Mentats of Dune

by Brian Herbert

  Roderick dispatched another team, including two Scalpel practitioners, to interrogate the members of House Péle who had last worked on the vessel before Salvador confiscated it as punishment for their fraudulent schemes. Even the most skeptical questioner found no evidence that House Péle had planned some subtle sabotage in retaliation for their immense political and financial losses.

  Salvador was gone. Navigation accidents occurred, and too frequently. Emperor Salvador Corrino had vanished, along with his ship and crew. An ignominious, but not unexpected, accident.

  In a recorded message to Roderick, to express his concerns and condolences, Josef Venport shook his head sadly. “Space travel involves risks, and far too many ships disappear. Look at the appalling record of EsconTran. Even though the Imperial Barge avoided using foldspace technology, the design of the FTL engines was centuries old. If only all vessels would use my Navigators, then we could ensure their safety. Let us hope that Emperor Salvador has only been delayed, and will arrive safely soon.”

  But the Emperor had been missing for weeks past his expected arrival.

  Now, Roderick Corrino faced his own challenge. He stood alone in the Audience Chamber, staring at the unoccupied green-crystal throne, listening to the silence, seeing the emptiness where his brother had held court so many times. A deep sadness washed through him, but this had to be done. The business of the Imperium must continue. The Emperor had been absent for too long.

  Just as heartbreaking, their sister, Anna, was still missing on Lampadas, with no sign of her at the overrun Mentat School. Roderick felt another twinge of anger. Yet another violent riot caused by Butlerian mobs, and Headmaster Albans had been executed after an unbelievable accusation. Roderick felt sorry for the Headmaster, who had seemed like a reasonable man. Had the whole Imperium gone insane?

  Perhaps the mad Butlerian movement was at last imploding. He could only hope.

  Roderick felt the burn of anger and dismay deep inside him. A Butlerian riot had killed sweet Nantha, another killed Headmaster Albans, and now Anna had also disappeared in the upheaval. Maybe Manford was actually holding her as a hostage for future leverage. But why would he keep her hidden? Maybe she had escaped—or worse, dear Anna might be dead.

  He decided to send an army to Lampadas to interrogate the Butlerians, to search for his missing sister and learn what had really happened. Manford would not like it, but Roderick didn’t care. The mad dog of a Butlerian leader had to be put in his place. And now Roderick was in a position to do what had to be done.

  First, though, he would deal with the matter of the empty throne. Each day Haditha had been counseling him, supporting him, and listening to him. “You must take the throne—provisionally. The Imperium requires more than just the hope of a leader. Where there is doubt, there is weakness. If your brother returns, you can step aside.” She came close, held him. “But you must become the Corrino Emperor.”

  Knowing he could no longer delay, he called an urgent meeting with the highest-ranking members of the Landsraad and his most valued advisers. While waitin/vnd.adobe-pag

  For too long, the Imperium has been ruled by greedy noblemen whose faith is weak. They hardly give any thought to the common man.

  —SWORDMASTER ANARI IDAHO, comment to Manford Torondo

  Mother Superior Valya Harkonnen arrived in time to witness the unexpected coronation of Emperor Roderick Corrino I. Her timing was accidental, but impeccable.

  In transit from Wallach IX, she was accompanied by Sister Olivia and six others, including four of the orthodox Sisters who had come with Dorotea. In her new role as Mother Superior, Valya wore a robe more ornamented than her previous garments, but her most important trapping was her confidence; her personality was both armor and sword. She was the leader of the unified Sisterhood and not yet twenty-five years old—although she carried thousands of years of experience from the Other Memories inside her head.

  When the eight Sisters tried to make their way to the Imperial Palace, though, the celebratory throng made passage impossible. All around the city, Imperial soldiers wore formal cloaks and armor, protected by body shields.

  The Mother Superior drank in details, asked questions, and quickly discovered that Roderick was about to assume the throne. Emperor Salvador had vanished in a space-travel mishap and was presumed dead—coincidentally close to the time when Raquella and Dorotea died.

