“Likely just delirium,” Yueh said, offering him a bowl of bland breakfast meal. “This will calm your stomach and help you regain your strength.”
“We’ll be heading home soon enough,” Gurney said. “I just received word from the rescue craft, and they have reached our landed flyer. They’ll work their way out here a little after daybreak.” He looked around the primitive camp at the slow-moving stream, the sandbar, the rugged mountains in the distance, the cold, damp mist in the air. “You picked a most inconvenient place to be sick, young pup.”
Leto looked up at the thick canopy of trees. “Just rest, and we’ll get you home. We never should have gone so deep into the uncharted terrain.”
“I thought that was the point,” Paul said with a wan smile. He ran his fingers through sweaty hair and felt a new determination. “But we can’t go back yet, Father. You promised me several more days.”
Leto said in a stern voice, “You need to get to where you can recover, in a comfortable bed with people to tend you. What if you have a relapse?”
“Then Dr. Yueh would treat me. He has his medkit.”
“It is not the same,” Yueh said. “Although, I would indeed be doing the same treatment back at the castle, my Lord.”
“I’m already much better. We came on this expedition expecting discomforts,” Paul insisted. “But what we are doing is important, and I can be resilient. I have to be. If I am to be Duke, I can’t just give up.” He struggled to his feet, though his entire body felt as shaky as the dwellings on stilts near the moonfish operations. “Besides, we have to find the barra ferns.”
Leto looked at him, clearly unconvinced. “The rescue craft are already inbound.”
“Then recall them. Have them turn around.” Paul forced himself to stand straighter, as if to exude power. “You can call them back if I do feel sick.” He thought he saw a hint of pride on his father’s face, and he took it as an opening to continue. “Gurney always says not to pamper me. If it was only food poisoning, as Dr. Yueh says, then it’s over. I’m much stronger already, and I want to explore. We can look for barra ferns in the wild. Dr. Yueh needs fresh specimens.”
Yueh nodded slowly. “That would be useful for my research.”
For some reason, Paul felt it was important for him to be out here to prove his strength, his independence. It would demonstrate his fitness to be the next Duke of Caladan.
The vivid desert dream, though—was it more than just delirium?—still disturbed him.
Gurney offered unexpected support. “The lad is right, my Lord. We still haven’t found the illicit ailar operations. They must be growing the ferns somewhere. Too many questions unanswered.”
Leto turned his hawkish gaze on the Suk doctor. “What do you say, Yueh? You are Paul’s physician.”
The sallow man stroked his chin. “His body has been through quite a strain, but his vitals are acceptable. While I do not recommend vigorous activity yet, I can give him vitamin shots and stamina enhancers.” He gave Paul a long, analytical look. “I suggest we rest here in camp for the day and see how he does. Once he has recovered more, I can make a better assessment.”
“Please, sir,” Paul said to his father. “This is part of being a leader, too.”
Leto regarded him with smoke-gray eyes. “Your mother knows Bene Gesserit manipulation techniques, but you seem to be using them yourself.”
Paul gave Leto a half-hearted grin. “Is this one working?”
“Send the rescue craft home, Gurney,” the Duke said, and turned back to Paul, sinking down to sit beside his son. “We will rest today and see. Once we start exploring the wilderness, we will go at your pace.”
“I can keep up, sir.” Paul’s lips quirked in a smile. “And if not, Gurney can simply carry me.”
The troubadour warrior responded with a snort.
* * *
BY THE NEXT day, Paul felt good enough to move out, and Dr. Yueh gave his provisional approval. The Suk doctor had explored the area around their camp, acquiring interesting biological samples, adding images to his naturalist’s catalog, although he had not found any barra ferns.
Breaking out their transmitter, Leto communicated with Thufir Hawat, further explaining—and downplaying—what had happened to Paul. The Mentat was back at Castle Caladan now, after leaving Atreides troops to occupy the moonfish operations and continue investigations of the ailar smuggling.
The group set off into the misty forests, where majestic firs stretched skyward and their boughs trapped the rising fog. Paul hiked in sturdy boots as the group forged a trail through scattered brown needles, climbed over rocks, and worked their way between thick trunks mottled with lichen. Spectacular shell fungus crawled up the bark of one evergreen titan. Trudging along, they kept alert for any sign of the unusual barra ferns.
