Текст книги "Mentats of Dune"
Автор книги: Brian Herbert
Соавторы: Kevin Anderson
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Текущая страница: 37 (всего у книги 38 страниц)
Chapter 78 (When I gaze up into the night sky)
When I gaze up into the night sky, I see as many opportunities as there are stars.
– DIRECTEUR JOSEF VENPORT, excerpt from a speech to business associates
Making his way across the small Caladan spaceport, Vorian Atreides hardly noticed anyone around him, did not hear the noise of conversation or the engines outside as the occasional shuttle arrived and departed. It was early evening, and he was alone after a long day of last-minute preparations.
Tragedy seemed to follow him like a shadow. He had to leave beautiful Caladan, again.
Vor felt scarred inside, as if he had been broken and improperly healed. A dark fear lingered in his heart – not for himself, but for everyone in his extended family. Any member of his bloodline was in danger, because the Harkonnens blamed him for the fall of Abulurd decades ago, and Griffin’s death on Arrakis only last year. They would seek vengeance on any Atreides they could find.
Tula Harkonnen had vanished, but records showed that a small cruiser had been stolen from the Caladan spaceport right after Orry’s murder, and after she had attacked Vor in his room at the inn. He didn’t know where the murderous Harkonnen girl was going, but Tula had slipped away, leaving a trail of blood that someday he might be able to follow.
She’d left a bloody message of vendetta, and Vor had sent an urgent warning to anyone who claimed Atreides lineage on Caladan. Yet he could not stay there and risk them further, so he made it known that he was leaving. He would go back to Kepler, despite the Emperor’s proscription – a promise that had been forced on Vor out of Salvador’s pique. But Vor would risk Imperial ire to protect his dispersed family. Maybe they were in danger, too.
He didn’t know how many of his descendants he could locate. Back during the early years of the Jihad, when he was a young officer traveling from star system to star system, he’d had lovers on many different planets. Vor sent an urgent message to the banking representative on Kolhar who had helped him arrange discreet financial transactions over the years, including the recent infusion of wealth to Lankiveil. The bank had contacts across the Imperium, and Vor ordered a detailed research report on all possible Atreides descendants.
We will never forget, Tula Harkonnen had written. And then she had disappeared from Caladan.
Did all of House Harkonnen seek the vendetta? How far had the poison spread? Griffin had come after Vor, too. While working with Vergyl Harkonnen on Lankiveil, Vor had been invited into his home, shared his food. But even though he had secretly rescued the family from financial ruin, they would not embrace him if they ever learned who he was. Believing that Vorian Atreides had harmed innocents in their family, they would take revenge on innocents in his extended family.
Xavier Harkonnen had been Vor’s sworn enemy before Serena Butler’s Jihad, then became his closest friend after Vor switched sides. Decades later, Xavier’s grandson Abulurd had been like a son to Vorian, his military protégé, until the young man’s cowardly disgrace. Even though Vor had saved Abulurd from execution, sending him into exile instead, the Harkonnens did not consider that a favor.
Generations later, Griffin Harkonnen hunted Vor down, intending to kill him. Now his sister Tula expanded the bloodshed, murdering Atreides descendants who had never even met Vor until recently. With Shander and Orry dead, Willem was the next likely target – and now Willem had sworn vengeance against the Harkonnen murderers. Vorian foresaw a spiraling cycle of bloodshed and retaliation. When would it ever end?
In the spaceport building, he watched through a large viewing window as his designated shuttle set down in a pool of light and prepared to release its passengers. He had spent hours with a distraught Willem, confessing the chain of events that had led to the murders. What had seemed like distant and esoteric family history was now painfully relevant.
When Vor offered to remain on Caladan, to help stand guard over Willem and other Atreides cousins, the young man resented the suggestion. “If Harkonnens come to Caladan, I will kill them myself … but if you leave here, maybe they’ll hunt you instead. So go far away, and I’ll keep myself safe.”
It felt like a crushing weight on Vorian’s shoulders. Willem, too, blamed him.
And so Vor had booked passage on the next outbound spacefolder, wherever it was headed. At the first opportunity he would transfer to another route and make his way to Kepler, warn his family there. After that … he didn’t know where he would go, but it couldn’t be anywhere that would expose his family to additional attention.
