Sisterhood of Dune

by Brian Herbert; Kevin J. Anderson

  When Griffin returned to fuzzy awareness, he found himself propped up in a chair, his wrists still bound behind his back. Someone yanked the hood from his head, and he felt as if light and fresh air had been splashed in his face like a bucket of icy water.

  No one would waste water on Arrakis, he thought, and he realized he was still drugged, possibly delirious.

  Griffin heaved a deep breath, and the smells that assaulted his nostrils snapped him to awareness like ancient smelling salts. The air roiled with raw spice fumes and human odors, like fermented perspiration and unwashed skin and hair. He saw he was surrounded by rock walls.

  Sounding baffled, an unaccented male voice said, “I have never seen this person in my life. I have no idea who he is.”

  Griffin turned toward the voice, focused his eyes on the face—and tried to lunge out of his chair. “Vorian Atreides!”

  The other man recoiled in surprise. Two of Griffin’s captors shoved him back down into the chair. A gruff man with gray-black hair bound in a thick braid stood before Griffin, arms crossed over his chest. “Why have you been searching for this man?” he asked, nodding toward Atreides.

  “Because he destroyed my family.” Griffin wanted to spit. His own visceral reaction surprised him.

  Vorian just let out a long sigh and shook his head. “You’ll have to be more specific than that—I’ve lived a long life, and I don’t know how many of my enemies remain. I certainly don’t recognize you. What is your name?”

  “Harkonnen.” He summoned all his courage and anger, imagining what Valya would do if she were here. “Griffin Harkonnen.”

  The stunned look on Vorian’s face was almost worth the amount of time Griffin had waited to see it. When the realization blossomed behind Vor’s eyes, it was clear the man hadn’t forgotten what he’d done. “Are you Abulurd’s … grandson?”

  “Great-grandson. Because of you, the Harkonnens have been stripped of our heritage and left as pariahs on Lankiveil for four generations!”

  Vorian Atreides nodded, his expression distant. “Lankiveil … yes, I forgot that was where Abulurd went. Has it really been eight decades? I should have checked up on him.”

  Griffin was not finished. “And before that, Xavier Harkonnen, hero of the Jihad and one of the greatest fighters of thinking machines! He died in disgrace because you ruined his career!”

  Vorian’s gray eyes looked heavy. “I loved and respected Xavier Harkonnen, and I meant to make that right. I loved Abulurd, too—he was more of a son to me than my own sons were … until the Battle of Corrin.”

  “You abandoned him!”

  “There was nothing I could do.”

  “You could have forgiven him!”

  Vorian straightened. “No. I could not. I barely managed to prevent him from being executed. I sent him away to a place where he could live his life.… I did my best.”

  “Your best! You could have told the truth. You could have asked for clemency. You, the great Vorian Atreides, Supreme Bashar of the Jihad, could have saved him.”

  “I wish that were so, but the people would never have allowed it. Even his brother Faykan never forgave him. It saddens me the way this turned out for your family … especially for Xavier, who was a good man. But I was chased off the stage, and the Corrino Emperors have made it abundantly clear that I’m no longer wanted in public life. That’s why I came to Arrakis, to be forgotten.” His shoulders slumped. “And yet, you came hunting.”

  Valya had attributed so many crimes to this man, and Griffin felt all of them piling up in his mind like reeking fish carcasses from a die-off, washed up on a shore. Avenge our family honor.

  “The Harkonnens remember all you’ve done to our family, Atreides. You can’t hide from your past.”

  The raspy-voiced desert woman said, “Your past is not just haunting you, Vorian Atreides—it has declared war.”

  “But my conflict with Abulurd was a long time ago,” he said to Griffin. “How can that possibly concern you? You’ve had four generations to make your own life on Lankiveil—why go after me now?” Vorian frowned in apparent dismay. “How can an old grudge last that long?”

  “How can it ever fade away?” Griffin felt an infusion of his sister’s anger. The poison had to be drained before the wound could heal. “My brothers and sisters know of our disgrace. My children will know of it.”

