Navigators of Dune

She only wished Tula would be part of it, but her sister had gone home, at least temporarily. Tula seemed unsettled, and Valya hoped the young woman would come to her senses quickly, leave her self-imposed exile on Lankiveil, and become a strong member of the Sisterhood again. Tula might need firm encouragement … but Valya’s patience with her had not run out. Not yet.

In any event, she had discreet operatives who were subtly keeping watch on the girl, just to make sure Tula did nothing foolish. It was best not to take chances.

The wind howled as the storm became a blizzard, but she knew that a far more powerful storm was coming. Valya shouted, “Now strip down to your fighting clothes, all of you. It is time for combat training.”

When immersed in the vivid memories of actions I have taken, I can revel in them or regret them, but I cannot undo them.

—TULA HARKONNEN, lament written on Chusuk

Though Lankiveil was her home, Tula felt that any sanctuary was only an illusion. She had trouble grasping who she really was anymore, and didn’t know how she could find her own purpose in life. Was she her own person, or the Sisterhood’s pawn … her sister’s pawn?

Valya had transformed her into a weapon of vengeance, but that weapon had already been fired, and it was time to either reload or discard it.

Tula sat near a warm fire in the Harkonnen great house. Outside, the skies were overcast, and a chill spring wind ruffled the water in the fjord. Her father and his crew had gone out on a three-day fur-whale hunt, but Tula remained home with her mother and brother, Danvis. They were glad to have her home, and Tula felt calmer in their company, although she pretended to be much more content than she actually was. She constantly jumped at shadows, always watching for someone dangerous and unexpected out of the corner of her eye—possibly Vorian or Willem Atreides. She knew they would never let her rest after the bloody scene she had left behind on Caladan.

Tula spun the flywheel of her baliset and toyed with the strings, strumming familiar childhood songs, but the music did little to soothe her heart. Danvis sat down next to her with an uncertain smile. “I remember that one! I forgot that you could play the baliset so well.”

“It’s been a long time … a long time since I’ve had a reason to play music.”

Her brother was sixteen now, with black hair and dark blue eyes. The two of them were as close as brother and sister could be, maybe even as close as Valya and Griffin had been before Vorian Atreides killed him. Now, as Tula’s thoughts began to ricochet down that dark hallway, she tried to focus instead on the music, and then on Danvis, who made her realize how sweet and innocent she herself had been before Valya reshaped her into a deadly tool.

Her family had no idea what that training had entailed, how Tula had been taught to use her every manipulative and sexual skill in order to ensnare one particular young man on Caladan: Orry Atreides.

After killing Orry as instructed, Tula had returned to Wallach IX, where she received Valya’s deep appreciation, but she’d been disturbed and unhappy instead. Valya clearly didn’t understand her mood, nor why Tula wanted to go home to Lankiveil to recuperate. Even here, her family was full of questions about what had happened, where she had been, and what she had done. Tula remained tight-lipped.

“Is Valya coming home soon too?” her mother pressed, cheerful and thinking small.

“Valya is never coming home. She is the Sisterhood’s Mother Superior now. She has larger concerns than our welfare.”

No matter how she tried, Tula could not hide from her own guilt. She spent a lot of time now with Danvis, who was still her best friend, and he could sense that she was troubled. He wasn’t shy about asking questions, even after she told him she didn’t want to answer, and he kept pressing. Once, when her agitation made her drop her guard, she let slip, “I got married,” then clamped her mouth shut again.

After that, Danvis peppered her with more questions, but she refused to reveal Orry’s name or speak about his gentle personality, his foolish-looking smile—and all that blood. Killing the Atreides had been her mission, and Tula had not dared to disappoint her sister. Under other circumstances, though, Tula might actually have grown fond of the young man.