Bless the Maker and His water. Bless the coming and going of Him. May His passage cleanse the world. May He keep the world for His people.

—Fremen water ceremony

The excavated cave was a temporary camp, not an actual sietch, just a known stopping place for Fremen traveling across the desert. Located in Plaster Basin, the cave was far from the cultural amenities of Arrakeen: the shops, restaurants, and spaceport. And far from all the people.

Stilgar had chosen the perfect place for Chani’s water ceremony, and Jessica approved of it. While Alia was beginning her wedding preparations, as well as responding to a new inflammatory document that Bronso of Ix had released, Jessica and the Naib had slipped away into the desert, to be among the Fremen again.

After so many years, Jessica knew she should feel like a stranger among these people, an interloper, but knew she belonged entirely. Stilgar had summoned the appropriate Fremen, arranged the ceremony, and Jessica felt a deep sense of reverence here, an intimacy. Yes, after the circus of Paul’s funeral, this was how such things should be, much more like the private remembrance she had given Paul out at Sietch Tabr. She was sure Chani would have approved of this. And Alia’s other ceremony for Chani, using ordinary water, was irrelevant to the true mourners.

The few habitable grottoes that remained in the Plaster Basin caves had once been part of a much larger complex used as a biological test area by Kynes-the-Umma, also known as Pardot Kynes, the father of Liet and grandfather of Chani. Until recent years, the elder Kynes was barely known in the Imperium, but because of the effect he had on Arrakis, his name was spoken of everywhere.

Pardot had been the instigator of terraforming activities on Dune, and a truly visionary man. Almost half a century ago, the elder Kynes had begun his work using materials gleaned from abandoned Imperial research stations. He had applied knowledge learned from formal Imperial ecological training as well as experiences gleaned from surviving on numerous harsh planets. Here, inside the deep caves of Plaster Basin, Pardot had created an underground oasis to prove that a garden could thrive on Dune. But over the years too much moisture had weakened the cave walls, causing a structural collapse that destroyed his oasis and killed the man.

But not his dreams. Never his dreams.

Dedicated followers of Kynes’s vision had returned here to reestablish a few plantings of saguaro, mesquite, low prickly pear cactus, and even two water-greedy dwarf portyguls. Yes, Jessica thought, a fitting place to honor Chani in the Fremen way. It was not a spectacle for strangers.

Stilgar had learned a great deal about politics and human nature in the years since he began following Muad’Dib. Here, though, he was about to do something without politics for the young female member of his troop who had been his niece, and so much more to so many people.

Taking care not to spill a drop, Jessica and the Naib emptied the literjons of water that he had carefully smuggled out of the Citadel of Muad’Dib over the course of several weeks. They poured the liquid into a large communal basin that rested on a shelf of rock. Moisture seals had been closed across the cave entrance, so that the men and women could remove their noseplugs and face masks. The scent of water in the air made Jessica’s blood flow faster.

As if she were a priestess, as Alia had become, Jessica turned to look upon the hundred gathered Fremen. Stilgar stood beside her like a pillar, gruff and respectful. Jessica had helped him choose each participant after careful consideration, men and women from Sietch Tabr who had traveled with Chani and Paul during the guerrilla struggles against Beast Rabban and the Harkonnens. Though years had passed, Jessica knew every face and name. Surprisingly, even Harah was here—Stilgar’s wife, Chani’s friend. But they had to keep this ceremony a secret from Alia.

These Fremen respected Chani as a Fremen, not just because of her connection to Paul. Jessica knew they were not religious sycophants, not self-important members of the Qizarate. They represented many tribes, and would take this memory back with them, and spread it among their people.

When all the observers stood silent, their voices quelled in pregnant anticipation, Stilgar deferred and Jessica began to speak. “We have gathered for Chani, beloved daughter of Liet, granddaughter of Kynes-the-Umma, and mother of Muad’Dib’s children.”

A murmur passed like a sunset breeze through the people. Jessica looked out and saw Harah’s eyes shining, her earnest face bobbing up and down as she nodded.