  “I doubt you know the whole story.”

  “I know enough.”

  “I am sorry to hear how your family suffered, and I know what you blame me for, but it’s foolish to cling to your hatred for so long that it blinds you to the future. If I weren’t still alive, would you take revenge on my children and grandchildren? Any descendant, centuries from now, who bears the Atreides name? For how long?”

  “Until House Harkonnen is satisfied,” Griffin answered.

  “But I have no way of making amends. Your search for me has been in vain. The Naib already plans to cast me out into the desert.” He let out a small, humorless laugh. “If you had just waited a little longer, your revenge would have taken care of itself.”

  “Revenge never takes care of itself.” Griffin clung to a vision of Valya in his mind, and tried to think of what she would do in this situation. He did not want her to be disappointed in him.

  The Naib was angry at both Griffin and Vor. “This is a blood feud that the Freemen have no part of, Vorian Atreides—and you have brought it to our doorstep.” He gestured for one of the desert men to slash the bindings on Griffin’s wrists, and when free, the young man pulled his aching arms around in front, rubbing his hands, flexing his fingers.

  Vorian shook his head. “Once again, no matter how much I try to leave the universe alone, my enemies seek me out. And now I’ve made your tribe angry, as well. It is clear that I have overstayed my welcome.”

  The Naib directed his men. “Separate them, and take them back to empty chambers. Tomorrow, the desert shall have them both, and let their water go with them.”

  Griffin focused his gaze on Vorian Atreides as the desert men ushered him off into the tunnels.

  An Emperor has no shortage of plots against him.

  —EMPEROR FAYKAN CORRINO, FIRST RULER OF THE NEW IMPERIUM

  Dr. Zhoma waited for Roderick Corrino outside his government offices. She did not normally feel so agitated, and she used a calming technique she had been taught years ago on Rossak.

  Refusing to sit down, she paced back and forth in front of the elderly female receptionist, who sat at a large gilded desk, opulent enough to have been used by any nobleman in the Imperium. But Zhoma knew that Roderick—unlike his brother—was less interested in ostentation and self-indulgence than in wisely governing the thousands of worlds in the Imperium.

  Prince Roderick was late for their scheduled meeting, and Zhoma began to wonder if the Corrinos ever kept their appointments. At least he had sent a professional, considerate messenger to apologize for the delay.

  She was not so impressed, however, with Salvador. After he allowed the Butlerian fanatics to ruin the historic school building, she was very afraid for the future of human civilization. Although Reverend Mother Raquella had warned about some vague offspring down the chain of descendants, Zhoma felt the real danger was already at hand, not generations away.

  After listening to the Emperor’s litany of ills, Zhoma insisted on giving full medical checkups to Roderick, his wife, and their four children—as she had already done for Salvador and his wife, Tabrina. Accustomed to being given questionable treatments by Dr. Bando, Salvador wanted her to prescribe a magic cure. Under the circumstances, considering his unfounded trust in Bando, and now in her, she should have no trouble convincing him to take vitamin supplements laced with a drug to render him sterile.

  Staring out across ornamental gardens and sparkling fountains on the palace grounds, Zhoma still reeled from the barbaric display that had greeted her arrival here. The destruction of the historic Suk headquarters had been a great loss, and she had advised Dr. Waddiz t
o fund additional security forces on Parmentier to protect the main school complex. She had no idea how the school would pay for it, even with the money the Emperor and the Sisterhood would be paying her.

  Nevertheless, she already felt trapped here.

  Fortunately, Roderick seemed to be far more rational than his brother, a man who thought beyond his own interests. In her mind, he would make a far better Emperor.…

  Roderick Corrino entered the outer offices at a brisk pace, all business. He gestured for her to follow him into his private office and closed the door. “Sorry for the delay, Doctor. I’ve been discussing the recent matter of the old Suk School building with my brother. First, my personal apologies—the destruction of that historic facility was a travesty, but it was the best way to control Manford Torondo and his fanatics for the time being. Allow us to assist your school and compensate you for the damage.”

