he did know how he could stop it. Stilgar reached behind him. "Hand me the Fremkit." Opening it, he set aside the first-aid supplies, paracompa.s.s, thumper, and stilltent. He needed only the hooks, goad, spreaders, and rope.

He raised his voice to the pilot over the louder-than-normal throb of the wings; something must be wrong with the soundproofing and moisture seals in the cabin. "Take me down as close as possible. I need to jump onto its back."

The pilot was astonished, but he was Fremen and Fedaykin. "The vibration of our engines will surely disturb the creature, Stil. There is a risk."

"We are in the hands of Shai-Hulud."

This would be entirely different from summoning a worm in the open desert, which Stilgar had done countless times before. A man alone on the dunes could make preparations; he could plant a thumper in the proper spot; he could watch the worm's approach by the ripple in the sand; he knew where it would emerge and could make his move at the precise moment.

But this worm was already aboveground, and highly agitated. The slightest misstep and he would fall into that maw.

Stilgar opened the 'thopter's hatch to a sudden roar of engine noise. Angry winds rushed by, bringing with them the distant racket of panic and destruction. Stilgar secured his tools tightly to his body where they would be readily accessible. He held a climbing hook in each hand and extended the long telescoping rods to their full length. He would have to secure himself to the worm before he could take out his spreaders, before he could anchor his rope.

"I am ready."

The pilot lowered the 'thopter, and Stilgar prepared to leap out of the hatch. He knew that when he landed on the behemoth's back, the curved ring segments would give him little purchase.

At the last moment before he could jump, the sandworm thrashed about, reacting to the vibration and noise of ornithopter wings. It turned its sinuous neck upward and lunged up at them.

With a squawk, the pilot aborted and used the jetpods to lift the 'thopter higher in the air. Stilgar clung to the open hatchway to keep himself from being thrown out. The worm continued to stretch itself upward in response to the annoying pulse and noise, and reached its apex only meters below the fleeing aircraft. The stench of spice exhalations boiled out of its tunnel-like maw as the monster paused for a quivering motionless instant, then began to withdraw.

Stilgar saw his chance-and leaped. He fell, dropping and dropping, as the worm retracted below him. The additional few seconds gave him time to spread his arms and point his hooks. He smashed hard against the worm's back and began to slide down the pebbly surface, bouncing from one ring segment to the next, whipping his long, flexible hooks as he struggled for purchase. Finally, the sharp end of a hook snagged in a gap, and he anch.o.r.ed himself there, hanging on by one hand. He swung his other arm up and set the second hook between the rings.

Not pausing, he roped himself in place and then planted the spreader, ratcheting it open to expose raw, tender flesh. Normally in such a process, other Fremen would help him plant additional spreaders and set more hooks, but Stilgar had to do this alone.

Above, the 'thopter hovered out of reach.

Leaving the spreader where it was, Stilgar climbed up to the next ring. Fortunately he had landed near the worm's head, so he didn't have far to go. Meanwhile, the creature continued its rampage, and only the rope prevented Stilgar from falling to his death.

When he was in place on top of the head, he cranked the next spreader open wider and took up his goad. He jabbed the worm, yelled in an attempt to turn it. "Haiiiii-yoh!" He had no reason to believe this beast had ever been ridden before, had ever heard a steersman's call. The sandworm fought back like a nightmare bull, intent on him him rather than on the cacophony of tempting noises at the outskirts of the city. rather than on the cacophony of tempting noises at the outskirts of the city.