The Winds of Dune by Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson Read Free Book Online

stared with an awareness that startled Jessica. Alia had looked that alert when she was just a baby. . . .
    “They are under close observation for their behavior and interactions,” Alia said. “More than anyone else, I understand the difficulties they might face.”
    Harah was forceful. “We do our best to care for them as Chani, and Usul, would have wanted.”
    Kneeling, Jessica reached out to stroke the small, delicate faces. The babies looked at her, then locked gazes with each other, and something indefinable passed between them.
    To the Sisterhood, babies were just genetic products, links in a long chain of bloodlines. Among the Bene Gesserit, children were raised without any emotional connection to their mothers, often without any knowledge of their parentage. Jessica herself, a ward of the Mother School on Wallach IX, had not been told that her father was the BaronHarkonnen and her mother Gaius Helen Mohiam. Though her own upbringing among the emotionally stifled Bene Gesserit had been less than ideal, her heart went out to her grandchildren, as she contemplated the turbulent lives that undoubtedly lay ahead of them.
    Again, Jessica thought of poor Chani. One life in exchange for two . . . She’d grown to respect the Fremen woman for her wisdom and her intense loyalty to Paul. How could he not have foreseen such a terrible blow as the loss of his beloved? Or
had
he known, but could do nothing about it? Such paralysis in the face of fate could have driven any man mad. . . .
    “Would you like to hold them?” Harah asked.
    It had been a long time since she’d held a baby. “Later. I just . . . just want to look at them right now.”
    Alia remained caught up in her visions of ceremonies and spectacles. “It is a very busy time, Mother. We need to do so much to give the people hope, now that Muad’Dib has gone. In addition to the two funerals, we will soon have a christening. Each such spectacle is designed to remind the people of how much they love us.”
    “They are children, not tools of statecraft,” Jessica said, but she knew better. The Bene Gesserit had taught her that every person had potential uses—as a tool, or a weapon.
    “Oh, Mother, you used to be so much more pragmatic.”
    Jessica stroked little Leto’s face and drew a deep breath, but found no words to speak aloud. No doubt, political machinations were already occurring around these children.
    Sourly, she thought of what the Bene Gesserits had done to her and to so many others like her, including the particularly harsh treatment they had inflicted on Tessia, the wife of the cyborg prince Rhombur Vernius. . . .
    The Bene Gesserit always had their reasons, their justifications, their rationalizations.

 

     
     
I write what is true about Muad’Dib, or what should be true. Some critics accuse me of distorting the facts and writing shameless misinformation. But I write with the blood of fallen heroes, painted on the enduring stone of Muad’Dib’s empire! Let these critics return in a thousand years and look at history; then see if they dismiss my work as mere propaganda.
— PRINCESS IRULAN , “The Legacy of Muad’Dib,” draft manuscript

     
     
     
    The quality of a government can be measured by counting the number of its prison cells built to hold dissidents
.’ ” Jessica recalled the political maxim she had been taught in the Bene Gesserit school. During her years of indoctrination, the Sisters had filled her mind with many questionable beliefs, but that statement, at least, was true.
    On the day after her arrival in Arrakeen, she tracked down where Princess Irulan was being held. During her search of the detention records, Jessica was astonished to discover just how much of her son’s sprawling fortress was devoted to prison blocks, interrogation chambers, and death cells. The list of crimes that warranted the ultimate penalty had grown substantially over the last few years.
    Had Paul known about that? Had he