The Bene Gesserit Sisterhood is a well-connected network, with eyes and ears in every level of government and responsibility. Someone in their organization will know the answer to almost any question that might be posed.

But do not expect this knowledge to be free of cost, or the Sisters to be altruistic.

—CHOAM Analysis of the Bene Gesserit, Report #7

While Duncan and Gurney searched Guild records and transportation manifests from the subsidiary Ixian spaceports, Rhombur sent repeated requests to the technocrats, since their commercial connections extended across the Imperium; he even made a direct plea to Bolig Avati, although the Council leader was less than sympathetic after all the accusations leveled against him.

So far, none of the investigations had borne any fruit.

Jessica, though, had a different set of resources, avenues that even a Landsraad nobleman did not possess. While Leto was on his way to Ix, she composed a message to her old teacher on Wallach IX, Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam. With all of the Sisterhood’s observers across the Imperium, someone must have seen Paul or Bronso.

Careful to expunge any hint of desperation from her message, Jessica outlined everything she knew about the boys’ disappearance. She pointed out the very real possibility that the two might be hostages, pawns in some dangerous political game played by the Harkonnens against House Atreides, the Tleilaxu or the technocrats against House Vernius, or as-yet-unknown enemies. Paul was missing; that was all Jessica needed to know.

A day later, Leto arrived on an express Guild transport generally reserved for cargo, but he had paid an exorbitant amount for swift passage. When he stalked into the Grand Palais, he was filled with a simmering energy to do something immediately. Jessica embraced him, drawing comfort and also showing her strength. “We’ve already begun the search, Leto. Earl Rhombur has rallied all the resources of Ix.”

Leto’s gray eyes held storm clouds. “Any ransom demand or threat?”

Gurney said, “There is a strong possibility that the boys fled voluntarily.”

Duncan and Gurney bowed formally before the Duke. Duncan spoke first, “We failed you, my Lord. We let the boys slip through our fingers.”

“I am the one who failed,” Rhombur said. He plodded forward until he stood facing the Duke. “You are my friend, Leto. You entrusted your son to me, and I let you down. I gave my word that I would keep Paul safe, and for my failure I am deeply sorry. In the end, I am responsible for the foolish things that Bronso does, if indeed he ran away because of the . . . unwelcome things I told him about his parentage. You cannot forgive me. Nevertheless, I’m truly sorry. I, uh, let myself be distracted with other tragedies.”

For a moment Leto glared at Rhombur, then he took a deep breath and looked at his friend with compassion. “Paul isn’t some weak-willed boy who can easily be talked into doing something foolish. No matter what Bronso may have done, my son makes his own decisions.”

“But my situation has put him into danger,” Rhombur said.

“Our situation. A long time ago, you and I found ourselves in the middle of the Ixian revolt that turned your family renegade. My father didn’t blame yours for what happened then. I can’t blame you now.” He reached out to clasp Rhombur’s prosthetic hand in the traditional half-handshake. “My God, Rhombur—your wife, your son . . . For all our sakes, we must not let this turn into a greater tragedy.”

The Ixian leader looked as though he might break down. “Leto, how do I deserve you as a friend?”

“By being the same kind of friend to me.”

Jessica scoured the manifests of each arriving Guildship, hoping that some visitor would arrive with a message from the Bene Gesserit, but she felt her hopes slipping as time passed. If Paul had indeed left voluntarily, she could not grasp why. Paul wasn’t a flighty, impulsive boy, and running off with Bronso Vernius didn’t make sense.

Finally, an officious but poorly dressed man arrived to see Lady Jessica, handing her a sealed message cylinder. “I was told to deliver this to you.” He shuffled his feet, tugged at his sleeves. “There was some discussion of a reward for service?” After she paid the man and sent him away, Jessica activated the opening mechanism. Hope began to build in her heart.

Mohiam had written a terse, impersonal message in one of the numerous Bene Gesserit codes. The answer was not an admission of failure, nor an expression of knowledge about the boys, or lack of it; instead, she attacked Jessica for her concerns. The blunt sentences oozed with a surprising bitterness.

