Construction teams had erected tall towers and monuments throughout Arrakeen, many of them named after Alia Atreides, the unusual — and some said holy — sister of Muad’Dib. Though she had never asked for this honor, Alia found it amusing.

In the ongoing citadel project north of the city, Whitmore Bludd had designed an entire wing supposedly with her in mind, although the foppish Swordmaster had an unrealistic view of Alia’s interests and preferences. Unable to change his perception that she was not a mere child, he chose gentle pastel colors for her, elaborate and flowery archways, and rooms filled with sugar-and-spice ornamentation. Toys, playthings. As if she were a normal little girl.

Instead, Alia moved into a set of chambers that Bludd had labeled “guest quarters.” Her extravagant apartments remained unoccupied, much to the Swordmaster’s dismay; they could be turned into warehouses, as far as Alia was concerned.

Inside the room she had chosen, a large plaz-walled tank contained scuttling black creatures, seventeen of them. She could sit for hours watching their movements under an artificial heat panel. They loved to hide in the shadows or sun themselves on the decorative rocks. For the most part, the black scorpions rarely moved, but crouched waiting for prey, which Alia provided whenever it was feeding time. The scorpions sat motionless until some impulse triggered an instinctive reaction, a genetically programmed movement and response.

From her memories of countless lifetimes, Alia knew that children generally liked to have pets. Thus, she made a conscious decision to keep some of her own, though a part of her realized that she did it for the wrong reasons.

Alia removed the lid and leaned over the tank. She could identify all seventeen individual arachnids, although she had not taken the frivolous step of naming them. She wasn’t that much of a little girl.

Two of the creatures moved, while the rest remained motionless. Sometimes she would watch them fight territorial battles over their tiny patch of encapsulated ground. They were like sandworms clashing at the edges of one another’s territories… or like her brother’s armies facing off in battles of the Jihad. It was only a difference of scale.

She reached into the plaz-walled chamber, reminded of an ornamental aquarium her mother had kept in Castle Caladan… a memory from long before Alia’s birth. Aquarium. A word not often spoken here on Dune. The idea of using a transparent container of water to keep fish as pets would have seemed bizarre to a Fremen. This aquarium held only dryness, creatures of the sand and rocks.

Black scorpions such as these were common in the deserts of Dune. In the sietches, Fremen kept scorpions for their poison, which was applied to crysknife blades. Their sting contained an extravagantly potent venom superior to many poisons used by the Tleilaxu.

But poisons didn’t bother Alia. She had emerged from the womb with the thoughts and capabilities of a Reverend Mother. When her mother had consumed the Water of Life, it had fundamentally changed Jessica’s body chemistry, along with that of her unborn daughter. A scorpion’s sting need not concern her.

Her fingers were small and stubby, still those of a child. Very little extra flesh padded her short arm. As she put her hand into the tank, the black scorpions backed away, raising their curved tails in a defensive posture. The stingers were like hooked needles. The two arachnids nearest her arm raised their pincers, ready to fight.

But Alia moved slowly, reaching her other hand into the aquarium. Grasping the backs of their segmented tails with care, she plucked out one scorpion and then another, placing it on the back of her hand. They settled down quickly; she had done this often. When they moved along her arm, their sharp legs tickled her skin. They were not afraid of her. She laughed to herself.

Within her head, she had the company of many ghostly friends, sisters, and ancestors, but they were memories of full lives, with personalities formed over uncounted years and experiences. They made poor childhood playmates, leaving Alia lonely. She had no real friends, no confidante to giggle with or whisper ideas to. The scorpions weren’t actually very good pets, either.

She heard an indrawn gasp of horror. “Child, what are you doing?”

Immediately recognizing Irulan’s voice, Alia flinched at the interruption but did not turn around.

“Was that an assassination attempt, dear Irulan?” Alia said, still stating into the tank. “By startling me, you could have made me jerk my hand, and the scorpions would have reacted by stinging me.”

Irulan came cautiously forward. “I had no such intent, Alia, as you well know — and since you so often remind me you are a Reverend Mother, you could have saved yourself from any poison.”

“Then why were you worried?”

“I could not help myself. I was frightened for you.”

“Such a lack of control suggests that you have forgotten some of your Bene Gesserit training. Shouldn’t you be writing your new book? My brother is anxious to read it.”

“The work is coming along nicely, but I have found many contradictions. I am having a difficult time choosing which version I prefer as truth. Once I write the story, most people will accept it, so I must be cautious.”

“Cautious about the facts themselves, or the politics behind them?” Alia sounded impish.

“One affects the other.” Irulan came closer to the tank. “Why do you keep those creatures?”

“I like to play with them. They haven’t stung me yet.”

Irulan seemed dismayed, but it was nothing new. The Princess did not quite understand her role regarding Paul’s sister, who was ostensibly her sister-in-law. At times, Irulan even displayed oddly maternal feelings toward her, and Alia wasn’t sure whether or not they were genuine. Irulan seemed to gain nothing by them, and yet…

“You flaunt the fact that you are more than just a child, but a part of you is still — or wants to be — a girl. I had four younger sisters with whom I could interact and squabble and share secrets, whenever some nursemaid or guard wasn’t watching over us in the Imperial Palace. I am sorry that you do not have even that much of a childhood, Alia.”

With an abrupt gesture, Alia swept the scorpions off her arm and back to the sands and rock in the tank. Agitated and disoriented, not knowing what had just happened in their world, the creatures began to fight each other, clacking pincers, jabbing with stingers.

“I have many childhoods — all of them in Other Memory.” She could not stop herself from adding a taunt. “You will understand it one day, Irulan, if you ever become a Reverend Mother.”

The Princess did not rise to the bait. “You may say that, little Alia. I know you can learn many things from Other Memory, but not everything. You need a childhood of your own.”