Mentats of Dune

It took all his effort to stop the low moan in his throat. Haditha was in despair, blaming the na

The riots were over now, ruthlessly quashed — too late — by a flood of Imperial military troops dispatched from orbiting warships. Following the advice of Headmaster Albans, Roderick had stamped out the mobs by luring them to outlying towns and rounding them up so they could cause no further harm. Manford Torondo had left them all behind, letting the fervor fade away, and the frenetic followers gradually dispersed to their various little warrens.

By the time the crowds left the Zimia city center, Nantha and the na

Since that time, Roderick had kept himself busy managing the huge cleanup and reconstruction effort. Like a sloppy, careless guest, Manford Torondo had simply left Salusa, expressing no remorse for the extensive damage, death, and injuries he’d caused.

None of the Butlerians would be charged with crimes. Even if someone were to identify the person who had actually trampled his beautiful daughter, the murder was not committed by one person. The mob was like a storm, and no individual member could be held responsible.

Except perhaps Manford Torondo … but Salvador would never get a chance to fight that battle. If the Butlerian leader were arrested, the crowds would burn Zimia to the ground and kill any Corrinos they found. Manford would never be punished for the death and destruction he had caused.

Roderick looked up, brought out of his reverie as a familiar-looking man walked into the courtyard through an arched doorway. He wore plush Imperial robes and a jeweled cap. “Brother, thank you for meeting me!” The man embraced him, but Roderick pulled away, frowning. This was not Salvador; it was a stranger.

He heard a chuckle from the shadows of the arched doorway. “Did I fool you?” Salvador stepped out into the sunshine, flanked by guards.

Roderick looked at the man in the Imperial robes and cap, ignored him. “He doesn’t look anything like you.”

“He’s the right height and build! Don’t you see that?”

“We can do better. I will devote more resources to the quiet search. I apologize for not being more proactive in finding you a double. I’ve been…” His voice caught in his throat. “I’ve been preoccupied.”

Salvador came into the courtyard and shooed his unconvincing double away so he could talk with his brother. “What else do you have to report?”

Roderick cleared his throat, pushed aside the heavy fog of grief. “Due to the danger of continued Butlerian demonstrations, the Empress Tabrina has taken permanent refuge in your country home. I sent a guard contingent with her, of course.”

Salvador’s sour expression made it clear that he would not have mourned if some unexpected group of Butlerians happened to kill her. “She is avoiding me now that I’ve discovered the schemes of her family.”

“I expressed my appreciation to the Truthsayer Dorotea for first uncovering the plots.” At every opportunity, Roderick had been reminding Salvador about the value of the group of women who now served the Imperial throne.

“Yes, yes, I admit you were right about that. I am glad we didn’t get rid of all the Sisters from Rossak. Dorotea has made herself invaluable. Out of gratitude for how she identified the House Péle plot, I’ve decided to let her train more Sisters — with proper checks and balances, of course.”

Roderick nodded. “And about House Péle, our Mentat accountants have conducted extensive audits, and we have proof that Tabrina’s father underreported mining production to avoid Imperial taxes. We have levied crushing punitive fines, and Blanton Davido is already dead at the hands of the Grand Inquisitor. That should be sufficient punishment.”

“By all means, no! An underling can’t take the place of the man who truly deserves to be punished. I want Omak Péle brought here to face Quemada.”

Roderick was skeptical. “Empress Tabrina will object strenuously.”

“My wife is welcome to take her father’s place if she wishes. Lord Péle went into hiding as soon as the scandal broke, but I’m sure we have the resources to find him.”

Roderick closed his eyes, gave a small nod. “We do.”

The two walked together along a portico lined with statues of heroes of the Jihad. In an uncharacteristically warm moment, Salvador embraced his brother, held him close. “I’m sorry about Nantha. We’ll punish whoever was responsible.”

Roderick caught his breath, almost choked on it. He and Haditha would never, ever get over the death of their child. It was a loss that needed to be avenged by breaking the Butlerian movement. His voice came out in a low growl. “We already know who is responsible.”

TWO DAYS AFTER the order went out for her father’s arrest on Péle, Empress Tabrina barged into Roderick’s office without an appointment. A strikingly beautiful woman with dark, almond eyes, she moved with the slender grace of a cat. She wore a long dress of glittering gold and ruby-colored fabric.

“My father is not subject to Imperial interrogation,” she said without ceremony. “Blanton Davido died at the hands of the Grand Inquisitor, and House Péle has already paid the shortfall in taxes plus the outrageous fines. The matter has been corrected — make Salvador see reason and stop all this nonsense! We should forget about the whole troublesome episode. After the Butlerian riots, the Imperium needs calm. We should get back to normal.”

Seeing Tabrina’s fiery personality, and aware of the loathing she had for Salvador, Roderick could only think about how much he loved Haditha and their children. And Nantha.

He did not get up from his desk. “I will never get back to normal, Tabrina. My daughter was murdered in the Butlerian madness, and I have no intention of forgetting her or what the fanatics did.”

The Empress looked flustered and embarrassed. “Yes, I am very sorry. I remember the dear girl.…” She fidgeted with her hands, lifted her chin. “So you can understand that I must try to save my own father.”

“I understand … but unlike your father, my poor daughter was i

SISTER DOROTEA ACCOMPANIED Roderick as he went to find the Emperor, who was taking a midafternoon break in his private dining hall. The Truthsayer kept a respectful step or two behind Roderick as they entered.

Salvador looked up from a bowl of blue-tomato soup, wiped his lips with a white napkin. “Give me good news about Omak Péle. Is he here, being interrogated by Quemada already?”

Roderick shook his head. “We do not have him. I received word just this morning that he went renegade, abandoned all his holdings, and fled to one of the distant Unallied Planets. He is out of our reach. I do not believe Empress Tabrina even knows where he is.”

The lanky Dorotea added, “After listening to court conversation, Sire, I suspect that Lord Péle received help from certain Landsraad families. There could be cascading repercussions.”

“Good, let’s root out all the traitors. I am the Emperor—”

“And they are the Landsraad, Salvador,” Roderick said. “If you begin crushing one house after another, how long will it be before they band together and overthrow House Corrino?”

Salvador squirmed, looked at his soup with distaste. “So I am just to ignore this fraud? House Péle stole from the Imperium — from me!”

Roderick continued, “There is a better resolution. House Péle is effectively gone. Their transgression has been exposed, so now we seize all of their assets.”