Navigators of Dune

88

Vorian Atreides was dead, and thanks to Valya’s steady efforts, House Harkonnen was finally on the rise again. She took personal credit for the progress. This paramount goal had always shone like a guiding light in her mind, and — as she had hoped — she could guide both the Sisterhood and House Harkonnen into a bright future. She realized her focus was more intense than anyone else’s in the family, more than her siblings or their parents, but she’d stepped into a void. After being downtrodden for more than eight decades, the Harkonnens had grown to accept their situation. They’d become sedentary.

Valya had never done that.

For too long, thanks to Vorian Atreides, the Harkonnen name had been synonymous with cowardice and dishonor. But her nemesis—their nemesis — was dead, at last. She’d seen it with her own eyes.

After so much anticipation, Valya would have preferred to kill the man herself and watch the life fade from his eyes … but the explosion of his ship in the sky had been satisfying in its own way. She had caused it, and that was enough. Using their own comparisons to genetic records, her commando Sisters had tested blood found on some of the tumbled wreckage and confirmed that it was indeed Vorian’s.

When she had seen the DNA results, even though she was already certain Vor had been killed in the explosion, she felt a surge of triumph … or at least she wanted to. In her heart, however, the victory felt somehow flat. She didn’t know what she had expected to feel — exhilaration, perhaps? Instead, it was a curious sense of finality, reaching the end of a dark goal that had driven her for so much of her life. Was it enough? It had to be enough.

But … what now?

She knew the answer to that even as the whispers of Other Memory became louder in the back of her mind. Now, without that life-consuming distraction, she could focus entirely on letting House Harkonnen rise unhindered to the prominence it deserved. And she could build the Sisterhood into an extremely powerful, if quietly invisible, organization. One success would drive the other, and vice versa.

She wanted so much for her family, and most of all perhaps for Danvis, who would carry on the bloodline — as an important Landsraad lord, the planetary ruler of Lankiveil. Valya had to make sure her brother was up to the task. Her brother …

Suddenly, Valya’s heart felt heavy with a pang of memory. Griffin should have been the future patriarch of the family, not Danvis. Griffin, her closest friend, who had shared so much with her, the same goals, the same vision for House Harkonnen.

Until he was killed by Vorian Atreides. She had heard the man deny it, and even though the Truthsayer verified that Vor had not been lying, Valya refused to believe it. Perhaps Vor in his twisted mind had utterly convinced himself of his lack of culpability. Or maybe he had found some other way to engineer Griffin’s death without actually soiling his own hands, but Valya would not absolve him of responsibility. It was his fault.

She reminded herself that Vor was dead. She had her revenge. She was triumphant, and she was satisfied. But what now?

First, she would help her younger brother in every way possible. Danvis was a Harkonnen too. She knew he would do whatever was necessary. Valya would make sure of that, and he would set a bold new course for House Harkonnen.

Although their father was still the titular Landsraad leader back on Lankiveil, Vergyl was a parochial man whose ambitions did not extend beyond the seasonal whale-fur harvest. She would make Danvis into much more than that.

And as for her own sister … Tula had been taken back to Wallach IX, where she was surrounded by Sisters, constantly protected and monitored. She carried an Atreides child in her womb — a disgusting thought, but also a tremendous opportunity, as Valya had finally realized after her revulsion faded. Maybe her revenge wasn’t quite over yet, after all.

Tula needed serious reeducation in order to put aside her confusing and contradictory emotions, but Valya was confident that since she had been able to refocus even Dorotea’s Orthodox followers, she could certainly reprogram her own sister.…

IN THE IMPERIAL Court after Roderick’s victory celebration over the Butlerians and Venport Holdings, she felt considerable satisfaction as she accompanied her brother to his first formal reception at the Palace. As a newly arrived member of the court, he would be presented at a crowded soiree. Danvis had arrived wearing his finest clothes from Lankiveil, but he still looked out of place here, his outfit years behind the fashion of the times. A bumpkin.