  Sister Olivia had parallel thoughts. “It seems to be a time for new leaders, Mother Superior.”

  Valya responded with a thin smile and noticed the orthodox Sisters nodding. Keeping her voice pitched low, she projected her words so that only her companions could hear. “Emperor Salvador was no friend to the Sisterhood. Let us not forget what he ordered on Rossak—even Dorotea was burdened with guilt for her part in that. Let us hope that Roderick will be a different sort of Emperor.”

  In the crowded streets, Valya sent two of the orthodox Sisters ahead to find other members of Dorotea’s faction, to inform them that the Mother Superior had arrived. When she and her companions finally drew in sight of the plaza that fronted the palace, Valya heard someone shout to them.

  Among the gathered celebrants, she recognized a stocky woman who had once served beside her as an assistant proctor on Rossak, Sister Ninke. She was one of the women who had adamantly opposed the use of computers and had gone with Dorotea to the Imperial Court. Nevertheless, Ninke had seemed like a sensible person, not prone to hysteria.

  As their Mother Superior, Valya would have to stop thinking of these other Sisters as traitors. She needed their talents, especially the (redacted as inappropriate)

  Ninke had more gray hair than before, though only a year had passed since they’d seen each other. Despite her size, she moved deftly through the crowds. She gestured. “This way!”

  She led Valya, Olivia, and their companions around one side to a more open space. They flowed through clusters of people who were pushing their way forward for a better view of the coronation ceremony. When Valya’s path became blocked, she raised her voice and said in an authoritative tone, “Move aside! Imperial business!”

  It wasn’t the forceful, commanding Voice she had used as a weapon against Master Placido or Sister Dorotea, but the people responded nevertheless. Spectators scurried out of the way, blundering into others as they did so. With surprised or angry glares, they looked at the troupe of women as they marched through.

  Ninke said, “We received the transmission when your ship arrived, and the Sisters are prepared for your arrival.” Her gaze locked on Valya. “Crown Prince Roderick was expecting Dorotea.”

  “Roderick needn’t worry,” Valya said. “He will have his replacement Truthsayer, and your own Sisters will explain the agreement that Dorotea and Mother Superior Raquella reached. The Sisterhood must be strong and unified again.”

  Still unsure, Ninke continued to lead them forward. “We have a private box from which to observe the coronation ceremony. Zimia was not prepared for the influx of travelers from across the Imperium. Security is extremely tight, to prevent another backlash and frenzy. Leader Torondo was not invited, and neither was Directeur Venport. Prince Roderick was afraid their presence might cause unnecessary agitation.”

  And indeed they might, Valya thought.

  When the Sisters reached the central square, a new path opened for them. Ninke spoke to one of the uniformed soldiers waiting at a stairway to the observation pavilions, and an Imperial guard escorted the women to a private box. From that vantage they could see the coronation stage and the green-crystal throne that had been placed there. A large group of Dorotea’s followers awaited their arrival. Valya knew most of them.

  Sister Esther-Cano and other Sisters rose to their feet and gave curt bows when Valya approached; then all resumed their seats. Valya sensed hesitation and uneasiness, questions and buried challenges. She hoped that with four orthodox Sisters vouching for her claims, Dorotea’s followers would honor the agreement with Mother Superior. If not, Valya was prepare
d to fight them in personal combat and kill any dissenters.

  Nearby boxes were crowded with gaudily uniformed functionaries, including the Court Chamberlain, the Imperial Protocol Minister, and a variety of invited guests. In front of the stage sat rows of elegantly dressed delegates from various Landsraad houses and leading commercial conglomerates. Valya did not see any VenHold business representatives.

  Roderick Corrino emerged on one side of the flag-draped ceremonial stage, wearing a scarlet-and-gold uniform decked with silver epaulets, and gleaming medals and bright ribbons on the chest; a galaxy of small gold stars ran down the arms and encircled the wrists. A golden-lion pin sparkled at his collar. He waited while an additional security perimeter was set up in front of the coronation stage, a cordon of honor guards brandishing projectile rifles.

