Attempting to ride the momentum of his increasing stature and popularity, Leto wished to discuss amnesty and reparations for House Vernius. He believed this would be the best chance to bring the situation to a fortuitous conclusion, but as the days passed in Imperial silence, he saw the opportunity slipping like silt through his fingertips. Even optimistic Rhombur became agitated and frustrated, while Kailea grew more and more resigned to their limited options in life.
Finally, in a standard communiqué via human Courier bearing a message cylinder, the Emperor suggested— since he had very little free time for conversation with his cousin— that they make use of a new and untried method being offered by the Spacing Guild, an instantaneous process called Guildlink. It involved the mental connection of two Guild Navigators positioned in separate star systems; a Heighliner in orbit around Caladan and another over Kaitain could theoretically arrange a conversation involving Duke Leto Atreides and Emperor Shaddam IV.
“At last I’ll be able to speak my piece,” Leto said, though he had never before heard of this communication method. Shaddam seemed anxious to try it for his own purposes, and this way no one would see him actually meeting with Duke Leto Atreides.
Kailea’s emerald eyes lit up, and she even ignored the distasteful bull’s-head that hung in the dining hall. She went to change her dress into proud Vernius colors, though it wasn’t likely she would be seen in the transmission at all. Rhombur came at the appointed hour, accompanied by Thufir Hawat. Leto sent all the other retainers, guards, and household staff out of the room.
The Heighliner that had brought the original Courier remained in geostationary orbit over Caladan; another already waited over Kaitain. The sophisticated Guild Steersmen aboard each ship— separated from one another by vast distances— would use an unfathomable procedure that allowed them to stretch their minds across the void, joining thoughts to form a connection. The Guild had tested hundreds of their Navigators before finding two that could establish a tentative direct link— through telepathy, melange-fostered prescience, or some other method, to be determined.
Leto took a deep breath, wishing he had more time to practice his words, though he had already waited far too long. He dared not request another delay. . . .
From a magnificent hedge-lined arboretum at the Imperial Palace, Shaddam spoke into a tiny microphone on his chin, which transmitted to speakers in the navigation chamber of the Heighliner over his planet. “Can you hear me, Leto Atreides? It’s a sunny morning here, and I’ve just returned from my morning walk.” He took a sip from a goblet of syrupy juice.
As the Emperor’s words reached the navigation chamber of the ship orbiting Kaitain, the Steersman in the other Heighliner over Caladan experienced them in his mind, in an echo of what his compatriot had heard. Breaking the link temporarily, the Steersman over Caladan repeated the Emperor’s words into the glittering speaker globe that floated within his spice-filled chamber. In turn, standing in the echoing dining hall of Castle Caladan, Leto heard the words over his own speaker system, distorted and slow, without the nuances of emotion. But still, they were the Emperor’s own words.
“I’ve always preferred the morning sun of Caladan, Cousin,” Leto responded, using the familiar form of address, trying to begin on friendly terms. “You should visit our humble world someday.”
By the time Leto said this, the Navigator above Caladan was again in Guildlink with his associate, and Leto’s words were heard in the other ship, then transmitted down to Kaitain.
“This new communication is marvelous,” Shaddam said, avoiding the meat of Leto’s request. He did, however, seem to be enjoying the possibilities of Guildlink, as if it were a new toy for him. “Much faster than human messengers, though it’ll likely be prohibitively expensive. Ah yes, we have here the makings of another monopoly for the Guild. Hopefully they won’t charge too much for urgent messages.”
Receiving the words in his dining hall, Leto wondered if that message was for his benefit, or the Guild eavesdroppers.
Shaddam coughed uneasily, sounds that were not repeated in the translation process. “There are so many important issues on Imperial planets, and such a shortage of time in which to address them. I have too little time for friendships I’d like to nurture, such as yours, Cousin. What is it you wish to talk with me about?”