  Zhoma swallowed hard, tried to cover her joy at the possibility of another significant cash infusion into the school coffers. “Thank you for that, my Lord. Money cannot replace the priceless treasure that the mobs destroyed, even if the fee were calculated at high market value. Still, such funding can be applied to our other works. Suk doctors are doing so much good, helping so many people—if only we weren’t hamstrung by the limitations the Butlerians force upon us. We are not allowed to use our best technology, and thus many people are misdiagnosed. They die for lack of treatment that should have been widely available.”

  Roderick gave her a rueful smile. “I insist that you use every means available to keep our family in the best of health—no matter what the Butlerians say. You just let me deal with them.”

  Knowing she had to tread carefully, Zhoma ventured, “I was hoping, my Lord, that you might be our advocate—not only with the Butlerians, but with your brother, as well. In my medical opinion, your father’s cancer would not have killed him if he’d accepted advanced medical treatment.”

  Roderick nodded slowly. “Our father … changed toward the end of his life. After the scandal with Toure Bomoko, the rape of the Virgin Empress, and the execution of all the CET delegates, he became quite reactionary.” The prince looked up at her again. “But we don’t have to be. I will be your advocate, though I cannot guarantee that the Emperor will always listen.”

  “You are the Emperor’s brother.”

  “And you are the Emperor’s physician, as well as the administrator of the Suk School.”

  She was pleased he would consider her so important. “Unlike other administrators who pay themselves handsomely and value money above all else, my entire salary as your brother’s physician will go directly to the Suk School accounts to pay for the extensive new Parmentier facility.” Zhoma kept her expression bland, so he did not read how much she had despised Dr. Bando.

  The office door flew open and a small blonde girl ran in, crying. Ignoring Zhoma, she crossed the room to her father. “Sammy’s gone! I can’t find him anywhere!”

  “I’m in a meeting now, Nantha.” Roderick bent over to wipe the tears from the six-year-old’s face. “Wait outside my office, honey, and I’ll get someone to find your dog. I’ll call out the Imperial troops if I have to. He can’t be far away. We’ll find him.”

  The child nodded. He kissed her on the cheek, and she trundled off, not quite closing the door behind her. Moments later, someone else closed it from the other side.

  “My youngest daughter,” Roderick said to Zhoma. “Sorry about the interruption.”

  “I’ve read her medical files, in preparation for the checkups … whenever you and your family find it convenient, sir.”

  Now that she observed firsthand how rational and considerate Roderick Corrino was, she felt convinced that she had to do more than simply prevent Salvador from having children … she had to stop him from doing further harm. Right now. And as his personal physician, with very close access, she would have plenty of opportunities.…

  The choices were limited, but obvious. As a Suk doctor, she was sworn to protect life, but if she opened the way for Roderick to become the ruler instead, she rationalized that she would be saving lives. Zhoma had already accepted murder as her only choice once before.

  * * *

  SHE MAINTAINED A professional demeanor while she met Roderick, Haditha, and their four children in the palace clinic. After performing thorough checkups, Dr. Zhoma gave the prince’s family a clean bill of health and annotated their records accordingly. As Haditha and the children left the front office, Zhoma watched them. “Your children are the hope of the Corrinos, Prince Roderick—the next Imperial line.”

  He smiled. “I’m still confident my brother will produce an heir. He knows his responsibility to the bloodline, and so does Empress Tabrina. Failing that, he has his concubines, just as our father had. I intend to pester him to get about his business with a little more diligence.”

  Zhoma looked hard at him as they went inside the private examination room, and she closed the security door. “If nothing comes of it, I’m confident you could handle the Imperial duties well enough.”

  He became instantly cold. “My brother is the rightful Emperor, and I have no desire for the throne—my duty is to protect and support Salvador.” He studied her with such intensity, she felt as if she were being vivisected. “Why do you ask? Did you find something in his medical exam?”

  “No, no. He is healthy, but I’ve prescribed a vitamin supplement that should increase his energy.”