“Why worry so much about this boy-child whom you never should have conceived in the first place? If he is gone, then he is gone. Now you can concentrate on your duty to the Sisterhood. This is your chance for redemption. Go back to your Duke and bear us the daughter we have always demanded of you. Your purpose is to serve the Sisterhood.”

As Jessica read and reread the message, she felt the sting of tears, then a burn of shame that she would allow the old woman’s curt response to affect her so. She had been taught better than this—by Mohiam herself. With great force of will, she blocked off her emotions.

“As for the condition of Tessia Vernius,” the Reverend Mother added as a postscript, “she has never been any concern of yours. Remember your place, for once. She is in safe hands in the Mother School.”

It was not just the logic, but the venom that made her reel. Yes, Jessica had been told to bear a daughter by Duke Leto, but after the death of little Victor in the skyclipper crash, Leto had been crippled by grief, paralyzed by the loss. Out of her sheer love for him, Jessica had let herself conceive a son instead of a daughter. The Bene Gesserits, and Mohiam in particular, were appalled by Jessica’s disobedience. Now they felt the need to punish her. They would always need to punish her.

And Paul would have to pay the price. She knew now that the Bene Gesserits, even with all of their resources and information, would never offer assistance in this matter.

Jessica tried to tear the message into pieces, but the instroy paper was too durable. Frustrated, she crumpled it up and fed it into an Ixian incinerator, watching her private hopes for a quick resolution vanish in the flames. Help would have to come from another quarter.

Seasoned Guildsmen avoided setting foot on solid ground, claiming that gravity unsettled them. When a Guild official presented himself to Rhombur Vernius in the Grand Palais, accompanied by two silent and unnaturally large companions, Jessica was both intrigued and wary.

All three men wore gray uniforms with the infinity symbol of the Guild on the lapels. The hairless lead representative seemed displeased by the riotous work in all the bustling factories filling the cavern floor, as if he preferred activities to be more controlled. He took small shuffling steps, as though unfamiliar with the weight of his own body.

Rhombur strode forward. “You come with word of my son? And Paul?”

The man regarded him with oddly unfocused eyes. “The Spacing Guild is aware of your situation. We have located Paul Atreides and Bronso Vernius.”

Jessica felt sudden relief after so many days of uncertainty. “They’re alive and safe?”

“At last report.” The man’s aloof demeanor signaled either disdain for the two noblemen or simply a lack of social skills. “They stowed aboard a Heighliner and posed as workers amongst the Wayku. But they were careless, and we caught them.”

Jessica let out an audible sigh of relief, but Leto remained suspicious. “So, where are they? Are you returning them to us?”

The Guildsman blinked in confusion. His two burly companions remained silent, staring straight ahead. “We did not come here for that purpose. We came to collect the fee for their passage. Your sons traveled great distances without paying for transport. House Atreides and House Vernius owe the Spacing Guild a significant sum.”

In a tone of disgust, Leto muttered a curse. Jessica pressed, “Will you at least tell us where the boys are?”

“I do not have that knowledge.”

“Vermillion Hells, you already said you caught the boys!” Rhombur took an ominous step forward, but the two muscular companions did not flinch.

“The boys were put off-ship, according to Guild policy, at one of our stops.”

“Which stop?” Leto was growing more and more exasperated.

“We pride ourselves on confidentiality, and do not discuss the movements of our passengers.”

Leto called his bluff. “In that case, we have no proof of their travels, and we refuse to pay for their passage.”

The Guildsman was startled. “Those are separate matters.”

“To you, perhaps, but not to me. Tell me where my son is, if you want to be paid.”

The representative deferred to his massive companions, who consulted each other in quiet tones before nodding. Jessica wondered who was really in charge. “Payment first,” the man said.

“No. Location first,” Rhombur countered.

Leto fumed. “Enough of this! House Atreides guarantees payment to the Guild. If you tell us what we need to know, I’ll release the solaris immediately.”

The representative gave the slightest bow. “Very well. Bronso Vernius and Paul Atreides were granted sanctuary among a Jongleur troupe that disembarked on Chusuk four days ago.”