The Winds of Dune

by Brian Herbert

  Gurney frowned, struggling to fit the tragedy into his concept of honor and decency, as well as loyalty to her and to House Atreides. With an effort, Jessica kept her voice from breaking; she sounded strong and firm, thanks to her Bene Gesserit training—and she hated herself for it.

  “Without these instigators, the revolt on Caladan falls apart. Therefore, Paul doesn’t have to respond at all. It remains a local matter, which I have dealt with, as Duchess. No need for the Fedaykin to get involved. Without these ten people, there will be no additional violence, or bloodshed, or repercussions on a hundred other worlds.” She swallowed hard and added, “You know it yourself, Gurney. A mad dog must be put down before it can cause greater harm. These people were mad dogs. It was the only way. If I had hesitated . . .”

  Finally, tears fell from her eyes, and she wiped them away with a quick gesture. Gurney turned his eyes away, pretending not to notice. All her life, the Sisterhood had forced her to build up impenetrable walls around her emotions, forced her not to feel, but in such an extreme case, after the terrible decision she had made, Jessica could not help herself.

  The lumpy man nodded, very slowly. When she saw his mood change, Jessica realized she’d never had any doubt that Gurney Halleck would remain loyal to her.

  He said, “So these ten are no different from the cannon-fodder shock troops in a war zone. They died in a battle that they helped create, and unfortunately they chose the wrong side.” His voice sounded bleak. “I understand it better now, my Lady, but I still don’t like it. I don’t like what this changes in me. I’ve killed plenty of people in my service to House Atreides, but never before have I felt as if I participated in . . . murder.”

  Jessica took his hands in hers and said sadly, “Time and war change everything from bright and new to old, worn, and dirty. It is not murder. That’s not the right word for it when a ruler performs necessary executions. As the Duchess of Caladan, that is one of my hardest duties.”

  She could no longer maintain any semblance of her composure. She rushed from the banquet hall, saying nothing else, giving no further orders. When she returned later, she knew that all the bodies would be gone, and everything would appear normal once more.

  Inside her chambers, Jessica closed the door and threw the bolt home. She hoped the wooden barrier would be thick enough that no one could hear her. Fortunately, on Caladan there was no stricture against giving water to the dead.

  Hours later, after she had drained away her grief, Jessica sat at her writing desk to compose a coldly worded message. The glow-globe cast a pool of light around her. Years ago, when she had asked the Bene Gesserit for help in finding the boys Paul and Bronso, she had received only a curt refusal. Now it was her turn to send a response that minced no words. She addressed the letter specifically to Reverend Mother Mohiam, her stern teacher, her secret mother.

  “Your plan has failed. I know how you tried to manipulate me and others, but I am no longer a cog in your machine, and I will never be a part of your inner circle. So be it. I never asked to be Mother Superior.

  “I know who you are, Gaius Helen Mohiam. I know your soul is filled with acid. Heed this warning—to you, personally, and to the entire Sisterhood: If the Bene Gesserits make another attempt to disgrace or destroy Paul, I will convince my son to send the full weight of his Jihad against the Mother School. I will ask him to sterilize Wallach IX, as he has sterilized other worlds. Believe me, I can persuade him to do it, so do not doubt my sincerity. He has wiped out other groups—religious and secular—that offended him. Do not add yourselves to that list.”

  She paused in her writing, but anger pounded in her temples. Mohiam had made her come so close to believing their lies, so close to killing her own son.

  Jessica added a postscript: “Do not send me messages or dispatch your envoys to Caladan. I have no desire to hear from you again. You berated me for allowing myself to feel love. I assure you, I am also capable of feeling hatred.”

  Those who worship Muad’Dib, read this.

  Those who believe the lies of the Qizarate and the exaggerations of Princess Irulan, read this.

  Those who respect truth, read this.

