The future for Vorian Atreides—however long he had—was an open, empty canvas. He boarded the ship, with no idea where it was bound, and did not look back at the desert planet.
Threats are only words, and have the detrimental effect of warning your opponent, which allows him to prepare a defense or offense. I don’t believe in threats. I believe in hard, decisive action.
—VALYA HARKONNEN
After the Sisterhood was outlawed on Rossak, Valya was sent back to Lankiveil, against her will. She had been torn away from the jungle planet and herded onto a space transport with many other Sisters, unable to ask Reverend Mother Raquella what to do or how she could help preserve the core of the Sisterhood.
Everything was lost.
Her parents welcomed her back to the small, gloomy planet. It was the definition of home, she supposed: a place where family would take you in, no matter what shame or crisis you brought with you.
Griffin still had not returned from his hunt for Vorian Atreides, but her little brother and sister were excited to see her. Her mother and father had kept her old room for her, and they pestered her with questions about the Sisterhood. They weren’t really interested, but were glad to have her back. Her mother had never believed that the special training would benefit Valya.
From Valya’s perspective, though, she had learned too much to simply sit back and resign herself to a quiet, unambitious life. She looked forward to Griffin returning home, when the two of them could make plans and take new paths to restoring the Harkonnens to prominence. Her hopes for advancement through the Sisterhood, or through ties of friendship with Anna Corrino, had all run aground.
She remembered the Reverend Mother’s words: The Sisterhood is your only family now. But the order of women had been scattered, and her own family seemed to have forgotten what it really meant to be a Harkonnen. They had made poor decisions, which led to their exile here on this wintry world of cold seas and rugged fjords. They failed to grasp the significance of political events beyond their own backwater planet. They continued to disappoint her.
But Griffin had never let her down, and as days passed she grew increasingly worried about him. If she could jump into the arctic waters again to save him, she would.
One morning, two weeks after her arrival, Valya entered the main living area of her parents’ house. The fireplace was ablaze, and she could smell a pot of whale-meat stew cooking in the kitchen, a family recipe seasoned with aromatic local spices and vegetables. She had never liked Lankiveil cooking.
Her father chatted at great length with Valya about making alterations to their house, using different roofing materials and better insulation. She had no interest whatsoever. As the planetary leader, Vergyl Harkonnen made no attempt to advance the political position of House Harkonnen, and he merely shrugged when he received a notice that the Landsraad proxy for Lankiveil had signed on to Manford Torondo’s petition, and publicly added support for the Butlerians.
She sighed in dismay as she looked at her father now, sitting on a blocky wooden chair by the fire, engrossed in a book. In the time she’d been away, he had become a very small person. If House Harkonnen were ever to return to prominence and glory, it would not be up to him; it would be up to her and her brother.
Griffin, where are you? she thought, sensing something was wrong, terribly wrong.
Sonia Harkonnen sat at a small table where she used a thick needle and cord to sew pieces of whale fur together, making a new coat for Valya’s younger brother, Danvis. The boy was fourteen now, old enough to go out on fur-whale expeditions; his features and mannerisms reminded her of Griffin at that age.
Valya stood by the fire to warm herself. Every day since returning to this icy world, she’d been chilled to the bone—having grown accustomed to the comparatively warm and pleasant climate of Rossak. Her father greeted her with a smile. “Good morning, Valya.” Her mother followed with the same words, exactly, and her own vacuous smile.
Valya couldn’t wait to leave this place again.
When Sister Arlett had recruited her on a windswept day down by the docks, the woman had described how the school on Rossak could be Valya’s route to power and influence. But now the Sisterhood was a wounded creature, looking for someplace to heal … or die.
“We saved an omelet for you when you didn’t come down for breakfast.” Her mother gestured toward a covered warming dish on the hearth.
Valya decided to take the food up to her room, where she could think about what to do next. She picked up the plate and turned toward the wooden stairs, when she heard an urgent rapping at the door. It was not a good sound; her senses were immediately alert.
Her father waved her off and went to answer the knock. He opened the heavy door to see two local fishermen bringing a delivery, an oblong package almost two meters long, stamped with transfer labels from the VenHold Spacing Fleet. “This was in the shuttle that arrived last night. We’re still distributing.”
Vergyl thanked them, curious about the large package. Valya helped him pull it inside, but something about the size and shape of the container filled her with dread. Oblivious, her father poked at the labels to see if he could identify the sender’s name, but Valya ignored a message compartment and tore at the packaging, peeling away the sheets of polymer.
She was the first to see her brother’s dead face, his eyes closed, his cheeks covered with a stubble of beard. His goatee was matted, and there was a tracing of dust on his forehead and in his brown hair. His head lolled at an odd angle.
