11
The greatest personality change in a young man’s maturity occurs when he discovers that his own father is mortal, human, and fallible.
Over the nightside of Caladan, the Heighliner disgorged troop carriers and fighter craft, followed by the Atreides family frigate. Ever respectful of those who had fought so valiantly for him in the War of Assassins, Duke Leto insisted on sending all of his soldiers home first.
With Paul sitting beside him near a wide observation window, Leto mused, “I look forward to seeing your mother again, especially after what we have just been through. She… she can make me feel alive again. Right now, I am too numb.” Restless, the Duke stood, motioned for his son to follow, and strode down a corridor on the starboard side of the craft as the frigate descended into the atmosphere. They passed a bank of portholes that showed the running lights of the Duke’s escort ships disappearing below.
“I understand how you feel, Father. I learned a great deal from what I experienced. Most of all, I hope I never have to see battle again.”
“You may hope for that, but I fear it isn’t likely. You are the son of a Duke. Even if you don’t seek out conflict, it will find you.”
The Atreides frigate broke through the last layers of cloud cover, enabling Paul to see the twinkling lights of coastal villages below and the bright target of the Cala City Spaceport. A capricious wind buffeted the descending ship, and Leto braced himself against the unexpected movement. The frigate bounced down through the edge of the storm. Peering through wind-driven rain, Paul caught glimpses of Castle Caladan and the first group of ships already landing at the spaceport, taking indicated positions like pieces on a large game board.
A large monitor screen on the bulkhead showed a tally of ships, and each time one of the vessels set down safely, an amber blip turned green. The Duke fired instructions to his officers over the comline and received reports back from them. He was satisfied and relieved to see them all come safely home.
Their family frigate circled over the spaceport, then swooped toward the main landing field. Through a starboard window Paul saw the windblown sea crashing against the cliffs. Before sunset, the fishing fleet had come back to harbor ahead of the storm, and even though the boats were lashed to their docks, they rocked heavily against the pilings. Paul knew the good people of Caladan could easily survive storms. There would always be rough weather, but that did not diminish their love for their planet.
The frigate made a bumpy landing and taxied into a large hangar, where other landed ships had already taken shelter. As Paul and his father disembarked and stepped onto a floor wet from rain running off the smooth hull, they found Lady Jessica already there waiting for them. Damp streaks in her bronze hair and speckles of water on her cloak showed that she had been caught in the downpour on her way to the hangar.
Eschewing formality, Leto pulled her close and kissed her gently. “I’m sorry you were caught in the storm.”
“Just a little rain. Not so bad.” They held each other, speaking little although Paul knew they had much to say to each other. During Leto’s betrothal to Ilesa Ecaz, Jessica had been like a rudderless boat on the open sea. The wedding-day massacre and the War of Assassins had swept over their relationship like a rogue wave. Now, they both had decisions to make and damage to repair. Neither of them was the same as before.
Wrestling with his thoughts, Leto stared at her with his steely-gray eyes, while Jessica simply waited. Paul watched his parents until finally his father said, “There is no better time to say this, Jessica, and our son should hear it, too. I am weary of politics and feuds, and I will no longer entertain further proposals of marriage alliances from other noble Houses.” He took her hands in his. “You are my one and only lady, my one and only love for all time. Though I cannot marry you, I will never agree to marry anyone else.”
She seemed flustered. “You can’t give me such a promise, Leto. You have to keep the other nobles guessing. You must at least keep the option available, for I am only a bound concubine.”
“My love, you are much more than that to me.” Reaching over to Paul, he gathered the boy into his embrace. “And you are the mother of our son, the next Duke.”
PART VII
Emperor Muad’Dib
10,198 AG
1
Is there anything more deadly than innocence, anything more disarming?
Leaving the scarred Celestial Audience Chamber empty, Emperor Paul-Muad’Dib sat on the great Hagal quartz chair and held court in his original throne room. Every day, he heard the clear, heart-wrenching misery expressed by so many faithful people, but he could not allow himself to be swayed. Yes, some of them had been crushed under the wheels of Paul’s own government, but he could not allow himself to care for all of them, to feel the million little cuts of their individual pain. In a sense, their suffering was essential to humanity’s continued existence. Paul’s prescience had forced him to look at the larger picture, and hold a steady course. It was the greater, terrible purpose within him, the only way he could lead humankind to the end result. He had to be Muad’Dib, even if that meant he must appear harsh and cold.
Duke Leto Atreides, and before him Old Duke Paulus, had loved to meet the people face to face. They considered direct interaction with their subjects a vital aspect of remaining in touch, ruler to ruled. After Bludd’s shocking actions, though, and the subsequent discoveries of one embryonic conspiracy after another, Paul found the process of holding court to be exhausting, frustrating, and dangerous. The previous Caladan dukes had managed a single group of people, a single planet — but Paul had to shoulder the burden of so many planets that he could not name them all without calling upon his Mentat training.
Henceforth, he decided that he would delegate more of these responsibilities to Alia. She seemed to have a different relationship with her conscience, a way to compartmentalize what must be done. His sister, with all her past lives and remembered experiences, could govern with a firm, stern hand. And because the people were frightened of the girl’s strangeness, they would see her more as a priestess than a ruler. Alia could use that to her advantage.
One morning, before the first group of supplicants was allowed into the heavily guarded chamber, Princess Irulan appeared before Paul, asking permission to speak with him. Beside the throne, Stilgar and Alia looked at Irulan with their usual suspicions, but Paul understood her motives better and trusted her to behave according to established patterns.
She wore a look of concern and puzzlement on her face. “My Husband, I have received a message from a Guild courier. It was addressed to me, asking for my intercession.” Frowning, she extended the cylinder to Paul.
Intrigued, he took the document, noted the intricate seals that Irulan had already broken open. As Paul read, Irulan explained to Stilgar and Alia, “Lady Margot Fenring requests a favor.”
