Mentats of Dune

As he reached the main street that ran along the water, Vor saw fishing boats heading back to port ahead of the storm. He watched crews secure the boats and off-load their gear and cargoes, assisted by townspeople who rushed to the water’s edge to help.

A pair of grizzled fishermen made their way along the main dock and onto a cobblestone street where Vor stood, watching. He hailed them. “I’m new in town. Can you recommend a place to stay?”

“With or without vermin?” said the older one, a gray-bearded man with a dark knit cap. His companion, a tall man in a heavy sweater, laughed.

“Preferably without,” Vor answered with a ready grin.

“Then don’t stay anyplace around here.”

“Try Ackley’s I

“Not anxious, but willing — if it comes with some conversation?”

Vor accompanied them to an old, freshly painted building with a wooden sign swaying in gusts of wind. After checking into a small room on the second floor, he returned to the main hall to join the two fishermen at a corner table, buying them the promised round of beer.

“New to the coast, or new to Caladan?” asked the bearded man, whose name was Engelo. He had a smoky voice, and quickly finished off his pint.

“Neither, just haven’t been back here in a long time. I’m traveling around, looking for distant relatives. Do either of you know of any Atreides?”

“Atreides?” asked the tall man, Danson. “I know a fisherman named Shander Atreides, and he has a couple of young men living with him — nephews I hear, though I’m not sure what their names are. Both boys work for the Air Patrol Agency, doing search-and-rescue missions at sea.”

Engelo sipped his beer. “Shander Atreides lives up the coast a couple of kilometers, big house on a private cove. His nephews are Willem and Orry — Danson knows that, but he pretends to be stupid.”

Danson sniffed, taking some offense, then chuckled. “The Atreides family has money, earned it in the fishing business after some distant relative sent them a financial stake to get started.”

“The money came from the most famous hero of the Jihad,” Engelo said. “Vorian Atreides.”

Vor concealed his smile. He liked hearing that his money went to good use.

“Shander’s a good man, runs a business mending nets now — likes to keep busy, even though he invested well. He took the two boys in after their parents were killed in a hurricane.”

Danson picked up the story, as if to prove he wasn’t really stupid. “The tragedy happened eleven or twelve years ago. Willem just turned eighteen, and Orry is twenty — but Willem’s the one who looks older and acts older. Nice, polite young men, both of them. I hear Orry’s due to get married soon, a whirlwind romance with a girl from inland.”

“Thanks.” Pleased that he already had a lead to follow, Vor paid and left a half-finished beer on the table. He was anxious to meet his relatives. Shander, Willem, and Orry were undoubtedly descended from Estes or Kagin. He felt ashamed that he didn’t know any details of their lives. But that would change.

Engelo called out to him, “Say, you never told us your name.”

Vor acted as if he hadn’t heard as he strode up the stairway to his rented room. He had used one of his aliases when checking in, but intended to reveal who he truly was to his own descendants, and then word would surely spread. He was caught between desiring to hold on to the anonymity he’d enjoyed for so long and wanting to reunite with his family on Caladan.

Sitting in his room, he thought of how much history had passed since he’d last visited this planet — and how little had changed here. He opened the window to let in the cool breezes and gazed out at the rugged village. Long ago he’d had many fine years here — hauling in the fresh catch, sharing good times with family and friends, surviving storms at sea. Living life. It seemed like so long ago, partly a dream. As time passed, his recollections faded. In Vor’s overfull memory, the faces were dim, but at least the personalities were brighter. He missed all those people he’d known here, but they were long, long gone.

He heard a sharp rap at the door of his room, and felt his pulse quicken. He was alert for danger, wondering if someone had hunted him down. Or maybe it was just the i

An older man stood before him; he wore stained work clothes and tied his shaggy gray hair in a ponytail. Something about him looked familiar … perhaps the patrician nose or the deeply set gray eyes with a sparkle of impish intelligence.

“I’m Shander Atreides,” he said. “The i

They went down to the bar, and Vor couldn’t stop smiling. “I’ll buy a second round if you’ll talk with me a while longer. I have a story to tell you, though I doubt you’ll believe it.”

“I’ve heard plenty of unbelievable stories,” Shander said. “But I’ll take that kelpbeer.”

The two men spent hours at their table chatting, trying to sort out the complicated web of their relationship. Vor attempted to trace the generations, following Shander’s parents and grandparents back to Vor’s own son Kagin, and learning that Willem and Orry were from the line that descended from Estes.

Even after revealing his true identity to Shander, Vor felt a sense of serenity about his confession. The old fisherman laughed and refused to believe him at first, but as Vor told more and more stories, long into the night, Shander began to change his mind.

“You’re really Vorian Atreides?” he said, with a slight slur of his words. “The Vorian Atreides?”

“That I am. Pay no attention to the face on that statue outside of town. The details aren’t quite accurate.”

“I never thought about it, just assumed the features were right. I have to admit, you do look a lot more like me than that statue does.”

Reaching across the table, Vor clasped the fisherman’s muscular arm. “We’re Atreides through and through, both of us.”

Shander’s gaze sharpened. “I believe you’re telling the truth.”

“Usually I don’t tell anyone who I am. I’ve been working at various jobs around the Imperium under assumed names, even checked into this i

“And you need to check out of this i

“Not yet.” Vor shook his head in determination. “I don’t want to intrude, and besides, I’m an independent sort. I can be difficult to get along with.”

“Aw, you’re just saying that, Vor. I never met a man I liked more than you, and I can tell that right off.”

Vor gri

“That was decades ago!”

Vor just nodded.

“Then my house is really yours. Or at least, you hold a mortgage on it.”

“No, Shander, you earned the house. Any money I have is for my family, and that includes you. If things work out for me here, I’ll build my own place. But first let’s see how things go.”

Chapter 45 (I keep my eyes open and observe)

I keep my eyes open and observe. And when I peer into hearts and souls, I see evil much more often than I see good — because I know exactly what to look for.

— SISTER WOODRA, Truthsayer to Manford Torondo