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louder rustle, a sharp intake of breath. He sat up quickly, heard something
scurry away.
A flower lay on his windowsill, a fresh-cut calla lily like a totem, a clear
message. Its creamy bowl of petals held down a scrap of paper.
Gurney grabbed the lily, outraged that someone would taunt him with Bheth's
favorite flower. But as he smelled the heady scent of the blossom, he scanned
the note. It was half a page long, written in rushed yet feminine handwriting.
He read it so quickly he gathered only the gist of the message.
The first few words were: "Tell Mother and Father I am alive!"
Clutching the scrap, Gurney flung himself over the sill of the open window and
sprinted barefoot through the dirt streets. He glanced from side to side until
he saw a shadow dart between two buildings. The figure hurried on its way to
the main road, which led to a transit substation and then on into Harko City.
Gurney did not call out. That would only make the stranger put on speed. He
bounded along with a rolling gait, ignoring twinges of pain in his patchwork-
healed body. Bheth was still alive! His feet scraped on the rough, dry ground.
The stranger left the village behind, striking out for the fringe fields; Gurney
guessed he had a small private vehicle parked out by the crop patches. When the
man turned and saw the vague silhouette sprinting toward him, he bolted.
Already panting, Gurney rushed forward. "Wait! I just want to talk to you."
The man didn't stop. In the moonlight, he saw booted feet and relatively nice
clothes . . . not a farmer by any means. Gurney had lived a hard life that kept
his body tuned like a clock spring, and he quickly closed the distance. The
stranger stumbled on the uneven ground, giving Gurney just enough time to bend
over and ram into him like a charging D-wolf taking down prey.
The man sprawled in the dust. He scrambled up again, lurching off into the
fields, but Gurney tackled him. They rolled over the edge into a two-meter-deep
trench where the villagers had planted stunted krall tubers.
Gurney grabbed the front of the man's fine shirt and shoved him up into a half-
sitting position against the dirt wall of the trench. Rocks, gravel, and dust
pattered all around them.
"Who are you? Have you seen my sister? Is she all right?" Gurney shone his
chrono-light on the man's face. Pale, widely set eyes, darting around. Smooth
features.
The man spat dirt from his teeth and tried to struggle. His hair was neatly
cut. His clothes were far more expensive than anything Gurney had ever seen.
"Where is she?" Gurney pressed his face close and held out the note as if it
were accusatory evidence. "Where did this come from? What did she say to you?
How did you know about the lily?"
The man sniffled, then pulled one of his arms free to rub a sore ankle. "I . .
. I am the Harkonnen census taker for this district. I travel from village to
village. It's my job to account for all the people who serve the Baron." He
swallowed hard.
Gurney tightened his hold on the shirt.
"I see many people. I --" He coughed nervously. "I saw your sister. She was
in a pleasure house near one of the military garrisons. She paid me money she'd
managed to scrape together over the years."
Gurney took deep breaths, focused on every word.
"I told her my rounds would take me to Dmitri village. She gave me all her
solaris and wrote that note. She told me what to do, and I did it." He slapped
Gurney's hand away and sat up indignantly. "Why did you attack me? I brought
you news of your sister."
Gurney growled at him. "I want to know more. How can I find her?"
The man shook his head. "She only paid me to smuggle this note out. I did it
at great risk to my life -- and now you're going to get me caught. I can't do
anything more for you, or for her."
Gurney's hands moved up to the man's throat. "Yes, you can. Tell me which
pleasure house, which military garrison. Would you rather risk the Harkonnens
finding out . . . or have me kill you now?" He squeezed the man's larynx for
good measure. "Tell me!"
In four years, this was the first word Gurney had received, and he couldn't let
the opportunity slip away. But Bheth was alive. His heart swelled with the
knowledge.
The census taker retched. "A garrison over by Mount Ebony and Lake Vladimir.
The Harkonnens have slave pits and obsidian mines nearby. Soldiers keep watch
over the prisoners. The pleasure house . . ." He swallowed hard, afraid to
reveal the information. "The pleasure house serves all the soldiers. Your
sister works there."
Trembling, Gurney tried to think how he might get across the continent. He
possessed little knowledge of geography, but he could discover more. He stared
up at the shadowy moon as it dipped behind the smoky clouds, already developing
an ill-conceived plan to free Bheth.
Gurney nodded and let his hands fall to his sides. The census taker scrambled
out of the trench and ran across the fields in a limping, cockeyed gait from his
twisted ankle, kicking up dust and dirt. He headed toward a shelter of scrub
brush, where he must have left a vehicle.
Numb and exhausted, Gurney slumped against the trench wall. He drew a deep
breath, tasted determination. He didn't care that the man escaped.
At long last, he had a clue to his sister's whereabouts.
The effective ruler punishes opposition while rewarding assistance; he shifts
his forces in random fashion; he conceals major elements of his power; he sets
up a rhythm of counter movement that keeps opponents off balance.
-WESTHEIMER ATREIDES, Elements of Leadership
AFTER LETO BECAME A FATHER, time seemed to pass even faster.
Dressed in toy armor and carrying a laminated-paper shield, the small boy
toddled forward, attacked the stuffed Salusan bull ferociously with his
feathered vara lance, then retreated. Victor, the Duke's two-year-old son, wore
a green-bordered cap with a red Atreides crest.
On his knees and laughing, Leto pulled the spiny-headed toy bull from side to
side, so that the black-haired boy, still moving with baby clumsiness, had no
easy target. "Do as I showed you, Victor." He tried to cover his grin with an
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