Stilgar touched the edge of the basin, ran his finger along the ornate bas-relief designs. With a quick twist, he unsealed the access lid and removed it, so that the precious liquid could be dispensed. “The flesh belongs to the individual, but the water belongs to the tribe, and to the dreams of the tribe. Thus Chani returns her water to us.”

“‘The flesh belongs to the individual, but the water belongs to the tribe.’ ” The gathered witnesses repeated the phrase, intoning it like a prayer. Here in the confined cave chamber, Jessica could smell the heady overlapping mixture of moist odors that combined dust, dried sweat, and melange.

When Stilgar fell silent, she continued. “Though the Fremen have sipped and collected and stolen every drop for the green transformation of Arrakis, this place in Plaster Basin has a special significance to us all. These plantings are symbols, reminders of what Chani’s grandfather and father envisioned for Dune. We now use Chani’s water to help them thrive. Green is the color of mourning, but here it is also the color of hope.”

Stilgar withdrew a demi-cup of water from the basin and walked to the nearest mesquite, whose warm multichord scent lifted like a whisper from its leaves and bark. “Chani was my friend. She was a member of my Fremen troop, a fighter, a boon companion. She was with me when we found a boy and his mother lost in the desert. She did not know it then, but she had already lost her father Liet to the Harkonnens . . . and yet she found her true love.” He poured the water at the base of the plant, letting it soak into the thirsty roots. “The strength of a woman can be boundless. In this manner, the sacred ruh-spirit of Chani, beloved companion of Paul-Muad ’Dib, remains an eternal part of Dune.”

Jessica carried a second tiny cup of water to one of the struggling portyguls. The six hard, green fruits dangling from its branches would turn orange like a setting sun as they ripened. “Chani was my friend. She was the mother of my grandchildren, and she was my son’s true love.” It had been hard for her at first, but Jessica had indeed accepted Paul’s Fremen woman, had told him that she loved Chani herself. She drew a breath now. “Even when all of humanity shouted his name, she made Paul remember that he was human.”

Stilgar motioned for Harah to be next. His wife, normally so outspoken, sounded nervous as she spoke. Jessica could see the emotions barely held in check by her set face. “Chani was my friend, a Fremen woman and a Fremen warrior. She was—” Harah’s voice cracked. “As Usul was the base of the pillar, she was his base, his support.”

The hundred guests came forward in a special type of communion, doling out sips of Chani’s essence in a hushed and reverential ceremony. They took small measures of Chani’s water for the plantings, while the remainder would be poured into the communal reservoir.

“It is said that Muad’Dib will never be found, but all men will find him,” Stilgar announced as the final audience member emptied his demi-cup. “Chani’s water will never be found, yet all Fremen in the tribes will find her.”

Jessica added, “She did not wish to be deified. Chani, daughter of Liet, will be sacred to us in her own way. She needs nothing more, nor do we.”

None of the Fremen here comprehended the vastness of Muad’Dib’s empire or the underlying tangles of his Jihad, but they knew Chani, and understood what this ceremony meant for her identity as a Fremen.

When the somber gathering was over, Jessica whispered, “We did a good thing today, Stilgar.”

“Yes, and now we can go back to Arrakeen and continue as before, but I feel rejuvenated. I must confess to you, Sayyadina Jessica, that I have long experienced a desire to withdraw from the government, to make myself remote from the wider and more unpleasant realities I’ve seen . . . just as Muad’Dib withdrew from his place in history by walking off into the desert.”

“Sometimes it is a brave gesture to withdraw.” Jessica remembered how she had turned her back during the heat of the Jihad, how she would soon return to Caladan to govern the people there. “And sometimes it is braver to stay.”

He began fitting his stillsuit, twisted a noseplug into place, and brushed dust from his cloak. “I will continue to advise Regent Alia, and will watch over the children of Muad’Dib. In those duties, I shall always hold true to my Fremen self. Come, we must return to Arrakeen, before your daughter notices that we are gone.”