Dune: The Duke of Caladan

by Brian Herbert

  As Fenring turned to leave, Baron Harkonnen lowered himself back into his expanded chair under the weight of his new obligations.

  * * *

  BACK AT THE Residency, Count Fenring found his Bene Gesserit wife in the conservatory, a room she loved more than any other. This lush garden chamber in the south wing seemed out of place on the arid planet. Lush, verdant plants were a luxury that only the wealthy and privileged could afford to keep, an extravagance that consumed so much water.

  Once he passed through the door seal, Fenring approached Margot, standing so close to her that their elbows touched. Both of them smiled, adoring each other’s presence. They spoke in voices so low that the white noise of the splashing water from a small fountain would disrupt any covert listening devices.

  Fenring always confided in his wife. “The fat man told me two lies—about how he was injured and why he skipped the Otorio celebration.”

  “Do you believe he knew about Jaxson Aru’s plans ahead of time? Is House Harkonnen involved in the rebellion?”

  “No, he is merely trying to protect himself from embarrassment. He had his own security incident, which he wants to hide from the Emperor. If the Otorio massacre had not occurred, few would have noted his absence, but the fact that he conveniently survived has drawn unwanted attention.”

  “So the Baron is actually innocent?” Margot sounded surprised.

  “Oh, Vladimir Harkonnen is far from innocent, my dear! But he is not guilty of conspiring with the Noble Commonwealth.”

  She stroked his forehead with a fingertip. “How much sleep have you been getting? You look tired.” She kissed him on one cheek. “Poor darling.”

  “Mmmm, I feel refreshed simply being in your presence. Tomorrow, I return to my official duties as Spice Observer and my unofficial job as liaison to the smugglers. Much will change now that the Emperor is cracking down. It may push people to … inappropriate actions.”

  Margot remained in the conservatory, tending her plants, while Fenring retired to their private chambers, heeding her suggestion about getting some rest. He lay on their spacious bed, covering his eyes with a cloth.

  He thought about his sweet wife, as he often did when she was not in bed with him, not in his arms. Some considered the two of them to be complete opposites, but they had quite an endearing relationship. Margot didn’t have his reputation as a killer, but he knew his wife was deadly in her own right. She possessed an arsenal of Bene Gesserit fighting techniques, although she had never admitted to killing anyone herself.

  Still, Lady Margot had more innate goodness than he did, and her gentle ways brought out a greater measure of good in him. He appreciated that. Her loving attentions were a nice respite from his professional work.

  Through fervent beliefs and secret revelations that are denied to others, religions can easily be manipulated. They can also act as a stabilizing influence by creating a community united by a bond of beliefs.

  —Bene Gesserit internal document, “Analysis of Uncontaminated Religions”

  Each Guild ship that arrived at Caladan delivered news updates about the confusion echoing throughout the Imperium. Duke Leto carefully studied the reports, read the minutes of Landsraad emergency sessions, watched the Emperor’s responses. He saw a recording of the speech in which CHOAM’s Ur-Director denounced her own son Jaxson Aru.

  He was glad to be far away and at home on Caladan.

  The Duke was not like the ambitious nobles who saw opportunities in the tragedy, ways to enhance the stature of their Houses. Even as they expressed dismay and grief about the fallen nobles, the family leaders bribed, argued, and jockeyed for position to fill the empty seats. As a respected Landsraad member himself, Leto could have gone to Kaitain and used his influence to expand the Atreides power base, but he felt it would be ghoulish, like plucking coins from a dead man’s eyes. He would not lower himself to such nonsense for the opportunity to rule other planets he did not need or want.

  After surviving the Otorio disaster, Leto had remained on Caladan to focus on governing his own people, strengthening the holding that had belonged to House Atreides for so many generations. And Paul would take on that mantle when it was his time.

  But because the repercussions of Otorio would affect his son as well, Leto included Paul in the intense council meetings, discussing each new report and the consequences resounding throughout the Imperium. He told the attentive young man, “You need to be well informed. Soon enough, you will have significant responsibilities on your shoulders.”

