The young man raised his chin, and his eyes sparkled with a proud nobility. “Now I understand much more. And this gives me my own strong purpose—a purpose I have avoided for my entire adult life.”
Bronso gestured to the shielded wall of the chamber. “The Technocrat Council runs Ix. Although I’m a Landsraad representative and still the titular ruler of the planet, my authority here is empty. The technocrats already regard me as irrelevant, and soon they’ll conclude that I am an annoyance. Vermillion Hells, with all the dangers here, it may be safer if I hide out in the space lanes and spread dangerous tracts about Muad’Dib!” He smiled gamely at Paul, then at Jessica. “I’m ready for this task.”
“It is my destiny to love you, Paul, no matter what,” Jessica said. Paul turned to her with a plea on his face, and Jessica saw her son again, the bright, sensitive person she thought she had lost. She had conceived him in love and had given birth to him, and now she could do nothing to remove herself from the powerful historical current that carried House Atreides into the future.
Jessica could only nod when he said, “I want you to help Bronso, in secret, however you can. Help him to destroy me.”
Each life is filled with secrets.
—AMAN WUTIN, adviser to Korba the Panegyrist
Everything in her life had changed—and changed again—but when Jessica returned home, Caladan was as beautiful as always . . . pristine, serene, and safe. When she stepped onto the Cala City landing field, she smelled the ozone-freshness of an ocean breeze. She drank in the vibrant late afternoon colors, the marshy pundi-rice fields, the tall coastal pine forests, the broad seas, the soaring inland mountains. Home. Peace.
Since the meeting on Ix, her impression of Paul had fundamentally changed. Jessica knew that he did have the clarity of vision he claimed, and that he was fully aware of the dangers of his own legend and the religion that had sprung up around him. Only she and Paul would ever know what Bronso Vernius was truly doing, and why. She couldn’t even tell Gurney Halleck the truth.
Jessica knew as well that her own destiny was aligned with her son’s, and that she could not extricate herself from it any more than he could. . . .
A contingent of guards met her at the edge of the spaceport grounds. For years, with the predictability of the daily sunrise, Gurney’s expression had lit up whenever he saw her. But not now.
“You are returning home to a dire crisis, my Lady, and I fear it is only the beginning.” He refused to say more until the two of them had climbed into the sealed groundcar. The offworld soldier guards took adjacent vehicles, making Jessica feel very uncomfortable. She had never seen so much security on Caladan.
During the ride to the Castle, Gurney described the surprisingly violent demonstrations, the increasing fervor for independence, the anger of Caladanians in response to how they perceived Muad’Dib had treated them.
“My solution may have made things worse.” The rough-looking man shook his head. “We cracked down and stopped most of the demonstrators, and reopened the spaceport. But this morning, a few overly ambitious locals took four Qizara Tafwids hostage and are holding them until the Imperial government rescinds the change of Caladan’s name.” His hands knotted into fists. “I had hoped we could hold off any retaliation from Muad’Dib’s government by claiming the problem was solved . . . but now what can we say to them? I am shamed to have failed you so, my Lady.”
After what Mohiam had revealed to her on Wallach IX, Jessica understood that Bene Gesserit operatives had been manipulating the crowds all along, pushing them toward rebellion in hopes of triggering a cascade of planetary revolts.
“It’s not entirely their fault, Gurney. The Sisterhood is trying to force Paul to overreact. They intend for Caladan’s mostly innocent resistance to be the flashpoint for a chain of uprisings. The Bene Gesserits are playing a game of provocation, with the people here as their pawns.”
“Unless I cut out the roots of this rebellion before it can blossom further,” Gurney said.
“We, Gurney. We must cut out the roots of this rebellion.”
His wide mouth formed a wolfish, almost involuntary, grin. “At your service, my Lady. . . .”
