Navigators of Dune

It had been eight decades since he’d fought in the Jihad, when he spent each day in a constant state of heightened alert. After retiring from service—and from public life—Vor concealed his identity and vanished into his own legend. For a long time he had tried to be a normal man, clinging to an ordinary life in hopes of putting the horror and bloodshed behind him. But it had been foolish to hope he could simply become a common man again. He could never escape the events in the Jihad, nor could he escape the enmity that generations of Harkonnens held toward him. He could never run away from the fact that he was Vorian Atreides.

He guessed that by now Tula Harkonnen had been whisked off to Wallach IX. Her sister Valya was there, someone who also hated him. And if Tula was enfolded in the arms of the Sisterhood, Vor and Willem would never reach her. He feared they had lost their chance.

Unless he could entice them out.

Vor said to the Princess, “Stay here and watch Willem. He may still be in danger, so guard him carefully and get him the best possible medical care. I can pay for anything he needs.”

She shook her head. “Oh, he’ll receive the best care, and we won’t accept any money from you. I’m a member of the noble family here, so funds are not an issue.”

He nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I need to leave today—I’ll draw them out, find a way to get the Harkonnens focused on me instead of Willem.”

“I will keep him safe,” Harmona said. “He can heal on my estate, and no one will get through our security.”

Vor nodded. “When the time is right, I’ll send for him.”

Willem again tried to argue, but he was fading, both from the pain and from a powerful sedative the doctor had given him. Harmona regarded Vor with a pragmatic look. “For years your face was on Imperial coins—Vorian Atreides, the greatest hero of Serena Butler’s Jihad. My grandparents and great-grandparents spoke of you with admiration. It’s terrible what happened to Willem’s brother at the hands of that monstrous girl!”

“Someday this feud will be over,” he said. “I want to end it—without putting Willem at even greater risk. This problem is of my own making, and I have to take care of it.”

He had already begun planning his trap. Maybe he could lure Valya and Tula into coming after him. He knew they wanted him more than any other target. For his legacy and for House Atreides, he had to deflect the danger away from Willem.

Vor had spent a lot of time mentoring the young man, trying to envision him as the leader of the Atreides family. Yes, Vor could see it. In so many ways, Willem reminded him of himself, and he could still make something of his life. It was important for him to do so.

When Vor looked at Harmona, he knew he was leaving Willem in good hands. No regrets. “I am going to Corrin—a place where if the Harkonnens hunt me down, few innocent bystanders will get hurt. Maybe I can lure them to me, and turn the tables on them.”

Vor considered the former machine capital a private place, his place. He had grown up there under the glare of its red giant sun more than two centuries ago, so he knew the world well. Yes, that was where it should end.

He would not ask Harmona to keep the destination a secret—in fact, he was seeding careful and subtle rumors himself about where he was going, so that the Harkonnens would know exactly where to find him. Remembering how the Sisterhood commandos had appeared last night, Vor suspected their spies were still on Chusuk, watching. With luck, they would take the bait.

“Please see that Willem is well taken care of. I’m going alone.”

Hard measures are required in order to accomplish anything of true significance. When sculpting a statue, much of the stone is thrown away.

—MOTHER SUPERIOR VALYA HARKONNEN

Even as Mother Superior, Valya continued to hone her skills and make herself more competent, more and more dangerous. The new combined combat techniques were intriguing and exciting, and she made sure her Sisters were proficient.

Under the small blue-white sun, she watched as Sister Deborah, dressed in her flowing white Sorceress robe, addressed the uneasy Orthodox Sisters who had been recalled from Salusa Secundus. They stood together, wary. None of them knew what had happened to Esther-Cano; they only knew that their colleague was no longer there. So far, none of them had dared to ask about her.

Valya wondered how many of these stubborn women would have to be removed … permanently, in the same fashion.