  “I will do my best to understand Imperial politics, sir,” Paul said. Beside him at the council table, Hawat nodded sagely, proud of his student.

  “Understanding Imperial politics may be beyond any of us,” Leto said. “But we try to make what sense of what we can.”

  In more public business, the Duke held court in the main audience hall, where he heard petitions, received gifts, granted favors, and dispensed justice.

  Unexpectedly, Archvicar Torono arrived late one morning after traveling from the northern pundi rice fields. Standing before Leto’s imposing seat, the religious leader spread his hands and dispensed another blessing. “The Muadh serve you and pray for you, my Duke. House Atreides has ruled on Caladan for centuries, but my followers have been here even longer than that, making a peaceful home where the All-Seeing intended us to be.”

  Leto responded with a warm smile. “You have always served me well, Archvicar, and your people ask for little. What is it I can grant you?”

  Torono spread both palms. “I come not with a request, my Duke, but with an invitation.”

  “And what is this invitation?”

  “Come north to our main Muadh temple near the Arondi Cliffs. Each month, our members conduct a centering and purification ritual. The Muadh have performed this sacred ritual for thousands of years. It is the core of who we are. The essence of the barra fern enhances contentment and our place in the universe.” He smiled. “I ask you, your lady, and your son to join us.”

  Leto leaned forward with a solemn nod. “Thank you for the gracious invitation, Archvicar. As Duke, I wish to know my people better, and ever since you came to greet me when I returned home safe, I realized that I do not know your people well.” He paused. “Tell me more about this ritual and what it entails.”

  “Yes, we harvest young ferns in the deep forest, dry them, and share them in a community gathering.” He brushed his palms down his bushy beard. “The essence is called ailar.”

  Leto frowned, suddenly recalling the unsettling angry message from Lord Atikk. Could this have something to do with the mysterious Caladan drug? “I would not be willing to consume a mind-altering substance, nor would my son…”

  The Archvicar did not seem to understand the problem. “But we have done it for thousands of years, my Duke. The ailar binds us in its gentle embrace. We come to no harm. The All-Seeing would not condone it.”

  “Circumstances are different for me as Duke.” When Leto saw the deep disappointment on the religious leader’s face, he added, “Would it be acceptable if we attend your ritual but merely observe? We can offer our support, but we are not members of your religion.”

  The Archvicar bowed again. “We would be honored to have you join us, in any manner you prefer.”

  Leto sat back in his ornate chair and mused, intrigued that there were still things about Caladan he needed to learn.

  All the gold, jewels, and colorful gowns that surround an Empress cannot reveal whether her heart is a sparkling gem, or the coarsest stone.

  —PRINCESS IRULAN, In My Father’s House

  As far as the CHOAM Ur-Director was concerned, Empress Aricatha served a clear purpose, even though no one else realized it. The opportunity was unexpected now, but the Emperor’s charming young wife could help Malina Aru in the wake of her son’s debacle.

  Malina had debased herself in the Landsraad Hall, disowning Jaxson and letting him be declared an outlaw. It needed to be done. Many in the Imperium wo
uld be skeptical of her personal motives, but she could also use the lever of heart-wrenching sympathy. Despite running the most powerful company in human history, she was still a mother shamed and disgraced by her own child, a bad seed.…

  Yes, it needed to be done.

  After her speech before the Landsraad, Malina accepted a gracious “invitation” from Empress Aricatha—a meeting that Malina herself had arranged, surreptitiously. Even so, their meeting did not go unnoticed.

  On Kaitain, the Empress had many showy duties. Her social ministers, secretaries, and schedulers made all of her movements and conferences public. As instructed, the glowing Empress received the Urdir on the palace grounds for quiet conversation and a walk through the gardens outside the newly remodeled northern wing.

  Malina wanted all the observers, spy-eyes, gossips, and courtiers to see her as she entered. On cue, Aricatha came forward, a smile curving her generous lips, a warm flush on her dusky skin. Her blue-black hair fell in lovely tresses. The guards watched cautiously as the Empress gave the Ur-Director an embrace.

