What I write and what I know are not always the same thing. Muad’Dib placed a great responsibility on my shoulders, and I accept it as a duty that is holier and more compelling than anything the Sisterhood demands of me. I will continue to write as the needs of history require. My knowledge of true events, however, remains unchanged.

—PRINCESS IRULAN, response to Wallach IX demands

As Jessica finished her lengthy story, the restless but fascinated Ir-ulan began to pace around the garden enclosure. She shook her head, as if to scatter the words that buzzed around her like biting flies. “So, more parts of Paul’s past unfold. He never told me such things, never hinted—”

Jessica’s throat was scratchy. “You already knew that he kept many things from you. You’ve had to rewrite your stories to incorporate new information. Paul understood exactly what he was doing.” Suddenly leery of being overheard, she spoke quietly in one of the Bene Gesserit languages that no normal spy would ever understand. “Believe me, you do Paul no service by writing this sanitized, glorified version of him. You are sowing a minefield for the future of humanity.”

Irulan rounded on her, speaking in the same language. “How do you know what he would have wanted? You left Paul and Arrakis, abandoned the Jihad. For most of your son’s rule, during his worst stresses and challenges, you were on Caladan. I may have been his wife in name only, but at least I was at his side.”

Jessica hesitated, not wanting to reveal all her secrets just yet. “I was still his mother. Even during his rule, Paul . . . trusted me with things he never told you.”

The two reached a flagstoned contemplation area, where a pool of golden, mutated carp swam beneath a transparent moisture-seal dome. Irulan heaved a long sigh and spoke again in common Galach, not needing to hide her words. “I agree, philosophically, that it’s important for the people to know what you have revealed to me. While the background material doesn’t excuse Bronso’s crimes, at least it explains his bitter grudge against Paul. It exposes his motivation for spreading destructive lies. His hatred is personal, obsessive, irrational.”

Feeling sad, Jessica said, “You still don’t see. As a Bene Gesserit, you of all people should understand that when one wheel turns, it turns another, and yet another.” The Princess stiffened, looked insulted. While she stared down at the circling koi in the shielded pond, Jessica faced her evenly. “Listen to me, Irulan. You know only part of the story.” Catching her glance, she moved her fingers in an even more secret Bene Gesserit coded language. “Bronso was, and is, doing exactly what Paul wanted.”

Irulan crossed her arms in a closed, obstinate gesture, and she spoke defiantly out loud, still in Galach. “What Paul wanted? To defame his character? How can that possibly be? Nobody will believe that! Certainly, Alia will never believe it.” Now, her fingers flickered as she added silently, “And she will never let me write what you’re saying. It is ridiculous, and dangerous.”

“It is indeed dangerous knowledge, Irulan. I realize that. You will have to be cautious—but let me tell you the rest, so that you can decide for yourself.”

Irulan’s expression became stony, and she erected a wall of denial around herself. Leaving the koi pond behind, she stopped at a doorway that led into cool interior shadows. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready to continue this.”