Gurney documented their route by placing small signal beacons at strategic points, and they could always track their way back to the flyer landed on the open beach. The four hiked close enough together for conversation, but ranged far enough apart to broaden their search.
They traveled and camped for two days until they were grimy and tired, though Paul felt cleansed of lingering effects from the moonfish toxin. Now his exhaustion came from the genuine hard work of climbing through trackless wilderness.
One afternoon, Gurney ranged well ahead of them toward a distant ridge. Paul stepped over a fallen log, pushing his way through underbrush, and bent down to see a bright green curl, the delicate frond of a fern poking up from the mulch, spiraling like a tight prehensile tail. “Dr. Yueh, I think I found one!”
The Suk doctor crashed his way over to Paul through bushes and brambles. The normally reserved man grumbled at being scratched by thorns. Leto also joined them, slipping on moss and debris, pushing saplings aside.
Yueh bent down to inspect the pale green nub. “A barra fern, indeed, young Master.” He opened his pack and removed his analysis kit. “We achieved an important goal. Now I have a fresh comparison sample. I can test to see if the ailar content matches the ones that caused those deadly overdoses.”
Leto shouted, “Gurney, we found one of the ferns!”
The troubadour warrior was nearly out of sight, working his way uphill to a crest where the trees were thinner. Paul could see his figure through the slatted forest shadows. Hearing the Duke’s call, Gurney topped the rise, but remained silent for a long moment. Finally, he turned back to them, waving his arms. “God’s below, why would you stop at finding just one? Look up here!”
Yueh plucked the fern specimen from the underbrush, wearing a glove to avoid getting the substance on his skin, and stored it in one of his sample vials. When Gurney kept shouting, the three fought their way up the slope to the top of the ridge, panting hard.
The ridge was actually a high, open expanse with pines interspersed with towering fern trees, some of which rose five meters high. Yueh looked up, craning his neck. The fanlike fronds of the mature ferns were like lacy veils screening the watery sunlight.
In his calf-high boots, Gurney stalked ahead across open ground covered with a carpet of pale green ferns, tender nubs each the size of a curled human hand.
Paul felt a sense of wonder at all the growing plants. “These ferns are about the same age, and they have a more mottled appearance than the young one I just found in the forest.” He bent down, found a snipped stem, but did not touch it. “Look, they’ve been cut and gathered before they could grow any higher.”
“Not only that, lad.” Gurney gestured, and the young man instantly saw what he meant. “They are in rows.”
Paul scanned across the evenly spaced planting. “Not wild growths at all, then. Someone cultivated these ferns.”
“And harvested them.” Leto strode forward, scanning the tall fern trees and the pines that helped camouflage the growing area. “How extensive is this field?”
“Too many barra ferns for us to uproot, my Lord,” Gurney said as he stomped one of the nubs and ground it under his heel. “I
imagine we’ll find similar fields adjacent to this one. It’s a large growing area.”
Paul looked beyond the large fan-shaped fronds and spotted silvery threads that interconnected the tallest trees. “What are those? A web of some kind?”
Leto ran his fingers along the thin wires. “A camouflage net. It can scramble sensors to hide the ferns from aerial surveys.”
Gurney ranged farther along, scanning the forest of towering mature ferns. Flicking his glance from side to side, Paul estimated perhaps a thousand young, mottled ferns awaiting harvest.
Yueh observed, “If these were planted and harvested, then someone must be tending them regularly. How often do you think they inspect their fields?”
“Maybe someone is still here.” Gurney drew his blade and loped along. “Here, my Lord! Over here!”
They followed his voice, pushing aside weeds that helped mask the rows of ferns. Duke Leto got ahead of them while Paul and Yueh hurried to catch up.
When they broke through a stand of fern trees, Paul spotted a prefabricated hut erected along with several rectangular storage units. Bulky mechanical equipment was covered by polymer tarps.