  —BRONSO OF IX, introduction to his first pamphlet (untitled)

  Jessica prepared herself for any backlash from angry townspeople who had lost friends, family, or well-respected members of the community. However, the initial reaction to the execution of a handful of dissidents on Caladan could have been much worse. At least for now, many of the disgruntled and dissatisfied locals accepted the Duchess’s pronouncement that placed the guilt directly on the shoulders of Mayor Horvu, the priest Sintra, and the other leaders of the revolt. After she explained how the good people of Caladan had been manipulated by the Bene Gesserits, the citizens reacted with shame and directed their anger toward the Sisterhood instead of her. When had the people of Caladan ever openly defied their rightful Duke or Duchess?

  After being released, the hostage Qizaras applauded Jessica for her swift and sure justice, and they promised to speak on Caladan’s behalf so that Muad’Dib’s wrath would not fall upon this world or its people. They returned to Arrakis, ruffled but satisfied.

  Then Bronso of Ix released his first shocking manifesto. It was late in the year 10,200, when the pundi-rice farmers of Caladan were preparing their paddies for the following season . . . when Muad’Dib had just sent a terrible force of ships to sterilize eleven more planets . . . when the Jihad seemed as if it would never end.

  Distributed widely, copied, and passed from hand to hand, the treatise both horrified and titillated people with its bold and appalling claims. In a resounding reaction, the faithful rallied to protect the reputation and sanctity of Emperor Paul-Muad’Dib. On Caladan, those who might have complained about the executions of Horvu and his fellow conspirators suddenly found themselves infuriated by Bronso’s damning passages—so infuriated, in fact, that they had to tell everyone else about the outrageous, insulting claims.

  Paul’s generals and priests issued an immediate order for the arrest and interrogation of the upstart Ixian, but Bronso Vernius was nowhere to be found. After transferring away most of his wealth, secretly draining House Vernius funds, Bronso had left the Grand Palais and vanished into space, leaving no trace of his whereabouts.

  Jihad troops bearing the banners of orthodoxy encircled Ix, swarmed into the underground city of Vernii, and questioned all members of the Technocrat Council, demanding to know how they had aided the traitor in spreading his sedition. Fearing for their lives, the Ixian Council disavowed all knowledge of Bronso’s actions and vehemently condemned him. Unfortunately for them, the military arm of the Qizarate did not find their denials convincing. Along with many others, Bolig Avati did not survive his interrogation.. . .

  Gurney brought one of the pamphlets to Jessica as she tended her new gardens in the courtyard of Castle Caladan. “Have you read what Bronso is saying, my Lady?”

  She tamped down dirt around a new, fragrant-smelling rosemary bush. “No, I’ve chosen not to think about it.”

  He seemed barely able to contain his annoyance. “I snatched this from a bonfire down at the docks. The villagers confiscated copies from a man who found them in his baggage. They’re so incensed at the insult to Paul that they wanted to throw the man in the flames as well. He insisted he didn’t know how the documents had come into his possession, and I sent him back up to the Heighliner to save his life.” He lowered his voice. “Like you, I didn’t want to read drivel against Paul . . . but if I had read this beforehand, maybe I would have let them have their way with the man.”

  Gurney extended the pamphlet to her, but Jessica still made no move to take it. She brushed dirt from her palms. “And what exactly upsets you so much? Have you been reading Irulan’s syrupy reports for so long you’ve forgotten that Paul doesn’t actually walk on water?”

  Gurney frowned and took a seat beside her on a stone bench in the garden. “Actually, Irulan claims that he walks on sand but le
aves no footprints.” He opened the pamphlet again, skimmed it, then threw it down on the ground in disgust to emphasize his point. Jessica did not pick it up.

  “To be honest, my Lady, I can’t claim that his facts are absolutely wrong. But ever since Earl Rhombur was killed and Bronso turned his back on House Atreides, I knew he’d be trouble. That boy has let his hatred fester, and now . . . this.” In frustration, Gurney leaned closer to her. “Why aren’t you more upset?”

  Jessica gave him an enigmatic, pained smile, snipping an aromatic frond of the herb, inhaling deeply. “Oh Gurney, my son’s government is strong enough to weather a little criticism—and maybe even benefit from it. The priests, of course, will cover their eyes and ears, but Paul might listen, and Alia too.”