Now, in the reflection of the spaceport’s plaz window, he saw a tall, thin figure approach from behind. Vor didn’t need to turn in order to recognize him; he felt his pulse speed up as he wondered what Willem was doing here. “You shouldn’t have come here.” Vor looked sidelong at him. “I told you it isn’t safe to be seen with me.”
Willem looked ready to argue. “I’ve decided to go with you. I’m strong, I can fly ships, I can fight. I can help you find the Harkonnens.” He held up a ticket for Vor to see.
“I’m not hunting Harkonnens. I’m going to warn the rest of my family, who are your distant cousins. I don’t need my”—stress blocked Vor’s mind for a moment, and finally he finished the calculations—“great-great-great-grandson with me, looking for vengeance. There are things I need to do, quickly and efficiently.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Willem said, “For years I served in the Air Patrol, so I know how to handle myself in a crisis. I can be cool, and I am not out for blood. But with Orry dead, and Uncle Shander … and my parents, there’s not much left for me on Caladan. I can stay behind, alone, and be reminded every day. Or I can go with you.”
Vor met the young man’s urgent gaze, saw a hint of Leronica there, from across the generations. And he saw a bit of himself, too. Something in Willem’s demeanor reminded him of his own cocky determination when he’d been a young officer, the confidence and certainty in his own abilities.
Vorian Atreides had come to Caladan to regain a grounding in his life, to find his family and reestablish a long-lost connection. That connection was not about a place, but about the bonds of blood. “I’ll let you convince me, then,” he said with a small smile. “But I won’t have a loose cannon at my side seeking revenge.”
Willem’s eyes shone with gratitude. The shuttle up to the spacefolder was ready to be boarded. “I’m levelheaded. But if a Harkonnen tries to kill me or you, I’ll kill them first.”
Vor said, “I can accept that.” Together, they boarded the shuttle.
Chapter 79 (How do we measure the loss of Salvador Corrino)
How do we measure the loss of Salvador Corrino? Is it a blow to the Imperium, or do the people actually benefit from his demise? The answer rests in large part on the shoulders of his brother, our newly seated Emperor.
—“anonymous” pundit (name known, but withheld)
The Imperial Barge had vanished somewhere in the vast emptiness, and the ache left a hole in Roderick’s chest. As the weeks passed and no word came, he could not escape the grim conclusion. Salvador was gone!
After being pressed for answers, Directeur Josef Venport said that the Emperor and his entourage had inspected the spice-harvesting operations and then departed as scheduled. An Imperial investigation team descended upon the Arrakis spaceport, but found only a notation in the log that the barge had departed on its slow, safe journey with old-fashioned FTL engines.
The mechanics and engineers who had checked the opulent barge before its departure from Salusa faced intense scrutiny, but their records were impeccable. The spacecraft had passed all routine safety tests. Under interrogation by a Truthsayer, the Arrakis City maintenance crew revealed nothing other than a routine servicing.
Roderick dispatched another team, including two Scalpel practitioners, to interrogate the members of House Péle who had last worked on the vessel before Salvador confiscated it as punishment for their fraudulent schemes. Even the most skeptical questioner found no evidence that House Péle had planned some subtle sabotage in retaliation for their immense political and financial losses.
Salvador was gone. Navigation accidents occurred, and too frequently. Emperor Salvador Corrino had vanished, along with his ship and crew. An ignominious, but not unexpected, accident.
In a recorded message to Roderick, to express his concerns and condolences, Josef Venport shook his head sadly. “Space travel involves risks, and far too many ships disappear. Look at the appalling record of EsconTran. Even though the Imperial Barge avoided using foldspace technology, the design of the FTL engines was centuries old. If only all vessels would use my Navigators, then we could ensure their safety. Let us hope that Emperor Salvador has only been delayed, and will arrive safely soon.”
But the Emperor had been missing for weeks past his expected arrival.
Now, Roderick Corrino faced his own challenge. He stood alone in the Audience Chamber, staring at the unoccupied green-crystal throne, listening to the silence, seeing the emptiness where his brother had held court so many times. A deep sadness washed through him, but this had to be done. The business of the Imperium must continue. The Emperor had been absent for too long.
Just as heartbreaking, their sister, Anna, was still missing on Lampadas, with no sign of her at the overrun Mentat School. Roderick felt another twinge of anger. Yet another violent riot caused by Butlerian mobs, and Headmaster Albans had been executed after an unbelievable accusation. Roderick felt sorry for the Headmaster, who had seemed like a reasonable man. Had the whole Imperium gone insane?
