Thufir Hawat proved to be an unexpected ally, agreeing with Kailea’s concerns, until finally Leto relented. Exactly as she had hoped. . . .
After the Duke’s capitulation, Kailea helped Rhombur to salvage the situation. “You’re Victor’s uncle. Why don’t you two go on . . . a fishing expedition? Take a wingboat along the coast— as long as you’re accompanied by enough guards. I’m sure Captain Goire would be happy to join you.”
Rhombur brightened. “Maybe we’ll go out and collect coral gems again.”
“Not with my son,” Kailea said sharply.
“Uh, all right. I’ll just take him out to the floating paradan melon farms, and maybe to some coves where we can look at the fish.”
• • •
Swain Goire met Rhombur down by the docks as they cleaned out the hold of the small, well-equipped motorboat Dominic. Preparing to be gone for several days, they took bedrolls and food. Behind the Castle, at the spaceport on the outskirts of Cala City, the Duke’s crew labored to prepare the enormous skyclipper. Anxious to be off, Leto was utterly absorbed with final arrangements.
As work continued at the boat, Victor became irritable and less than enthusiastic. At first Rhombur thought the boy might still remember the elecran encounter, but instead he saw Victor glance repeatedly up at the plateau where his father was about to embark on his journey. Atreides banners rippled in the air, reflective streamers of green and black.
“I’d rather be with my Daddy,” Victor said. “Fishing is fun, but riding on a skyclipper is better.”
Rhombur leaned against the side of the boat. “I agree, Victor. I wish there was some way for us to join him.”
Duke Leto intended to pilot the skyship himself, accompanied by an appropriate escort of five loyal soldiers. With the limited amount of weight allowable in the lighter-than-air vessel, it was not wise to take joyriders.
Swain Goire dropped a crate of provisions outside the bridge house, then wiped sweat from his forehead and smiled at the boy. Rhombur knew that the captain was more dedicated to the boy than to any law or other master. Adoration for Leto’s son flickered across Goire’s handsome face.
“Uh, Captain, let me ask your opinion.” Rhombur looked at Victor, then back at the guard captain. “You’ve been entrusted with the safety of this child, and you’ve never once been known to shirk your duties or give anything less than full attention to your assignment.”
Goire flushed with embarrassment.
Rhombur continued, “Do you believe my sister’s fears that Victor would actually be in danger if he accompanied Leto aboard the skyclipper?”
Laughing, Goire made a dismissive gesture. “Of course not, my Lord Prince. If there was any danger, Thufir Hawat would never allow our Duke to go— and neither would I. Hawat charged me to oversee the security of the clipper itself before it departs, while he and his men scour the flight path for any signs of ambush. It is completely safe, I assure you. I’d stake my life on it.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Rhombur rubbed his palms together and grinned. “So, is there a particular reason why Kailea should insist that we take a fishing trip rather than go along?”
Pursing his lips, Goire considered the question. He wouldn’t meet Rhombur’s gaze. “Lady Kailea is sometimes . . . excessive in her concern for the boy. I believe she imagines threats where there are none.”
Little Victor looked from one man to the other, not understanding the nuances of the discussion.
“Spoken with true candor, Captain. I can’t imagine why you haven’t been promoted!” Then Rhombur lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Uh, why don’t we have Victor join his father, in secret? He shouldn’t miss this magnificent procession. He is the Duke’s son, after all. He needs to take part in important events.”
“I concur . . . but there is the issue of weight ratios. The skyclipper has limited passenger capacity.”
“Well, if there’s truly no danger, why don’t we remove two members of the honor guard so that my dear nephew”— Rhombur squeezed Victor’s shoulder—“and I can join the Duke. That still leaves three guards, and I can do my share of fighting to protect Leto, if it comes to that.”
Though uneasy, Goire could voice no reasons to counter this suggestion, especially not after he saw the delight on Victor’s face. The boy made his resistance melt. “Commander Hawat won’t like any change of plans, and neither will Kailea.”