A thin, sunken-eyed man in drab clothing burst from the hut, alerted by the commotion. He stared at them, his mouth agape, before he lunged back into the structure, panicked and confused. A moment later, he returned carrying a long fern-harvesting pike with a curved blade.
Gurney was upon him with his own kindjal, hacking at the harvesting pike. The man flailed, unable to defend himself against a skilled fighter. He jabbed the point at Gurney, but the man was a mere harvester, and Gurney easily deflected the blow, avoiding the inartful attack.
Yelling, the worker retreated into the hut and slammed the door. By the time Leto, Paul, and Yueh joined Gurney, the man had barricaded himself inside the flimsy structure. Paul looked around for other workers at the site, but the man appeared to be alone, like an isolated shepherd tending a flock.
Gurney’s face was flushed, his inkvine scar beet red. He grabbed the discarded harvesting pike and pummeled the hut’s wall. He called over his shoulder to Leto. “We’ll pull him out, my Lord, and then he’ll give us some answers.”
Thrusting and twisting with the pike, Gurney finally staved in the wall. From the shadows within, they heard the worker’s dismayed whimper. Pulling the polymer material wider, Gurney pushed his way inside, with Leto pressing close behind.
They found the worker on the packed dirt floor, curled into a ball, shivering and convulsing. He had stuffed his mouth full of the curled green barra ferns. Spittle and foam trickled out of his mouth. His eyes were already scarlet with hemorrhages.
Leto roared in frustration. “Yueh, save him!”
The Suk doctor stared. “With that dose, my Lord? Not possible.” He nevertheless dropped to his knees and whipped out his medkit.
“Why would that man kill himself?” Paul said. “He doesn’t even know who we are. We could just have been hunters.”
The worker’s eyes were red, filled with blood. Yueh had cleared his mouth, knocked the half-chewed ferns aside, but the victim had already swallowed too much raw ailar.
“Why did you do this?” Leto demanded. “Give us answers! Who is responsible for these operations?”
Yueh’s ministrations had no effect.
Even as the worker died, he managed a hoarse, rasping cackle. The man coughed and spat out words. “I fear Chaen Marek … more than you!”
Since our founding, the Bene Gesserit have always found ways to slip into the corridors of power.
—MOTHER SUPERIOR HARISHKA
After Reverend Mother Terta’s violent death, an undercurrent of sadness and fear ran through the inner halls of the Mother School.
“I genuinely thought Lethea was dying at the time,” Mohiam said. “Maybe I was too impulsive, but it might have been our last chance to retrieve her memories and skill … Now poor Terta is dead.”
Harishka shook her head. “By connecting with her mind, Reverend Mother Terta was only trying to help her.”
“And help the Sisterhood—but it was a trap.” Mohiam considered. “Does Lethea hate us? Is she warning us of a disaster to the Bene Gesserit, or is she causing it?”
The two women entered a large greenhouse where white-robed Acolytes silently tended flowers and leafy plants, trimming and potting them. “We need her ability to predict the near future of the breeding program, but at what cost? She has left a swath of victims in her wake.” Her voice grew hard, angry. “Lethea is more than a liability—she is a genuine danger to all of us.”
The rich, moist smell of plants in the enclosed building did not dispel Mohiam’s uneasiness. “Is Lethea even conscious of what she’s doing?”
“She is aware of more than we suspected, and has shown herself to be malicious and vindictive. How can we trust what she wants to do to Jessica, if we bring her here?”
After expending so much mental energy to drive the medical Sister to suicide, the ancient woman had settled back down and now rested calmly in her isolated chamber. Spy-eyes transmitted Lethea’s every movement into other rooms, but the Sisters were now too terrified to tend her personally. The Mother Superior had ordered the attendants to stay away.
They walked among rows of green plants, surrounded by earthy aromas of mulch, the mist of watering systems, the perfume of blossoms. Harishka paused and took a calming breath, bending over a burst of colorful blue flowers. She made an odd, distracted comment. “I find this place relaxing. Years ago, a younger Sister taught me that being surrounded by plants could be restorative to a troubled spirit. We certainly need that now.”