Leto drew a sharp breath, and the hawklike features on his narrow face darkened. “Exalted Emperor Shaddam, we beseech you to grant amnesty to House Vernius and restore them to their rightful place in the Landsraad. The world of Ix is economically vital and must not remain in the hands of the Tleilaxu. They have already destroyed important manufacturing facilities and have curtailed products vital to the security of the Imperium.” Then he added, with just another hint of his bluff, “We both know what is really going on there, even now.”
The Tleilaxu connection again, Leto thought. Let’s see if I can make him believe I know more than I really do. Standing beside him in the room, Prince Rhombur fixed him with a wary gaze.
“I cannot discuss such matters through intermediaries,” Shaddam said quickly.
Leto’s eyes widened at the possible mistake Shaddam had just made. “Are you suggesting that the Guild can’t be trusted, Sire? They haul armies for the Imperium and the Great Houses; they know or suspect battle plans before they are implemented. This Guildlink is even more secure than a face-to-face discussion in the Imperial audience chamber.”
“But we haven’t studied the merits of the matter,” Shaddam protested, clearly stalling. He had been watching the rising popularity and influence of Duke Leto Atreides. Did this upstart have connections that extended even to the Spacing Guild? He looked around his empty gardens, wishing Fenring were with him after all, but the ferretlike man was preparing for his journey to Arrakis. Perhaps it was a mistake to save Leto after all.
Keeping his phraseology lean and to the point, Leto presented the noble case of the Ixians, asserting that House Vernius had never manufactured forbidden technology. Despite their promises, the Tleilaxu had brought no case and no evidence to the governing body of the Landsraad, and had instead taken matters into their own hands in their greed to acquire the riches of Ix. Based upon conversations he’d had with Rhombur, Leto provided a value for the fief and how much damage the Tleilaxu had caused.
“That sounds excessive,” Shaddam said, too quickly. “Reports from the Bene Tleilax indicate a much lower figure.”
He’s been there himself, Leto thought, and is concealing it. “Of course the Tleilaxu would try to establish a low number, Sire, in order to reduce reparations, if they are ever forced to pay them.”
Leto went on to estimate the loss of Ixian life, and even commented on Elrood’s unwarranted blood price for the death of the Lady Shando. Then, in an emotion-filled voice, he conjectured about the desperate plight of Earl Vernius, who remained in hiding on some unknown, distant world.
During an extended pause on his end of the conversation, Shaddam seethed. He desperately wondered how much this brash Duke truly knew about the Tleilaxu matter. There had been hints, nuances . . . but was he bluffing? As new Emperor, Shaddam needed to do something quickly, to keep the situation under control— but he could never afford to allow House Vernius to return to its ancestral home. The Tleilaxu synthetic-spice research was vital and not easily moved. The Vernius family was an unfortunate casualty— Shaddam didn’t care about his father’s stung pride or petty revenge— but those people could not be rescued now, as if nothing had happened.
Finally the Emperor cleared his throat and said, “The best we can offer is limited amnesty. Since Rhombur and Kailea Vernius are in your personal care, Duke Leto, we grant them our full protection and pardon. From this day forth there shall be no price on their heads. They are absolved of any wrongdoing. You have my guarantee on this.”
Seeing a look of disbelieving exultation on the faces of the two exiled Ixians, Leto said, “Thank you, Sire, but what about reparations to the family fortunes?”
“No reparations!” Shaddam said in a much sterner tone than the Guildsman managed to duplicate. “And no restoration of House Vernius to its position on Xuttah, formerly Ix. Ah, yes. The Bene Tleilax have in fact presented extensive, conclusive documentation to me, and I am satisfied as to its veracity. For reasons of Imperial security I cannot divulge details. You have taxed my patience enough.”
Irritated, Leto growled, “Any evidence that is denied scrutiny is no evidence at all, Sire. It should be presented before a court.”
“What about my father and other surviving members of House Vernius?” Rhombur said into the microphone Leto had been using. “Can he have your amnesty as well, wherever he is? He’s not hurting anybody.”
Shaddam’s response, directed at Leto, was swift and stinging, like the bite of a venomous serpent. “I’ve been lenient with you, Cousin— but I caution you not to press your luck. If I weren’t so favorably inclined toward you, personally, I would never have committed myself by testifying on your behalf, nor would I have granted this impromptu audience today— or the concessions for your friends. Amnesty for the two children, and that is all.”