“True, but you are in charge of security on the airship itself, correct?” Rhombur brushed aside the concern. “Besides, Victor can’t possibly grow into a good leader if he is sheltered from every splinter and bruise. He needs to get out and learn from life— no matter what my sister says.”
Goire bent in front of the delighted boy, treating him like a little man. “Victor, tell me true. Do you want to go fishing, or—”
“I want to go on the skyclipper. I want to be with my father and see the world.” His eyes were filled with determination.
Goire stood up. For a moment he held Victor’s gaze, wanting to do anything in his power to make the boy happy. “That’s all the answer I needed. It’s decided, then.” He looked back toward the spaceport where the dirigible waited. “I’ll go make the arrangements.”
• • •
Afraid her mannerisms might give something away, Kailea sequestered herself in one of the towers of Castle Caladan, feigning illness. She’d already said her formal goodbye to a preoccupied Leto, then hurried away before he could look into her eyes . . . not that he paid much attention to her anyway.
A cheering crowd watched the ducal procession as it prepared to lift off into the blue Caladan sky. The Atreides hawk was painted in brilliant red across the swollen side of the skyclipper, which would be followed by smaller but similarly designed airships, all colorfully decorated. The skyclipper deployed sails to catch the winds, and strained against its tethers like a mammoth, turgid bee. Atreides banners fluttered in a light breeze.
The bulk of the airship was empty space, enclosed pockets of buoyant gas, but the tiny passenger compartment in the belly had been filled with provisions. Guiding sails flapped out like butterfly wings at the sides. Thufir Hawat had checked the proposed route himself, trudging down roads and dispatching guards and inspectors to ensure that no assassins had secreted themselves along the way.
Biting her lip, Kailea watched from the high window that faced inland, where she could see the colorful aircraft. Though she only faintly heard the fanfare playing to see Leto off, she saw figures standing on podiums, waving before they climbed aboard the skyclipper.
Her stomach knotted.
She admonished herself for not obtaining a pair of binoculars . . . but that might have raised suspicions. A foolish worry; the household servants would simply have assumed that she wanted to watch her “beloved” Leto depart on his historic procession. The people of Caladan knew nothing of the dark side of their relationship; in their naÏveté, they imagined only romantic stories. . . .
With a pang in her heart and a sense of inevitability, Kailea watched the work crews release the tethers. Raised by suspensor-assisted floats, the skyclipper drifted gracefully into the air currents. The sluggish craft had propulsion systems that could be used in an emergency, but Leto preferred to let the giant vessel move with the winds, whenever possible. Smaller companion ships followed.
Though alone, Kailea Vernius tried to clear all expression from her face, all emotion from her mind, not wanting to recall the good times she’d had with her noble lover. She had waited long enough, and she knew in her soul that it would never happen the way she’d wanted it.
Rhombur, despite his dabbling with a few rebels, had accomplished nothing on Ix. Nor had their father, in all his years of supposed underground struggle against House Corrino. Dominic was dead, and Rhombur was content to be Leto’s anonymous sidekick, enthralled with his plain Bene Gesserit woman. He had no ambitions at all.
And Kailea couldn’t accept that.
She gripped the stone wi
ndowsill, watching the glorious procession of airships drift over Cala City and away to the lowlands. The commoners would stand knee-deep in their marshy fields and look up to see the Duke’s passage. Kailea’s lips formed a firm, straight line. Those pundi rice farmers would get much more of a sight than they expected. . . .
Chiara had told her the details of the plan only after it had already been initiated. Having once been the mistress of a munitions expert, Chiara had personally set a trap, using linked explosives stolen from the Atreides armory. There would be no chance of survival, no hope of rescue.
Feeling helpless dread, Kailea closed her eyes. The wheels had been set in motion, and nothing she could do would prevent the disaster now. Nothing. Soon her son would be the new Duke, and she would be his regent mother. Ah, Victor, I am doing this for you.
Hearing footsteps, she was surprised to see Jessica appear at the door to her room, already returned from the launching of the ducal ship. Kailea stared at her rival with a stony expression. Why couldn’t she have accompanied Leto? That would have solved even more of her problems.
“What is it you want?” Kailea said.
