Although Roderick did not approve of Butlerian tactics, he felt a chill as he began to realize just how wide a net of dependence Josef Venport had spread. Sister Dorotea had laid out her suspicions of the connections Venport Holdings had not only with Combined Mercantiles, but to planetary banks, along with a monopoly on safe shipping.…

Manford said, “Josef Venport is a temperamental, vengeful man who wields far too much power. With his stranglehold on so many critical services, this one man has created suffering and unrest across the Imperium. Do you see the knife he holds to your throat? Salvador Corrino, you are the Emperor of the Known Universe. Why do you let that man control you? Why are you letting him make the Imperial throne irrelevant?”

Roderick added in a cautious tone, “Before you cause too much disruption, Sire, remember that much of the Imperial military fleet is carried aboard VenHold haulers. Some of our ships have Holtzman engines, yes, but no Navigators. Others still have old-style faster-than-light engines, which require weeks or months to travel from system to system. If the VenHold Spacing Fleet were to block critical foldspace routes, the Directeur could force even the throne to capitulate. He might even overthrow House Corrino and crown himself the next Emperor.”

Sister Woodra added, “Perhaps foldspace travel should be under Imperial control as well.”

“I shall exert control over all spice operations, for a start,” Salvador said, not looking at his brother for confirmation. “I am in fact the Emperor of the Known Universe, so I should control the only known source of spice.”

Roderick was startled by the drastic, provocative suggestion. “We should consult further, brother, before taking rash action. This is a dangerous situation. I fear the widespread reprisals VenHold could launch if you attempt to seize melange operations.”

Manford focused a withering gaze on Salvador. “The people can decide this matter if you do not. If they decide you are in collusion with the demon Venport, I would never be able to control them. Maybe they would take your throne, rather than Venport.”

“I do not need more time to consider such an important matter,” Salvador snapped. “I am tired of being made irrelevant.” He leaned forward and raised his voice. “I hereby declare that spice operations are strategically vital to the Imperium and by law must be operated under direct Imperial control. As Emperor, I shall take charge of Arrakis and mobilize the Imperial fleet to enforce my will. My trade advisers will inform Directeur Venport and prepare the necessary documentation for a smooth transition.”

Roderick stared at him, aghast, but Salvador just waved a hand casually. “You worry too much, brother. VenHold will be fairly compensated. In fact, I’ll go there myself with a small force of soldiers to oversee the transition.”

Roderick felt disturbed, but could see that his brother was buoyed with excitement. Salvador grinned as if he had made a good decision. “Spice will be Imperialized. It is time to show who is really in command!”

A cold heaviness settled in Roderick’s stomach, but he forced a brave face. Salvador didn’t often make his own major decisions, and when he did, they rarely went well.

Chapter 58 (I prefer to celebrate my decisions)

News of Manford Torondo’s death traveled slowly across the Imperium, especially with so many interdicted worlds and rerouted spaceship schedules. For weeks now, the Butlerians had been oddly quiet about their loss.

After assassinating the leader, Taref was treated better than a Naib at the Kolhar space complex. He was considered a hero, and he told the story repeatedly, describing how he’d seen the opportunity and taken the successful shot.

At night, though, he felt qualms as he remembered the whizz-clack of the Maula pistol projectile, the splash of blood as the man’s skull shattered, and his body tumbling to the streets. A powerful leader of a terrible movement, killed so easily … and so much more personally than all those who had died when Taref sabotaged EsconTran ships. With his own eyes, he had seen the blood, the falling body.…

Reports from other operatives on Arrakis verified the news of the kill. As a reward, Directeur Venport offered Taref a large bonus, but the desert man asked for nothing more than a chance to meet with his friends and wish them well whenever they came back to Kolhar. If he could get them all together again, maybe they would travel to Caladan, as Venport had promised them.

Then Taref learned that one more of his desert friends, Waddoch, had also been killed, caught committing sabotage on an EsconTran ship. Other engineers had discovered his false identity, and seized him, but Waddoch took his own life before he could be turned over for questioning. As a matter of honor, the young man had done the only correct thing.

The loss opened another deep wound in Taref.…

Lillis was the most like Taref, the person who most closely shared his dreams and imaginings. She had spent her youth fancying what lay beyond the stars and cultures other than her own. She even seemed interested in finding Zensunni remnants who still lived on distant planets — ancestors of the desert people of Arrakis. Like him, Lillis had always thought about more than going on desert raids to sabotage spice harvesters, or playing tricks on offworlders. Few young women turned their backs on sietch life, and he knew she had grand dreams.

Taref could not deny that their imaginings were far different from the missions Directeur Venport had assigned them. He and his companions weren’t being sent out to find the roots of their culture, nor were they exploring exotic places that would make wonderful tales back on Arrakis. Instead, they were destroying a rival’s ships and killing everyone aboard without regard to guilt or innocence. And Venport rewarded them well for doing it.

That wasn’t how any of them had expected it to be, certainly not what he had promised them when he pressured them to follow him on a grand adventure.…

When Lillis returned to Kolhar from another mission, Taref hurried to greet her. He felt joy in his heart again to know she was back. The weather was gray and windy. Cold raindrops and hail pellets whipped across the sky, spattering their faces as they stood outside the main barracks. When he saw her face, though, he could see she was miserable and shivering, her eyes downcast.

“It’s so cold here, Taref,” she said. “So cold everywhere compared with home. And the moisture in the air makes it hard to breathe. So much water.” Her dark eyes still showed the deep blue of a lifetime of melange consumption. “They have a word for it—drowning—when one is submerged in the water until the lungs fill.”

Taref tried to summon excitement in his voice, for her sake. “But remember, we’re on another world. I thought you wanted to get away from Arrakis, just as I did. One day we’ll go to Caladan together and see the oceans.”

She extended her hand, palm up, and it trembled as the drizzle came down. “I don’t want to see those places, not anymore. I’d rather be … home.”

Taref’s heart went out to her. “I’ll arrange it so you can return to Arrakis, if that’s what you really want. Directeur Venport told me to ask for any favor I wish. Go back to our sietch — will that make you happy?”

Lillis sighed. “I feel like a hatchling taken out of a hawk’s nest. Even when it’s put back, the other birds never accept it. They kill it.”

He didn’t know how to help her. “I have been back there,” he said. “You will see the desert differently.”