Perhaps the mad Butlerian movement was at last imploding. He could only hope.
Roderick felt the burn of anger and dismay deep inside him. A Butlerian riot had killed sweet Nantha, another killed Headmaster Albans, and now Anna had also disappeared in the upheaval. Maybe Manford was actually holding her as a hostage for future leverage. But why would he keep her hidden? Maybe she had escaped – or worse, dear Anna might be dead.
He decided to send an army to Lampadas to interrogate the Butlerians, to search for his missing sister and learn what had really happened. Manford would not like it, but Roderick didn’t care. The mad dog of a Butlerian leader had to be put in his place. And now Roderick was in a position to do what had to be done.
First, though, he would deal with the matter of the empty throne. Each day Haditha had been counseling him, supporting him, and listening to him. “You must take the throne – provisionally. The Imperium requires more than just the hope of a leader. Where there is doubt, there is weakness. If your brother returns, you can step aside.” She came close, held him. “But you must become the Corrino Emperor.”
Knowing he could no longer delay, he called an urgent meeting with the highest-ranking members of the Landsraad and his most valued advisers. While waiting for them to arrive, Roderick stepped onto the raised dais and peered into the translucent facets of the great throne, where the reflections created a glittering green universe. It was the throne that Faykan Butler – crowned Emperor Faykan Corrino – first used when he forged the Imperium out of the rubble of the Jihad. The throne had held Emperor Jules Corrino and then Emperor Salvador Corrino … the Corrinos. Roderick had not dared to dream that he would be the Emperor one day. Nor had he wanted it.
He had spent so much time at his brother’s side that he had few close friends among the nobles and courtiers. Salvador and Anna had demanded most of his attention in their own ways, so that he had little left for Haditha and his own children. Even Nantha.
Now, however, he would have to concentrate on his own political alliances, if he hoped to succeed as the acting Emperor.
Of those he trusted in the palace, the Truthsayer Dorotea was well respected, but she had not yet returned from her mysterious mission to Wallach IX, and he didn’t have as much trust and faith in the other Sisters. For the most part, he would be alone with his own decisions.
Hearing a murmur of voices, Roderick watched the highest-ranking members of the Landsraad file into the chamber. He stood beside the throne and waved them forward. They had appointed Naza Ibilin as their spokesperson. She was a small woman, normally quiet and subdued – at least publicly – but she wielded a great deal of influence behind the scenes. She stepped to the dais, gave a brief, formal bow.
“What happened was a terrible thing, Prince Roderick. Whether Emperor Salvador is dead, or unable to return here, the result is the same. The Imperium must have an Emperor. No one questions the succession. The noble houses of the Landsraad beg you to accept the crown so that the peoples of all planets can be reassured.”
A number of leading nobles stepped forward to join Naza Ibilin. “Times are troubled enough, Prince Roderick,” said Chamberlain Bakim, a man of about Roderick’s age. “At this time of tragedy, you are our salvation, and can assure stability. We look to you to lead us.”
Roderick knew the parliamentary rules regarding succession – he had, in fact, reviewed the document recently, although it made his heart heavy – and this was certainly a quorum. He realized that the crowd was composed almost entirely of moderates, none of Directeur Venport’s most vehement supporters, and none of the most vocal adherents to the Butlerian pledge. Good.
“You want me to become Emperor.” He placed his palm on the cool surface of the throne, and the nobles fell immediately silent. “With my brother gone, the Imperium needs a strong leader. Our planets are being torn apart by this feud between Venport Holdings and the Butlerians, a feud that seems to disregard the Imperial throne. That must change. We survived the thinking machines – are we so determined to destroy ourselves?”
Naza Ibilin interjected, “That is why we must schedule your coronation quickly, Sire.”
Glancing at the ornate trappings of the chamber, he was reminded of the glorious history this great room represented, including the end of the League of Nobles and the formation of the Imperium. Roderick felt responsible for much more than the Corrino name.
“I accept it,” he said, “though if my brother should return, I will declare that he is the rightful Emperor and will step down from the throne.”
The nobles muttered, some with obvious dissatisfaction, some in approval. It was possible that they believed his words were merely a pro forma statement. A few, he supposed, might even assume that Roderick had secretly assassinated his own brother.
A chill ran down his back.