Jessica looked slender and delicate— yet Kailea knew that no young woman with Bene Gesserit training could ever be helpless. The witch could probably kill Kailea in an instant with her weirding ways. She promised herself she would get rid of this seductress as soon as the weight and responsibility of House Atreides fell across her shoulders.
I will be regent for my son.
“Now that the Duke has gone and left us alone, it is time for us to talk.” Jessica watched Kailea’s reaction. “We’ve avoided it for too long, you and I.”
Kailea felt as if every nerve on her face and in her fingers, every twitch and gesture were being dissected through this upstart’s scrutiny. It was said that a Bene Gesserit could read minds, though the witches themselves denied it. Kailea shuddered, and Jessica took a step deeper into the room.
“I’m here because I want privacy,” Kailea said. “My Duke has departed, and I wish to be alone.”
Jessica’s brow furrowed. Her green eyes stared intently, as if she had already detected something wrong. Kailea turned away, feeling naked. How could this young woman expose her so easily?
“I thought it would be better if we did not leave so much unspoken between us,” Jessica continued. “Leto may decide to marry soon. And it won’t be to either of us.”
But Kailea did not want to hear any of it. Does she wish to make peace with me? To ask my permission to love Leto? The thought brought a flickering smile to her face.
Before Kailea could respond, she heard footsteps again, booted feet. Swain Goire lunged into the room. He looked unsettled, his formal uniform disheveled. He stopped for a moment upon seeing Jessica there in the chamber, as if she were the last person he had expected to encounter with Kailea.
“Yes, Captain, what is it?” Kailea snapped.
He fumbled for words, unconsciously touched his thick belt, then flickered to the tiny uniform pocket where he usually kept his coded armory key. “I . . . I have misplaced something, I fear.”
“Captain Goire, why aren’t you with my son?” Kailea vented anger toward him in hopes of distracting Jessica. “You and Prince Rhombur were scheduled to depart on your fishing trip hours ago.”
The handsome guard avoided her gaze, while Jessica stared at both of them, recording each movement. Kailea’s heart froze. Does she suspect? And if so, what will she do about it?
“I . . . seem to have lost an important piece of equipment, my Lady,” he stammered, looking very embarrassed. “I’ve been unable to find it, and now I am growing concerned. I intend to search for it in every possible place.”
Kailea stepped closer to him, her face flushed. “You didn’t answer my question, Captain. You three should have gone fishing. Did you delay my son’s trip so he could watch his father depart?” She touched a finger to her frowning lips. “Yes, I can see how Victor would have enjoyed watching the airships. But take him now. I don’t want him to miss the fishing trip with his uncle. He was very excited about it.”
“Your brother requested a slight change of plans, my Lady,” Goire said, uncomfortable with Jessica’s presence, and at being caught in his mistake. “We’ll schedule another fishing trip for next week, but Victor wanted so much to accompany Duke Leto. This sort of procession is very rare. I didn’t have the heart to refuse him.”
Kailea whirled, aghast. “What do you mean? Where is Victor? Where’s Rhombur?”
“Why, they’re aboard the skyclipper, my Lady. I will inform Thufir Hawat—”
Kailea rushed to the window, but the huge airship and its companions had already drifted far out of sight. She battered her fist on the transparent plaz of the window, and let out a loud, keening wail of despair.
Every man dreams of the future, though not all of us will be there to see it.
— TIO HOLTZMAN,
Speculations on Time and Space
Aboard the skyclipper, Leto relaxed in the command seat. The ship rose high above the city and drifted over the surrounding agricultural areas. So peaceful, gentle, quiet. He moved the rudders, but allowed the winds their whim. In utter silence and perfect grace, they cruised over lush terrain at the head of the procession of ships. He looked down upon broad rivers, thick forests, and marshes where standing pools glittered.
Victor stared wide-eyed out the viewing windows, pointing at sights and asking a thousand questions. Rhombur answered, but deferred to Leto when the name of a landform or clustered village exceeded his knowledge.
“I’m glad you’re here, Victor.” Leto good-naturedly mussed the boy’s hair.
