Part 35 (2/2)
Marie lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ”Let's give it a try.”
ONCE THE WIFE of Jamis, Harah had been a battle prize won by young Paul Atreides, and then willingly taken by Stilgar. She was a consummate Fremen woman, elevated by Stilgar to be first among his wives. Despite her traditions and her own superst.i.tions, Harah had been one of the few in sietch who was not terrified by the strange child Alia. Harah had given the girl her love and attention, rather than calling her Abomination and muttering that she be put to death.
When Stilgar returned from the Jihad battlefields, glad to be back in the pure desert, Harah was his source of strength, his anchor. She was not a meek woman; in fact, Harah frightened Stilgar's other wives and any Fremen, male or female, who dared to get in her way. Now she came to him with a facial expression as dangerous as a Coriolis storm. ”Alia is gone. She and the Fenring child have disappeared. I suspect treachery.”
”You always suspect treachery, Harah. You know Alia better than anyone, and you know she can take care of herself.”
Harah stamped her foot. ”But I do not know that other girl. She could be a weapon programmed by the Tleilaxu or Count Fenring or any of Muad'Dib's enemies.”
Stilgar looked into her eyes and saw the genuine concern. Harah was not an alarmist.
”I have already searched the likely places,” she said. ”I have dispatched the household staff to search as well, and told them to forsake their other duties until the children are found.” Stilgar felt a cold hand grip his heart, as Harah added in a low, warning voice, ”When Muad'Dib returns from the desert, I would not like to be the one to tell him his sister has been lost.”
”I will summon the guards and the Fedaykin. Chani will lead them, I am sure.”
FOR NEARLY A full day, swarms of desperate searchers pushed through every corridor, every wing, and every chamber in the huge Citadel of Muad'Dib. In their scrutiny they discovered crimes and indiscretions, numerous hidden vaults, and a great deal of material that could be used as blackmail, all of which Korba promptly seized and locked away in private Qizarate files.
But they found no sign of Alia or Marie, not a trail or a clue. The two had vanished.
Search parties combed the outlying districts of Arrakeen, forcing their way into dwellings, ransacking merchants' warehouses and marching through places of wors.h.i.+p built by the countless sects that had sprung up to honor and revere Muad'Dib. They found many things, but no sign of the missing children.
Stilgar was sickened, expecting at any moment to receive a ransom demand or, worse, Alia's severed head sent in a package to the citadel. Stilgar authorized the Emperor's treasury to offer a breathtaking reward for information about Alia's whereabouts, and word spread around the city of Arrakeen. Orinthopters flew overhead and out into the desert in tightly arranged search patterns, craft that were fitted with the most advanced scanning technology. But the daily winds would quickly erase any footprints the children might have left.
Finally Stilgar received a message from a poor desert family that lived in one of the squalid villages at the fringe of the s.h.i.+eld Wall, where breezes blew sand into the sheltered basin and radiation from Muad'Dib's atomics still lingered at barely tolerable levels. Children were often seen playing at the edge of the desert. This family had reported noticing two girls that they did not recognize.
Stilgar barked a command that the family be taken as guests to the citadel, so they could receive their reward if the information proved accurate. He climbed into a small 'thopter himself and seized the controls. When the articulated wings began to shudder, he did not wait for the other troopers to scramble into their own aircraft. He took off from the citadel landing pad before the others even started their engines. The rest of the vessels swooped after him, then concentrated their search in the appropriate area. The 'thopters swarmed out over the dunes, looking for any sign of figures.
Stilgar went out several kilometers, though he was certain that Alia had sense enough not to go too far into the deep desert. On the other hand, the child was exceedingly unpredictable. Though he had no evidence, he would not have been surprised if Alia knew how to summon a worm and ride out into the open bled. She could have taken Marie with her, perhaps to find Paul on his long pilgrimage. The girls might have thought it would be fun.
At last, he spotted two small figures huddled in the sand. The winds had died down, and their tiny footprints left a centipede-like path along the crest of a dune, then down into a shallow valley. The 'thopters landed like a full-scale invasion force, and the two girls stood up, s.h.i.+elding their eyes and ears from the blowing sand and the noise of engines. Stilgar sprang out of the 'thopter even before the articulated wings had slowed. He strode forward, his face a mixture of anger and relief.
The children had sticks, a literjon of water, Fremkits, a stilltent, and the basic essentials for surviving for days out in the desert. Marie held up her stick, at the end of which dangled a squirming, gelatinous ma.s.s.
”h.e.l.lo, Stilgar,” Alia said in a carefree voice, as if he and all the 'thopters had simply come to bring the children a platter of honeyed spice cakes. ”We're catching sandtrout, just like Fremen children do.”
Marie played with the primitive creature she had caught, stretching its body membrane. Stilgar came forward, looking furious enough to strike Alia, and swept her up in an awkward bear hug. ”Never do that again, child!”
Now that he was no longer worried, Stilgar felt a strange sense of satisfaction about the incident that at first he could not articulate. Finally, he was startled to realize that this bad decision, this foolish activity, was something a normal normal child might do. Perhaps some small part of Alia was learning to be an ordinary little girl after all, and that wasn't entirely a bad thing. child might do. Perhaps some small part of Alia was learning to be an ordinary little girl after all, and that wasn't entirely a bad thing.
But a normal child she was not. And neither was her new playmate.