Mohiam smiled, remembering the same thing. “Sister Margot said that, I presume? She always had such a fondness for her conservatory. I see her and Count Fenring often in the Imperial Court. An interesting marriage that benefits each of them, as well as the Sisterhood.” She frowned. “I fear she cares a bit too much for that awful man, though.”
Harishka’s voice grew stern. “Too many Sisters allow themselves the vulnerability of love. It distorts their perspective.”
Mohiam tried to be more understanding. “They are human.”
“But the goals of the Bene Gesserit must remain paramount in their minds and in their hearts. No matter where they go or what assignments they receive, all Sisters belong to the order.”
Mohiam had never let herself feel giddy emotions for any of the lovers she had taken during her long life. Per the Sisterhood’s instructions, she had given birth to daughters, and had felt no fondness for their fathers. She shuddered as she recalled coupling with the loathsome Baron Harkonnen, back before he was fat. But at least that union had resulted in Jessica … Jessica of Caladan.
What did Lethea want from Jessica? Why was the Sisterhood’s future at stake? And why was it so important that the mother be torn from her son?
Thin sunlight shone through the plaz panes, heating the humid enclosure. Wearing a surprising, unguarded smile, the Mother Superior led Mohiam to another row in the greenhouse. “Here is something you haven’t seen yet.”
A long, slender leaf floated free in the air, carrying tiny winged creatures on all of its sides, as if the hovering leaf were an airborne troop transport. The air was alive with the sound of fast-beating wings. Mohiam squinted to see the creatures fly away to pollinate flowers.
“The smallest hummingbirds in the Imperium,” Harishka said, “smaller than bees.”
Mohiam smiled as the distraction gave her momentary respite from the Lethea crisis. Other leaves carrying minuscule hummingbirds drifted through the air, and the tiny creatures buzzed along, working in concert, as if controlled by a single brain.
Some of the creatures perched on Harishka’s shoulders, and her voice took on a tinge of wonder. “They have no fear of humans. They make a purring music.”
Other hummingbirds settled on Mohiam, then flitted away. They also flew off from Harishka. The Mother Superior sighed. “It is said they can sense good people.�
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Mohiam considered the terrible things she had done in the name of the Sisterhood as she watched them buzz about. “They seem ambivalent toward the two of us.”
“Nothing is so simple and clear-cut for a Bene Gesserit of our rank and experience,” Harishka said. “I doubt they would come near Lethea.” Walking under a gentle irrigation mist, the Mother Superior continued to muse aloud, “And what to do about Jessica? I keep wondering why Lethea would demand to see an obscure Sister who was assigned to a world of little note. But two separate Kwisatz Mothers have focused on her now. Mother or child must be relevant to our extended breeding program.”
“Jessica forgets herself. I believe that in her arrogance, she imagines she might have produced the Kwisatz Haderach,” Mohiam said, shaking her head. “Perhaps the boy does have significant potential.”
“There is that possibility,” said the Mother Superior. “I, too, reviewed the materials Anirul left us years ago, and the bloodlines are indeed reaching a long-anticipated convergence, but breeding is never an exact science. Our program has produced numerous candidates who could be the Kwisatz Haderach, and all have disappointed in one way or another. Some remain under observation. Jessica will bear closer watching, though.” She grumbled in her throat. “I hate to accede to Lethea’s violent demands, but we also ignore her words at our peril.”
The hummingbirds continued to buzz around, darting away from the two women as if both attracted and repelled.
Harishka took a few moments to ponder, having a debate with herself, with Mohiam there as a sounding board. “But if Paul Atreides does have the potential to be what we have long sought, do we dare take Jessica away from him? Does the boy not need to be molded and shaped under her guidance? Does he not need to be controlled?” She turned her intense eyes to her companion. “Will Jessica raise him and indoctrinate him as we wish?”
Ever since coming here, Mohiam had wrestled with the same questions. “Even if she is important, Mother Superior, my daughter may have forgotten her obligations to the Sisterhood. Remember, she was told to bear only daughters with Duke Leto Atreides, yet she gave him a son. That defiance has done significant harm to our plans. But if Lethea calls for her, maybe there is a way to salvage something? We should take her away from Duke Atreides, transfer her here. To be safe.”
Dune: The Duke of Caladan Page 24