Sisterhood of Dune by Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson
Authors: Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson
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pains and worries, a medical expert who had offered so many beneficial (though expensive) treatments. If only the damned man hadn’t committed suicide.…
Though the famed school had moved its new headquarters to Parmentier, their old school building remained nearby in Zimia. Salvador requested their best doctors to tend him, but they sent someone different for each of his ailments, each time he experienced a twinge or imagined a new dire physical problem. Doctor after doctor, and none of them could find anything wrong with him. Incompetents! Salvador still hadn’t found a new doctor he liked … and this one—he couldn’t even remember the man’s name—seemed no better than the rest.
He knew the guests would all be waiting in the Banquet Hall for the evening meal, but the Corrino Emperor was not ready, and they would just have to be patient. He couldn’t be expected to attend a tedious banquet with his head pounding his thoughts to distraction.
In his dressing room, Salvador slumped back in a plush chair while the latest Suk doctor leaned over him, humming an annoying tune as he affixed probe strips to the ruler’s balding pate. The doctor’s long reddish hair was secured in a silver ring at the shoulder. He read signals on his handheld monitor, and the tone of his humming changed. “That’s quite a headache you have.”
“A brilliant diagnosis, Doctor. I don’t need you to tell me that! Is it serious?”
“No need to be unduly concerned yet, though you do look rather thin and emaciated, Sire. Your skin seems pale.”
“You’re here to see about my headache, not my complexion.”
When Salvador’s father was seventy, a Suk doctor had diagnosed him with a brain tumor, but Emperor Jules refused to submit to high-tech medical procedures. Although Roderick, ever the voice of reason, had urged their father to seek the best treatment, Emperor Jules publicly supported the antitechnology Butlerian movement and shunned sophisticated doctors. And he had died.
Salvador did not want to make the same mistake.
“Here, let’s see how this works for you.” Still humming, the doctor adjusted the monitor, and Salvador felt massaging vibrations permeate his skull, as if his brain were immersed in a soothing liquid … like a cymek brain in a preservation canister. Instantly, he began to feel better.
The doctor smiled at his important patient’s relieved expression. “Is that an improvement?”
“It will have to be good enough, for now. There’s a banquet to attend.” Salvador had been through this before. The headache might recede for now, but the tide would return soon. The Emperor got up and left without thanking him; this doctor would be gone before long, like all the rest.
As he suspected, the other dinner guests were already seated around the table, looking at their empty plates in anticipation of the first course. Salvador exchanged gazes with his brother, and noted that Roderick’s auburn-haired wife, Haditha, sat farther down the table, talking with the slender Empress Tabrina. Good; she would keep the troublesome Tabrina occupied.
Despite the promise of tight security around the Emperor, some guests wore personal shields that shimmered faintly in the air. As was their custom, the entire royal family did as well, with the exception of Salvador’s reclusive stepmother, Orenna, who had a personal dislike for many aspects of technology.
Down the table, Orenna sat straight-backed, willowy and haughty, a woman of sharp edges rather than soft curves, although she had been considered a great beauty in her day. The people still called her the Virgin Empress, because Emperor Jules had made it clear that he never consummated his marriage to her. Chatty Anna, the younger half-sister of Salvador and Roderick, sat next to Orenna; she and her stepmother had an oddly close relationship, often spending time together, sharing their secret thoughts.
Anna Corrino had short brown hair and a narrow face like the
Though the famed school had moved its new headquarters to Parmentier, their old school building remained nearby in Zimia. Salvador requested their best doctors to tend him, but they sent someone different for each of his ailments, each time he experienced a twinge or imagined a new dire physical problem. Doctor after doctor, and none of them could find anything wrong with him. Incompetents! Salvador still hadn’t found a new doctor he liked … and this one—he couldn’t even remember the man’s name—seemed no better than the rest.
He knew the guests would all be waiting in the Banquet Hall for the evening meal, but the Corrino Emperor was not ready, and they would just have to be patient. He couldn’t be expected to attend a tedious banquet with his head pounding his thoughts to distraction.
In his dressing room, Salvador slumped back in a plush chair while the latest Suk doctor leaned over him, humming an annoying tune as he affixed probe strips to the ruler’s balding pate. The doctor’s long reddish hair was secured in a silver ring at the shoulder. He read signals on his handheld monitor, and the tone of his humming changed. “That’s quite a headache you have.”
“A brilliant diagnosis, Doctor. I don’t need you to tell me that! Is it serious?”
“No need to be unduly concerned yet, though you do look rather thin and emaciated, Sire. Your skin seems pale.”
“You’re here to see about my headache, not my complexion.”
When Salvador’s father was seventy, a Suk doctor had diagnosed him with a brain tumor, but Emperor Jules refused to submit to high-tech medical procedures. Although Roderick, ever the voice of reason, had urged their father to seek the best treatment, Emperor Jules publicly supported the antitechnology Butlerian movement and shunned sophisticated doctors. And he had died.
Salvador did not want to make the same mistake.
“Here, let’s see how this works for you.” Still humming, the doctor adjusted the monitor, and Salvador felt massaging vibrations permeate his skull, as if his brain were immersed in a soothing liquid … like a cymek brain in a preservation canister. Instantly, he began to feel better.
The doctor smiled at his important patient’s relieved expression. “Is that an improvement?”
“It will have to be good enough, for now. There’s a banquet to attend.” Salvador had been through this before. The headache might recede for now, but the tide would return soon. The Emperor got up and left without thanking him; this doctor would be gone before long, like all the rest.
As he suspected, the other dinner guests were already seated around the table, looking at their empty plates in anticipation of the first course. Salvador exchanged gazes with his brother, and noted that Roderick’s auburn-haired wife, Haditha, sat farther down the table, talking with the slender Empress Tabrina. Good; she would keep the troublesome Tabrina occupied.
Despite the promise of tight security around the Emperor, some guests wore personal shields that shimmered faintly in the air. As was their custom, the entire royal family did as well, with the exception of Salvador’s reclusive stepmother, Orenna, who had a personal dislike for many aspects of technology.
Down the table, Orenna sat straight-backed, willowy and haughty, a woman of sharp edges rather than soft curves, although she had been considered a great beauty in her day. The people still called her the Virgin Empress, because Emperor Jules had made it clear that he never consummated his marriage to her. Chatty Anna, the younger half-sister of Salvador and Roderick, sat next to Orenna; she and her stepmother had an oddly close relationship, often spending time together, sharing their secret thoughts.
Anna Corrino had short brown hair and a narrow face like the
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