  “I suppose you’re right, my Lady. Duke Leto would never have been afraid of a few complaints.” Gurney had a wistful look on his face. “I’m guilty of a similar thing myself. When I was much younger, I sang a few songs about the Baron Harkonnen.” He hummed, then burst into a refrain:

  “We work in the fields, we work in the towns,

  and this is our lot in life.

  For the rivers are wide, and the valleys are low,

  and the Baron—he is fat.”

  He shook his head to drive away the bad memories. “When the Harkonnen troops heard me sing that, they smashed my baliset, beat me to within an inch of my life, and threw me into a slave pit.”

  Jessica covered his hand with hers, silently acknowledging everything he had gone through. “So you see, Gurney, we should ignore Bronso. He’ll probably just go away.”

  But she knew that Bronso of Ix was just getting started.

  PART V

  10,207 AG

  Two months after the end of Muad’Dib’s reign

  Knowledge is an impotent thing if a person refuses to believe.

  —Bene Gesserit axiom

  By the time Jessica finished her story and glanced back at the moonlit silhouette of the landed ’thopter, both Irulan and Gurney were deeply shaken. For the past seven years, that hidden knowledge had weighed like cold lead inside of Jessica.

  She had paid a terrible price. Even after so much time had passed, the pain still burned deeply. To this day, Bronso of Ix continued to pay his share of the price, doing what Paul had asked him to do, even while the hounds of Alia pursued him . . . even while the populace reviled him for the truths he exposed.

  “ ‘A secret shared is a burden shared, but the weight can still be crushing.’ ” Gurney hung his head. “Ahh, my Lady, all these years! I feel like a fool for not having guessed, for some of the things I said to you, which made your pain even heavier, and more lonely.” His scar looked like a dark line of blood in the light of the two moons. “I understand war, and I thought I knew the logical reasons for what you did to those ten ringleaders . . . but even so, I didn’t understand it all. I was bound by my oath to House Atreides, and to you. Now at last I comprehend all of what you were doing, and why . . . but it isn’t easy knowledge to have.”

  “I sacrificed a great deal for Paul—something of my humanity,perhaps, but the options before me were difficult.” Jessica led them back toward the ’thopter, knowing it was time to go. They could only cover up their secret meeting for a short while before Alia would grow suspicious.

  She paused before they reached the ornithopter, still wary that there might be listening devices hidden inside, despite the precautions they had taken. “Now you understand why I had to speak of these things away from the Citadel. The Qizara Tafwid would call it blasphemy and execute me before I could tell anyone else. And they would kill you for what you know. I’m not sure Alia would try to stop them. She doesn’t recognize what she owes me—or Bronso.”

  “What could Alia possibly owe Bronso?” Irulan asked.

  Jessica smiled. “He is the one who revealed to me the plot of Alia’s priests, Isbar’s intention of assassinating her and Duncan during their wedding. She doesn’t know she owes him her life.”

  Gurney’s eyes grew large. “Bronso was your secret source? Your spy in the Citadel?”

  “He wasn’t actually there, but Ixians have their ways of collecting information. Rest assured, he doesn’t have any personal vendetta against Alia. He only wants to spread the real story about Paul.”

  Gurney’s features looked sallow in the starlight. “Oh, I wish I had brought my baliset along, since now is the time for a long, sad song.”

  Jessica drew a deep breath. “Even though some of his harshest criticisms are as wildly untrue as the glorifications Alia wants written, Bronso still serves a vital purpose, and must be allowed to continue. It’s a purpose that Paul himself asked him to take on, to counterbalance the things done in his name, a necessary weakening of the too-powerful bureaucracy and the priesthood that he could not defeat any other way. Paul saw only danger ahead if his myth grew even more out of control.” Her voice hitched. “Bronso of Ix is the only hope I have of keeping my son human instead of letting him be reduced to a legend.”