Three guards were stationed aboard, one in the main cabin and the others at the fore and aft exits. They wore black uniforms, with the red hawk epaulets of the Atreides honor guard. Since he had replaced one of their members for this trip, Rhombur wore the same uniform; even Victor, who had also replaced a guard because of weight limitations on the skyclipper, wore the epaulets on his replica of the Duke’s black jacket. On the boy, the epaulets were oversized, but he insisted on wearing them.
Rhombur began to sing folk songs, rhymes he’d picked up from locals. In recent months he and Gurney Halleck had shared baliset duets, playing tunes and singing ballads. At the moment, Rhombur simply enjoyed singing in his rough voice, without any accompaniment.
Hearing a familiar chanty, one of the guards joined in. The man had grown up on a pundi rice farm before joining the Atreides troops, and still remembered the songs his parents had taught him. Victor tried to sing along, too, adding the intermittent but not always correct words of a chorus when he thought he remembered them.
Though large, the sail-driven skyclipper was an easy craft to handle, a vessel made for leisurely voyages. Leto promised himself that he would do this more often. Perhaps he’d take Jessica with him . . . or even Kailea.
Yes, Kailea. Victor should see his mother and father spend more time together, regardless of their political or dynastic differences. Leto still had feelings for her, though she had rebuffed him at every turn. Remembering how cruel his own parents had been to one another, he did not want to leave such a legacy for Victor.
It had been an oversight at first, worsened by his stubbornness when Kailea began making unreasonable demands about marriage— but he realized he should have at least made her his bound-concubine and given their son the Atreides name. Leto had not yet decided to accept Archduke Ecaz’s formal offer of marriage to Ilesa, but one day he would certainly find a politically acceptable match for himself among the Landsraad candidates.
Still, he loved Victor too much to deny the boy’s status as firstborn. If he designated the child as his official heir, perhaps Kailea would warm to him.
Eventually bored with the singing and the skyclipper’s ponderous pace, Victor craned his neck upward to look at the rippling sails outside. Leto let him handle the control grip for a few moments, turning the rudder. The boy was thrilled to
see the skyclipper’s nose nudging in response to his commands.
Rhombur laughed. “You’ll be a great pilot someday, boy— but don’t let your father teach you. I know more about piloting than he does.”
Victor looked from his uncle to his father, and Leto laughed to see him ponder the comment with such seriousness. “Victor, ask your uncle to tell you how he set our coracle on fire once, then crashed it into a reef.”
“You told me to crash it into the reef,” Rhombur said.
“I’m hungry,” Victor said, not surprising Leto at all. The boy had a hearty appetite, and was growing taller every day.
“Go look in the storage cabinets in the back of the bridge deck,” Rhombur said. “That’s where we keep our snacks.” Anxious to explore, Victor ran to the rear of the deck.
The skyclipper passed over pundi rice paddies, soggy green fields separated by sluggish canals. Barges drifted along below them, filled with sacks of the native grain. The sky was clear, the winds gentle. Leto could not imagine a better day for flying.
Victor stood on a ledge to reach the topmost cabinets, rummaging among the shelves. He studied iconic images on the labels; he couldn’t read all the Galach words, but recognized letters and understood the purposes of certain things. He found dried meats, and uluus, wrapped berry pastries as a special dessert for the evening. He gobbled one package of uluus, which satisfied his immediate hunger, but he continued to poke about.
With the curiosity of a child, Victor moved to a bank of storage pockets built into the gondola’s lower wall against the dirigible sack that made up the bulk of the skyclipper. Identifying the red symbol, he knew that these were emergency supplies, first-aid equipment, medicines. He had seen such things before, watching in awe as House surgeons bandaged cuts and scrapes.
Opening the first-aid pocket, he withdrew medical supplies, scrutinized gauze wrappings and pill packets. A loose cover plate on the back wall rattled intriguingly, so he popped it out to find another compartment even deeper within. Inside a sheltered wall behind the emergency supplies, Victor found something with blinking lights, a glowing counter, impedance-transfer mechanisms connected to clusters of red energy-storage containers, all strung together.
Dune: House Harkonnen Page 59