Valya had immediately intercepted him. Even though all of the Sisters at court dressed in the distinctive dark robes of their order, she dispatched them to find new garments for Danvis, swiftly tailoring them to fit her brother’s lanky form. He had looked uncomfortable and out of place, but now he looked dashing and stylish, an impressive young nobleman arriving at the Palace. A Harkonnen lord.

Danvis needed to learn so much.…

A Chusuk orchestra played on an elevated stage, its members dressed in black jackets and frilly white shirts. Several noble couples danced on a floor in front of the musicians, including a wrinkled and ancient Lord and Lady from Zanbar, who performed complicated, surprisingly energetic steps. The traditional music was fast-paced and upbeat.

Valya made a note to arrange intensive dance instruction for Danvis. He had to be better than the other new arrivals, not just in dance but in all things. He was a Harkonnen, and had to demonstrate his potential.

Now her brother mingled with other new arrivals, young Landsraad sons and daughters who had come to serve at court. Valya would have preferred to have Danvis announced with great fanfare, but there had been no time. For the moment he was just one of many minor nobles, eager to be noticed. Danvis would have to make his own way, seeking out his own acquaintances and creating his own alliances. Under orders from their Mother Superior, the Sisters at court would smooth the way for him. No other new arrival had such a powerful and unexpected resource.

Gaudily dressed men and women chatted about foolish things, holding wineglasses or long smokettes in their hands. They sampled from melange-laced hors d’oeuvres that servants carried on silver trays. The sanctioned delivery of spice had gone a long way toward convincing the people that peace and normalcy was at last restored, thanks to Emperor Roderick.

Young Danvis looked nervous and out of place among the new arrivals, but she was confident he would discover his internal strength. In the meantime, he had to learn to hide his weaknesses better.

When she found a chance, she went to him, and walked across the hall at his side. Many of the guests were part of the Imperial Court not because of their exemplary talents, but because of important family, business, or political connections. She counted on Danvis to make a name for himself. Perhaps being seen next to the Mother Superior would gain him more prominence. He looked relieved just to have familiar company.

“Be strong,” she whispered to her younger brother, and then added with just a hint of Voice, “You are better than them.”

Valya led him toward a long refreshment table on one side of the orchestra, where she critically assessed his appearance. His black hair was straight and neatly trimmed, but overall he looked ordinary and colorless, pedestrian in the midst of so many strutting noble peacocks. There would be time to enhance his appearance and his confidence, and House Harkonnen could afford the money. It was a worthwhile investment.

“You will do well here. I have already given you information to turn against your rivals when appropriate, and Sisterhood spies will continue to provide you with valuable intelligence … a resource no other noble has.” As part of her duty to the Sisterhood, Fielle had reported the trivial secrets and shames of many court members to her, and now Danvis held the information in reserve.

“Why would they do that for me?” he asked, blinking.

“Because I am the Mother Superior, and you are the future of House Harkonnen. If used properly, such knowledge will help you rise quickly.” He seemed uncertain, overwhelmed. He would need to be coached further. She nudged him. “Mix with the people. Make certain you talk with the important ones I’ve identified. Get yourself noticed. Establish connections.”

He didn’t look at all confident to her. “Penetrating the noble cliques will not be so easy.”

“I never said it would be easy. You must have the ambition and perception to impress the right people. Stop at nothing.” She pointed to a dignified man who was engaged in energetic conversation with a woman. “That one, for example — he’s the head of a mining clan from Hagal, a rival to House Péle, the powerful family of the former Empress Tabrina. He has been struggling for prominence since Tabrina fell into disfavor, so he’ll need allies at court. Convince him you can be useful in fulfilling his goals.”

Danvis nervously took a glass of Salusan spice-infused wine from the sommelier, and Valya cautioned, “When in public, take small, infrequent sips, only as much as is socially necessary. When you have access to raw spice, use it sparingly. Heighten your alertness, but do not let addiction gain control of you.”

“I know all that,” he said, in a patient tone.

“I just want to reinforce the importance.” She didn’t want to imagine her younger brother failing. She could not be with him at court to look over his shoulder, to prevent him from making mistakes. Fortunately, she had other allies here.

