Deep in the suboid warrens, C’tair led Rhombur and Gurney to a large, rock-hewn room. Long ago it had been an overflow storage chamber, but with dwindling food supplies there were now many such empty areas. During the first night there, Rhombur and Gurney had kept out of sight, discussing strategy. Because of the Heighliner delay, now they had less time than they had hoped.

In a whispered rush of words under the faltering light of a waning glowglobe, C’tair told Rhombur about the sabotages he had committed over the years, how surreptitious Atreides assistance had helped him strike crippling blows against the invaders. But Tleilaxu cruelty, as well as an increase in illicit Sardaukar troops stationed here, had stolen all hope of release from the Ixian people.

Rhombur had no choice but to report the sad news that his Navigator brother, D’murr, had died from tainted spice, although he had lived long enough to save a Heighliner full of people.

“I… I knew something had gone wrong,” C’tair said in a bleak voice, not wanting to say anything about Cristane. “I was talking to him just before it happened.”

Hearing of C’tair’s experiences, the Ixian Prince could not conceive how this solitary terrorist, this intensely loyal subject, had survived so much despair. The strain had nearly driven him mad, yet this man continued his work.

But things would change. On Ix, Rhombur had plunged into his new obsession with fiery-eyed enthusiasm. Tessia would have been glad to see it.

Before the break of artificial dawn the next day, he and Gurney slipped back up to the surface, dismantled the rest of the camouflaged combat pod, and carried down the hidden weaponry and armor components. It would be enough for a small armed uprising, provided the material could be distributed effectively.

And provided they could find enough fighters.

Inside the private rock-walled chamber, Rhombur stood like a figurehead. For days, word had been spread that he was back. Now awed people, carefully screened by C’tair and Gurney, found excuses to be away from their assignments and trickled in to see him, one by one. The very presence of the returned Prince gave them hope. They had heard promises for years, and now the rightful Earl Vernius had returned.

Rhombur looked out at the huddled workers still waiting to enter the chamber. Many of them were wide-eyed; others had tears on their faces. “Look at them, Gurney. They are my people. They will not betray me.” Then he had formed a wan smile. “And if they do turn against House Vernius, even after what the Tleilaxu have done here, then perhaps it is not worth such a struggle to win back my home.”

The furtive people continued to arrive, reaching out to shake the mechanical hand of the cyborg Prince as if he were a holy resurrection. Some dropped to their knees, others stared him in the eyes as if challenging his ability to bring freedom back to the downtrodden people.

“I know you have been disappointed many times before,” Rhombur said in a voice that sounded much older, much more confident than Gurney had heard before. “But this time you will have victory on Ix.” As he spoke, the people listened attentively. Rhombur felt wonder at this, and a tremendous sense of responsibility.

“For the next few days you must watch and wait. Prepare for your opportunities. I don’t ask you to endanger yourselves… not yet. But you will know when the time is right. I can provide no details, because the Tleilaxu have many ears.”

The nervous gathering muttered, fewer than forty people looking sidelong at their companions as if they might find shape-shifters in their midst.

“I am your Prince, the rightful Earl of House Vernius. Trust me. I will not let you down. Soon you will be liberated, and Ix will return to the way it was when my father Dominic ruled the planet.”

The people gave a low cheer, and someone shouted, “Will we be free of the Tleilaxu and the Sardaukar?”

Rhombur turned to face the man. “The Emperor’s soldiers have no more right to be here than the Tleilaxu.” His face became grim. “Besides, House Corrino has committed its own crimes against the Vernius family. Observe.”

Gurney stepped forward and activated a small holo-projector. The solido image of a gaunt, beaten man appeared, sitting in dank shadows.

“Before she married my father, Lady Shando Vernius was a concubine of Emperor Elrood IX. Unknown to us until recently, she also bore the old Emperor an illegitimate son. Under the name of Tyros Reffa, the boy was raised in secret by the gentle Docent of Taligari. Reffa was therefore my half brother, a member of House Vernius through the distaff line.”

Mutters of surprise rippled through the chamber. The Ixians all knew of the deaths of Dominic, Shando, and Kailea, but they had not guessed there might be another member of the family.

“These words were recorded in the Imperial prison by our Ambassador-in-Exile, Cammar Pilru. This is the last speech Tyros Reffa ever made, before Emperor Shaddam Corrino executed him. Even I never met my own half brother.”

He played Reffa’s impassioned words to growing moans of anger and outrage. Apparently the man had not previously known his connection to House Vernius, but that did not matter to the rebellious people as they listened. When the image faded, people came forward as if to embrace the air in which the holograms had been projected.

Afterward, even with the power with which the doomed Reffa delivered his words, Rhombur spoke his own piece, finding strength and passion that would have made a Master Jongleur proud. He did more to inflame rebellious thoughts than any reasoned plan another man could have put together. In the emotion-packed sentences, Prince Rhombur pleaded for justice.

“Now go forth and tell others,” he urged. Their time had been curtailed here, and the Prince had to take greater risks in his work. “Be careful, but enthusiastic. We don’t dare reveal our plans to the Tleilaxu and the Sardaukar. Not yet.”

Hearing the names of their hated enemies, several Ixians spat on the stone floor. In a grim mutter of outrage that built to a barely controlled crescendo, the recruits cried, “Victory on Ix!”

Quickly, C’tair and Gurney whisked the Prince away through side tunnels, to hide him before the wrong people noticed the disturbance and came to investigate.

Days later, still full of questions and uncertainties, the two infiltrators watched a chronometer and prepared themselves for a labor shift to change, so that they could slip out and talk to other potential rebels. A faint glowglobe flickered overhead in their small rock chamber.

“Everything’s going as well as we could have hoped, given our shortened timetable,” Rhombur said.

“Still, Duke Leto is operating in a blackout of information,” Gurney said. “I wish we’d had a way of contacting him, to tell him that we’re going ahead.”

Rhombur responded with a quote from the Orange Catholic Bible, knowing his companion’s fondness for the scripture. “ ’If you have no faith in your friends, then you have no true friends.’ Rest assured, Leto won’t let us down.”

The men tensed as they heard a commotion in the hall, followed by furtive footsteps. Then C’tair appeared, his work shirt and hands bloodied. “I need to change quickly, and clean up.” He looked back and forth, fearing detection. “I was forced to kill another Tleilaxu. He was just a lab worker, but he had cornered one of our new recruits and was interrogating him. I know he would have given away our plan.”

“Did anybody see you?” Gurney asked.

“No. But our recruit fled, leaving me with the mess to clean up.” C’tair hung his head, shook it, then raised his chin again, his eyes proud but sad. “I will kill as many as necessary. Tleilaxu blood cleanses my hands.”

Gurney was concerned. “This is bad news, our fourth near discovery in only three days. The Tleilaxu are bound to be suspicious.”

“That’s why we dare not delay,” Rhombur said. “Everyone must know the timetable, and be ready. I will lead them. I am their Prince.”

Gurney’s inkvine scar reddened as he scowled. “I don’t like this.”

C’tair began wiping his hands and scrubbing under the fingernails. He seemed resigned to the danger. “We Ixians have been massacred before, but our determination will prevail. Our prayers will prevail.”