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 approved?

It was probably wise that Reverend Mother Mohiam had been killed without a drawn-out trial, which would have allowed the Bene Gesserit to disrupt the government. And Jessica did not doubt that the old Reverend Mother was truly guilty.

But Irulan remained locked away, her fate undecided. Having reviewed the evidence herself, Jessica knew that Shaddam’s daughter had been involved in the conspiracy, though her exact role was not clear. The Princess languished in one of the death cells operated by the Qizarate, but so far, Alia had refused to sign the death warrant.

During her first month as Regent, the girl had already caused enough of an uproar, offended many potential allies, provoked numerous possible enemies. There were larger issues to consider. Alia was wise to delay her decision.

Jessica had first met the Emperor’s eldest daughter on Kaitain in the last months before giving birth to Paul. Since the downfall of Shaddam, Irulan had done much for, and some things against, Paul. But how much against him? Now, however, Jessica hoped she could stop the execution, for reasons both political and personal.

She marched down to the prison levels without an escort, having memorized the route from charts. Standing before the metal door of Irulan’s sealed cell, she scrutinized strange markings on the wall, mystical symbols modeled after the writings of the vanished Muadru race. Paul’s priesthood had apparently adopted the ancient runes for their own purposes.

Outside Irulan’s cell stood two fiercely loyal Qizara guards, implacable priests who had advanced through the religious power structure that had sprung up around Paul, a structure that Alia intended to preserve or even expand. While these men would never defy the direct orders of the Regent, they also viewed Jessica with dread and reverence, and she could use that.

With squared shoulders, Jessica stepped up to them. “Stand aside. I wish to see my son’s wife.”

She expected an argument, or at least resistance, but the priestly guards did not think to question her command. If she had asked them to fall upon their crysknives, she wondered, would they have done that, too? With simultaneous bows, they unsealed the cell door and allowed her to enter.

Inside the dim and stifling room, the blonde Princess rose quickly from the bench on which she sat. She composed herself and straightened her rumpled clothes, even managing a slight bow. “Lady Jessica. I expected you would come to Arrakis as soon as you heard what had happened. I’m glad you arrived before my execution.”

Despite the shadows of the cell, Jessica could see the haunted, resigned look in the Princess’s once green eyes, which were now spiceindigo. Even Bene Gesserit calming techniques could not assuage the persistent wasting of fear and tension.

“There will be no execution.” Without hesitating, Jessica turned to the priest guards. “Princess Irulan is to be released at once and returned to her former rooms. She is the daughter of Emperor Shaddam IV and the wife of Muad’Dib, as well as his official biographer. These quarters are unacceptable.”

The two guards were taken aback. One of the priests made a warding sign against evil. “Regent Alia has ordered Irulan’s incarceration, pending her conviction.”

“And I order this.” Jessica’s voice was neither flippant nor threatening; she was simply stating a fact, filled with confidence. All other questions hung unanswered in the air, leaving the guards intimidated at the prospect of defying her wishes.

With all the elegance she could muster, Irulan took three steps to meet Jessica at the cell door, but did not cross the threshold. Despite her great stake in the outcome of this small power struggle, her patrician face betrayed no relief, only a distant expression of interest.

As the guards shuffled, neither of them willing to commit to a decision, Jessica continued in a reasonable tone. “There is nothing to fear. Do you believe she would attempt to escape? That a Corrino princess would run into the desert with a Fremkit and try to survive? Irulan will remain here in the Citadel, under house arrest, until Alia can issue a formal pardon.”

Taking advantage of the guards’ hesitation, the Princess stepped out of her cell to stand beside Jessica. “I thank you for your courtesy and your faith in me.”

Jessica remained cool. “I will withhold judgment until I learn more about what role you had in my son’s death.”

They walked briskly away from the priest guards until they were alone and unobserved. Irulan drew a shuddering breath, and Jessica heard the truth in her words when she spoke. “In that cell I’ve had much time to contemplate. Although I did not try to kill Paul . . . in a way I did cause his death. I am at least partly responsible for what happened.”

Jessica was surprised by the easy admission. “Because you failed to expose the conspiracy when you had the chance?”

“And because I was jealous of his love for that Fremen woman. I wanted to be the mother of his heirs, so I secretly added contraceptives to Chani’s food. Over the long term, those drugs damaged her, and when she did become pregnant, the delivery killed her.” She looked intensely at Jessica, her indigo eyes intense. “I did not know she would die!”

Jessica’s training automatically damped down her anger, just as it had kept her from expressing her true grief. Now she understood more about what had driven her son, and Irulan. “And in his despair Paul chose to walk out into the desert. He had nothing to hold him back, no loving companion. He didn’t care enough for any person to make him want to live. So that is your fault.”

