After surviving the Otorio disaster, Leto had remained on Caladan to focus on governing his own people, strengthening the holding that had belonged to House Atreides for so many generations. And Paul would take on that mantle when it was his time.
But because the repercussions of Otorio would affect his son as well, Leto included Paul in the intense council meetings, discussing each new report and the consequences resounding throughout the Imperium. He told the attentive young man, “You need to be well informed. Soon enough, you will have significant responsibilities on your shoulders.”
“I will do my best to understand Imperial politics, sir,” Paul said. Beside him at the council table, Hawat nodded sagely, proud of his student.
“Understanding Imperial politics may be beyond any of us,” Leto said. “But we try to make what sense of what we can.”
In more public business, the Duke held court in the main audience hall, where he heard petitions, received gifts, granted favors, and dispensed justice.
Unexpectedly, Archvicar Torono arrived late one morning after traveling from the northern pundi rice fields. Standing before Leto’s imposing seat, the religious leader spread his hands and dispensed another blessing. “The Muadh serve you and pray for you, my Duke. House Atreides has ruled on Caladan for centuries, but my followers have been here even longer than that, making a peaceful home where the All-Seeing intended us to be.”
Leto responded with a warm smile. “You have always served me well, Archvicar, and your people ask for little. What is it I can grant you?”
Torono spread both palms. “I come not with a request, my Duke, but with an invitation.”
“And what is this invitation?”
“Come north to our main Muadh temple near the Arondi Cliffs. Each month, our members conduct a centering and purification ritual. The Muadh have performed this sacred ritual for thousands of years. It is the core of who we are. The essence of the barra fern enhances contentment and our place in the universe.” He smiled. “I ask you, your lady, and your son to join us.”
Leto leaned forward with a solemn nod. “Thank you for the gracious invitation, Archvicar. As Duke, I wish to know my people better, and ever since you came to greet me when I returned home safe, I realized that I do not know your people well.” He paused. “Tell me more about this ritual and what it entails.”
“Yes, we harvest young ferns in the deep forest, dry them, and share them in a community gathering.” He brushed his palms down his bushy beard. “The essence is called ailar.”
Leto frowned, suddenly recalling the unsettling angry message from Lord Atikk. Could this have something to do with the mysterious Caladan drug? “I would not be willing to consume a mind-altering substance, nor would my son…”
The Archvicar did not seem to understand the problem. “But we have done it for thousands of years, my Duke. The ailar binds us in its gentle embrace. We come to no harm. The All-Seeing would not condone it.”
“Circumstances are different for me as Duke.” When Leto saw the deep disappointment on the religious leader’s face, he added, “Would it be acceptable if we attend your ritual but merely observe? We can offer our support, but we are not members of your religion.”
The Archvicar bowed again. “We would be honored to have you join us, in any manner you prefer.”
Leto sat back in his ornate chair and mused, intrigued that there were still things about Caladan he needed to learn.
All the gold, jewels, and colorful gowns that surround an Empress cannot reveal whether her heart is a sparkling gem, or the coarsest stone.
—PRINCESS IRULAN, In My Father’s House
As far as the CHOAM Ur-Director was concerned, Empress Aricatha served a clear purpose, even though no one else realized it. The opportunity was unexpected now, but the Emperor’s charming young wife could help Malina Aru in the wake of her son’s debacle.
Malina had debased herself in the Landsraad Hall, disowning Jaxson and letting him be declared an outlaw. It needed to be done. Many in the Imperium would be skeptical of her personal motives, but she could also use the lever of heart-wrenching sympathy. Despite running the most powerful company in human history, she was still a mother shamed and disgraced by her own child, a bad seed.…
Yes, it needed to be done.
After her speech before the Landsraad, Malina accepted a gracious “invitation” from Empress Aricatha—a meeting that Malina herself had arranged, surreptitiously. Even so, their meeting did not go unnoticed.
On Kaitain, the Empress had many showy duties. Her social ministers, secretaries, and schedulers made all of her movements and conferences public. As instructed, the glowing Empress received the Urdir on the palace grounds for quiet conversation and a walk through the gardens outside the newly remodeled northern wing.
Malina wanted all the observers, spy-eyes, gossips, and courtiers to see her as she entered. On cue, Aricatha came forward, a smile curving her generous lips, a warm flush on her dusky skin. Her blue-black hair fell in lovely tresses. The guards watched cautiously as the Empress gave the Ur-Director an embrace.
“I am so sorry, my dear Malina. I cannot imagine the pain a mother must feel in such a circumstance. It tugs on the strings of my heart. You have my support in this trying time, and the support of the Imperium as well.”
Malina bowed, letting the numerous hungry eyes absorb her obvious discomfort, her grief. “Thank you, Empress. That means a great deal to me.”
Aricatha took her by the arm. “Come, let us walk on the terrace. I have been anxious to show it off, now that the contractors are finally gone. The tiling has been redone, and the remodel is complete.”
The Imperial guards made certain that inconvenient observers did not follow beyond a certain point as the two women left the palace proper and went out to the lavish terrace, with its flower displays and calming fountains, as well as the noise-dampening fields and cones of silence that offered complete privacy.
Malina’s demeanor changed when the observers faded back. “This is important, Aricatha. It goes a long way to repaying your debt.”
Now that she was Empress, the young woman had become more than a mere puppet, and she no longer maintained her meek demeanor. Aricatha had always been an avid and ambitious student, but Malina Aru still controlled her.
“I consider it an exchange, Ur-Director,” the Empress said. “You have helped me, and now I help you. It is a perfect business relationship.”
Malina replied with a cold smile. “Exactly as I taught you.”
Empress Aricatha was Shaddam’s sixth wife. His first one, Anirul, had been a strong Bene Gesserit, who bore him five daughters before being assassinated. Wanting someone more pliable, the Emperor then went through several vapid beauties who had been trained to fawn over him. His preceding wife, Firenza Thorvald, lasted only six months.
Aricatha, though, was something else. She was indeed a beauty, and she had spent years analyzing Shaddam’s concubines and previous lovers, cultivating herself to catch and hold his attention like an invisible fishhook. She had realized the plain, pear-shaped Firenza wouldn’t last long.
Now as Aricatha walked with the Urdir, the glint in her eyes grew cloudy. “Is it true that Count Uchan died on Otorio? I do not recall seeing him there.”