HE ASKED ANNA Corrino to join him, locked the door using the old-fashioned key in his pocket, then activated the full array of impenetrable security systems. Anna seemed disturbed, but at least she was lucid, showing an awareness of the gravity of the situation.

“I don’t wish to be used as a pawn, Headmaster, but I would rather be a pawn for you than for Manford. Offer to turn me over if he agrees to withdraw his forces. The Butlerians would never allow harm to come to me.”

“Is that what Erasmus suggested to you?” Gilbertus activated the sliding panel, opened the secret locked cabinet, and withdrew the memory core.

The shimmering gelsphere glowed blue, showing the independent robot’s agitation. “I would modify your assessment, dear Anna,” Erasmus said. “I do not believe the Butlerians would ever accept the blame if you were harmed … but we are cut off here on Lampadas. Salusa Secundus is too far away for them to learn what is happening in a timely manner. If Manford Torondo destroys the school and eliminates all witnesses except for his own, he can make whatever report he wishes, fabricate any explanation. I … worry about you.”

Gilbertus experienced a sinking sensation. “Manford’s priority is to further the Butlerian movement: He will rationalize whatever he needs to.” The Headmaster shook his head. “You might make a useful hostage, Anna, but if you were killed in an attack on the school, Manford would call it a terrible tragedy and then blame me.”

“An unacceptable resolution. We need to escape,” Erasmus said with uncharacteristic urgency. “You and Anna should take my memory core and slip out through the swamp at night. I will map a route using the spy-eyes implanted in the sangroves.”

Gilbertus slumped into his chair and regarded the pyramid chessboard as if this were any other day; the set was waiting for a diverting round of intellectual play. With a sideways motion of his hand, he swept the tiered game and pieces aside, scattering them to the floor.

“No! If I flee, my whole school is forfeit, and this is my life’s work. The trainees will be murdered, just as Manford killed everyone at the Thonaris shipyards. He’ll burn the buildings and sink them into the lake. I won’t let my great accomplishment be destroyed.” He flexed his hands, folded his fingers together. “The Mentat School has to survive. Our methods of training, the creation of human computers, will have an impact far beyond our individual lives … far beyond even yours, Father.”

The Erasmus core shimmered and flashed, as if in disagreement, but he said nothing.

Unable to forget Draigo Roget’s invitation to join forces, Gilbertus raised himself from his chair. “For decades I maintained a low profile, bending where I needed to bend, raising no suspicions. In the process, I let my honor bleed through my fingers.” He shook his head in dismay. “If there’s a way to save this great institution of learning, then I must do it.”

He looked at the glimmering golden clock on the shelf next to the books, its springs and gears turning with smooth precision. His hour was nearly up, and Manford would demand his answer. “I will go out and negotiate with Manford Torondo, leader to leader. He needs me — or at the very least he needs Mentats. If I can find a way to keep what I must, even if it entails my personal surrender, I’ll consider it a victory — a small one, perhaps, but survival is a victory in itself. The continuation of my Mentat school would be a victory, so that my independent-thinking students can carry on after I am gone.”

Lovingly, he cradled the robot’s core in his palm. He thought of how he had traveled with this priceless and dangerous object hidden in his possessions while pretending to lead a normal life on Lectaire. For more than eighty years he had kept Erasmus safe — they had kept each other safe.

“This is the most precious possession I have ever owned.” Gilbertus turned to Anna Corrino. “If anything happens to me, you have to protect Erasmus.”

Anna accepted the memory core with awe. “Thank you, Headmaster. I will keep my friend safe at all costs.”

FROM HIS OBSERVATION platform above the main gate, Gilbertus shouted down to the Butlerians, calling for Manford Torondo. “The mind of man is holy, but the heart of man is violent.” He gestured toward the hundreds of fighters and heavy artillery pieces. “Civilization depends on rational discussion. A disagreement should be settled with brains, not with weapons and bloodshed.”

The Butlerians jeered at him, but a sharp word passed among them, and they grew quiet. Manford approached the school, riding on Anari Idaho’s shoulders. “Headmaster, for years I thought our causes were aligned. Didn’t you establish your school to prove that thinking machines are unnecessary? It pains me to see your defiance now.”

“Then perhaps you don’t understand the heart of our disagreement,” Gilbertus called back. “Shall we reason this out like men? I’ll come speak to you, on condition that you give your word — in an oath as sacred to you as the oath you tried to make us swear — that your followers will not pillage and ransack the school, that my students will remain unharmed, and that you guarantee my personal safety.”

The Butlerians muttered angrily. Manford hesitated before he said, “What do you have to fear, if you have done nothing wrong?”

“What I fear, Leader Torondo, is that your followers will take matters into their own hands, as they did in Zimia and on Baridge, and in countless other instances.”

Manford nodded. “Regrettably, they can be overly enthusiastic. As Headmaster of the Mentat School, you shall receive my full protection. I promise that no harm will come to you during our negotiations.”

“Not good enough,” Gilbertus shouted back. “I require your word that your followers will not harm this school, or its trainees who have merely followed the instructions of their Headmaster. Only then will I come out and speak with you.”

Gilbertus knew he had to press the matter now, for he had no real leverage. The large artillery pieces could blast the school buildings to splinters at any moment, and a prolonged bombardment would wipe out every person inside the complex.

When Manford accepted the proposal, many of his followers cried out in dismay, but the Butlerian leader ignored them. “Very well, Headmaster. It’s in both of our best interests to end this confrontation. No one will harm your school or your students, and you have my personal guarantee of protection.”

Gilbertus continued to stare at the forces arrayed against the school. At his side, Zendur said quietly, “I don’t believe him, sir. He could promise anything, and then do whatever he wants.”

“I know that all too well, but these are the best terms we’re going to get.” He straightened his robes and prepared to parley with the Butlerians.

Chapter 67 (The happiest moments can be a heartbeat away from the saddest)

After a few weeks, Vorian Atreides felt that Caladan was his home again, that he belonged here. He wanted to put down roots in this place and recapture what he had lost so long ago. How different his life — and the Imperium—would have been if he had never left this world.…

Vor had fallen into the pleasant routine of taking a midday walk along a rugged hilltop trail with spectacular views of the ocean. As the trail descended to the seaside village below, he reveled in the sunshine broken by puffy clouds, and the smell of moist, salty air. On a stretch of grass just above the village, preparations were under way for the outdoor wedding of Orry Atreides and Tula Veil, featuring pavilions and tables, even a small stage for musicians to play.