  The orthodox Sisters pressed closer to+ have ch woman Valya and her companions from Wallach IX. Esther-Cano leaned forward. “We have many questions for you, Sister Valya.”

  Remembering this woman’s personality, her moods and weaknesses, Valya put -I" aid="2H1VQ

  Murder is murder, no matter the justification.

  —NORMA CENVA

  Killing an Emperor was no small thing.

  During the flight from Kolhar to Salusa Secundus—a respectful time after the coronation, as commanded—Josef Venport explained his actions to Norma Cenva.

  She had helped him eliminate the Imperial Barge at Arrakis, because he told her it was necessary, but he wasn’t confident that she fully comprehended his rationale for doing so. Her thoughts and concerns were vastly distant from the realities Josef had to deal with. Now, however, he needed her to focus on the crisis and grasp the importance of the political course he had mapped out for the Imperium.

  With Roderick as the new Emperor, a rational man who was already predisposed to despise the Half-Manford and his barbarians, they no longer needed to fear the looming dark ages.

  On the Navigator deck in front of the broad observation windows that offered a view of the entire universe, he spoke with his great-grandmother even as she folded space and moved the ship from Kolhar. She floated inside her tank full of swirling orange gas, but he couldn’t tell whether she was listening.

  After the aurora-light display around the ship ceased and they settled back into normal space in the Salusan star system, he repeated his last few sentences, until Norma cut him off. “I heard and absorbed all data.” Her voice sounded tinny across the tank’s speaker system. “I am ancient, but aware.”

  She could help him save the Imperium now. The dangerously incompetent Salvador and his entourage had vanished down the gullet of a sandworm; no trace remained of the spice operation, and the Imperial Barge was lost in the vastness of space, due to Taref’s sabotage. Now that Roderick Corrino had been crowned, human civilization had a chance to survive the dark forces of ignorance, so long as he worked with Josef. The grim future Norma had foreseen no longer needed to come to pass. had no idea who he really wasy Mentatoperation

  “It only stands to reason—” he began again, then caught himself with a dark chuckle. “Reason! The Imperium needs more of that. We can now assure a renaissance instead of cultural darkness.” He smiled with relief and optimism.

  Through the swirling orange gas he saw her tiny mouth form into a barely perceptible smile. “That would be preferable … but not assured.”

  He paced in front of her large tank. “I will assure it, Grandmother. Roderick Corrino understands the interconnected ties of commerce, the business of governing vast populations, the need for trade instead of superstition. He and I need to meet in private to find a mutually viable path out of the mess Salvador created.”

  “The Emperor might consider you part of that mess. He did not invite you to the coronation.”

  Josef frowned. It disturbed him that he had not been on the guest list for the grand coronation, but Manford Torondo had also been kept away. Perhaps the new Emperor wanted to appear neutral until he consolidated his power. Josef realized he might have pushed too hard and too quickly. He assumed Roderick would be anxious to disband the fanatical Butlerians, just as Salvador had broken up the Rossak Sisterhood.

  On this trip, accompanied by Norma Cenva, he would seek to heal wounds and begin the important work of moving the Imperium forward.

  She drifted in her tank as the spacefolder entered orbit and slid in among the space traffic. “The immediate future is elusive,” she said, “but I foresee great turbulence.”

  His tone was dismissive. “Roderick Corrino is a man who makes well-considered decisions, and we have the same goals. Together, we will control the barbarians and defeat the Half-Manford.”

  Norma’s detachable tank moved on suspensors, and she accompanied him to the VenHold shuttle. As the craft descended, Josef gazed at the lush greenery, lakes, and snow-kissed mountains below. Salusa Secundus was one of the loveliest worlds in the Imperium. Even so, he preferred industrial Kolhar, which made him think of a bright and efficient future.

  When studying history, spectacular failures can provide great inspiration to improve.