  “I am so sorry, my dear Malina. I cannot imagine the pain a mother must feel in such a circumstance. It tugs on the strings of my heart. You have my support in this trying time, and the support of the Imperium as well.”

  Malina bowed, letting the numerous hungry eyes absorb her obvious discomfort, her grief. “Thank you, Empress. That means a great deal to me.”

  Aricatha took her by the arm. “Come, let us walk on the terrace. I have been anxious to show it off, now that the contractors are finally gone. The tiling has been redone, and the remodel is complete.”

  The Imperial guards made certain that inconvenient observers did not follow beyond a certain point as the two women left the palace proper and went out to the lavish terrace, with its flower displays and calming fountains, as well as the noise-dampening fields and cones of silence that offered complete privacy.

  Malina’s demeanor changed when the observers faded back. “This is important, Aricatha. It goes a long way to repaying your debt.”

  Now that she was Empress, the young woman had become more than a mere puppet, and she no longer maintained her meek demeanor. Aricatha had always been an avid and ambitious student, but Malina Aru still controlled her.

  “I consider it an exchange, Ur-Director,” the Empress said. “You have helped me, and now I help you. It is a perfect business relationship.”

  Malina replied with a cold smile. “Exactly as I taught you.”

  Empress Aricatha was Shaddam’s sixth wife. His first one, Anirul, had been a strong Bene Gesserit, who bore him five daughters before being assassinated. Wanting someone more pliable, the Emperor then went through several vapid beauties who had been trained to fawn over him. His preceding wife, Firenza Thorvald, lasted only six months.

  Aricatha, though, was something else. She was indeed a beauty, and she had spent years analyzing Shaddam’s concubines and previous lovers, cultivating herself to catch and hold his attention like an invisible fishhook. She had realized the plain, pear-shaped Firenza wouldn’t last long.

  Now as Aricatha walked with the Urdir, the glint in her eyes grew cloudy. “Is it true that Count Uchan died on Otorio? I do not recall seeing him there.”

  “It is true that he died,” Malina said guardedly. “And the records will indicate that he was among the Otorio casualties.”

  The Empress walked along the path of prismatic gravel, tossing her dark hair. “He was a poor and distracted lover, but he had a kind heart.”

  “My daughter will say all the appropriate things about her husband,” Malina said. “But Jalma has now taken complete control over House Uchan. Everything fit together perfectly.”

  “So the attack has a silver lining.” The Empress looked wistful. “You always taught me that advantages can be seen if one expands the view wide enough.”

  Early in her vibrant, beautiful youth—under a different name and slightly different appearance—Aricatha had served as a valued concubine for House Hagal and then House Uchan on Pliesse, where she had come to the notice of CHOAM.

  Malina Aru had seen the young woman’s potential, and while Aricatha was in the court of Count Uchan, CHOAM gave her secret lessons, training her aggressively in business interests and personal manipulation. CHOAM had thousands of years of influence on market conditions, trade interactions, and personal alliances.

  When it became clear that Shaddam IV would soon be wanting a new wife, Malina Aru began to pull strings behind the scenes, and Aricatha was the perfect subject. CHOAM would control the Empress’s throne as well.

  When her daughter, Jalma, married old Count Uchan, who had not serviced his beautiful young concubine for a year anyway, Aricatha was whisked away from Pliesse. All records of her duties as a concubine were expunged. A past identity was created for her, along with impeccable (fabricated) noble bloodlines, and she was infiltrated into a neutral Landsraad House. When Shaddam chose to remarry again, after curtly disposing of Firenza, Aricatha was the obvious and perfect candidate.

  Now that she sat on the throne, Aricatha did not forget that Malina Aru’s manipulations had helped put her there.

  The two women paused by a mirrorlike pool in which swam hungry golden fish. On a pedestal beside the pool sat a small aquarium filled with crickets. Aricatha reached in, pulled out one of the black insects, and tossed it to the water. The golden fish swarmed and fought, devouring the cricket.

  Malina reached in and took a bug of her own, tossed it into the pool, and watched the ensuing frenzy. “That reminds me of the Landsraad as nobles fight over the empty seats.”

