The drizzle had been intermittent as they trudged into thicker forests. They found a place to stop on a wide sandbar next to a twisting, sluggish stream, where the moss-draped conifers offered some shelter.
As Gurney went about the work of setting up the campsite, Paul surveyed their surroundings, never letting down his guard despite the tranquil isolation. This time, after what they had found at the fishery complex, he felt more alert than on previous wilderness retreats with his father.
“We have a polymer tarp for the rain,” Leto said, glancing at the sky. “We’ll be dry and comfortable enough.” The man’s dark hair glistened in the mist.
“This trip isn’t supposed to be about comfort,” Paul said in a light tone.
“Part of your training is to be miserable, lad,” Gurney said as he unfurled a fabric overhang. “And to learn how to endure it.”
Their packs rested against thick trees, and Paul could hear the flow of the stream. “I’ve been miserable before, Gurney. I’ve heard your singing, remember?”
The troubadour scowled and turned to Leto. “The young Master has no taste.”
Leto chuckled. “I have heard your singing, too.”
In mock indignation, the other man finished setting up camp. Dr. Yueh was already poking around the area, studying specimens, taking images, collecting small samples for later analysis. “I would not expect to find rare barra ferns on our first day, but I will use this opportunity to extend our knowledge. There are many gaps in our understanding of natural science on Caladan.”
When the drizzle subsided and a brisk wind pushed the clouds away, the air had a pervasive chill. Gathering a warm cloak around him, Paul went to the sandbar and gazed up at the clearing sky through a wide gash in the trees. He made a pile of driftwood on the pebbly beach. “Let’s build a fire here.”
He and Gurney pulled dry weeds and stacked them with twigs and larger branches, and soon they had a crackling fire that produced a prodigious amount of smoke. As Paul hunkered down, the flames offered an atavistic, primal cheer. He felt it inside him, creating a sense of his ancient forefathers. He looked at his father with a spreading warmth. “I am glad we came here.”
Duke Leto rose from adjusting their bedrolls under the dry tarp and came to stand next to his son, his usually formal expression melting. “I’m glad too, Paul.”
Paul closed his eyes, basking in the raw sense of nature, the snap of the smoky campfire. It was good to be far away from political considerations, but he knew his father was still pestered by the details of what awaited them back at Castle Caladan, just like the black biting flies that buzzed nearby.
A large twisted log had washed up on the sandbar, and Paul sat on it, gazing into the curling stream. Gurney found a spot beside him, rested his baliset on one knee, and flipped out the multipick. “Some music, young Master?”
Paul smiled. “You know I love your singing, even though I teased you.”
“Criticism only makes a minstrel work harder,” he said.
“Is that from the Orange Catholic Bible? You like to quote verses.”
“No, that is what an innkeeper said when he didn’t like my songs.” Gurney strummed and began to play, humming to himself as he randomly picked out notes and sought words. He was not a Mentat like Thufir, but he did have an amazing repertoire of folk tunes as well as his own compositions.
He sang in a voice that was surprisingly beautiful in contrast to his rough features.
My woman stands at her window,
Curved lines ’gainst square glass.
Uprais’d arms … bent … downfolded.
’Gainst sunset red and golded—
Come to me.…
Come to me, warm arms of my lass.
For me.…
For me, the warm arms of my lass.
Yueh joined Paul on the weathered log, while Gurney continued with his music. Paul gazed at the stream by the sandbar and was startled to see several large fish—moonfish!—in the water in front of him, as if drawn by the chords Gurney strummed. These wild moonfish were larger than the ones kept in the holding pools and troughs at the fishery. They had large copper scales surrounding a thin drumhead membrane that vibrated in harmony with the music. The moonfish floated there as if mesmerized.
Leto retrieved a long, flat net with a telescoping handle from the fishing gear he had brought. He scooped the net sideways, easily flipping several dazed moonfish onto the sandbar. Gurney stopped his music and set aside his baliset. “Once again, I sing for my supper. We shall eat well tonight.”
“I heartily approve,” Leto said. “My stomach is rumbling.” He and Paul pushed the moonfish higher onto the soft sand. “We will have a countryside feast unlike the ones in the banquet hall in Castle Caladan.” He laughed. “And I wager the fish will taste better.”
Gurney tossed a small knife into the soft ground at Paul’s feet. “Take that, pup. You can help me gut and skin these fish.”
One of the moonfish looked different, with dark swirls on its coin-like scales, its stretched membrane covered with small bubbles. When he gutted it, Paul found a sack of pearl-like eggs filled with tiny twitching larvae.
“A female after spawning,” Yueh said with keen interest. “That one was about to give birth.”
Paul scooped the shimmering eggs and wriggling larvae back into the water, thinking they might survive and grow to be more moonfish. “I would rather not have killed a mother, but I cannot undo it. I shall eat this one, then.”
Gurney said, “Don’t go soft on us, lad. It is only a fish.” But Leto looked at Paul with respect.
Yueh silently took notes. “I am interested to see the life cycle of the moonfish up close, since it is such an important product of Caladan. I found little about them in the filmbooks I studied, and Minister Wellan did not document much.”
They roasted the fresh fish on the driftwood campfire, and Yueh supplemented the meal with edible plants and berries he had gathered, even though they had brought enough pack food to feed them for more than a week. Paul admitted that the fresh-caught moonfish did have a different, gamy flavor that he found a little odd, but not unpleasant. He ate all of his fish.
When full night had set in, they relaxed around the fire, and Gurney sang more ballads, but soon, the deep darkness told them it was time to sleep. Paul felt weary and his stomach was queasy, possibly from all the turmoil in the past few days. They lay back on their bedrolls, Leto closest to his son.
As the Duke stretched out on his blanket and stared up at the stars, he said quietly, “This is deceptively peaceful. It almost lets me forget the dangers of the Imperium.”
There is great skill in violating an essential rule, and in being the only one to get away with it.
—COUNT HASIMIR FENRING
With Leto and Paul far to the north, Jessica performed the necessary work of Castle Caladan, made administrative decisions, managed the household staff, and quietly did what she could to alleviate any concerns the Duke would have to deal with upon his return. She had been with Leto so long, she made many small decisions on her own, and she knew he trusted her.
With her Bene Gesserit training, she knew how to see both the large picture and the small intricacies. While not a Mentat, she could meditate and focus on problems that remained to be resolved. She needed to be active and alert.