return with songs and roses. Utilizing intrigue, kanly, or outright assassination, he vowed to dispatch his enemies, one by one. But so far he had seen no opportunities.
In the past year, Shaddam had taken steps to outsmart his distant captors. Among the hardened prison population, his Sardaukar commanders had located men with mechanical and inventive skills. He had put those men to work constructing a new city that could withstand the vagaries of the hostile weather. Some were hardened criminals — murderers, smugglers, thieves — but others had been put on the planet for political reasons, some by House Corrino, many more by Muad’Dib. The men, caring only that they were being offered better living conditions, were happy to work for Shaddam now.
Ringing the site of his new capital city were three huge piles of refuse and construction debris, each higher than his tallest makeshift buildings. He had ordered scavenging teams to reclaim materials from all over the planet, to seize them from other prison camps and a few ancient but sturdy ruins that had survived the long-ago atomic attack. But the recovery operation had produced pitiful results.
The city’s great dome was not sealed yet, but eventually plants would grow inside a controlled environment. With the hodgepodge of construction activities, he felt like the manager of a large junkyard, salvaging parts to build a shantytown. Even his best efforts had resulted in nothing more than a pale imitation of the great Imperial Palace on Kaitain.
His private residence was a fortified structure inside a domed city that was continuously under construction. Through the supposed generosity of Muad’Dib, the residence was opulently furnished with Corrino antiques, handmade Kaitain rugs, and other articles moved from his Imperial Palace. Precious family heirlooms — a mocking reminder of the things he had lost. He had all of his royal clothing, even his personal weapons. Oddly, and perhaps as a slap in the face, his “benefactors” had even sent him a container full of his childhood toys, including a stuffed Salusan bull.
Several separate but connectable keeps housed his family members and the top advisers who had accompanied him into exile. Shaddam’s private keep was substantially different from the others. By far the largest, it had its own suspensor system that actually enabled the structure to fly out over the barren landscape of Salusa, where he could observe conditions firsthand. At least it gave him the illusion of mobility.
An Emperor
He turned to see an officer in the doorway dressed in Sardaukar gray with silver and gold trim. An elderly but powerfully built man, the colonel-bashar held his black helmet in one hand and saluted with the other. His face was craggy and weathered, as if sculpted on Salusa, where he had trained and served for so many years. “You summoned me, Sire?”
Shaddam was glad to see one of his steadfastly loyal commanders. “Yes, Bashar Garon. I have an important task for you.”
Zum Garon had once led all of Shaddam’s Sardaukar legions, but now only a portion of the once-glorious fighting force remained — the few thousand Sardaukar that Paul Atreides had allowed him to keep. Garon’s mouth twitched as he waited for his master to continue.
Shaddam went to a bureau from which he retrieved an ornate knife with a gold handle inset with jewels. “The tyrant Muad’Dib and his fanatics ignore the rules of diplomacy and decency. Those of us who stand for civilization and stability must put aside our differences. I cannot do this all by myself.” He tapped the flat of the blade against his palm, then handed the weapon to the bashar, hilt first. “Find my dear friend Hasimir Fenring and tell him how sorely I need his help now. He left us only months ago, so he cannot have entrenched himself elsewhere. Give him this blade as a gift from me. He will understand the significance.”
Garon took the knife. Behind his stony facade, the Sardaukar commander often seemed to be holding back a flood of emotions.
Shaddam added, “I have not spoken with him since he departed from his exile here — unlike me, he was here on a voluntary basis. I want you to ask about his dear wife and their child. Why, the baby would be almost three years old by now! And be sure to remind him that my daughter Wensicia just married his cousin, Dalak Zor- Fenring. My friend might not know that yet.”
He forced a smile, tried to swallow the bitterness in his throat. So many little defeats! With no other betrothal prospects in exile, Shaddam had arranged for his own middle daughter Wensicia to marry Hasimir Fenring’s cousin after the Count had left. He secretly hoped that his boyhood companion would look upon this favorably and return to his side. How he missed Fenring! Despite their falling-out, Shaddam was sure that their long friendship would outweigh the wounds. Corrino and Fenring had been inextricably twined for most of their lives. Soon enough, he hoped, a grandchild would be on the way, to strengthen the ties.
Garon cleared his throat. “Count Fenring may not be easy to locate, Sire.”
“Since when does a Sardaukar commander flinch from a difficult task?”
“Never, Sire. I will do my best.”
8
It is easier to judge an alien culture than to understand it. We tend to look at things through the filters of our own racial and cultural biases. Are we capable of reaching out? And if we do, are we capable of comprehension?
Count Hasimir Fenring had encountered many unusual races in his work for Shaddam IV, but the Bene Tleilax pushed the very definition of humanity. Through genetic manipulation, the ruling caste of Tleilaxu Masters had intentionally adopted strange physical characteristics — probative little eyes, sharp teeth, and a furtive way of moving about, as if constantly on the alert for predators. Other members of their race were taller and looked like ordinary people, but in their topsy-turvy society, the rodent-men were the highest of the Tleilaxu castes.
And now he and his family had made a home among them.
Feeling out of place and trying to ignore it, the Count and his wife, Margot, strolled along a lakeshore walk in the city of Thalidei, where the Tleilaxu Masters had allowed them to stay. Beyond rooftops, he saw the high, fortified wall that encircled the industrial complex that had been built at the edge of a dead and noisome lake, almost an inland sea. For these people, the pollution, the mix of chemicals, the unusual organic reactions were all seen as
Unlike the sacred city of Bandalong, outsiders were permitted here, though the Tleilaxu still took considerable measures to isolate the Fenrings. Security scanning devices were visible in front of many smooth- walled structures, bathing entryways in pearlescent light and blocking the passage of infidels. Some of the most important Tleilaxu programs were carried on in Thalidei, including the sophisticated and mysterious process of Twisting certain Mentat candidates. Sooner or later, Fenring had vowed to see the details for himself.
Only a month after Paul Atreides sent the deposed Emperor to Salusa Secundus, Fenring realized that he could not bear to share exile with Shaddam and his dismal, complaining moods. The two had quarreled constantly, and so the Count had made arrangements to leave. If forced to stay longer, he feared he might have killed his long- time friend, and that was one murder he did not particularly want to commit.
Since Muad’Dib’s exile order did not directly relate to him, Fenring had easily slipped away from Salusa. He had been able to move from planet to planet in disguise as he wished, though he had openly admitted his identity to the Tleilaxu, with whom he had previously worked. Margot had a precious little daughter, and Salusa Secundus was not a good place to raise her. Instead, the Count had chosen Tleilax as an unexpected location to go to ground — a comparatively safe, unobtrusive place to train and school their daughter, out of view. The Tleilaxu were annoying enough, but they did know how to keep secrets. They certainly had plenty of their own.
Fenring had called in many favors, hinted at dangerous knowledge he had acquired in his previous dealings with the Tleilaxu — which would be widely released if any harm came to him. With only a little grumbling, the