  “My husband will be adamant about choosing only those who swear blind loyalty to him.”

  “And he will find them,” Malina said. “We know the hearts of the nobles.”

  Whenever Aricatha heard something significant to CHOAM, she was instructed to dispatch a secret message to Frankos Aru in the Silver Needle, who then forwarded them to his mother on Tupile.

  As an offhand report a year earlier, Aricatha had let Malina Aru know that Shaddam intended to annex a minor world called Otorio, where he would raze part of the landscape and commence construction of an unprecedented Corrino museum. Aricatha had not known the significance of that backwater planet, simply reported the information as a matter of course. She had no idea what Otorio meant to the Aru family.

  Malina now regretted that she had chosen not to tell her son Jaxson about it immediately. She had miscalculated just how mortally offended he would be when his father’s burial shrine and the sacred olive grove were desecrated.

  “I am also trying to expand my role here in the palace,” Aricatha continued. “So far, my dear Shaddam has given me only empty activities for a pretty Empress at silly events. I cut ribbons and place wreaths, but I am qualified to do more than that.”

  “Of course you are,” Malina said.

  With the exception perhaps of Anirul, Shaddam’s other wives had been untrained and unequal to the task or the opportunity. Aricatha would play her role perfectly, and Shaddam would underestimate her, as would most of the Landsraad. They would see only the jeweled, elegant lady and not begin to imagine the sharp and dangerous ambition she concealed inside, like a razor-sharp dagger hidden in a jeweled sheath.

  “I will find a way to make him appoint me as a diplomat, an ambassador to some important world.”

  “That would be quite advantageous,” Malina said, “but don’t belittle your role as Empress. You can continue to give me the information I need.”

  “And my dear Shaddam will keep providing it,” Aricatha said. “It will be a most beneficial relationship.”

  Euphoria can be produced through a variety of means—emotional, educational, religious, or chemical.

  —Suk Doctor Handbook

  The prospect of the journey north to the Muadh temple delighted Paul. Although the Duke often traveled alone and unguarded here on Caladan, and he and Paul went on their annual wilderness expeditions accompanied by on
ly a few companions, the current uproar in the Imperium necessitated additional security for the trip.

  Duncan Idaho joined the entourage as Paul’s personal bodyguard, and a contingent of Atreides house guards escorted Duke Leto and Lady Jessica. The Atreides entourage was led by Lieutenant Nupree, who had specifically asked to travel to the tiered pundi rice paddies and flooded farmlands. Since the young lieutenant had a clean service record and performed his duties well, Duke Leto allowed it. When pressed for a reason, Nupree had admitted, “I’ve always wanted to see the Arondi Cliffs, m’Lord. I hear they are quite remarkable.”

  The Duke, Jessica, and the rest of their group set off in a sedate and luxurious processional frigate, while Paul and Duncan flew separately in a shielded escort flyer.

  As the flying procession approached the pundi rice fields after four hours in the air, Paul was impatient. “You and I could have flown faster, Duncan! We should show off what these engines can do.”

  “We could, but there is no need to rush. Sometimes waiting for a thing is part of the enjoyment. Is your mother not teaching you patience and control? I have seen you sit motionless for hours as you think about one muscle at a time.”

  Paul was surprised Duncan had seen their private training. “That’s different. It enhances my skills. It helps me become a better fighter. This is just a … a trip.”

  “When I was at the Ginaz School, the Swordmasters would make us sit motionless for hours, sometimes a full day, without explanation, without giving us a goal. We learned to understand and accept futility.”

  At the piloting controls, Paul glanced over at him. “You speak as if that’s a good thing.”

  “Even a Duke or an Emperor cannot always control the universe, young Master. It is best to be prepared for that eventuality.”

  Paul looked down to see the landscape dotted with a web of silvery canals, shallow pools, irrigation sluices. In the sides of a deep river valley, the farmers had excavated spectacular terraces, lush steps in precarious vertical layers, each one covered with extensive rice paddies that were harvested, then planted again. The intensity of the green made Paul’s eyes ache.