Our secrets are not as safe as before. The old security measures are no longer adequate. Muad'Dib has an advantage better than any network of spies: He has prescience.
-s.p.a.cing Guild report to CHOAM
On the way home from his desert pilgrimage, Paul walked through the streets of Arrakeen, unrecognized in his dusty traditional garb. He had felt the murmur of crowds and the anonymous press of people all around him. The solitude and stillness of the desert rapidly slipped away from him. As soon as he returned, people would demand to speak with him about all those supposedly crucial matters that had been held in abeyance during his sojourn.
But he had more important matters to take care of: He had to stop Memnon Thorvald before the rebel leader launched his attack on Caladan. Those were Paul's people. Duke Leto's people - Atreides people. Atreides people. They might imagine that he had forgotten about them, but he would prove otherwise. They might imagine that he had forgotten about them, but he would prove otherwise.
Paul-Muad'Dib entered the citadel unannounced and weary, his face, hands, and stillsuit covered with fine dust and sand. Although he was angered by what the spice vision had shown him and burning with the knowledge that he had to stop Thorvald's hateful plan, he went first to see Chani. He had to impose at least a moment of sanity on his thoughts before he plunged into violence again.
She welcomed him in their quarters, delighted to see him back. Irulan came to the chamber door a short while later, and Paul realized that her network of informants must be quite impressive. No one else had been told of his return.
”Irulan,” he said, since she was the nearest one available who could make things happen, ”summon Chatt the Leaper. Tell him I demand to see a Guild representative immediately, someone who can take me up to whatever Heighliner is above us so that I may address the Navigator directly.” He let his simmering anger show in his voice. ”If no one with sufficient authority is here within the hour, I shall decrease the Guild's spice allotment by five percent for the next Standard Year, and dock them another five percent for every further hour of delay.”
Irulan was shocked. ”But Husband, you are not presentable... your dirty clothes, your stillsuit. You cannot meet with an amba.s.sador dressed like that.”
”Muad'Dib can do as he wishes,” Chani said, her voice icy as a polar wind. She had stiffened as soon as Irulan entered. ”Unpresentable to whom? All come to him. All bow before him.”
Paul said, ”I concentrate more easily with dust on my hands and while wearing my stillsuit. Send for the Guild representative, and get Stilgar to the throne room if he isn't already on his way.”
By the time Muad'Dib and Chani reached the audience chamber, word of the Emperor's wrath had spread through the fortress's halls. Administrators rushed to see how they could serve him, while others (either more fearful or more sensible) made themselves scarce.
Alia was already there with Marie Fenring; the two girls had secretive smiles on their faces. ”My brother is very angry at someone,” she whispered to her companion.
With only two minutes to spare in the deadline, a lanky, lantern-jawed man in a gray s.p.a.cing Guild robe stumbled breathless into the audience chamber. He was accompanied by the quiet, almost sullen Chatt the Leaper, Paul's liaison with the Guild. The gray-robed man introduced himself as Olar and made an exaggerated bow before the enormous emerald throne. ”Emperor Muad'Dib demands my presence?”
”Emperor Muad'Dib requires much more than that. I must speak with you, with your Guild - and with that Navigator up there.” Paul jerked a forefinger toward the ceiling. ”Get me a shuttle. I have no time for middlemen or diplomats.”
The Guild representative looked at him, aghast. Chatt remained stony, as did Stilgar. In the prolonged silence, little Marie began to giggle. Olar swallowed once, twice. ”As you command, Sire.”
The Guild usually made excuses that their Navigators were never to be seen, that the security of their Heighliners was paramount, and that only certain spokesmen could respond on the Guild's behalf. But not now. Though many Navigators were so advanced that they had difficulty communicating with primitive human minds, Paul knew they would certainly understand what he he had to say. Olar would get him aboard. had to say. Olar would get him aboard.
Without further delay, Paul marched out of his throne room and gestured for the Guild representative to go with him. ”Stilgar, you will accompany me as well. This is a military matter. I may require your knowledge and advice.”
Olar was the type of amba.s.sador Paul preferred: Even though the man was filled with questions and his expression exhibited a great deal of alarm, he was smart enough not to voice every thought that sprang to his mind. Other more garrulous diplomats would have begged for clarification, and made excuses or apologies regardless of what the problem was.
But these Guildsmen knew d.a.m.ned well what they had done: how they had knowingly aided bloodthirsty rebels and were about to a.s.sist in an appalling attack on the world Paul had called home for much of his life. Seeing Muad'Dib's mood, Olar had concluded correctly that he would get no answers, and that questions would only make matters worse.
When the shuttle was finally aboard the Heighliner and had settled into a docking clamp, a walkway extended so that Paul could disembark onto the sh.e.l.l decks. At the end of the walkway stood Guild security men wearing sidearms and blocking his way.
Stilgar barked, ”Stand aside and remove your weapons in the presence of Muad'Dib!”
Another Guild representative, also in a gray robe, stood behind the security men like a shadow. ”Apologies, Sire. For reasons of safety and security, it is s.p.a.cing Guild policy that no outsider can disturb a Navigator aboard a Heighliner. All matters must be brought before the appropriate officials. As the highest-ranking representative aboard this s.h.i.+p, I will be happy to deal with the Emperor's concerns.”
”You may come with us, then, but I will will speak with the Navigator.” speak with the Navigator.”
”Sire, perhaps I was not clear -” the man began. The security men still did not move.
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