“We’ll be heading home soon enough,” Gurney said. “I just received word from the rescue craft, and they have reached our landed flyer. They’ll work their way out here a little after daybreak.” He looked around the primitive camp at the slow-moving stream, the sandbar, the rugged mountains in the distance, the cold, damp mist in the air. “You picked a most inconvenient place to be sick, young pup.”
Leto looked up at the thick canopy of trees. “Just rest, and we’ll get you home. We never should have gone so deep into the uncharted terrain.”
“I thought that was the point,” Paul said with a wan smile. He ran his fingers through sweaty hair and felt a new determination. “But we can’t go back yet, Father. You promised me several more days.”
Leto said in a stern voice, “You need to get to where you can recover, in a comfortable bed with people to tend you. What if you have a relapse?”
“Then Dr. Yueh would treat me. He has his medkit.”
“It is not the same,” Yueh said. “Although, I would indeed be doing the same treatment back at the castle, my Lord.”
“I’m already much better. We came on this expedition expecting discomforts,” Paul insisted. “But what we are doing is important, and I can be resilient. I have to be. If I am to be Duke, I can’t just give up.” He struggled to his feet, though his entire body felt as shaky as the dwellings on stilts near the moonfish operations. “Besides, we have to find the barra ferns.”
Leto looked at him, clearly unconvinced. “The rescue craft are already inbound.”
“Then recall them. Have them turn around.” Paul forced himself to stand straighter, as if to exude power. “You can call them back if I do feel sick.” He thought he saw a hint of pride on his father’s face, and he took it as an opening to continue. “Gurney always says not to pamper me. If it was only food poisoning, as Dr. Yueh says, then it’s over. I’m much stronger already, and I want to explore. We can look for barra ferns in the wild. Dr. Yueh needs fresh specimens.”
Yueh nodded slowly. “That would be useful for my research.”
For some reason, Paul felt it was important for him to be out here to prove his strength, his independence. It would demonstrate his fitness to be the next Duke of Caladan.
The vivid desert dream, though—was it more than just delirium?—still disturbed him.
Gurney offered unexpected support. “The lad is right, my Lord. We still haven’t found the illicit ailar operations. They must be growing the ferns somewhere. Too many questions unanswered.”
Leto turned his hawkish gaze on the Suk doctor. “What do you say, Yueh? You are Paul’s physician.”
The sallow man stroked his chin. “His body has been through quite a strain, but his vitals are acceptable. While I do not recommend vigorous activity yet, I can give him vitamin shots and stamina enhancers.” He gave Paul a long, analytical look. “I suggest we rest here in camp for the day and see how he does. Once he has recovered more, I can make a better assessment.”
“Please, sir,” Paul said to his father. “This is part of being a leader, too.”
Leto regarded him with smoke-gray eyes. “Your mother knows Bene Gesserit manipulation techniques, but you seem to be using them yourself.”
Paul gave Leto a half-hearted grin. “Is this one working?”
“Send the rescue craft home, Gurney,” the Duke said, and turned back to Paul, sinking down to sit beside his son. “We will rest today and see. Once we start exploring the wilderness, we will go at your pace.”
“I can keep up, sir.” Paul’s lips quirked in a smile. “And if not, Gurney can simply carry me.”
The troubadour warrior responded with a snort.
* * *
BY THE NEXT day, Paul felt good enough to move out, and Dr. Yueh gave his provisional approval. The Suk doctor had explored the area around their camp, acquiring interesting biological samples, adding images to his naturalist’s catalog, although he had not found any barra ferns.
Breaking out their transmitter, Leto communicated with Thufir Hawat, further explaining—and downplaying—what had happened to Paul. The Mentat was back at Castle Caladan now, after leaving Atreides troops to occupy the moonfish operations and continue investigations of the ailar smuggling.
The group set off into the misty forests, where majestic firs stretched skyward and their boughs trapped the rising fog. Paul hiked in sturdy boots as the group forged a trail through scattered brown needles, climbed over rocks, and worked their way between thick trunks mottled with lichen. Spectacular shell fungus crawled up the bark of one evergreen titan. Trudging along, they kept alert for any sign of the unusual barra ferns.
Gurney documented their route by placing small signal beacons at strategic points, and they could always track their way back to the flyer landed on the open beach. The four hiked close enough together for conversation, but ranged far enough apart to broaden their search.
They traveled and camped for two days until they were grimy and tired, though Paul felt cleansed of lingering effects from the moonfish toxin. Now his exhaustion came from the genuine hard work of climbing through trackless wilderness.
One afternoon, Gurney ranged well ahead of them toward a distant ridge. Paul stepped over a fallen log, pushing his way through underbrush, and bent down to see a bright green curl, the delicate frond of a fern poking up from the mulch, spiraling like a tight prehensile tail. “Dr. Yueh, I think I found one!”
The Suk doctor crashed his way over to Paul through bushes and brambles. The normally reserved man grumbled at being scratched by thorns. Leto also joined them, slipping on moss and debris, pushing saplings aside.
Yueh bent down to inspect the pale green nub. “A barra fern, indeed, young Master.” He opened his pack and removed his analysis kit. “We achieved an important goal. Now I have a fresh comparison sample. I can test to see if the ailar content matches the ones that caused those deadly overdoses.”
Leto shouted, “Gurney, we found one of the ferns!”
The troubadour warrior was nearly out of sight, working his way uphill to a crest where the trees were thinner. Paul could see his figure through the slatted forest shadows. Hearing the Duke’s call, Gurney topped the rise, but remained silent for a long moment. Finally, he turned back to them, waving his arms. “God’s below, why would you stop at finding just one? Look up here!”
Yueh plucked the fern specimen from the underbrush, wearing a glove to avoid getting the substance on his skin, and stored it in one of his sample vials. When Gurney kept shouting, the three fought their way up the slope to the top of the ridge, panting hard.
The ridge was actually a high, open expanse with pines interspersed with towering fern trees, some of which rose five meters high. Yueh looked up, craning his neck. The fanlike fronds of the mature ferns were like lacy veils screening the watery sunlight.
In his calf-high boots, Gurney stalked ahead across open ground covered with a carpet of pale green ferns, tender nubs each the size of a curled human hand.
Paul felt a sense of wonder at all the growing plants. “These ferns are about the same age, and they have a more mottled appearance than the young one I just found in the forest.” He bent down, found a snipped stem, but did not touch it. “Look, they’ve been cut and gathered before they could grow any higher.”