Navigators of Dune

Tula wasn’t foolish enough to think that the price had been paid in full. Every day that she recovered here on Chusuk, she expected Valya to dispatch Sisters to find her. Ostensibly, they would claim they were coming to “protect” her and bring her back to Wallach IX so she could continue her training and go after the Atreides again, in another way. But now Tula was afraid of that training. She was also sure that Vorian and Willem Atreides would try to track her down to kill her. An unending cycle of violence.

Tula’s emotions swung like a pendulum. She just wanted to be left alone and forget she was a Harkonnen, forget she was anyone at all. But she doubted that was an option. If Vorian ever found her, he would make her pay the ultimate price … and if Valya found her, she would make Tula pay in a different way.

Tula liked to bring her baliset into the market, where she would find a place under the colorful awnings. She played songs—not to attract an audience, but simply to create music near other poets and musicians who did the same. She chose favorite tunes of the fur-whalers on Lankiveil, songs no one on Chusuk had ever heard. She also created her own melodies, exploring the music with her fingers and imagination.

Each day a young man, nearly her age, set up a workbench nearby, where he could listen to her. He was surrounded by the fumes of lacquer and turpentine as he built handcrafted balisets, which he also played to test them. He flashed Tula a smile whenever she turned her attention toward him.

She didn’t want to encourage him, didn’t want to use the Sisterhood’s psychological manipulation and seduction techniques she’d mastered in order to make herself irresistible—regrettably—to Orry Atreides. Tula could easily have enticed the young baliset maker into her bed, but the very thought formed a knot in her stomach. She concentrated on her own music instead.

The young man finally identified himself as Liem Valjean. “Your instrument is in tune, but if you adjust the flywheel, the tone will be richer. I think you have a slightly defective one.” He asked if he could see her baliset, and checked the pegs securing the strings, repaired and balanced the flywheel, and then began to play the instrument.

He was highly skilled, and the music he evoked was far superior to her own. When he offered to instruct her, she hesitated for only a moment. Liem was not her mission; she didn’t need to spy on him, seduce, or slay him. On the other hand, aside from Danvis, she could not think of anyone she even considered a friend. And a friend was what she desperately needed.

She played her baliset as he watched and listened. At first she picked out a sad song, and then she decided to play something livelier and more cheerful, one that Liem seemed to like better, as did she.

Allies can have different priorities. Some may be focused on personal gain, while others seek revenge. As for me, I am driven by my own destiny. That is my priority.

—DIRECTEUR JOSEF VENPORT, speech before dispatching the Venport Holdings fleet

As Josef strode across the field of Navigators, his thoughts were awhirl with his decision. He could no longer just sit back, gather his defenses, and wait for the Emperor to come to his senses; Roderick Corrino had forced him to go on the offensive.

Overhead, Kolhar’s midday sun was a bright spot trying to burn through the clouds. Josef stewed as he walked among the sealed tanks, smelling the sharp odor of vented spice. The candidates inside squirmed with their horrific transformation, but he was preoccupied with his own problems.

Josef had never considered himself a revolutionary, nor had he harbored any aspirations to overthrow the Imperial throne, but the Emperor had changed the rules. Damn the man! Rather than focusing on their mutual enemy, the dangerous Butlerians, Roderick’s pointless vendetta made collaboration impossible. By proving that he intended to destroy Venport Holdings at any cost, by showing that he wanted to ruin Josef and erase his legacy, Roderick demonstrated that he would never compromise or negotiate of his own free will.

So, Josef would make him negotiate—or he would crush the Emperor entirely. He needed to assume a position of overwhelming strength and finish the matter on his own terms. Roderick Corrino would either be reasonable, or else he would be replaced.

Josef peered through the murky plaz of a nearby tank to see a figure adrift inside, its eyes closed, as if at peace with the universe. But he drew no insight there, and moved on up the slope to the midst of the tanks.