Part 39 (1/2)
Moving smoothly at the first instant of turmoil, Lady Margot Fenring snapped the thread of her necklace and spilled her strand of lavender diamonds into the goblet in front of her. Immediately upon contact with the water, the Tleilaxu gems released their impregnated chemicals, a potent but short-term paralytic not detectable by the banquet room's poison snoopers. She and Count Fenring had already consumed a prophylactic antidote. She hurled the goblet's contents away from her, splas.h.i.+ng it across the table at Korba and Stilgar even as the men lunged to their feet. Some of the fumes even reached Irulan.
Alia saw Paul grab Marie's small wrist and hold her off, preventing the needlewhip from extending more and plunging its fine, sharp point through his forehead. By now, the power source would have built up a substantial electrostatic charge, and a single burst could quickly and effectively short-circuit her brother's brain.
At the far side of the room, yellow smoke continued to spread out. People were choking. The guards nearly tripped over each other. Stilgar and Korba had collapsed, stunned by the paralytic; Irulan could barely move.
Count Fenring had already acted, moving through the blinding smoke to reach the thick stone wall of the banquet room, where blocks fitted together perfectly to form a corner that, to even the most detailed inspection, appeared to be perfectly aligned. He knew the precise crack to push, the slight sliding to the left and then upward to reveal another mechanism - all the components of which were made of exactly the same kind of stone. Then a release, and the pa.s.sage opened: access to the ancient tunnels underneath the Residency.
Many years before the Atreides occupation, Count Fenring had discovered the network of incalculably old pa.s.sages beneath the foundations, and he had installed several access points in key areas. Because the system was his own clever design, Fenring knew these hidden entrances would have remained undetected in all the subsequent time.
Now, it would provide a perfect way for them to get away after the murder of Muad'Dib, leaving Arrakeen in an uproar. According to the plan he and Lady Margot had developed so carefully, an armed escape craft was already waiting outside, and from there they would reach the Heighliner and fold s.p.a.ce to freedom.
The right people had been bribed, the entire process made easier by the fact that the Emperor Muad'Dib was so widely hated, even by many of those closest to him. The a.s.sistance of the s.p.a.cing Guild didn't hurt, either. In all likelihood, the Count, Margot, and Marie would fill the power vacuum after Paul's death, or find someone compatible who could do so. Even if not, without such a charismatic, prescient leader, the Jihad and this fanatical government would consume itself from within.
But first, Muad'Dib had to die.
When Marie threw herself upon Paul, however, surprise and treachery had been her main advantages. As Paul stalled the initial attack for a moment, Alia burst out from beneath the table and sprang at the other girl like a mongoose.
Breaking free of Paul, Marie lashed out at Alia with the needle-whip, and Paul's sister danced back. Alia was more than a match for the other girl's fighting ability, but she had no weapon of her own. Marie jabbed, and the hair-fine rapier made a whistling sigh through the air. ”Let's play, Alia.”
Though her muscles could barely respond from her exposure to the paralytic, Irulan crawled to one side, out of the way. Stilgar lay sprawled with his head, shoulders, and arms on the table, where he had collapsed. He twitched and struggled, his eyes fully aware, as he tried to pull himself up. Chani held her drawn crysknife, looking as formidable a fighter as any Fedaykin.
Alia sprang onto the dining table, trying to get out of reach of the needlewhip. Marie lashed and spun as she followed her up there, knocking settings aside while Alia dodged. It was clear the little Fenring a.s.sa.s.sin meant to dispatch her quickly. So much had happened in only a few seconds. ”Now who is the scorpion?” Marie laughed.
Alia took another step across the tabletop and kicked a plate with a half-eaten fish carca.s.s at Marie. The girl ducked to one side, her hard gaze never wavering. Alia spotted the Emperor's ornate knife near her brother's plate. In a blur of motion, she grabbed the blade and jumped toward her opponent, slas.h.i.+ng beneath the needlewhip, catching the girl on the wrist, severing tendons. ”I can sting, too.”
Marie's hand instantly became useless, and the deadly weapon dangled from the loops wrapped about her knuckles. With no more than a hiss of pain, Marie jumped off the table and pounced on the half-paralyzed Irulan, choosing any victim she could find.
But Alia was unleashed now. The voices in Other Memory howled at her like a bloodthirsty mob. She raised the jewel-handled knife and slammed it into the back of the little girl. The blow was true, and the Emperor's sharp blade pierced Marie's heart.
”Marie!” Fenring cried, turning away from his exit tunnel and bounding forward. ”No, not my daughter!”
Alia stood up, leaving the Emperor's blade firmly planted within the twitching body of the treacherous girl. ”You were never my friend.”
Korba looked on in awe, still seated where he had slumped helplessly back into his chair, and just starting to recover from the paralytic gas. As far as Alia could tell, the Fremen had not lifted a finger during the brief but intense battle. ”The knife,” he said in a slurred voice, his lips moving slightly. ”St. Alia of the Knife.”
Caught in the swirl of events around her, Alia realized that she stood at the threshold of her own legend.
Who can love a monster? It is an easy thing when one allows love to interfere with reason.