Hearing the harsh relayed words, Leto reeled, but maintained his composure. It was clear he could not push Shaddam further.
“We suggest you accept these terms while we remain in a mood to grant them,” Shaddam said. “At any moment additional evidence could be presented to me against House Vernius, causing me to judge them less kindly.”
Away from the voice pickup, Leto conferred with Rhombur and Kailea. Reluctantly, the siblings leaned toward acceptance. “At least we’ve won a small victory, Leto,” Kailea said in her soft voice. “We’ll have our lives, and our personal freedom— if not our heritage. Besides, living here with you is not so terrible. Like Rhombur always says, we can make the best of things.”
Rhombur put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “If that’s good enough for Kailea, it’ll be good enough for me.”
“The bargain is sealed then,” Shaddam said; their acceptance had been sent through the Guildlink intermediaries. “The official papers will be prepared.” Then his words became like razors. “And I expect never to hear of this matter again.”
Abruptly, the Emperor ended the Guildlink, and the two separated Navigators broke their mental contact. Leto drew both Rhombur and Kailea into a hug, knowing that at last they both were safe.
Only fools leave witnesses.
—HASIMIR FENRING
I am going to miss Kaitain,” Fenring said in an odd, somber tone. Within the day, he was scheduled to report to Arrakis as Shaddam’s Imperial Observer. Exiled into the desert! But Margot had told him to see the opportunities . . . Fenring was good at that. Could the Emperor have more in mind than simple punishment? Could this be turned into a powerful position after all?
Fenring had grown up at the side of Shaddam, both of them more than two decades younger than Fafnir, the former heir apparent to the Golden Lion Throne. With an elder Crown Prince in place and a brood of daughters by his various wives, Elrood had not expected much from the junior Prince, and on the quiet suggestion of his Bene Gesserit mother, Fenring had been allowed to attend classes with him.
Over the years Fenring had made himself into an “expediter,” a person willing to complete necessary tasks for his friend Shaddam, no matter how unpleasant they might be— including the murder of Fafnir. The companions shared many dark secrets, too many for them to split up now without serious repercussions . . . and both men knew it.
Shaddam owes me, dammit!
Given time to reconsider, the new Emperor would understand that he couldn’t afford to have Fenring as an enemy, or even as a disgruntled Imperial servant. Before long, Shaddam would summon him back from Arrakis. It was only a matter of time.
Somehow he would find a way to turn every circumstance to his advantage.
Lady Margot, whom he had married in a simple ceremony three days earlier, took command of the subchamberlains and unattached servants. Issuing orders with every breath, she created a whirlwind of packing and shipping. As a Bene Gesserit Sister, she had few needs and no extravagant tastes. But understanding the importance of trappings and public appearances, she arranged to send a cargo ship full of amenities, including House Corrino clothing and furniture, Imperial tableware, fine tapestries, and linens. Such possessions would increase her husband’s standing in Arrakeen, where they would set up a private residence, many kilometers from the Harkonnen seat of power in Carthag. This show of independence and luxury would emphasize to the Harkonnen governors and their functionaries the power of Shaddam and his omnipresent watchful eyes.
Smiling, Fenring watched Margot go about her finishing tasks. She was a flow of bright colors and lovely honey-blonde hair, encouraging smiles, and sharp words for anyone who moved too slowly. What a magnificent woman! He and his new bride kept such fascinating secrets from each other, and the process of mutual discovery was proving most enjoyable.
By nightfall they would be dispatched to the desert planet, which the natives called Dune.
• • •
Later in the day, during a relaxed hour in which neither the Emperor nor his lifelong friend would utter the apologies that needed to be said, Fenring sat at the shield-ball console, waiting for Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV to make the next move. They sat alone in a plaz-walled retiring room at the top of one of the Palace pinnacles. Flitter-thopters buzzed by in the distance, higher than ribbon-festooned kites and gleam-bubbles.
