Hunters of Dune - Brian Herbert [207]
Muttering nervously, the Baron retreated from the torture chamber and scuttled down the dank hall, but Alia stayed with him. I’m your permanent companion, your lifetime playmate! She laughed, and laughed some more.
When he reached the main floor of the castle, the Baron anxiously scanned the weapons hanging on the walls and in display cases. He would dig Alia out of his brain, even if that required killing himself. Khrone could always bring him back as a ghola. She was like a noxious weed, spreading toxins through his body.
“Why are you here?” he shouted aloud into the ringing silence of the stone-walled banquet room. “How?”
It seemed an impossibility to him. Harkonnen and Atreides bloodlines had crossed in centuries past, and the Atreides were known for their Abominations, their strange prescience, their peculiar way of thinking. But how had this infernal taint of Alia infested his mind? Damn the Atreides!
He marched toward the main entrance, past several bland Face Dancers who looked at him inquisitively. Must not act up in front of them. He smiled at one, then another.
Isn’t it fun to relive old glories and vengeance? asked the Alia-within.
“Shut up, shut up!” he hissed under his breath.
Before he could reach a pair of tall wooden doors, they swung open on massive hinges, and Khrone entered the castle accompanied by an entourage of Face Dancers and a young dark-haired boy with oddly familiar features. He was six or seven years old.
The voice of Alia-inside was filled with delight. Go welcome my brother, Grandfather!
Khrone pushed the boy forward, and the Baron’s generous lips curved in a hungry smile. “Ah Paolo, at last! You think I do not know Paul Atreides?”
“He will be your ward, your student.” Khrone’s voice was stern. “He is the reason we have nurtured you, Baron. You are our tool, and he is our treasure.”
The Baron’s spider-black eyes lit up. He went straight to the child, and studied him closely. Paolo glared back at him, which caused the teenage Baron to chuckle in delight.
“And what, exactly, am I allowed to do with him? What is it you want?”
“Prepare him. Raise him. See that he is primed for his destiny. There is a certain need he must fulfill.”
“And what is that?”
“It will be explained to you in due course, when the time is right.”
Ah, Paul Atreides in my grasp, so I can ensure that he is raised properly this time. Just like my nephew Feyd-Rautha, a lovely boy in his own original lifetime. This will make up for a great many historical wrongs.
“You now have your memories, Baron, so you can understand the true complexities and consequences. If he is harmed, we will find a very special way to see that you regret it.” The Face Dancer leader was quite convincing.
The Baron dismissively waved a pudgy hand. “Of course, of course. I was always sorry that I disconnected his axlotl tank back on Tleilax. That was foolish and impulsive of me. I didn’t know any better. I have learned restraint since then.”
A burst of pain lanced through his head, making him wince. I can help you with your restraint, Grandfather, Alia said inside his skull. He wanted to scream at her.
With a colossal mental push, the Baron drove her away, then chuckled as he bent toward the young ghola. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, lovely boy. I have so many plans for the two of us.”
Command must always look confident. Respect all that faith riding on your shoulders while you sit in the critical seat, even though you must never show that you feel the burden.
—DUKE LETO ATREIDES,
notes for his son, recorded in Arrakeen
T
leilax had been conquered, and the rebel Honored Matres were no longer a threat. The Valkyries had flawlessly accomplished their most important mission, and the Mother Commander could not suppress her feelings of pride, both in her daughter and in the whole New Sisterhood.
At last, we can move on.
Under the domed rotunda of the Chapterhouse library, Murbella had little time to rejoice or reflect on the recent