On Ix, after hearing Paul’s shocking revelation, she had taken time to tell him of Mayor Horvu’s plan to declare Caladan’s independence. His demeanor had darkened. “Even if the Bene Gesserits are the instigators here, doesn’t Horvu know what he’ll force me to do? Such an act of defiance will incite a terrible retaliation that I won’t be able to control! My followers are already incensed that you have turned away so many pilgrims. After hearing this, they will feel obligated to purify my original homeworld.”
She had felt her own resolve harden as her breathing quickened. “Then before you act, Paul, give me a chance to mitigate the situation. If there’s a price to be paid, I’ll find a way to pay it, the smallest price possible—for Caladan. Let me do my job to protect the people.”
Reluctantly, he had assented, but Jessica knew she would have only one chance, that Paul would not be able to maintain his role and stall his fanatics in the face of repeated provocation. Now the future of Caladan was in her hands, so many lives depending on her—if she could only make the difficult but necessary decisions. She needed to find the smallest possible price to pay. . . .
Now, beside her in the vehicle, Gurney carried a great weight on his shoulders. “I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, my Lady. I could not imagine that Duke Leto would imprison anyone who chose to speak out—especially since I myself am offended by the Qizarate’s decree. Changing the name of Caladan?” He shook his head. “Ever since I released the dissidents from their holding cells, they have professed to be peaceful. You will see a crowd at your Castle . . . not much yet, but it increases in size every day. I fear it will get out of hand again, and soon.”
“If it does, Muad’Dib’s troops will come.” Jessica’s lips formed a grim line. “Leto was only the Duke of a single planet, and therefore could focus on the problems of his people. Paul is caught in an entirely different sort of whirlwind encompassing thousands of planets. It is the difference between a dust devil and a Coriolis storm.”
When they reached Castle Caladan, Jessica saw the throngs, more numerous than even the hordes of zealous pilgrims during their unchecked days here. Gurney said, “Perhaps there’s one last chance for sanity. They do revere you as their Duchess, my Lady. They expect you to stand with them and solve their problems.”
Jessica looked out the windows of the groundcar. “I know. They must accept some responsibility for problems they created, however. We can’t entirely blame the Bene Gesserit.” The offworld security troops cleared a way for them to move ahead, and the crowd’s shouting grew louder. “And they have to realize that theirs are not the only problems to solve.”
“It will only grow worse, my Lady. The moment I lifted the restrictions on him and reopened the spaceport, Mayor Horvu drained half of the town’s treasury to dispatch couriers to dozens of major planets to declare our independence. I stopped some of the couriers, and I have blocked dissidents from sending more messages offworld, but I’m afraid it’s too late. Now, everyone will wait to see how Muad’Dib reacts to the situation.”
“We can’t wait, Gurney.” Her voice was sharp. “Ultimately the solution to this crisis should lie in how I react to it, because I rule Caladan. I do not say that to diminish you in any way, because I do need your help, but there are certain responsibilities a ruler must bear alone.”
As the vehicle passed through the crowd, she saw a large black balloon flying over the throng. White words printed on the surface read, PAUL-MUAD’DIB IS NO LONGER AN ATREIDES.
Seeing this, Jessica raised her voice to the driver. “Stop the vehicle. Here. Now.”
“Here, my Lady? But it is unsafe.”
After taking one look at Jessica, Gurney snapped, “Do as the Duchess says.”
The crowd fell into a startled silence when she stepped out and faced them. She raised her vo
ice as they began to cheer happily. The people were glad to see her, sure that she was the savior they needed.
“I have just now returned from my travels, and I am disappointed to see this unruliness! Is this how we solve our difficulties on Caladan? No! Hear me now—I want the hostage priests released unharmed. Immediately. Only after you have done so, can we discuss your complaints. Provided you do as I ask, this evening I shall invite the ten people you consider most important in this—” She searched for the right word. “—this crusade to meet with me in private. I only wish to see those who are truly involved in this matter, so that I may offer them my solution to your grievances. Until then, all of you please disperse, and let me deal with your concerns in a proper fashion.”
The people hesitated for a moment, as if they had all drawn a deep breath at the same time. Then they cheered.