Haditha entered through the chamber doors and made her way up the steps of the dais. She had aged since Nantha’s death, but he still found her as beautiful as ever. Haditha stood proudly at his side, next to the throne. And in a quiet voice, as if they were the only ones having a conversation, she said, “You must do this, my gallant husband. No one else can draw the Imperium together.”
He looked at her long and hard, feeling emotions well up inside him as he thought of the good things she represented in his personal life – his anchor, his beloved wife, the mother of his children. In some ways Haditha was stronger and wiser than he was. He saw all he needed to know in her eyes.
* * *
OVER THE NEXT several days, Prince Roderick, soon to be Emperor Roderick, received messages from Directeur Josef Venport and Leader Manford Torondo, oddly similar communications in which each man offered both condolences and congratulations. Manford’s message sounded terse and false, and made no mention of the missing Anna. Venport’s message dwelled upon the “complex and difficult” situation surrounding the proposed Imperial control of spice harvesting and distribution operations. He said he hoped that Roderick would be amenable to “extensive consultation on the best way to move forward on this important commercial and strategic matter.”
Salvador had never been confident enough to stand up to Manford Torondo, but Roderick intended to be a stronger leader. He was not intimidated by the fanatical demagogue. And now that his sister had vanished, he had a great many questions for the Butlerian leader. But he would not protect VenHold’s position as the dominant power in the Imperium either. It was time for the Corrinos to become the power they were destined to be.
Roderick had the two message cylinders on the desk in his private study, adjoining the palace apartments he shared with his family. Haditha had been with him when he opened the messages, and they had read the letters together.
Glowering at the signatures, he swept the cylinders onto the floor and rose to his feet. “Those two men are tearing the Imperium apart, and I will not have either of them at my coronation. I will show them that I am not weak, nor am I afraid of either of them. This throne will no longer be irrelevant.”
He had ordered General Odmo Saxby to put the Imperial military forces on high alert, but years of Salvador’s rule had left them unprepared and in disarray. Their warships were customarily transported in VenHold spacefolders, and they were at the mercy of wherever the pilots took them. Roderick vowed to eliminate corrupt officers and whip the Imperial Armed Forces into shape, but that would take time and considerable effort. Some of the noble houses would not be happy to see those officers relieved of duty, because of the flow of political and financial favors that had led to them receiving their positions.
Roderick intended to begin with Saxby, a man who had very little backbone, despite his high rank. Obviously, he was being propped up by influential noblemen, but the new Emperor was prepared to battle them. If the Landsraad League fell, those nobles would lose everything.
Haditha agreed, but understood the battle to come. “Shall I take our children someplace safer? Or send them someplace safer, while I remain here at your side? If there is unrest, you will not want to be alone—”
Thinking of Nantha, they exchanged mournful gazes. Finally, he said, “Our living children must be kept safe. Javicco will be Emperor someday. And as much as I want you protected so that I can rest easy, I’d like you to remain here with me. I’ll need your advice.”
Haditha kissed him and headed for the door. “I’ll make all the arrangements … and I’m glad you’re not trying to send me away. I don’t think even Imperial guards could have made me leave.”
Chapter 80 (For too long, the Imperium has been)
For too long, the Imperium has been ruled by greedy noblemen whose faith is weak. They hardly give any thought to the common man.
– SWORDMASTER ANARI IDAHO, comment to Manford Torondo
Mother Superior Valya Harkonnen arrived in time to witness the unexpected coronation of Emperor Roderick Corrino I. Her timing was accidental, but impeccable.
In transit from Wallach IX, she was accompanied by Sister Olivia and six others, including four of the orthodox Sisters who had come with Dorotea. In her new role as Mother Superior, Valya wore a robe more ornamented than her previous garments, but her most important trapping was her confidence; her personality was both armor and sword. She was the leader of the unified Sisterhood and not yet twenty-five years old – although she carried thousands of years of experience from the Other Memories inside her head.
When the eight Sisters tried to make their way to the Imperial Palace, though, the celebratory throng made passage impossible. All around the city, Imperial soldiers wore formal cloaks and armor, protected by body shields.
The Mother Superior drank in details, asked questions, and quickly discovered that Roderick was about to assume the throne. Emperor Salvador had vanished in a space-travel mishap and was presumed dead – coincidentally close to the time when Raquella and Dorotea died.
Sister Olivia had parallel thoughts. “It seems to be a time for new leaders, Mother Superior.”
