Sisterhood of Dune (11 page)

He knew the guests would all be waiting in the Banquet Hall for the evening meal, but the Corrino Emperor was not ready, and they would just have to be patient. He couldn’t be expected to attend a tedious banquet with his head pounding his thoughts to distraction.

In his dressing room, Salvador slumped back in a plush chair while the latest Suk doctor leaned over him, humming an annoying tune as he affixed probe strips to the ruler’s balding pate. The doctor’s long reddish hair was secured in a silver ring at the shoulder. He read signals on his handheld monitor, and the tone of his humming changed. “That’s quite a headache you have.”

“A brilliant diagnosis, Doctor. I don’t need you to tell me that! Is it serious?”

“No need to be unduly concerned yet, though you do look rather thin and emaciated, Sire. Your skin seems pale.”

“You’re here to see about my headache, not my complexion.”

When Salvador’s father was seventy, a Suk doctor had diagnosed him with a brain tumor, but Emperor Jules refused to submit to high-tech medical procedures. Although Roderick, ever the voice of reason, had urged their father to seek the best treatment, Emperor Jules publicly supported the antitechnology Butlerian movement and shunned sophisticated doctors. And he had died.

Salvador did not want to make the same mistake.

“Here, let’s see how this works for you.” Still humming, the doctor adjusted the monitor, and Salvador felt massaging vibrations permeate his skull, as if his brain were immersed in a soothing liquid … like a cymek brain in a preservation canister. Instantly, he began to feel better.

The doctor smiled at his important patient’s relieved expression. “Is that an improvement?”

“It will have to be good enough, for now. There’s a banquet to attend.” Salvador had been through this before. The headache might recede for now, but the tide would return soon. The Emperor got up and left without thanking him; this doctor would be gone before long, like all the rest.

As he suspected, the other dinner guests were already seated around the table, looking at their empty plates in anticipation of the first course. Salvador exchanged gazes with his brother, and noted that Roderick’s auburn-haired wife, Haditha, sat farther down the table, talking with the slender Empress Tabrina. Good; she would keep the troublesome Tabrina occupied.

Despite the promise of tight security around the Emperor, some guests wore personal shields that shimmered faintly in the air. As was their custom, the entire royal family did as well, with the exception of Salvador’s reclusive stepmother, Orenna, who had a personal dislike for many aspects of technology.

Down the table, Orenna sat straight-backed, willowy and haughty, a woman of sharp edges rather than soft curves, although she had been considered a great beauty in her day. The people still called her the Virgin Empress, because Emperor Jules had made it clear that he never consummated his marriage to her. Chatty Anna, the younger half-sister of Salvador and Roderick, sat next to Orenna; she and her stepmother had an oddly close relationship, often spending time together, sharing their secret thoughts.

Anna Corrino had short brown hair and a narrow face like the Emperor’s; her eyes were small and blue. Though twenty-one, she seemed much younger, mentally and emotionally. Her moods swung like a pendulum on a storm-rocked boat, and she hadn’t been entirely stable since suffering an emotional trauma as a child. But she was a Corrino, the Emperor’s royal sister, and her flaws were overlooked.

Anna glared at Salvador as soon as he entered, her expression full of hurt and accusation. Knowing exactly why she was miffed, he sighed and felt his headache already coming back. Acting as her eldest brother, and as the Emperor, Salvador had put an end to the girl’s inappropriate romance with a palace chef, Hirondo Nef. For some months now, Anna had allowed no one but Nef to prepare and deliver her food, but Salvador’s spies had discovered that the chef was delivering more than dinner to his sister. What had the girl been thinking?

Entirely unfazed by the family drama that simmered beneath the surface of the social gathering, Roderick talked easily with Sister Dorotea, a lanky woman with a sensual feline face. A few days earlier, during Manford Torondo’s alarming demands in the Landsraad Hall, Roderick had been surprised to discover that Dorotea sympathized with the Butlerians, unlike most of the Sisters of Rossak. Thankfully—with swift thinking, as usual—he had staged the bomb threat and disrupted the silly but dangerous vote.