-Bene Gesserit report on Abomination
Paul switched off his s.h.i.+eld and strode over to the fallen body of Marie Fenring. Alia stared at the jewel-hiked knife protruding from her former playmate's back, as if she could not believe what she had just done.
Chani stood with crysknife in hand, coiled for further violence and ready to protect Paul. ”Stilgar, do you live?” she called.
Though he moved like a man half asleep, the naib said, ”I live... The poison was temporary.”
Count Fenring had fallen to the floor on his knees and looked absolutely shattered. ”Marie! Marie, my sweet little girl!” His shoulders hunched and shuddered as he lifted the dead child and cradled her. Behind him, an opening in the wall led down a sloped ramp and worn stairs into the dark tunnels of a secret labyrinth underground. His wife knelt next to him, also stricken. Both of them seemed to have abandoned their dream of escape.
A backwash of danger clamored in Paul's mind, but in his prescient blind spot he could sense no details. Though he had always known the Count was devious, he had wanted to believe that he shared a bond with the other potential Kwisatz Haderach.
All along, though, Fenring's deadly plot had been ticking like clockwork. He must have known it was a risky attempt, yet he had been willing to send his own daughter behind enemy lines and unleash her as a weapon, seeking to destroy not only Paul, but the Jihad. Had this man raised Marie from infancy with that sole purpose in mind? What kind of father could do that? He realized how Duke Leto might have reacted if the Harkonnens had actually killed Paul.
Lady Margot was white and rigid, as if she had discarded any attempt to maintain Bene Gesserit control over her emotions. Paul saw the agonized sorrow of a mother, but most of all he felt the sheer misery of Count Fenring. Raw, authentic emotion boiled up from him like a hot cloud.
Paul said, ”You used a child as a p.a.w.n in an a.s.sa.s.sination plot. Your own child!”
”Oh, Hasimir is not her father, Paul Atreides.” Lady Margot's voice dripped with scorn. ”You knew her father. Feyd'Rautha Harkonnen.” Feyd'Rautha Harkonnen.” Paul snapped his gaze to her in surprise. Paul snapped his gaze to her in surprise.
In that instant, Count Fenring moved like a coiled viper, his muscles trained and retrained with years of practice as the Emperor's most reliable a.s.sa.s.sin. Fenring yanked the Emperor's dagger out of Marie's body and drove the blade deep into Paul's chest.
”One of my backup plans,” he said.
Reeling backward, Paul experienced every moment splintered into a million shards of nanoseconds. Each event had been as carefully laid out as the puzzle pieces in a Chusuk mosaic. Either the plan had originally been designed in extravagant and impossible detail, or Fenring had enhanced the scheme with so many branch points and alternatives that all possibilities had intersected in this single crux point.
The knife wound created a yawning gulf of pain in Paul's chest. He heard a shrill wail from Chani. ”Uuuussssuuuullll!”
She cried out again, but this time it was barely audible, a galaxy away.
Bleeding, Paul-Muad'Dib fell, as if tumbling into a vast chasm.
My Sihaya is the water of my life and the reason my heart beats. My love for her anchors me against the storms of history.
-PAUL-MUAD'DIB, private love poem to Chani
In the uproar that ensued, the room reverberated with shouts and barked orders. Count Fenring sprang away from Paul even as he fell. Still holding the Emperor's knife, the a.s.sa.s.sin activated his s.h.i.+eld and retreated to a corner, trying to reach the open pa.s.sageway, but Fedaykin had already blocked it. Thwarted, he stood with his back to the stone blocks, prepared to defend himself. Margot Fenring joined her husband, also ready to die. Though she had no obvious weapon, she was a Bene Gesserit, and skilled in killing as well.
The horrified and enraged guards pressed close, a barely recovered Stilgar beside them, while Korba still struggled to pick himself up.
”Take him alive!” Irulan cried, her voice quavering as she tried to a.s.sert authority. She inhaled deeply, forcing control on her stunned muscles. ”If you kill him, we will never know what other schemes he may have put in place! Do not make the mistake of believing this is the only plan afoot.”
Stilgar did not need to be given orders by the Princess. ”We will not kill him - at least not now, and not swiftly.” Then his voice became a growl. ”After the execution of Whitmore Bludd, the mob has a taste for it. I would not deprive them of their satisfaction.”
”I look forward to your interrogation games, hmmm?” Fenring mocked. ”Perhaps we shall share advice on techniques?” Inside his body s.h.i.+eld, he pa.s.sed the b.l.o.o.d.y dagger from hand to hand.
Chani felt numb. Noisome smoke still drifted through the room, and Paul lay on the floor, bleeding to death. Desperate to save him, she pressed her hands against the wound; blood seeped through her fingers, red and slick.
Paul Atreides may have been Fremen in many ways, but he did not have the genetic desert adaptations that thickened blood for rapid coagulation. ”Send for medics! A battlefield surgeon! A Suk doctor! Quickly!”
Two guards rushed out into the hall. Stilgar and the other Fedaykin would not let the Count escape. With a sneer, Fenring said, ”Perhaps you should tend to your Muad'Dib, hmmm? He may have final words for you.”
Chani needed to stop the hemorrhage. ”Usul, Beloved, how can I help you? How can I give you strength?”