Valya responded with a thin smile and noticed the orthodox Sisters nodding. Keeping her voice pitched low, she projected her words so that only her companions could hear. “Emperor Salvador was no friend to the Sisterhood. Let us not forget what he ordered on Rossak – even Dorotea was burdened with guilt for her part in that. Let us hope that Roderick will be a different sort of Emperor.”
In the crowded streets, Valya sent two of the orthodox Sisters ahead to find other members of Dorotea’s faction, to inform them that the Mother Superior had arrived. When she and her companions finally drew in sight of the plaza that fronted the palace, Valya heard someone shout to them.
Among the gathered celebrants, she recognized a stocky woman who had once served beside her as an assistant proctor on Rossak, Sister Ninke. She was one of the women who had adamantly opposed the use of computers and had gone with Dorotea to the Imperial Court. Nevertheless, Ninke had seemed like a sensible person, not prone to hysteria.
As their Mother Superior, Valya would have to stop thinking of these other Sisters as traitors. She needed their talents, especially the Truthsayers, to add to the Sisters on Wallach IX. Trust, though, would be a long time coming, and loyalty could only be earned over time, through actions.
Ninke had more gray hair than before, though only a year had passed since they’d seen each other. Despite her size, she moved deftly through the crowds. She gestured. “This way!”
She led Valya, Olivia, and their companions around one side to a more open space. They flowed through clusters of people who were pushing their way forward for a better view of the coronation ceremony. When Valya’s path became blocked, she raised her voice and said in an authoritative tone, “Move aside! Imperial business!”
It wasn’t the forceful, commanding Voice she had used as a weapon against Master Placido or Sister Dorotea, but the people responded nevertheless. Spectators scurried out of the way, blundering into others as they did so. With surprised or angry glares, they looked at the troupe of women as they marched through.
Ninke said, “We received the transmission when your ship arrived, and the Sisters are prepared for your arrival.” Her gaze locked on Valya. “Crown Prince Roderick was expecting Dorotea.”
“Roderick needn’t worry,” Valya said. “He will have his replacement Truthsayer, and your own Sisters will explain the agreement that Dorotea and Mother Superior Raquella reached. The Sisterhood must be strong and unified again.”
Still unsure, Ninke continued to lead them forward. “We have a private box from which to observe the coronation ceremony. Zimia was not prepared for the influx of travelers from across the Imperium. Security is extremely tight, to prevent another backlash and frenzy. Leader Torondo was not invited, and neither was Directeur Venport. Prince Roderick was afraid their presence might cause unnecessary agitation.”
And indeed they might, Valya thought.
When the Sisters reached the central square, a new path opened for them. Ninke spoke to one of the uniformed soldiers waiting at a stairway to the observation pavilions, and an Imperial guard escorted the women to a private box. From that vantage they could see the coronation stage and the green-crystal throne that had been placed there. A large group of Dorotea’s followers awaited their arrival. Valya knew most of them.
Sister Esther-Cano and other Sisters rose to their feet and gave curt bows when Valya approached; then all resumed their seats. Valya sensed hesitation and uneasiness, questions and buried challenges. She hoped that with four orthodox Sisters vouching for her claims, Dorotea’s followers would honor the agreement with Mother Superior. If not, Valya was prepared to fight them in personal combat and kill any dissenters.
Nearby boxes were crowded with gaudily uniformed functionaries, including the Court Chamberlain, the Imperial Protocol Minister, and a variety of invited guests. In front of the stage sat rows of elegantly dressed delegates from various Landsraad houses and leading commercial conglomerates. Valya did not see any VenHold business representatives.
Roderick Corrino emerged on one side of the flag-draped ceremonial stage, wearing a scarlet-and-gold uniform decked with silver epaulets, and gleaming medals and bright ribbons on the chest; a galaxy of small gold stars ran down the arms and encircled the wrists. A golden-lion pin sparkled at his collar. He waited while an additional security perimeter was set up in front of the coronation stage, a cordon of honor guards brandishing projectile rifles.
The orthodox Sisters pressed closer to Valya and her companions from Wallach IX. Esther-Cano leaned forward. “We have many questions for you, Sister Valya.”
Remembering this woman’s personality, her moods and weaknesses, Valya put an edge on the tone of her response, driving it deep. “Mother Superior Valya.”
Esther-Cano recoiled as if she’d been lashed, then struggled to recover. “Yes. That is one of our questions.”