  —ERASMUS, Latter-Day Laboratory Journals

  When the spacefolder carrying Draigo Roget’s ship arrived at Denali, Erasmus finally let himself believe they were safe. Their circumstances had dramatically improved, and he was intrigued by all the new experiences that awaitede various bure

  him and Anna Corrino.

  But that was small consolation for the loss of Gilbertus, and very probably the end of the Mentat School; the teachings would either be banned or drastically altered by the foolish Butlerians. He still experienced great confusion, a turmoil in his thought processes that was completely unfamiliar to him. For centuries he had strived to understand emotions, but now that he had a better grasp, the iot found that he didn’t like them at all.

  Erasmus felt deeply disturbed. He thought back to the day before, when Draigo’s scout ship had raced to the covert spacefolder in orbit over Lampadas. Even from there, the robot had continued to observe through his linked network of spy-eyes, but without his usual analytical detachment. He’d felt unsettled curiosity as he watched his dedicated ward kneel down amidst the jeering barbarians, in full view of the Mentat school. This sense of loss was not strictly quantifiable.

  Erasmus had rescued the young man from slave pens on Corrin, mentoring Gilbertus and treating him exceptionally well. He had changed the slave boy’s life, and his own. Both had grown from the experience.

  And it had all culminated in the horrific scene on Lampadas. Surrounded by rabid Butlerians, Gilbertus had bowed his head and closed his eyes. Interestingly, his expression had been filled with remarkable contentment, enviable peace. A smile had even curled his lips at the last moment. Erasmus did not understand.

  Then the Swordmaster had lopped off his head, extinguishing a fine and efficient mind.

  Upon seeing the death of his student, his protector, and his friend, a jolt had gone through the robot’s gelcircuitry—a blinding flash that made him unable to process for a moment. In what seemed like an eternity, everything changed for Erasmus, as if the fundamental laws of reality had become different. He had not expected this at all.

  Erasmus had seen countless humans die in the centuries of his life, many of them at his own hands, but he had never previously felt anything similar to this. Gilbertus was gone! The companion who had been such an interesting debater, such an avid learner, such a … such a caring, protective friend. Gone. Dead. Murdered! This could not be repaired. Gilbertus could not be replaced. Erasmus had never before experienced such a sharp, painful loss.

  Something shifted in his malleable programming. Erasmus could not be cool and objective; rather, he felt dismay, disgust, and anger. And then with a cascade of realizations, data linking to data, he had another epiphany, a completely unexpected insight, another breathless revelation. He had an answer that he had been trying to find for more than two centuries.

  Was this what had driven Serena Butler into such
an irrational, hateful rage when ndependent rob

  he threw her noisy, crying child off a balcony? Incandescent, helpless rage and loss? Now he thought he grasped what had produced her immediate blind reaction. It all made sense in a (redacted as inappropriate)

  Gilbertus was gone. The Butlerians had killed him. d with countless reactions, all of them dark, violent, vengeful.

  And now he brought those feelings with him to Denali.

  Although Erasmus kept track of the different factions of humanity, especially the machine sympathizers and antitechnology fanatics, he now experienced actual loathing and hatred toward the people who had harmed the human who had become the equivalent of a son to him.

  Yes. From all of his studies, that must be the sensation he was experiencing. Hatred. Along with unquantifiable sadness at watching the blood spill out and Gilbertus’s headless body collapse to the ground.

  Erasmus despised Manford Torondo. Erasmus grieved for Gilbertus, who had given his life to preserve his beloved school. Those violent savages had destroyed it all. Erasmus felt strong resentment at the unfairness of the situation. Unfairness. These new thoughts and emotions were fascinating to him, and quite unpleasant. They threatened to overwhelm his circuitry.

  Gilbertus was dead! And the robot decided he would have to do something about that.…

  Draigo Roget and Anna Corrino were tense and frightened asHis mind surge

  they descended to cloud-swirled Denali. Sitting on the edge of a passenger bench, Anna removed her package with the robot’s core, unfolded the wrappings, and showed the gelsphere to Draigo. After measuring the Mentat’s expression, Erasmus could tell that Draigo was awed and intrigued.