Each person mourns the loss of a comrade in his own way. But whatever the flowery eulogy, the dead remain dead.

—Zensunni saying

When he made his way back to the isolated weather-monitoring station and the flying craft the twins had landed there, Vor knelt for a long while on the warm sand beside the body of Griffin Harkonnen. The young man’s death was as utterly useless and heartbreaking as Ishanti’s had been.

Griffin might have been the best hope for restoring the fortunes and respect of House Harkonnen. His skills had been solid and his plans viable … but all had been snuffed out.

Vor’s enemies kept following him and causing him pain, always missing the true target, and so many innocents had paid the price for that debt. Even Mariella …

He wrapped Griffin’s body in a thin polymer tarpaulin that he found among the supplies inside the weather station. He could have just left the young man there—the elements would take care of him soon enough—but Vor found that dishonorable. Griffin Harkonnen had defeated him in a duel, held a sharp knife to his throat, and then granted Vorian his life back. Vor owed him a debt for that, but even more, Vor had to pay a debt to House Harkonnen … not to make excuses, not to explain, but to acknowledge his part in tarnishing Xavier Harkonnen’s name and in the disgrace and suffering heaped on Abulurd and his innocent descendants.

Yes, the repercussions came back to him. He took a deep breath and reconsidered, but only a little. Xavier and Abulurd and Griffin had been responsible for themselves—Vor harbored no illusions about that—but he, too, bore some of the blame, and now accepted it.

After tying the tarpaulin around the body, Vor lifted the young man over his shoulder and boarded the flier, setting the wrapped package behind the cockpit seats. With plodding thoroughness, he completed the flight checklist, started the engines, and lifted away from the rocky bowl.

The flier was a common Arrakis model; the compass, weathersat linkage, and navigation charts guided him back to Arrakis City. Early that afternoon, he landed at the edge of the main spaceport and set about trying to find a carrier to transport Griffin’s corpse back to Lankiveil, along with a message to his family that he still had to write.

The cargo line operators were baffled by his request. One asked, “Do you realize the expense, sir? Shipping a human body across space is not cost-effective.”

“I don’t care about the cost. He belongs with his family, his world, and his home. I need to send him back there.” Vor would have to arrange for a transfer of funds from one of his accounts on another planet, but the actual expense was not an issue. He could have ignored the responsibility, brushed the Harkonnens aside again, and turned his back on the guilt … but that sort of thinking had already caused too many problems.

The cargo operator shook his head. “I’ve seen fools waste their money in many ways. I advise you against this, but I know someone else will take your payment, if I don’t.” With a little convincing he accepted the job anyway.

Vor also felt obligated to give Griffin’s family an explanation—though not too much. He wrote the message while the men handled the body, preparing it for shipment. “Griffin Harkonnen died with honor, upholding his principles. This was a brave man, traveling the Imperium, never shirking his noble quest. He found me, as his family demanded of him, and we resolved our differences. In time, we might even have become friends, but he met an unexpected and tragic death. Now, in the spirit of his memory I can only hope his family will understand, and forgive.”

Vor paused, deciding not to reveal the existence of Agamemnon’s other two children to Griffin’s family. That matter was resolved, and the twins would cause no further harm. However, it was a battle the Harkonnens should never have needed to fight.

“He was killed by desert bandits,” Vor continued. “And I killed them for doing it. Your brave Griffin is avenged, and I join you in sorrow. I knew Griffin for only a short time, but I came to admire him, and I assure you, he earned the lasting respect of his family name.”

Vor finished what he had to say, and after Arrakis City morticians sealed and preserved the body, he placed the letter in a message compartment on the airtight storage container, and watched as it was loaded onto the next outbound cargo ship. Eventually, it would be transferred to Lankiveil.

After the ship was gone, Vorian remained in Arrakis City for three days, but soon he came to realize that nothing was left for him there. And with Mariella now gone, he could not imagine returning to Kepler; he would only expose the rest of his family to great risk.

There were thirteen thousand planets in the Imperium. Surely he could find someplace else to go.

At the spaceport office, he offered his credentials, paid a substantial fee, and signed aboard a VenHold cargo ship that was due to depart with a load of melange. With plenty of solaris remaining in his accounts, he would fly the space lanes for a while, or he might disembark on any world that interested him.

The future for Vorian Atreides—however long he had—was an open, empty canvas. He boarded the ship, with no idea where it was bound, and did not look back at the desert planet.