Mentats of Dune

He approached the tent from the rear, moving as cautiously and silently as only a person with full Mentat awareness could. He knew he could defeat all three of them, but he couldn’t afford to have them sound an alarm.

Draigo withdrew his small throwing-knife — a crude weapon and less accurate than the stu

Draigo Roget did not like to make mistakes.

The blade sank neatly into the hollow of the man’s throat. The guard grabbed at the blade, but his jerking and squirming only drove the point deeper. One of his legs kicked out and just missed the side of the tent. Draigo darted forward and seized the man’s head, slashing with the knife to cut the jugular. After that, the twitching was inconsequential.

He could have sliced through the tent fabric, but even that small noise might have alerted the two front guards; once inside he would also have to talk with Headmaster Albans, and their voices might draw attention. Draigo wanted to make this neat and clean, so that they would have the best chance of slipping away from the barbarian camp and back through the swamps to his ship.

No other choice: He had to incapacitate the other two guards.

Acting casual, he circled out into the shadows and sauntered up to the two guards at the front of the tent. When they saw him coming, he raised a hand in the traditional Butlerian salute, to which they responded.

“I’ve come to relieve you,” he said.

“Not till dawn,” said the man on the left.

The other guard narrowed his eyes. “Is that blood?”

Draigo recognized him as one of the Butlerian Mentat students, and the trainee recognized him as well, but Draigo was prepared. He slipped the pulse-stu

A wise Mentat eliminated as many variables as possible. Not willing to take chances, he cut their throats with the knife he had retrieved from the first body and left the bodies propped outside the tent.

Slipping through the front flap, he stood up in the shadows and presented himself. His heart was pounding wildly. “Headmaster, I’ve come to rescue you.”

Gilbertus Albans was awake, seated on a mat on the ground. “Draigo Roget — this is unexpected.”

“It’s meant to be unexpected. I have a ship. I can take you away from these savages.”

Gilbertus didn’t stir from his mat, but looked at Draigo, his eyes bright in the shadows. The Headmaster’s spectacles were gone, but he didn’t act as if he needed them. “I can’t go, Draigo. While I appreciate your effort, I’m honor-bound to stay here.”

“Honor-bound? I don’t give a damn what promise you made to Manford. He intends to execute you at dawn. These people are irrational and won’t be satisfied until they’ve killed you. They’re even saying that you collaborated with Erasmus back on Corrin. They’ll say anything!”

“That part, my excellent student, is true.”

Draigo stopped. “What do you mean? The notion is absurd. You would be over a century old.”

“Much more than that. I am one hundred eighty-six, by my best estimate. Since I was born in a slave pen among other feral captives on Corrin, the exact date of my birth is unknown.”

Draigo, numbed by the revelation, reassessed and reprioritized his situation; this part of the discussion could take place at a later time, in safety. “You are also the Headmaster of the Mentat School. You were my teacher and mentor, so I am honor-bound not to let them execute you. Come quickly — we have to get away.”

“I refuse. The consequences are too great. I gave my promise to Manford Torondo, and in turn Manford swore not to destroy the school. If I flee with you now, they’ll blast all the buildings to pieces with artillery and kill every one of my students. You yourself told me I had to stand up for an important belief. I ca

“I have Mentat students of my own, and I’ve been training them with your methods,” Draigo said. “Come to Kolhar with me. Directeur Venport would welcome an alliance with you. We can send other ships back here, a full battle group to rescue the rest of your students.”

“They will arrive too late,” Gilbertus insisted. “The moment Manford discovers I’m gone—”

“But I can’t just leave you here!” Draigo realized his voice was getting too loud, and someone might overhear them.

“I haven’t asked you to leave. There is something I need you to do, something more important than saving my life.”

Draigo focused his thoughts, squared his shoulders. “I’m listening.”

“I’m not the one who needs rescuing. I made another promise a long time ago after the Synchronized Empire fell, when I saved a mind more precious to me than any other. I promised to protect it.”

“Who?” Draigo asked.

“I have no time to be subtle. It is Erasmus. The independent robot still exists, and he is far more important than I am. It was his idea to set up the Mentat School.”

Draigo stared in disbelief, processing the information.

“Directeur Venport would find Erasmus useful,” Gilbertus continued. “And there is also the Emperor’s sister — I gave the Corrinos my word that I would keep her safe. I am certain the Butlerians mean to take her as a hostage, to force the Emperor to agree to even more of their demands. We have improved the school’s defenses, but I can tell you a safe approach. I want you to get inside the walls and find A

Gilbertus described the safe path into the school complex, the rearranged stepping-stones in the water, and an underwater access gate that he could reach after dark, without needing special equipment.

Then they heard a shout from outside the tent, a woman’s deep voice. Anari Idaho. “Raise the alarm! Someone killed the guards! Quick — to the prisoner!”

Gilbertus’s eyes widened in alarm. “You need to get away, or all is lost. Do as I told you. Help me to keep my promises.”

Draigo hesitated for an instant. “All right, Headmaster.” He took out his knife, slashed the back fabric of the tent, and dove through the opening. He leaped over the body of the third guard and raced into the darkness, melting away in the swamp as Butlerians surged toward the prisoner’s tent.

Glancing back, he saw Anari Idaho charging through the camp like a juggernaut, her sword raised as she hunted for him. Draigo wished he’d had more of a chance to say goodbye to the Headmaster, but with his organized Mentat mind, he would always be able to recall every detail of Gilbertus’s face with perfect clarity.

Chapter 74 (There are far more pleasant places for an Emperor)

There are far more pleasant places for an Emperor to visit than Arrakis, but it is important for the sake of appearances that I go there in person. I reign over my subjects on squalid worlds as well as those on magnificent ones.

— EMPEROR SALVADOR CORRINO, Imperial Journals

The spice crew chief received word from the spotter aircraft. “Wormsign, chief! It’s close — and a big one.”

The Imperial entourage responded with a titter of nervous excitement. Salvador hurried to the dust-smeared observation windows on the control deck. “Good. I’ve been wanting to see one.”