Fenring hummed to himself, though he knew Shaddam hated the mannerism. Finally, the new Emperor slid a rod through the shimmering shield at precisely the correct speed— not too fast and not too slow. The aimed rod engaged a spinning interior disk, causing the black ball in the center of the globe to float into the air. Focusing hard, Shaddam yanked the rod free, and the ball plunked into the number “9” receptacle.
“You’ve been practicing, Sire, hm-m-m-m?” Fenring said. “Doesn’t an Emperor have more pressing duties? But you’ll need to do better than that to beat me.”
The Emperor stared at the rod he had just used, as if it had failed him.
“You want to change sticks, Sire?” Fenring offered, in a taunting tone. “Something wrong with that one?”
Shaddam shook his head stubbornly. “I’ll stay with this one, Hasimir— this will be our last game for some time.” He drew a deep breath, flaring his nostrils. “I told you I could handle things on my own.” He fumbled a bit. “But that doesn’t mean I no longer value your advice.”
“Naturally, Sire. That’s why you sent me to a dust pit populated by sandworms and unwashed barbarians.” Dispassionately, he stared past the shield-ball at Shaddam. “I think it’s a grave mistake, Highness. In these first days of your rule, you will require good, objective counsel more than ever before. You can’t handle it alone, and whom can you trust more than me?”
“Well, I handled the Leto Atreides crisis rather well. I alone avoided disaster.”
Delaying his turn at the shield-ball station, Fenring said, “I agree the result was favorable— but we still haven’t learned what he knows about us and the Tleilaxu.”
“I didn’t want to appear overly worried.”
“Um-m-ah-m-m. Maybe you’re right, but if you solved the problem, then tell me this: If not Leto, who really did fire on the Tleilaxu ships? And how?”
“I’m considering alternatives.”
Fenring’s overlarge eyes flashed. “Leto is incredibly popular now, perhaps even a threat to your throne one day. Whether he engineered the crisis or not, Duke Atreides has turned it into an undeniable victory for himself and the honor of his House. He overcame an insurmountable obstacle and behaved with marvelous grace. The members of the Landsraad notice things like that.”
“Ah yes, true, true . . . but nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not so certain, Sire. The discontent among the Houses might not have dissipated entirely, as we were led to believe.”
“We do have
the Bene Gesserit on our side, thanks to my wife.”
Fenring sniffed. “Whom you married at my suggestion, Sire— but just because the witches say a thing, does not make it true. And what if the alliance isn’t sufficient?”
“What do you mean?” Shaddam slid back from the game station and impatiently motioned for Fenring to take his turn.
“Think about Duke Leto, how unpredictable he is. Maybe he’s setting up secret military alliances for an assault on Kaitain. His tremendous acclaim translates into bargaining power for him, and he’s obviously ambitious. Leaders of Great Houses are eager to talk with him now. You, on the other hand, have no such popular basis of support.”
“I have my Sardaukar.” But creases of doubt crept into the Emperor’s face.
“Watch your legions to make certain they aren’t infiltrated. I’m going to be away on Arrakis, and I worry about such things. I know you said you could handle it all yourself, and I believe you. I’m just giving you my best advice— as I always have, Sire.”
“I appreciate that, Hasimir. But I cannot believe my cousin Leto created the Heighliner crisis in order to achieve this particular end. It was too clumsy, too risky. He couldn’t have known I’d testify for him.”
“He knew you’d do something, once you learned he had secret information.”
Shaddam shook his head. “No. The potential for failure was enormous. He nearly lost his family’s entire holdings.”
Fenring held out a long finger. “But consider the potential glory he reaped, hm-m-m-m? For proof, just look at what has happened to him in the meantime. I doubt he could have planned it this way, but Leto’s a hero now. His people love him, all the nobles admire him— and the Tleilaxu have been made to look like whining fools. I’d suggest, Sire— since you insist on doing this alone— that you keep a careful eye on the ambitions of House Atreides.”
“Thank you for your advice, Hasimir,” Shaddam said, turning back to study the game console. “Oh, by the way, did I mention that I’m . . . promoting you?”
Dune: House Atreides Page 64