Shocked, her father stumbled backward and bumped into the wall, then began to sob. Her mother rushed forward to stare in horror at the body of her son. It was something parents should never have to see.
Valya summoned all of the training that the Sisterhood had given her. She had been taught how to study a situation in a hundred instant snapshots from every vantage. She froze and stared, then threw herself on the makeshift casket. In a very quiet voice, she whispered her brother’s name, knowing he could never answer her again. “Griffin!”
The two fishermen who had delivered the package bowed their heads respectfully. One of them opened the message compartment and handed an envelope to Vergyl Harkonnen. “This came too, sir. I’m very sorry, sir.” His partner handed over additional mail, and both of them stepped back.
Distraught and sobbing, Vergyl tore the first envelope open and his shaking hands tore the paper letter, but he pushed the pieces back together so he could read the words. He seemed as incapable of understanding the message as he was of comprehending the death of his son. “It’s … from Vorian Atreides.”
Valya grabbed the letter from him. “What? That bastard!”
She read the message, knowing it would either be gloating or lies. Written in a firm script, the letter asserted that her brother had died a hero, trying to defend Vorian against attackers. Nonsense! Griffin had gone to assassinate him, not save him. This Atreides was implying that they were friends! It had to be a lie, a complete lie!
Again, Vorian Atreides was sticking his thumb in the eyes of the Harkonnens.
“He killed my brother.” Though she didn’t know the circumstances of Griffin’s death, Valya knew whom to hold responsible. It felt even more personal to her now, and her desire to kill him more just.
Also in the mail delivered by the cargo ship was an ostentatious official document, signed, stamped, and sealed—a proclamation that Griffin Harkonnen had paid the requisite fees and passed all of the required examinations, and he had now been accepted as Lankiveil’s official planetary representative to the Landsraad.
Valya tore it in two.
“This vendetta will never end,” she whispered to her brother’s body. “I will find Vorian Atreides.”
* * *
SHE RETREATED TO her room and locked the door. Her parents assumed she had gone to grieve. Instead, reaching into a pocket, she brought out a small packet containing a single capsule of the new Rossak drug, a precisely measured portion she had taken
from Sister Karee’s lab. It was identical to the one that Anna Corrino had stolen and swallowed, the same dosage that had nearly killed her.
Valya held the pill between her thumb and forefinger, staring at it, trying to summon the nerve to take the poison—which would either kill her, or transform her. Previously, she had hesitated, worried that her death would cause irreparable harm to Harkonnen ambitions, but now she felt exactly the opposite. If she could become a Reverend Mother, with full control and precise access to her cellular chemistry, and to the memory-lives of all her female ancestors back to the dawn of time—then she would be unstoppable.
Valya could envision numerous ways to hunt down and destroy Vorian Atreides. The voices of her Other Memories would guide her.
She closed her eyes and swallowed the pill.
Setbacks can send you reeling off course, or they can make you stronger.
—REVEREND MOTHER RAQUELLA BERTO-ANIRUL, ADDRESS TO THE SISTERHOOD
The VenHold shuttle descended through a clear sky toward a planet that was chilly, but still hospitable to life. A new sanctuary, a place where Cioba assured them no one would look.
Even before Venport’s assistance, Raquella had developed a secret contingency survival plan, working closely with Karee Marques. The Sisterhood’s funds in offworld accounts had now been absorbed by the VenHold banking system. It was a tight alliance Raquella had not expected to make, but she could see the value.
Accompanied by twenty-eight ragtag followers that she had surreptitiously gathered, Raquella had high hopes for this scouting mission. If this world proved acceptable, she had made arrangements to rendezvous with additional Sisters who remained loyal to her. With luck, the VenHold Spacing Fleet would deliver them all here.
The old woman felt an obligation to each and every one of them. Those women had made vows of allegiance to her. She needed to get her new base of operations selected as soon as possible, and then begin contacting them, rebuilding her school.
Wallach IX had been one of the Synchronized Worlds under the control of Omnius, ruled for a time by the human traitor Yorek Thurr, and then destroyed a century ago by the Army of the Jihad in a nuclear attack. Most of the radiation had died down by now, and the planet was potentially habitable by humans. Venport assured the Reverend Mother that no commercial ships ever visited there.
The shuttle settled down on an old machine landing field that had survived the holocaust. A number of stone warehouse buildings surrounded the field, some of them collapsed. In the distance, Raquella saw sparse forests and a line of snow-covered peaks. Ice on nearby hills sparkled in the dim light of the blue-white sun, Laojin. Though projections suggested that this planet had a typically cold and rainy climate, today Wallach IX seemed to be showing off its natural beauty to the best effect.