Salvador didn’t like the antitechnology fanatics; they were so intense, single-minded zealots who caused a lot of trouble. But he could not ignore their ever-growing numbers, their fervor, and their potential for violence. He had to tolerate them at least. Maybe Dorotea could act as a liaison, a buffer between himself and the charismatic leader.…

He certainly couldn’t deny the benefits that Dorotea and the ten Sisters like her brought to the Imperial Court. The women who graduated from Rossak had extraordinary powers of observation and analysis, and Dorotea had indeed impressed him with her perceptiveness ever since she’d come to the Palace. Maybe
she
could talk some sense into his little sister before Anna got herself into more embarrassing trouble.…

Struggling to feign an aura of glowing health, the Emperor arrived at the head of the table. His guests rose to their feet (even Anna, grudgingly), but not his overdressed stepmother, who claimed to suffer from severe pains in her joints. Salvador had learned to ignore Lady Orenna’s quirks and passive disrespect; she was his father’s widow, after all, and deserved consideration for that, though in Imperial matters she remained irrelevant. Since Jules’s three children were all illegitimate, born from different mothers and none of them from his actual wife, Salvador supposed the old woman’s annoyance could be excused.

He took his seat, and the other guests dutifully sat back down. Instantly, servants burst like spring-loaded projectiles from where they had been waiting in the wings. They served an appetizer in a flurry, a salad of blova-shrimp and savory hepnuts, presented on star-shaped leaves of lettuce. An attendant took up his position to taste the Emperor’s food, in case it had been poisoned.

Roderick, though, waved the man away and leaned over to take a bite from the salad on his brother’s plate. “I’ll take care of this.” Salvador reached out in alarm to stop him, but it was too late. Roderick chewed and swallowed. “The salad is very good.” The blond, muscular man smiled, and everyone began to eat as he whispered to Salvador, “You’re silly to worry so much about your food. It makes you look weak and frightened. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

With a sigh of exasperation, Salvador began eating. Yes, he did know that Roderick would give his life to protect him, would risk poison or throw himself in front of an assassin’s projectile. Alas, Salvador knew that he wouldn’t do the same were the circumstances reversed. Roderick was a better person in almost every way.

Down the table, Empress Tabrina let out a loud laugh, and Haditha nodded, pleased by some amusing comment. Salvador looked wistfully at his brother’s wife, not out of lust but out of envy for their relationship. Roderick’s marriage to Haditha was stable, happy, and had produced four well-behaved children, while Salvador’s marriage to Tabrina was as loveless as it was childless. Without doubt, the Empress was a great beauty, but lurking under that lovely exterior was a disagreeable, demanding personality.

Tabrina’s wealthy mining family was a key supplier of strong, lightweight construction materials that were vitally needed for government projects, and Salvador had signed an agreement guaranteeing dire financial repercussions if the Emperor ever divorced her; there were even severe contractual penalties in the event of her premature death. Salvador had no way out now. It was a lousy contract and a lousy marriage.

Fortunately, he had eight concubines … not so many for a man of his position, and his father had certainly had plenty of lovers besides Empress Orenna. Tabrina might not approve, but it was established tradition, providing the rulers with other options than a loveless bed.

The other diners conversed in low tones, occasionally glancing in his direction. They were waiting for him to establish the subject of conversation, which he customarily did. His headache was already coming back.

Roderick noted the cue and took the lead to put his brother at ease, which Salvador appreciated. As they waited for the soup course, he raised a glass of white wine to the woman from Rossak. “Sister Dorotea, your school is mysterious, but quite impressive. Perhaps you can share some of your learning with us?”

“And perhaps not.” Her brown feline eyes sparkled. “If we told our secrets, what need would there be for the Sisterhood?” Chuckles circled the table.

Roderick tipped his glass to her, conceding the point, and the discussion turned to the merits of the plethora of schools that had arisen since the end of the Jihad. “We are living in very exciting times, a renaissance of learning—so many schools specializing in the potential of the human mind and body.”

Dorotea agreed. “It is imperative that humans see how far we can advance without oppression of thinking machines.”