Irulan skewered Jessica with her desperate gaze. “Now you know the truth. If you want me to return to the death cell, I’ll go willingly, so long as the punishment you decree is honest and swift.”

Jessica found it hard to maintain her composure. “Maybe we’ll exile you to Salusa Secundus with your father . . . or maybe you should stay here, where you can be watched.”

“I can watch over Paul’s children. That is what I want, and need.”

Jessica wasn’t convinced that this woman should be allowed near the twins. “That will be decided later—if you survive.” She guided the Princess out of the prison levels. “Enjoy your freedom. I can’t guarantee how long it will last.”

Though furious, Alia had the presence of mind to confront Jessica in private, thus avoiding a spectacle. “You forced the guards to disobey me, Mother. In this time of crisis, you made me look weak, and you cast doubt on an aspect of my rule.”

They stood in a large, well-appointed chamber, just the two of them. Yellow-tinted sunlight passed through a filtered skylight over their heads, but patterns of dust on the panes cast cloudy shadows. Jessica was surprised that Alia hadn’t summoned Duncan Idaho, or Stilgar, or her amazon guards to be there at her side for authority. Apparently Alia really did want to have a candid, if uncomfortable, discussion.

Jessica replied in an even voice, “Frankly, your orders concerning the Princess were poorly conceived. I only hope I acted quickly enough to prevent further damage.”

“Why do you stir up trouble? After being gone for years, you sweep in here, release an important prisoner, and disrupt the legitimate workings of my government. Is that why you’ve come to Dune, to undermine my Regency, and take it over?” Looking young and forlorn, Alia sat down at the long, empty table. “Be careful—I have half a mind to give it to you.”

Jessica detected an unexpected note of pleading in her daughter’s voice. Some part of Alia, however small, wanted to surrender rule to her mother, wanted to give up the pressure and responsibility. That sad agony was a part of leadership—whether one ruled a city, a planet, or an empire.

Jessica took a seat across the table from Alia and took care to soften her words. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve had enough of power games from the Bene Gesserit, and I have no interest in leading an empire. I am here as your mother and the grandmother of Paul’s children. I’ll stay for a month or two, then return to Caladan. That’s where I belong.” She straightened, made her voice harder. “But in the meantime I will protect you from your decisions, when I must. Executing Irulan would have been a titanic mistake.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, Mother. I contemplate my decisions, I make them, and I stand by them.” With a little shrug, changing her mood with surprising swiftness, Alia admitted, “Don’t worry, I would have let the Princess out sooner or later. The mob demanded as many scapegoats as I could give them, and they howled for her blood in particular. Irulan’s incarceration was for her own protection, as well as to make her face her own conscience, because of the mistakes she made. Irulan has very important uses, once she is properly controlled.”

Jessica stared at her. “You hope to control Irulan?”

“She is the official source of knowledge about Muad’Dib, his own official biographer, appointed by him. If we executed her as a traitor, that would cast doubt on everything she’s written. I’m not that stupid.” Alia studied an imagined speck at the end of one fingernail. “Now that she has been sufficiently chastised, we need her to counter the heresies of Bronso of Ix.”

“Is Paul’s legacy so fragile that it can’t withstand a bit of criticism? You worry too much about Bronso. Perhaps the people need to hear the truth, not myths. My son was great enough as a man. He doesn’t need to be turned into a messiah.”

Alia shook her head, letting Jessica see her vulnerability. Her shoulders trembled, her voice hitched. “What was he thinking, Mother? How could Paul just walk off like that and leave us?” The waves of sudden grief coming from Alia surprised her, this girl showing naked emotions that Jessica herself had not been able to express. “Chani’s body not even in the deathstill, two newborn children, and he abandoned us all! How could Paul be so selfish, so . . . blind?”

Jessica wanted to hold her daughter and reassure her, but held back. Her own walls remained too rigid. “Grief can do terrible things to a person, chasing away all hope and logic. I doubt Paul was thinking beyond just running away from the pain.”

Squaring her shoulders, Alia summoned inner strength. “Well, I won’t run away. This Regency is a big problem Paul dumped in my lap, and I refuse to do the same thing he did. I won’t leave others to clean up the mess. I won’t turn my back on humanity, on the future.”

“I know you won’t.” Jessica hesitated, lowered her gaze. “I should have consulted you first about Irulan. I acted . . . impulsively.”

Alia looked at her, long and hard. “We can fix this. Provided I have your cooperation, my ministers will announce that I issued the orders to release Irulan, and you simply carried them out.”

Jessica smiled. The end result was the same, and the news would not be seen as a conflict between mother and daughter. “Thank you, Alia. I see that you’re learning the art of statecraft already. That is a good decision.”