According to a public Proclamation by Emperor Shaddam, the funeral pyre would be more magnificent than any seen before in the Imperium.

Lady Anirul’s body, swathed in her finest whale-fur robes and adorned with worthless replicas of her most expensive jewelry, lay atop a bed of green crystal fragments, like jagged monster-teeth made of emeralds.

Shaddam stood at the head of the pyre, gazing across the ocean of faces. The sweeping crowd of mourners had gathered from across the Imperium to watch this final farewell to their ruler’s wife. The grieving Emperor wore regal garments in muted colors to portray an atmosphere of subdued splendor.

Feigning sadness, he bowed his head. All of his daughters hovered near the front row of the crowd, by the bier, sniffling and mourning in earnest. Baby Rugi cried at all the right times. Only Irulan stood formal and reserved.

This display would pull at the heartstrings of every member of the audience, but Shaddam felt no sorrow at her death. Given time, his wife would have driven him to assassinate her anyway.

Trying not to look defeated, he let his mind wander while priests intoned their tedious chants, reading from the Orange Catholic Bible and going through more ritual than Shaddam had seen during his own coronation or his marriage to this Bene Gesserit witch, whose primary allegiance was not to him. Still, this ceremony was what the populace expected, what they enjoyed in their perverse fashion.

And now, shackled with the restraints imposed on him by the hostile Landsraad, Guild, and CHOAM, Shaddam could not flout any rules. The forms must be obeyed. He had to behave. Those chains would hold him back for years.

The sanctions to be imposed against Shaddam had been hotly debated behind closed doors. For a full decade, severe restrictions and controls would be placed on his activities, as prescribed by Imperial Law. During that time, the Landsraad, the Spacing Guild, and CHOAM would all have far greater influence in Imperial politics and business.

Spitefully, he wished he could afford to exile Fenring again, to punish him for the amal debacle. But after all of the Emperor’s own mistakes— which, as the Count reminded him, he never would have made had he obtained Fenring’s advice— Shaddam knew that if he had any chance of restoring his power base, he would need the devious intelligence of his longtime friend. Still, he would leave the Count on Arrakis for a while, to let him know his place….

At last the priests finished their droning, and a curtain of silence fell over the assemblage. Rugi cried again, and a nursemaid tried to hush her.

Court Chamberlain Ridondo and the High Priest waited until Shaddam realized that it was his turn to speak. He had drafted a brief statement, which had been read and approved beforehand by Landsraad magistrates, the President of CHOAM, and the Guild’s Primary Legate. Though the words were innocuous, they still caught in his throat, an insult to his Imperial Majesty.

He spoke with all the gloom he could summon in his voice. “My beloved wife Anirul has been stolen from me. Her untimely death will forever leave a scar on my heart, and I can only hope that I will rule the Imperium with compassion and grace hereafter, even without my Lady’s wise counsel and generous love.”

Shaddam raised his chin, and his tired green eyes flared with the Imperial wrath he had demonstrated so many times. “My investigation teams will continue to study the evidence surrounding her violent death. We will not rest until the perpetrator is caught and this plot is unraveled.” He glared out at the sea of upturned faces, as if he might spot the murderer among them with a mere glance.

Truthfully, he intended to do little to investigate the crime. The kidnapper-assassin had vanished, and if he posed no threat to the crown, Shaddam didn’t particularly care who had done it. Most of all he was relieved that the troublesome, meddling witch would no longer interfere with his daily decisions. He would leave her empty throne in place for a few months out of feigned respect, and then would have it removed and destroyed.

The Guild and the Landsraad would be pleased that he had followed the approved speech. He finished quickly, in an effort to remove the distaste from his mouth: “For now, alas, we have no choice but to endure our grief and carry on— to make the Imperium a better place for all.”

Beside him, Truthsayer Gaius Helen Mohiam stood with her head bowed. Mohiam seemed to know far more about Anirul’s murder than anyone had been able to determine, but she refused to divulge her secrets. He didn’t press her too closely.

Letting his printed copy of the speech flutter to the ground, the Emperor nodded to the green-robed High Priest of Dur, who in better times had performed Shaddam’s coronation. Two Acolytes pointed their laser staffs, similar to the one his bastard half brother Tyros Reffa had used to shoot at him during the play.

Energy beams lanced out and struck the prismatic emerald crystal shards, heating the controlled ionization fires within them. A column of flame rose in an incandescent blaze. Perfumed smoke spilled through grates around the pyre, finally melting the calm, waxy features of the dead woman. The blazing heat made everyone shield their eyes.

The crystal blaze continued to build until the lasers went dim and the pulsing lights faded, leaving only crackling, hissing crystals and a fine film of white ash in the shape of a body.

Paying little attention to the Emperor, Mohiam watched the cremation of Lady Anirul, who had secretly guided the long-term breeding program through its final stages. The unfortunate death of the Kwisatz Mother in this, the final generation of the Sisterhood’s extended plan, left Mohiam to safeguard Jessica and her new child.

The Reverend Mother was troubled by her daughter’s defiance and betrayal… and by the kidnapping of the baby and the murder of Anirul. Too many things were going wrong at a critical time in the breeding program.

Still, the baby was safe, and genetics was not a precise science. There was a chance. Maybe this son of Duke Leto Atreides would be the Kwisatz Haderach after all.

Or something else entirely.