  “In that case, maybe I should take the same supplement, and my family should, as well.”

  She did not hide her reaction quickly enough, and he spotted something in her expression. “That won’t be necessary, sir. It’s a special formulation, tailored for Salvador alone. I can provide a similar supplement for you and your family as well, if you like.”

  He didn’t press her for more information, but she saw the wheels turning in his head. Afraid that she had raised his suspicions, Zhoma took her leave as quickly and politely as possible.

  * * *

  UNABLE TO SHAKE his uneasy suspicion, Roderick delved more deeply into the background of Dr. Zhoma. Using his Imperial mandate, he retrieved the woman’s travel records, which were perplexingly muddy, with many of her trips made under unusual circumstances and with destinations that made little sense. He suspected Zhoma was hiding some unorthodox activity, which concerned Roderick even more.

  He discovered that not only was the Suk administrator a talented physician who had graduated with high scores (although she rarely practiced medicine on actual patients), but Zhoma was also a former attendee of the Sisterhood’s school on Rossak and had left the school abruptly four decades earlier.

  He thought of Sister Perianna’s suspicious activities and her mysterious departure from his wife’s service. And he and his brother had sent Anna to the Sisterhood as a new acolyte for protection and instruction. Might they indoctrinate her instead?

  He would have to stay alert.

  That night he joined his brother for a private dinner, knowing that Salvador preferred conversation between the two of them rather than the extravagant and exhausting public banquets. The brothers ate a simple but delicious meal of roast fowl, rice, and vegetables, all of which had been carefully tested for poisons in accordance with Salvador’s request.

  When the Emperor took out a small ampule filled with a transparent honey-colored liquid, Roderick stopped him from consuming it. “What is that?”

  “The vitamin supplement Dr. Zhoma gave me. She says it will make me feel like a new man, healthier and more energetic. Ah, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt normal.”

  Frowning, Roderick extended his hand. “May I?” Salvador gave him the vial, and Roderick held it up to the light, pondering. “Before you take this, I’d like to have it tested.”

  “Tested? For what? It was prescribed by my personal physician. You chose her yourself.”

  “I’d like to be sure. We supposedly trust our kitchen staff, yet we test all our food for poison.
Should we be any less diligent with your medicines?”

  Salvador frowned. “I suppose not.”

  Roderick pocketed the vial. “You know I’m always looking out for you, Salvador.”

  “Sometimes I think you’re the only one who does, whether I deserve it or not.”

  Roderick’s heart went out to his brother, seeing the ache and emptiness in his face. “Of course you deserve it.”

  * * *

  BECAUSE HER PRESENCE agitated Salvador, the Empress Tabrina spent much of her time in Roderick’s offices, asking persistent questions about Imperial representatives, as well as various cabinet ministers and ambassadors.

  Roderick knew that Tabrina was studying the duties to find an appropriate position for herself, whether or not Salvador ever granted her a title. The more Tabrina asked the Emperor, the more stubborn he became. Roderick understood his brother much better than the Empress did.

  It wasn’t that Salvador viewed his wife as incompetent, it was that he considered government positions, cabinet posts, and ambassadorships as rewards to be granted for service, as commodities to be sold to appropriately influential people. Giving such a job to his wife would be a wasted opportunity.

  Now Tabrina leaned close to Roderick in his office, studying two new decrees that had been drafted in Salvador’s name. The door was closed “for confidentiality,” according to the Empress. He remained as patient as possible, though she leaned too close and she wore too much pheromone-laced perfume—certainly not for Salvador’s benefit.

  She pushed the decrees aside, even though Roderick hadn’t finished reading them. “There’s so much talk about me having an Imperial heir,” she said.

  “As there should be. Salvador’s son will be next in line for the throne, and the people grow tired of waiting.” He looked up at her. “You have responsibilities to the Imperium, Tabrina.”

  “I could bear a Corrino heir … but we both know you would be a better Emperor. You’re the smarter one, the better-looking one.” Tabrina sounded flippant. “Why was Salvador born first? It’s like genetic roulette, and you lost.”