Navigators of Dune

An injury to a man’s pride may inflict more pain than a wound to his body.

—HEADMASTER GILBERTUS ALBANS, Mentat axiom

Though badly shaken by the cymek attack that had nearly killed him, Manford Torondo took advantage of the aftermath. He had never seen such an infusion of energy as when his outraged followers howled for revenge. Human energy. And he could use that.

In a blood-red dawn following the attack, the stunned Butlerians worked together with shovels and bucket brigades to extinguish the spreading fires. Manford’s faithful rescued the injured and gathered the bodies of the slain. One crew recovered the mangled remains of Sister Woodra and gave her a proper burial, which Manford supervised.

As more reports streamed in, Manford struggled with disbelief. This was his home on Lampadas, his stronghold and sanctuary! He hadn’t felt so vulnerable since an assassin in Arrakis City had shot one of his body doubles. God had protected him then—as He had done again during this cymek assault. Manford’s current body double, a legless man with features similar to his own, waited to perform the same duty, if called upon. But there had been no time during the cymek attack.

In his office in the heart of the city, Manford was trembling as he listened to the damage and casualty summaries delivered by his deputy, Deacon Harian. The bald deacon was a perfect follower, willing to do anything for the Butlerian movement without remorse or hesitation. Incensed by the cymek attack, Harian had been like a cocked, spring-fired weapon waiting to be released.

Even before the fires were extinguished, Harian shouted, “We must retaliate, Leader Torondo! Let me take our ships to Kolhar immediately to hit Venport. We will attack the heart of his stronghold, just as he struck us.”

Manford considered this, then refused. “That is exactly how our enemy will expect us to respond: Last night’s attack may have been meant to provoke us. The Directeur will have defenses we cannot break through. Even the Emperor is afraid to strike him on Kolhar.”

“Our holy army is stronger and more dedicated than the Imperial forces,” Harian insisted. “Our followers are willing to die for you. Give us the order, beloved Leader. We will destroy that monster, whatever the cost.”

“You will all die in the attempt,” Manford said.

Harian lifted his chin. “Then we will all become martyrs.”

Manford knew the value of martyrs, but he still shook his head as he sat propped up behind his desk. “That would be a reckless waste of lives.” How he longed to unleash these people, to throw them at the enemy by the hundreds of thousands, by the millions—but Directeur Venport also had fighters, as well as advanced weapons and warships, and Manford didn’t wish to squander his people that way. “We will strike at a time of my choosing—when we are fully assured of victory. We will not be drawn into a trap.”

As word of the cowardly cymek attack spread across Lampadas, more Butlerians came to Empok. Deacon Harian dispatched messages across the Imperium to other Butlerian-held planets, spreading and exaggerating the news, which would arouse countless more followers—and, in so doing, would strengthen the Butlerian movement.

Josef Venport had made a grave mistake by attacking here.

Manford kept his public reaction hard and cold, not allowing even Anari Idaho to see how much the disaster affected him. Not only had Venport struck him here—here on Lampadas!—the man had used cymek nightmares from the past. Venport no longer even bothered to hide his alliance with the thinking machines. The collusion was right there for all to see. Manford had hated Josef Venport for a long time, but this appalled him.

Overly protective now, Anari refused to let him out of her sight. The Swordmaster had not slept in two days. Her face looked haggard, her eyes shadowed; she carried her sword, ready to face an army of cymeks single-handedly. She had always vowed to lay down her life for his, but the giant walkers proved that even she wasn’t equipped to defend him.

“This is a blessing. We have been shown that we are not sufficiently prepared,” she said. Her stony façade did not completely cover her fear, and Manford knew her well enough to see it. “We survived, and now we can reassess our defenses on Lampadas. Our people are not strong enough to fight those machine monsters—and Venport will send more of them against us. This time it was three; next time it could be thirty, or three hundred.”

Manford clung to what he knew was true. “Don’t underestimate us, either, Anari. Our followers have a weapon that Venport cannot comprehend.” He gestured for her to strap on the harness so he could ride on her shoulders. “Come outside. Let me show you.” She did as he instructed.