She continued to treat him as if she were instructing a fresh-faced Acolyte on Wallach IX. “Never drop your guard — think of the Imperial Court as a battleground. Secure powerful allies, and seek to minimize those who oppose you. You can achieve much of this by discreet action, behind the scenes. Do not be too outspoken, especially in front of those who might wish to do you harm.”

“Like the Atreides,” he said.

She scowled. “The Atreides are nothing. Vorian is dead, and the feud is over. We’re done with it. Now there is nothing to hinder the ascendance of House Harkonnen.”

Chin up, he dutifully left her side and disappeared into the throng of people like a hunter on a mission.

Valya made her way to two Sisters who had recently been assigned to the Imperial Court. Sister Sicia was barely past Acolyte stage, a red-haired beauty who could easily seduce any nobleman (and was being trained to do exactly that); her companion, Sister Jean, was more seasoned, dark-skinned and dark-haired, slender in the extreme. The two women greeted her with curt, solicitous bows.

Sicia was breathless. “So far our assignment at court is going well, Mother Superior.” She flashed a sparkling smile. “I have already identified three excellent male candidates. All nobles.”

Valya’s gaze sharpened. “Good. Submit their names so that we can determine the best genetic match before you let yourself conceive a child.”

“Yes, Mother Superior.”

Sister Jean straightened. “We will continue to submit our reports to Wallach IX. It will be as if you are here yourself.”

“I find the Imperial Court impressive, but I am better suited to running the Sisterhood,” Valya said. “Meanwhile, watch over my brother. See that he has information he needs, and keep him from making foolish mistakes. He is a blade whose edge needs to be sharp, and continually sharpened.”

Sister Jean nodded, not questioning her assignment. Sister Sicia looked at the young man who was striking up conversations at the edge of the reception; she raised her eyebrows, assessing.

“You are not for him,” Valya said with a slight scolding tone.

“Yes, Mother Superior.” Sicia scanned others in the room instead. Valya realized that she needed to study her brother’s genetic profile in the breeding index buried in their computers. Perhaps she did need to secure his bloodline widely, as insurance. She would look into it.

“I have much to monitor back on Wallach IX as the Sisterhood grows,” Valya said. “I am pleased to hear that our work here is in good hands.”

After the two Sisters melted into the crowd, Valya made her observations, drinking in the patterns and contacts. She saw Danvis dancing with a plain-featured young woman in a low-cut dress and dazzling jewels. Danvis concluded the dance, bowed gratefully to his young partner, and made his way back to Valya.

“Who is she?” Valya asked in a quick interrogation. “Family line? Rank?”

Danvis gave an embarrassed grin. “Second daughter of the planetary leader of Ix. She has direct access to the Empress. They play weekly games together.”

“Consider it practice. You can do better. Look for the first daughter of a noble house. Never forget that you are a Harkonnen.”

TWO DAYS LATER, the Mother Superior rode in a private stateroom aboard a spacefolder that was now part of the Spacing Guild. In complete isolation, she blocked out the voices of Other Memory that had been pestering her. She had proved her strength and her vision, and she would make her own choices, in the manner she saw fit.

Valya understood the momentous changes she had wrought — the relief and triumph they had brought her. Vorian Atreides was dead. Her brother was at court. House Harkonnen was on the rise. The Sisterhood grew more powerful day by day.

Everything was as she had hoped. The long struggle was over … and it was just beginning.

And yet she felt inexplicably adrift. Now what? All alone in a moment of weakness aboard the spacefolder, Valya finally cried softly to herself, not from sadness but from emotional release, for the joy of the victory she had achieved and for the brightening paths of destiny in the future, stretching into infinite possibilities.

Yes, Vorian Atreides was dead. After generations of shame and marginalization, her family would emerge from the shadows. The lie about Abulurd’s cowardice, the terrible injustice of it, would finally fade in the light of steady triumphs. Danvis was a key part of it, and his descendants would be as well.

It was one more secret she carried in her mind, in a universe of secrets.