Jessica climbed back into the groundcar and told the driver to take them to the Castle. She leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes. “Gurney, I have to resolve this before Paul does.”
He looked at her quizzically, then nodded. “Just give me my orders, my Lady.”
Expecting Jessica to speak on their behalf, the people were eager to cooperate now, to show their faith in her. The four hostage priests were released within two hours. Gurney had put them in a safe building near the Castle and posted several of his offworld guards to watch over them. Satisfied with that at least, Jessica prepared for the evening. It would be her one chance to end this.
Gurney pressed her for what she planned to do, but Jessica refused to answer him. This was her decision, though she didn’t like keeping such secrets from her trusted friend. Paul has found the smallest price to pay, and I shall do the same.
She had to prevent the oncoming disaster and hamstring the Sisterhood’s plans to spark revolts across the Imperium, using the people of Caladan as cannon fodder. She had to stop it here.
When the ten specially chosen guests arrived, servants escorted them into the main banquet hall. These were the ringleaders, as selected by the dissidents themselves. Mayor Horvu looked relieved to see her. The priest Sintra, as well as the prominent leaders from Cala City and other coastal towns, all seemed delighted and victorious. Jessica had agreed to hear their grievances and present her solution.
Six men and two women accompanied the priest and the mayor, finding their places at the long table with an almost comical lack of efficiency. Most had never been inside the Castle before, and certainly not for such an important dinner. Food had already been delivered to the table, the portions served on fine plates next to goblets of clear spring water—a reminder of Caladan’s bounty as compared to Arrakis.
After the servants departed, Jessica spoke in a clear voice. “Gurney, would you please excuse us?”
Gurney was surprised to be dismissed. “My Lady? Are you certain I can’t be of assistance?”
She did not want him here. “For the moment, I must serve as the Duchess of Caladan, and this discussion is a private matter between these people and myself. Please close the doors behind you.”
Though he looked concerned, Gurney departed straightaway, as instructed. The ten guests were flushed and excited; several looked smug. Sintra seemed to take special pleasure in seeing Gurney dismissed, apparently believing that Jessica disapproved of how he had handled matters in her absence.
She took her place at the head of the table. The Mayor and his cohorts had a festive air about them, expressing their concerns politely, at first. After a few minutes, however, the discussion grew heated and boisterous. As promised, Jessica listened. Mayor Horvu boasted that, with Jessica as their direct spokesperson, Paul-Muad’Dib would have no choice but to leave Caladan alone.
Jessica drew a deep breath and said cautiously, “I believe that my son still trusts my judgment. Now, eat. Drink. We have a hard night ahead of us, and I do not intend to leave this room until our problem is solved.” She raised her goblet and drank, tasting the spring water.
Abbo Sintra raised his glass in a toast. “To solving problems.” They all drank.
Horvu, his face seamed with worry, said, “My Lady, we don’t want you to consider us troublemakers. But you must admit that your son’s troops have taken aggressive actions across the galaxy. As an Atreides you cannot possibly condone such reprehensible acts? We only want Paul to remember his roots, and his Atreides honor, as well. That is all.”
The guests ate their nut-and-cheese salads, then turned to the steaming bowls of traditional fish chowder.
The priest said in a bright voice, “When the other planetary representatives come here, we have decided that you may speak for Caladan. Assure everyone that all our people remain free of the stain of the Emperor’s Jihad, commoners and nobility, united. Let history record that we rose up against tyranny and said No in a loud and unanimous voice.” He ended with a grandiose flourish, looking very pleased with himself.
“On the contrary,” Jessica said with a heavy heart, watching them all eat, “this is where I say no. This is where I save the people of Caladan from grave danger.”
The men and women around the table appeared confused. Horvu said, “But we have already saved Caladan, my Lady.” He seemed surprised that his voice was inexplicably slurred.