She bundled up in a thick coat and stepped off the shuttle ramp onto the cracked pavement. As the other Sisters disembarked and walked toward the nearest building, Raquella felt a gust of sharp, cold wind that seemed to cut through her skin. This was quite a different environment from the humid jungles of Rossak. Dark clouds closed in quickly and spat down a wind-driven torrent of rain, drenching the women before they could reach cover.
Shivering in the shadows of the warehouse, Raquella said, “Directeur Venport assures us this place is safe. I think we’ve found our new homeworld.”
Here, on a distant, rugged planet, she would gather as many Sisters as possible and continue their training in secret. For now, her trainees had the goal of merely surviving … but soon, the Sisterhood would accomplish much more than that.
THE DUNE SERIES
BY FRANK HERBERT
Dune
Dune Messiah
Children of Dune
God Emperor of Dune
Heretics of Dune
Chapterhouse: Dune
BY FRANK HERBERT, BRIAN HERBERT, AND KEVIN J. ANDERSON
The Road to Dune (includes the original short novel Spice Planet)
BY BRIAN HERBERT AND KEVIN J. ANDERSON
Dune: House Atreides
Dune: House Harkonnen
Dune: House Corrino
Dune: The Butlerian Jihad
Dune: The Machine Crusade
Dune: The Battle of Corrin
Hunters of Dune
Sandworms of Dune
Paul of Dune
The Winds of Dune
Sisterhood of Dune
BY BRIAN HERBERT
Dreamer of Dune
(biography of Frank Herbert)
Brian Herbert is the author of many critically acclaimed novels, including Sudanna, Sudanna and the Timeweb Chronicles. In 2003, he published Dreamer of Dune, a Hugo Award–nominated biography of his father, Frank Herbert.
Kevin J. Anderson has been nominated for the Nebula Award, the Bram Stoker Award, and the SFX Readers’ Choice Award. He set the Guinness-certified world record for the largest single-author book signing. Visit him at www.wordfire.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.
SISTERHOOD OF DUNE
Copyright © 2011 by Herbert Properties LLC
All rights reserved.
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Herbert, Brian.
Sisterhood of Dune / Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
ISBN 978-0-7653-2273-9
1. Dune (Imaginary place)—Fiction. 2. Life on other planets—Fiction. I. Anderson, Kevin J., 1962– II. Title.
PS3558.E617S57 2012
813'.54—dc22
2011025167
e-ISBN 9781429986571
First Edition: January 2012
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Epigraphs
It has been eighty-three years …
1. After being enslaved …
2. We are barometers …
3. I have already contributed …
4. It is easy to look …
5. I am a generous man …
6. It will never be possible …
7. Life is complicated …
8. During the Jihad, Rossak …
9. It is a trivial thing …
10. What one person sees as …
11. Whether you see mankind’s …
12. A quiet observer …
13. History may remember me …
14. Slavery can take many forms …
15. The only good machine …
16. Adaptability is the essence …
17. One can draw …
18. A storm in the desert …
19. Practice can take …
20. From a tiny seed …
21. Life! If only …
22. Looking backward may seem …
23. Every noble family has …
24. Sadly, I must admit to myself …
25. The history of cooperation …
26. Superstitious fears are childish …
27. Every altruism has …
28. History is best left in the …
29. On my own planet …
30. Vengeance is as difficult …
31. Standing together, the remaining …
32. Love endures, but flesh …
33. I am the real Emperor …
34. Do we derive our identity …
35. Logic and reason are deceptive …
36. Be careful of the …
37. I’m a thinker …
38. We are like salmon …
39. Not all accidents …
>
40. We are much braver …
41. The galaxy is filled …
42. The lines of the past …
43. Most of the Imperium’s …
44. Theories change as …
45. Consider human life …
46. There is no more optimistic …
47. I am not afraid …
48. All jungles are unique …
49. A man may flee …
50. A successful search …
51. We should not be …
52. Most accomplishments are …
53. All Sisters have …
54. A hunt will always …
55. A prize is worth …
56. Logical enlightenment will …
57. Giving the latest …
58. The path to human …
59. Despite an appearance …
60. A pledge of loyalty …
61. Any attempt to amend …
62. Small experiences form …
63. It would be interesting …
64. As mortal humans …
65. The desert is not …
66. There are many journeys …
67. To play the game of …
68. The path of human …
69. A computer memory …
70. The thinking machine …
71. Measure what you fear …
72. It requires a white-hot …
73. Some people consider facts …
74. Life is filled with tests …
75. The first person to …
76. Those who nourish …
77. An Emperor has no shortage …
78. The human brain is a fragile …
79. Some things are too …
80. Anger, desperation, vengeance …
81. Sometimes it doesn’t take …
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