Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [160]
The tallest man with the raccoon eyes considered her words for a moment, glanced at the three men with Sheeana, and then bowed his elongated head. His voice was quiet but resonant, as if it emerged from deep in his chest instead of his throat. “Then we share the same enemies. I am Orak Tho, this district’s Chief Handler.”
Handlers. It is true, then. Sheeana felt a rush of excitement, and relief.
Orak Tho leaned forward, uncomfortably close to Sheeana. Instead of extending his hand in a more traditional greeting, he drew in a long, loud sniff at the base of her neck. He straightened in surprise. “You have Futars with you. I smell them on your skin and clothing.”
“Four of them, rescued from the Honored Matres. They asked us to bring them here.”
Teg whispered something to Thufir, and the young man obediently hurried back to the lighter. Showing no fear, he released the four beast-men from the secure compartment. The Futars bounded free, surging happily past the young man with Hrrm in the lead. Taking graceful leaps, he sprang across the soft meadow grass toward the Chief Handler and his companions.
“Home!” Hrrm purred in his throat.
Orak Tho bent his streamlined face closer to Hrrm’s. The Handlers’ movements also had a hint of the animal about them. Maybe such mannerisms helped the Handlers bond with the Futars, or maybe these two codependent branches of humanity were not so far apart after all.
The freed Futars milled among the Handlers, who touched and sniffed them excitedly. Sheeana smelled the heavy, musky odor of pheromones, released either for communication or control. Hrrm broke away just long enough to turn back toward Sheeana. In the glow of his yellow predator’s eyes, she could read immense gratitude.
A ghola’s memories can be a treasure trove or a crouching demon waiting to strike. Never unlock a ghola’s past without first taking precautions to protect yourself.
—REVEREND MOTHER SCHWANGYU,
report from Gammu Keep
A
fter three years of unsuccessful attempts and different torture techniques to awaken his memories, Vladimir began to fear that Khrone might be losing interest, or losing hope. Trapped in a rut of ineffective methods, the Face Dancer simply didn’t know what he was doing. Even so, the fifteen-year-old ghola had come to look forward to their little “sessions of suffering.” Having figured out that Khrone would never really hurt him, he had come to revel in the pain.
Today, when the Face Dancer guards told the ghola to lie back on a different table, he didn’t bother to suppress his broad grin. Such smiles seemed to make them quite uncomfortable.
Vladimir had no real interest in cooperating just for the sake of pleasing Khrone, but he was very curious to access the thoughts of the historical Baron Harkonnen. He was sure those memories would be full of excellent ideas for amusing himself. Unfortunately, the fact that he wanted to have his memories back, and the perverse pleasure he derived from the pain inflicted upon him, turned out to be a hindrance.
While waiting, he looked around the stone-walled dungeon chamber of the restored castle, envisioning what it might have been like here in ancient times. The Atreides had probably made it sunny and bright, but he wondered if some long-forgotten duke had used this very chamber to torture captive Harkonnens.
Yes, Vladimir could imagine what such devices might have been like. Electronic probes that could be inserted into living bodies, tunneling instruments that could seek and destroy specific organs. Archaic, old-fashioned, and effective . . .
When Khrone entered the chamber, his normally placid face showed tiny marks of tension around the mouth and eyes. “In our last session you were very nearly terminated. Too much cerebral stress. I shall have to gauge your limits better.”
“Oh, how awful that must have been for you!” the fifteen-year-old said sarcastically and gave an exaggerated sigh. “If restoring my memories requires so much pain that it kills me, then all your hard work will be for nothing. What to do? What to do?”
The Face Dancer