Jessica shook her head. “It is unfortunate, because I do sympathize with your outrage. The Jihad massacres are indeed tragic. But in the course of such sweeping, ambitious changes across an entire empire, there are bound to be excessive deaths. This saddens me, but Paul is my son, and I had a hand in his training. He knows what is necessary.”
“But . . . you must help us, Lady Jessica,” one of the two women at the table said. She seemed to be having trouble breathing and took a long drink of her water, but it didn’t help.
Jessica recognized the woman as the daughter of one of the village fishermen. They’d met once, a rainy day on the docks where the woman had helped her father prepare his weather-beaten old boat. Jessica had overheard her cursing like one of the men, before she had abruptly changed her tone upon noticing the Duchess.
“In a way,” Jessica said, forcing herself to calmness, “it is all of you who are helping me and helping Caladan. I’m sorry, but this is my solution—the only way I could see to avert a far greater crisis. I decided to save millions of lives.”
Sintra began coughing. Several of the others looked dizzy, sleepy, sick. Their eyes rolled.
“The sacrifice you make here will preserve Caladan, as I know you meant to do. As Duchess, I make choices that affect the entirety of this world . . . just as Muad’Dib makes choices for all of the Imperium. Your deaths will demonstrate to the Emperor that I have taken care of the problem—that there is no need for him to send his armies here.”
True to the Bene Gesserit records she had consulted, the poison she’d chosen had no taste, and it acted quickly . . . supposedly painlessly. For herself, she had consumed the same poison, but had easily transmuted the substance in her body, rendering it inert.
“It wasn’t entirely your fault, which saddens me even more. You were all manipulated by skilled Bene Gesserits, and you did not understand where you were being led. I will issue a statement that you ten conspirators were tricked by Sisterhood agents, as part of a plot to overthrow the Emperor Muad’Dib. They will bear the brunt of the blame.”
This addresses two problems at once, Jessica thought. It deals with the uprising, and it serves as an act of defiance against the Bene Gesserit, along with my total rejection of their offer.
“Every other Caladanian who participated in this rebellion will be pardoned,” Jessica said. “Take comfort in that. But the ten of you . . . you are the price that must be paid.”
Resigned, she sat straight-backed in her chair and watched the guests struggling, gasping, slumping over their plates or falling to the floor. As she watched, the Mayor slid off his chair with a heavy thud. His eyes went lifeless, while hers filled with tears.
Jessica fought back the emotion and said aloud to the room of dea
th. “This thing needed doing, and I did it. Now, I’ve acted like both a Harkonnen and an Atreides.”
Though I do not regret my years of service to House Atreides, there are no words to express some of the things I have witnessed, and done, and endured. I will not even try—I’d rather they were forgotten.
—GURNEY HALLECK, Unfinished Songs
Seeing the bodies slumped around the banquet table, Gurney was both furious and sickened. He stared for a long moment at the surprise and disbelief frozen on the faces of Mayor Horvu, the village priest, and the other instigators.
After letting Gurney back inside the room, Jessica made sure the chamber door remained securely locked, knowing this would test the depths of the man’s loyalty. “You didn’t do this, Gurney. I did. It was a terrible price to pay—but it was the smallest price I could find.”
Gurney looked at her, his eyes red. “But you knew these people, my Lady! They were foolish, but they had good hearts. They were like children playing on a galactic stage.” He gestured toward the sprawled figures. “They were innocents.”
Jessica steeled her voice. She needed him with her now. “They were not innocents. Did we not both counsel them against rebellion? I myself warned them that there would be significant consequences if they proceeded. And do you believe it was an accident that they sent out those couriers behind your back, and while I was gone? And when did mere innocents start to take hostages? They let the situation get out of hand, and Paul would never have forgiven their revolt or swept it aside. If he showed any weakness or hesitation here, then other planets would have broken from the Imperium. The Emperor would have had to crack down on planet after planet, undoubtedly sterilizing even more worlds.” She looked at the silent victims around the banquet table. “This . . . this was only ten lives. Not such a high price.”
The Winds of Dune Page 34