“You have been informed that I am the new Mother Superior, per the wishes of Mother Superior Raquella, cemented by the suicide of Reverend Mother Dorotea.”
“A convenient suicide…” Esther-Cano’s voice dripped with suspicion.
“You are a Truthsayer – so hear the truth. In her last days of life, Mother Superior Raquella forced Dorotea and me to make peace, for the good of the Sisterhood. We both agreed. Your Sisters witnessed it.”
She saw the Salusan Sisters listening, knew she had to select her words carefully. “After Mother Superior Raquella passed away, Dorotea plunged a knife into her own throat. The ashes of both women are now scattered across the grounds of the new school on Wallach IX.” She narrowed her gaze, hardened her voice. “I am your new Mother Superior.”
Olivia said, wide-eyed, “She speaks the truth.”
Ninke, Esther-Cano, and several of their companions looked troubled, glanced at one another. Ninke finally said, “She speaks the truth, whether we like it or not.”
Valya used her most compelling, throaty Voice to reinforce her words. “We are no longer foes or rivals. You and the others here will accept me as your Mother Superior. Today, we have a new Emperor, and a new Sisterhood. Help me make us all stronger.”
Ninke was the first to bow in acquiescence. Then the other Salusan Sisters did the same, some with greater reluctance than others.
The crowd noises diminished when a green-robed High Priest marched out on the stage carrying the priceless Imperial crown on a golden pillow. Another priest walked beside him holding an overlarge tome, a special volume of the Orange Catholic Bible. Salvador had been the first Emperor to use the new publication in his coronation, and Roderick intended to maintain the tradition.
A tall man with a deeply cleft chin, the High Priest stood behind Roderick and raised the jeweled crown high as his assistant priest read a long passage from the illuminated pages of the Orange Catholic Bible. Valya was impressed that the holy man could hold the heavy crown so high for so long. Amplifiers transmitted the words out over the crowd and across Salusa; the ceremony was also being recorded for immediate distribution around the Imperium.
When the crowd began to show signs of restlessness, the assistant priest finally concluded, “The Imperium is the very soul of the human race, and the Emperor is its heart. Do you, Crown Prince Roderick Corrino, swear fidelity to your people, to your honor, and to the Imperium?”
“For as long as I live.” Roderick formally bowed, as he had rehearsed.
The High Priest set the crown on Roderick’s head. “Long live Emperor Roderick Corrino the First. May your reign shine as long as the stars!”
The plaza erupted in boisterous applause and cheers, with so much excitement and giddy relief that Valya worried the mobs might work themselves into a frenzy. But Imperial soldiers had been stationed at strategic points, some with stun darts or canisters of soporific gas. All those seated rose to their feet, while the assistant priest stood at the front of the stage, sprinkling a container of iron-red holy dust onto the audience.
As the newly crowned Emperor gazed out at the crowd, he was joined by his wife, Haditha, and their surviving children, all dressed in regal finery. Haditha’s long scarlet-and-gold gown glittered with a thousand jewels. The boy Javicco wore a princely outfit, and the two daughters were dressed in matching gowns.
Valya watched the fledgling Emperor with the intense focus she had developed through Sisterhood training and noticed that Roderick looked neither happy nor eager to begin his new role. Apparently he would not be an Emperor who reveled in trappings or power, but a man who accepted and endured his responsibility. His smile was strained. According to reports Valya had read, Roderick had genuinely loved his brother, even though Salvador was never much beloved by his people, nor known for great deeds.
After years of uninspired rule, the Imperium was in a fragile, turbulent state. Emperor Salvador had committed a grave error, she thought, when he decided to seize all melange operations on Arrakis, just before his mysterious (and convenient?) disappearance. An accident? An assassination? She couldn’t believe Josef Venport would be so bold.
Venport Holdings had, however, reiterated its embargo against any world that signed the Butlerian pledge, and there were persistent rumors that Directeur Venport was increasing the number of armed ships in his force. To what purpose?
Meanwhile, antitechnology fanaticism still ran rampant, and she’d learned that Manford’s followers had overrun the Mentat School on Lampadas. And that Anna Corrino was missing. Valya knew the vapid girl was not capable of surviving difficult circumstances, although she would make a good hostage. Valya felt a twinge of sympathy; she had not disliked the Corrino girl while pretending to be her friend … but Valya had moved on to greater things.
