On a clear, breezy morning, she left the stone walls of the castle and began with a slow walk along the nearby cliffs, inhaling the sea air. Observers might have seen her as a lady at court without a care in the world, strolling out along the grassy headlands, her skirts blowing around her legs, but in her mind spun many wheels and many details.
She could fathom why Leto so enjoyed going out to the wilderness with their son, but she also had to mull over the various marriage candidates that had been suggested for Paul, not just the political considerations that Leto and Thufir Hawat weighed but also the stark instructions the Mother Superior had sent her. Jessica had been indignant that the Sisterhood would meddle so blatantly, but she had been raised and trained on Wallach IX, and knew full well their long-standing breeding schemes.
She had to thread a fine needle, balance the needs of House Atreides with the needs of the Bene Gesserit, and what was best for her son. But Leto could never know. Fortunately, with the initial choice of Junu Verdun, they had sent a letter of invitation to a young woman acceptable to both sets of needs.
Alone, but crowded with thoughts, she walked gracefully down the narrow path along the cliff edge. Despite the sheer precipice nearby, she had always been sure-footed and hyperaware of her surroundings. She paused at a viewpoint guarded by a metal railing, where a flagpole flew the green-and-black Atreides banner.
She looked over the edge, a perilous drop-off to the crashing surf below. Twenty meters down the cliff, she spotted a ledge that held the nest of a giant spreybird. The gray female huddled on a reinforced pile of flotsam and dried weeds, while the white male soared smoothly above his mate, then landed next to her, tucking in his wings.
Looking closely, Jessica saw that the egg had already hatched. The nesting female lifted a wing that had been sheltering a fuzzy baby spreybird. The mother positioned herself to shelter the chick from the wind and from potential attackers.
Watching this, Jessica thought there could be nothing more natural than the love of a mother for her offspring. She could not always shelter Paul, though. He was growing into a man right before her eyes, leaving his childhood ways behind at an astonishing pace.
As she continued walking, she looked up into the bright sky to see an Atreides patrol glider soaring out over the water, riding updrafts and gusts of wind. A man worked the controls, enclosed in the plaz control cockpit that did not impair visibility. Though this surveillance was the work of a low-ranking scout, she recognized Thufir Hawat himself, only just returned from the moonfish operations to the north. The warrior Mentat had flown often in his younger years, and he still took discretionary shifts on the watch gliders.
Standing on the open grass of the headlands, she watched the patrol craft circle the tall stone towers of the castle, then glide toward her. Thufir was a master of the nuances of gusts and breezes. Jessica was impressed by how he used aerodynamics and worked the craft’s geometry to cruise above the sea cliffs as he kept a sharp eye on the surroundings.
Spotting Jessica out in the open, he approached, made a tight circle, and landed gently on the grasses. She hurried to greet him as he struggled to anchor the lightweight craft.
The old Atreides Master of Assassins had taken charge of the drug investigation at the fishery, at Leto’s command. After two intense days, he had left cleanup crews and security forces who continued to monitor the situation, while he returned to watch over Castle Caladan.
With the light craft anchored, he unhooked his harness and stepped free of the small flying machine. The old veteran was still quite nimble, but Jessica noted the stiffness he hid. A great warrior in the days of Duke Paulus Atreides, Thufir Hawat refused to admit that he might be growing older and slower. Nevertheless, Jessica knew the Mentat’s loyalty was without question.
He bowed and smiled with his stained lips. “Always on duty, my Lady, always vigilant. Flying up there gives me a chance to think as well.”
He called for a retrieval crew to move the lightweight craft back to the military landing field, and they walked together back toward the castle, leaving the anchored glider shifting restlessly behind them.
“I understand the drug investigation is in good hands,” she said. “You have cut off one of the black-market channels?” She had already learned much of what had happened there, but Thufir had not presented a formal report yet.
“My team was thorough,” the Mentat said. “We began to unravel the drug operations, although we have not yet located the primary barra fern crop, but we did cut off some of their smuggling routes and seized a fair amount of product. For that, at least, some of the people of Caladan are safer. I have reviewed Minister Wellan’s travels and which other fishery operations he inspected.”
Jessica nodded. “Yes, those might also be parts of the smuggling network.”
“Someone is moving the Caladan drug through the moonfish supply chain. The distribution network is like a weed with roots extending in all directions.” Thufir paused, silently summarizing his report before he spoke again. “As we interrogated the frightened moonfish workers, one name came up repeatedly—Chaen Marek. Apparently, he is in charge of the illicit operations.”
“And who is this man?” Jessica asked. “Have you uncovered further details about him?”
“Marek is an enigma, my Lady, but he certainly struck fear in the workers. He is apparently an offworlder, with intricate connections that allow him to distribute his deadly drug around the Imperium. That must be how Lord Atikk’s son received his supply.” His brows drew together. “I am still investigating the extent of interplanetary spread. The fishery workers revealed nothing else, and I am convinced they knew no more. They were not the type to … resist my probing.”
He and Jessica had a formal relationship, distant but respectful. She rarely gave the Mentat compliments, but now she felt he deserved one. “Leto will be proud of your work, Thufir,” she said.
The veteran looked troubled. “I do not do it to make him proud, my Lady. I do it because it is my job.”
“You do your job well, as we all strive to,” Jessica said, thinking of all the quiet, subtle operations she herself did to balance her obligations and keep the complicated wheels turning. “And that is how we make House Atreides strong.” Musing, she spoke up, “We have a rivalry, you know, Thufir.”
He remained stiff and formal. “My Lady, I do not oppose you in any way.”
“But we compete for the attention of my son. You with your deep training methods, and me with another form of training. I have taught my son—all for his own good.”
“You use Bene Gesserit training,” Hawat said. She detected an undertone of distaste in his voice.
“That, and more.” She smiled. “And we both know you’ve been teaching my son the ways of Mentats. I approve.”
“My specific training is strictly to help his thought processes, my Lady.” They exchanged knowing glances. “Even if such training is frowned upon by others, strictly speaking.”
“Paul has a great eagerness to learn and a great capacity for absorbing information.” A gust of wind caught a strand of her hair and whipped it about. “I appreciate what you’re teaching him, Thufir. You are preparing him to survive the political battles he is bound to encounter in Imperial life. You equip him against the difficulties he might face.”