The Winds of Dune by Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson Page B

to the wall. “And do you know why I
summoned
you?”
    A different voice, cooler, more logical. “We can postulate. An Ixian has affronted the Imperial household. You hope that our Confederacy has information on the whereabouts of Bronso of Ix.”
    The first voice: “We condemn the actions of the Vernius exile!”
    Alia hardened her tone. “Bronso Vernius used Ixian technology to bring disaster to my brother’s funeral. What other tricks might he use? What technologies have you given him that he intends to turn against me?”
    “None, my Lady! I guarantee that the Technocrat Council had nothing to do with it.” She detected no falsehood in his voice.
    The second voice: “We respectfully ask you to remember that Ix was once a close friend to House Atreides. We hope to reestablish that beneficial alliance.”
    “The Atreides alliance was not with the Technocrat Council,” she said, “but with House Vernius. Bronso himself severed those ties when he was young.”
    “So, you see, my Lady—Bronso has been making unwise decisions for years. He does not represent the best interests of Ix. He is an unwanted remnant of an old time and obsolete ways.”
    Old and obsolete
, Alia thought.
There was a time when my father and Rhombur Vernius were fast friends, when Ix served the needs of honor, not just commerce and industry. These men have forgotten so much from the days when House Atreides helped restore Vernius to power after the Tleilaxu takeover.
    “Even so, you must earn your way back into my good graces.” She tapped her fingers on the arm of the throne. “Have your representatives bring me new technologies, devices that are not available to anyone else. Duncan Idaho will inspect them for me and decide which can be used to strengthen our Regency. When those choices are made, youmust grant me exclusive use of the technologies. After you’ve impressed me, we will see about restoring Ix’s standing in my eyes.”
    A slight hesitation, perhaps a silent consultation among the men, and finally the logical voice said, “The Technocrat Council sincerely appreciates the opportunity, Great Lady.”

 

     
     
Memories and lies are painful. But my memories are not lies.
— BRONSO OF IX , transcript of death-cell interview

     
     
     
     
    I nside the Heighliner’s layered decks of public areas and service corridors, the Wayku always provided a place for Bronso to hide. Feeling an affinity for him, the gypsylike people who served as Guildship stewards had secretly helped Bronso since he started his strange quest to destroy the myth surrounding Paul Atreides.
    Bronso switched his location from day to day and port to port, taking up temporary residence in unclaimed staterooms or tiny cabins. Always alert and wary, he kept his power usage to a minimum so that Guild watchdogs would find nothing amiss. He had been on the run for seven years, ever since he began distributing his writings.
    Sometimes he took advantage of well-appointed suites that reminded him of his days in the Grand Palais of Ix, as the heir of House Vernius. Even so, Bronso did not for a moment regret losing his comforts and riches. He had rejected them voluntarily, in order to follow a more important calling. The Technocrat Council had corrupted everything that was good and noble on his home world. Now Bronso was performing vital work . . . history-making work.
    In the turmoil that continued to ripple across the uncertain worlds following the death of Muad’Dib, most Guildships were overbooked, and wealthy noble family members fought over the available cabins. Onthis particular passage, Ennzyn—one of Bronso’s Wayku allies—had relegated him to a tiny crew cabin that was not listed in any brochure.
    He didn’t complain, since his requirements were few: He needed only a light and a private place to sit while writing his latest condemnations. His struggle against the fanaticism that muddied Paul’s legacy always seemed impossible, but he had accepted