  Over the years, Princess Irulan had taken a great deal of offense at Bronso’s writings because they directly clashed with her version of history, but now she wrestled with the reality, obviously finding it difficult to accept the hard truth. “If I believe you that Paul requested this himself, Lady Jessica, then you’re placing me in an impossible situation. Paul’s wishes are utterly incompatible with what Alia wants me to write about him.”

  “And where does your true loyalty lie?” After opening herself, Jessica felt empty and naked before her fellow Bene Gesserit Sister, her daughter-in-law. “Won’t you protect Paul and what he wanted for his legacy?”

  In the low light, Irulan’s face was distraught. “Would Alia let me? That is not a simple question! There are already too many people who think that the daughter of Shaddam Corrino is more threat than benefit to the Regency. Alia could have me executed for not cooperating. Or she might send me away to Salusa Secundus and never let me see Paul’s children again.”

  Jessica was a bit surprised by this last statement. “They are not your children.”

  “They are Paul’s, and I loved him.”

  Finally reaching the ’thopter, they climbed in silently, each of them deep in thought. The interior of the cabin glowed with greenish light from the craft’s standby control panel. Looking out glumly, Jessica saw that First Moon was just setting into the rugged horizon.

  Beside her, Gurney reactivated the systems, prepared to take off. One of the panels on the console sent a signal, and he reacted quickly, gazing out through the curved cockpit window, scanning the starry skies. “Searchers are out there, trying to find us. They’ve locked on to our locator beacon.”

  “Already?” Irulan said. “Sietch Tabr could not have reported us overdue or missing yet.”

  “Even though we switched ’thopters, Alia’s men could have been tracking us ever since we left Arrakeen,” Jessica said. “When we dropped off their screens, searchers would have been dispatched immediately.” She pointed to approaching lights in the distance.

  Gurney worked the controls, pushing his emotions aside and focusing his mind on the ornithopter, running through a checklist. All business. “Time to fix our little mechanical problem, then.” He activated the comm, took up the microphone, and spoke brusquely into it. “This is Gurney Halleck, pilot of Imperial flight six six five alpha. Sorry if we caused you concern. We needed to set down to adjust an unbalanced rotor and fix a stabilizing linkage.”

  A voice crackled back, “Do you require assistance?”

  “No, no, it’s just a minor inconvenience. Nothing a good field mechanic couldn’t handle. Both passengers are fine.” He powered up the engines, set the wings in motion. “We’re on our way.”

  “We warned you against taking one of the ’thopters that had not been approved for your use,” the voice said.

  Gurney looked meaningfully at Jessica, then picked up the transmitter. “I’ll remember that next time. No harm done.”

&nbs
p; Jessica and Irulan sat in silence as the ’thopter lifted off from the rock outcropping into the empty, moonlit sky. In a matter of moments, the focused lights of search ’thopters swirled around them like the luminous night insects in a Caladan marsh.

  “We will escort you safely to Sietch Tabr,” transmitted one of the ’thopter pilots. Gurney thanked them as they flew together over the harsh desert.

  I have long disagreed with the fundamental Bene Gesserit admonition against falling in love. Love itself is not the danger. People who do not understand the sentiment, or who care nothing for it, are far more dangerous.

  —LADY JESSICA in a letter to Mother Superior Harishka on Wallach IX

  The next day, returning from Sietch Tabr after an uneventful visit with the Fremen, Jessica went to her private chambers in the great Citadel of Muad’Dib. She felt exhausted, and was experiencing second thoughts about having shared her heavy secrets. The knowledge of Bronso’s mission would only make circumstances more difficult for Gurney, and especially for Irulan. She had placed the Princess in an untenable situation, and Jessica wasn’t entirely sure that Irulan wanted to believe what she had heard.

  But they were truths, painful and necessary truths.

  Forcing calm upon herself, Jessica prepared to meditate and practice subtle exercises of precise muscular control, to relax her body and clear her mind. Soon she would return to her Atreides homeworld. Caladan, oh Caladan! She missed the sound of the rushing sea and the fresh smells, in stark contrast with the sensory-deadening rasp of blowing sand from the constant winds of Dune. Even so, she didn’t think she could ever leave the desert planet behind entirely.