The Emperor received regular reports from across his vast realm. Schools were springing up like weeds around the Imperium, each one with a particular specialization, a focus on various mental or physical disciplines. The Emperor could not keep track of all the philosophies, although he assigned functionaries to monitor them. In addition to the Sisters of Rossak and the Suk doctors, Mentats were being taught on Lampadas, and adept Swordmasters continued to emerge from Ginaz. He had also just learned of a well-financed new Academy of Physiology on Irawok that included studies of kinesiology, anatomical functions, and nervous systems. And there were literally hundreds of other crackpot disciplines.
Educational cults,
he considered them.

Salvador took every opportunity to show public appreciation for his brother. “Roderick, unlike me, you are a fine physical specimen. Perhaps you could be an instructor at the new physiology academy, or even a recruiter!”

Roderick laughed and addressed Dorotea, while all the diners listened. “My brother doesn’t mean it. I have too many important governmental duties.”

“Quite true,” Salvador said with not-so-feigned embarrassment. “Too often he needs to clean up after my mistakes.”

Nervous laughter. Roderick made a dismissive gesture, continuing to focus on Dorotea. “And your advice has been invaluable as well, Sister.”

Finally, servants began laying out the soup course. “As women complete their training,” she said, “Reverend Mother Raquella sends the majority of our graduates out to assist noble families in the Landsraad League. We think the Sisterhood has much to offer. As for my own skills, I am particularly adept at determining truth from falsehood.” She smiled at the two Corrino men. “Such as when one brother is lovingly teasing another.”

“My family relationships are not so playful or loving,” Anna blurted out, causing a hush to fall. “In fact, Salvador doesn’t know much about love at all. He has no love in his own marriage, so he’s determined to deny me a chance at romance.” The young woman sniffed, obviously expecting a show of commiseration from her companions. Lady Orenna gave the girl a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Empress Tabrina wore a completely stony expression.

Anna sat straighter, her eyes flashing at Salvador. “My brother shouldn’t order me around in my personal life.”

“No, but an
Emperor
can.” Sister Dorotea’s crisp voice filled the shocked lull at the table.

Good response,
Salvador thought.
Now, how to get Anna out of here gracefully?
He exchanged glances with Roderick, and his brother rose to his feet. “Lady Orenna, would you be so kind as to take our sister back to her rooms?”

Anna remained petulant. Refusing to look at her stepmother or at Roderick, she kept her eyes focused on Salvador. “Separating me from Hirondo will not prevent us from loving each other! I’ll find out where you’ve sent him, and I’ll go there.”

“Not tonight, though,” Roderick said calmly and motioned to his stepmother again. After a brief hesitation, Orenna straightened from her chair, displaying the excellent posture of her station. Salvador noted that the older woman showed no apparent pain in her joints now as she took Anna’s arm. The younger woman acquiesced at her touch, and the two departed the banquet hall with exaggerated dignity.

One guest dropped a silver fork on a charger plate with a loud clatter in the awkward silence. Salvador wondered how he was going to salvage the evening and hoped Roderick might say something clever to lighten the mood. Anna was proving to be an unruly embarrassment. Maybe she would have to be sent away somewhere.…

Just then, the air popped in the hall, and a large armored chamber materialized in the open area that was occasionally used by court musicians. A rush of wind swirled around the banquet table. Diners scrambled away, and palace guards ran forward in alarm, surrounding the Emperor to protect him. Automatically, he activated his personal shield.

Through clearplaz windows in the tank, Salvador saw orange gas and the shadowy silhouette of a mutated creature with an oversize head. He recognized the figure immediately, though she was rarely seen in public anymore. Over many decades Norma Cenva had evolved into a form that no longer looked human.

Ignoring the uproar among the diners in the hall, Salvador stood and faced the tank. At least it wasn’t the drama of his little sister’s romantic indiscretions. “This is a most unorthodox visit.”

Silence fell in the hall when Norma’s eerie voice emanated through speakers, as if from far across space. “I no longer require a spacefaring vessel. I can now fold space with my mind.” She sounded fascinated by the very idea. The spice gas in her tank became agitated, making a storm of swirls.

Salvador cleared his throat. He had spoken with this mysterious woman only twice in the twelve years of his reign. She awed and intimidated him, but to his knowledge she had never harmed anyone with her extraordinary powers. “You are welcome in my court, Norma Cenva. Your contributions to our victory over the thinking machines are immeasurable. But why have you come here tonight? It must be something very important.”