Navigators of Dune

It is not wise to beg some people for mercy. It only makes them less likely to grant it.

—“The Personality of a Madman,” critical article against Manford Torondo, redacted

In his pavilion among the encamped Butlerians in the central plaza, Manford Torondo used his muscular arms to pull himself off his sleeping pallet. The night was still dark around him. If he pressed the issue, he was sure he could have forced the Emperor to grant him opulent visitor’s quarters in the Palace, but Manford was among his people out here. He could sense their energy all around him, their wild enthusiasm, their absolute devotion to him.

And soon he would call them to action.

Even with so many thousands of his followers crowded together, Manford felt alone now that Anari Idaho was gone. Following Manford’s command, she had traveled with Lord Udorum Pondi in a Butlerian spacefolder, to inspect and quietly retrieve the secret atomics from his planet. When she came back with the unexpected treasure, Manford knew exactly what he was going to do with it.

In the meantime, though, he felt incomplete without her.

Although he could have summoned hundreds of eager helpers, Manford was capable of getting around on his own. He slid onto a custom mobile chair that his aides had placed here for him. Rolling the chair forward, he parted the pavilion curtains and looked out into the starry Salusan night. The capital city blazed and bustled even in the hours before dawn, but most of his followers were quietly asleep in the camp.

Around him Manford could see the Imperial gardens, coiffed trees and colorful flowers, statues of Jihad heroes lining the wide main path. Manford respected those champions who fought against the thinking machines. If only he could have been alive in those glorious days, when the enemies of humanity had been obvious to all.…

At the head of the plaza, far more prominent even than the statue of Emperor Faykan Corrino, towered the Three Martyrs—the most important icons of humanity’s freedom: the religious leader Iblis Ginjo, Serena Butler, and her martyred child, the baby whose murder had sparked the entire war.

Looking at those legendary figures, Manford recalled the many planets his Butlerian followers had stormed. So many populations were yet to be saved from their own temptations, and Manford would press and press until they capitulated. For their own good.

As soon as Josef Venport was disposed of—oh, Manford could not wait to use his unexpected stockpile of atomics!—the rest of the Imperium would fall neatly in line. Then his sacred work would finally be done.

Along with Anari, Manford’s most trusted military advisers were developing plans to smash Kolhar. He was certain that Emperor Roderick would be delighted to hear of this, and would give his blessing, no doubt secretly hoping the Butlerians would be decimated as well. Roderick Corrino’s true feelings were not well concealed.

Manford had decided that the Emperor didn’t need to know about the forbidden atomics. Roderick’s approval was not necessary.

But Manford also had to convince the Emperor to ease the resentment he and his family felt toward the Butlerians. At least his Truthsayer had verified that Manford was innocent in the matter of Anna Corrino, but Roderick would still not forgive him for the accidental death of his young daughter.

But that would change very soon. Manford had concocted a way to honor little Nantha, something that the Imperial family would appreciate.

The Butlerian leader remained awake and alert for hours, enjoying the quiet peace of his own convictions while his hordes of followers slept. Inside the pavilion, without Anari to scold him, he surreptitiously reread parts of the Erasmus journals that he kept hidden. After he finished, he locked away the volumes again, then watched the dawn light suffuse the sky.…

Deacon Harian entered his pavilion with a breakfast tray and Manford’s favorite pungent tea. The bald man was surprised to see Manford up. “Are you troubled? Did you get enough sleep?”

“Enough. I am just anxious for our unveiling today. The Emperor will be so pleased.”

Harian frowned. “Will he?”

“He’d better.”

As the camp stirred and people emerged, Manford sent out a crier to call for the Emperor’s attention. Imperial guards emerged from the Palace, looked curiously at the activity, and retreated inside, no doubt to report to Roderick.

Manford relaxed and finished his tea. Harian had already rallied the dozen burly followers he would take with him.

Out in the sculpture gardens, a team of Butlerian workers struggled on the main path, carrying two heavy loads that were covered in scarlet and gold cloths. Manford smiled to himself. Roderick Corrino and his wife would be thrilled when they saw the extraordinary gift he had commissioned from his artisans, as a gesture of peace.