Around every moment is something I know, and something I do not.

—from the Collected Sayings of Muad’Dib by the PRINCESS IRULAN

At the Heighliner’s next port of call, IV Delta Kaising, the immense ship disgorged small vessels from its belly—shuttles, cargo ships, military craft. A routine stop, Guild business as usual.

Jessica thought she might go mad from the delay in getting back to Caladan. She emerged from her stateroom again and stared out the observation window of a common area at the planet below. As she often did, she brooded over the terrible losses in the Jihad, which seemed endless. Her mind was angered and saddened by the news of continuing atrocities . . . and her heart was leaden from the horrendous decision she had made. But there could be no denying what she must do.

IV Delta Kaising was the planet where the vines for razor-sharp, metallic shigawire grew, a major cash crop that was exported to various worlds. Shigawire was used as a recording-base material, and had the interesting property of contracting when stressed, making it ideal for bonds to secure struggling prisoners—cruel, and often deadly bonds. Because of the ongoing Jihad, the market for the vines had boomed.

Such a long war. To Jessica, it seemed like centuries since young Paul had run off with Bronso Vernius, eager to visit the worlds of the Imperium, to travel to exotic places and cultures. He had been excited in those days, filled with wonder and curiosity. . . .

Jessica did not notice the approach of a Wayku attendant until the slender, dark-goateed man stepped up to her, solicitous but reserved. He held one hand behind his back. “You are the Lady Jessica, from Caladan.” She did not hear a question at the end of his statement. Uncharacteristically, the steward’s dark glasses were tilted back on his head so that he could peer at her with intense, pale blue eyes. “I checked the passenger manifest.”

Wayku stewards rarely initiated contact with passengers, and Jessica was immediately wary. She hesitated. Then: “I am returning home.”

From behind his back, the man produced a sealed cylinder and handed it to her. “Bronso Vernius of Ix asked me to deliver this important message to you.”

She could not have been more astonished. She’d just seen Tessia at the Mother School, but she had not heard from young Bronso in years. Though he was the ostensible leader of Ix, he had broken all contact with House Atreides after Rhombur’s death.

“Who are you? What is your connection to Ix?”

The Wayku was already trying to depart. “I have no connection to Ix, my Lady. Only to Bronso. I am Ennzyn, and I knew both him and your son when they were much younger. In fact, I helped your men locate Bronso and Paul when the boys were . . . missing. I have never forgotten them, and Bronso has not forgotten me.”

He slipped away before she could ask more questions. Looking down at the mysterious message, Jessica cut the seal with a fingernail and unrolled a sheet of instroy paper bearing the purple and copper helix of the Vernius family.

My Dearest Lady Jessica—

Though I turned my back on House Atreides for reasons that are painful to both of us, I now call upon the close relationship that our Great Houses once had. I know you have just visited Wallach IX, and I eagerly await word—the truth!—about my mother. I would be greatly in your debt if you would stop over at Ix and visit me, on your way back to Caladan.

I still live in the Grand Palais, though I have been deprived of virtually all power. The Technocrat Council has stripped me of any real influence, and they dominate our society. It is also most urgent that I speak with you about Paul.

With all respect and admiration,
Bronso Vernius

Rolling the message tightly and returning it to the cylinder, Jessica marched off down the corridor to arrange for her departure at Ix. The planet was three stops away.

When she reached the subterranean city of Vernii, Jessica noticed many changes over the past dozen years since she’d last visited—signs of great wealth, including many new buildings, expanded industry, throngs of people of various races bustling about in expensive clothing. The inverted skyline of stalactite buildings had grown more complex; the numerous new administrative buildings looked designed for utilitarian purposes rather than beauty.

Inside the Grand Palais, Jessica was greeted by a copper-haired man, whom she recognized immediately. Bronso looked careworn and tired with shadows under his eyes and fatigue etched into his features. His shoulders drooped. All happiness seemed to have been sucked out of his demeanor. “Lady Jessica, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. It was imperative that you come.” When he extended his hand to her, she noticed the fire jewel ring of House Vernius on his right hand, Rhombur had worn one just like it.

“Oh, Bronso! It has been so long.” Words flowed from her like a flood. “I just saw your mother. She is alive and awake on Wallach IX, out of her coma.”

The young man brightened. “That much I know, because she has smuggled out brief messages to me over the years, and I to her. If I had military strength or political influence, I would demand her release.” His bony shoulders bounced up and down in a quick shrug. “But what could I do for her here? Are the Sisters taking good care of her?” He gestured for Jessica to follow him. “Tell me about her. How does she seem?”

Jessica talked quickly as he led her along a corridor, where the surfaces of tables and statues looked dusty. The furnishings were still of tremendous value, but did not look cared for. He stopped at the doorway of an inner room with no windows. As she finished her story about Tessia, she realized that he had been trying to distract her, and now she was puzzled that he would choose to bring her to a secure area rather than one of the more spectacular balcony chambers.

Bronso opened the door, and he was plainly nervous. “We can talk more inside.” Jessica hesitated before entering, sensing something unusual, but unable to determine what. The room looked bright and sterile.

He sealed the door behind them, activated a series of security systems, and then visibly relaxed. Gesturing for her to take a seat near the faux fireplace inset in the wall, Bronso said, “House Vernius is not what it once was. Our factories hum, and customers pour in from every corner of the galaxy. All around me, Ix is an efficient machine of activity, generating vast profits. Yet, here I am in the midst of it, a lonely, forgotten man. Bolig Avati and the Technocrat Council do not see any need for a royal family on Ix. Instead, they have proposed an independent confederacy.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” She wasn’t sure what he wanted from her, or what she could do to help him. “I wish I could do something to improve your circumstances. But your message said you needed to talk . . . about Paul?”

She could not reveal the crushing decision she had made.

“The summons did not come from me, my Lady.”

A door opened on her right, and Paul strode into the room, wearing a black formal uniform of House Atreides with a red hawk crest rather than the Fremen desert garb he often wore, even away from Dune. He carried himself with an icy demeanor that reminded her of Duke Leto.

“I’m the one who asked you to come here, Mother.”