door shouting: “Hurry! There’s wormsign south of you!”
But Paul had known as he turned who piloted the ’thopter. An accumulation of minutiae in the way it was flown, the dash of the landing—clues so small even his mother hadn’t detected them—had told Paul precisely who sat at those controls.
Across the stilltent from Paul, Jessica stirred, said: “There can be only one explanation. The Harkonnens held Yueh’s wife. He hated the Harkonnens! I cannot be wrong about that. You read his note. But why has he saved us from the carnage?”
She is only now seeing it and that poorly, Paul thought. The thought was a shock. He had known this fact as a by-the-way thing while reading the note that had accompanied the ducal signet in the pack.
“Do not try to forgive me,” Yueh had written. “I do not want your forgiveness. I already have enough burdens. What I have done was done without malice or hope of another’s understanding. It is my own tahaddi al-burhan, my ultimate test. I give you the Atreides ducal signet as token that I write truly. By the time you read this, Duke Leto will be dead. Take consolation from my assurance that he did not die alone, that one we hate above all others died with him.”
It had not been addressed or signed, but there’d been no mistaking the familiar scrawl—Yueh’s.
Remembering the letter, Paul re-experienced the distress of that moment—a thing sharp and strange that seemed to happen outside his new mental alertness. He had read that his father was dead, known the truth of the words, but had felt them as no more than another datum to be entered in his mind and used.
I loved my father, Paul thought, and knew this for truth. I should mourn him. I should feel something.
But he felt nothing except: Here’s an important fact.
It was one with all the other facts.
All the while his mind was adding sense impressions, extrapolating, computing.
Halleck’s words came back to Paul: “Mood’s a thing for cattle or for making love. You fight when the necessity arises, no matter your mood. ”
Perhaps that’s it, Paul thought. I’ll mourn my father later … when there’s time.
But he felt no letup in the cold precision of his being. He sensed that his new awareness was only a beginning, that it was growing. The sense of terrible purpose he’d first experienced in his ordeal with the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam pervaded him. His right hand—the hand of remembered pain—tingled and throbbed.
Is this what it is to be their Kwisatz Haderach? he wondered.
“For a while, I thought Hawat had failed us again,” Jessica said. “I thought perhaps Yueh wasn’t a Suk doctor.”
“He was everything we thought him … and more,” Paul said. And he thought: Why is she so slow seeing these things? He said, “If Idaho doesn’t get through to Kynes, we’ll be—”
“He’s not our only hope,” she said.
“Such was not my suggestion,” he said.
She heard the steel in his voice, the sense of command, and stared across the grey darkness of the stilltent at him. Paul was a silhouette against moon-frosted rocks seen through the tent’s transparent end.
“Others among your father’s men will have escaped,” she said. “We must regather them, find—”
“We will depend upon ourselves,” he said. “Our immediate concern is our family atomics. We must get them before the Harkonnens can search them out.”
“Not likely they’ll be found,” she said, “the way they were hidden.”
“It must not be left to chance.”
And she thought: Blackmail with the family atomics as a threat to the planet and its spice—that’s what he has in mind. But all he can hope for then is escape into renegade anonymity.
His mother’s words had provoked another train of thought in Paul—a duke’s concern for all the people they’d lost this night. People are the true strength of a Great House, Paul thought. And he remembered Hawat’s words: “Parting with people is a sadness; a place is only a place. ”
“They’re using Sardaukar,” Jessica said. “We must wait until the Sardaukar have been withdrawn.”
“They think us caught between the desert and the Sardaukar,” Paul said. “They intend that there be no Atreides survivors—total extermination. Do not count on any of our people escaping.”
“They cannot go on indefinitely risking exposure of the Emperor’s part in this.”
“Can’t they?”
“Some of our people are bound to escape.”
“Are they?”
Jessica turned away, frightened of the bitter strength in her son’s voice, hearing the precise assessment of chances. She sensed that his mind had leaped ahead of