Navigators of Dune

She reminded herself that Vor was dead. She had her revenge. She was triumphant, and she was satisfied. But what now?

First, she would help her younger brother in every way possible. Danvis was a Harkonnen too. She knew he would do whatever was necessary. Valya would make sure of that, and he would set a bold new course for House Harkonnen.

Although their father was still the titular Landsraad leader back on Lankiveil, Vergyl was a parochial man whose ambitions did not extend beyond the seasonal whale-fur harvest. She would make Danvis into much more than that.

And as for her own sister … Tula had been taken back to Wallach IX, where she was surrounded by Sisters, constantly protected and monitored. She carried an Atreides child in her womb—a disgusting thought, but also a tremendous opportunity, as Valya had finally realized after her revulsion faded. Maybe her revenge wasn’t quite over yet, after all.

Tula needed serious reeducation in order to put aside her confusing and contradictory emotions, but Valya was confident that since she had been able to refocus even Dorotea’s Orthodox followers, she could certainly reprogram her own sister.…

* * *

IN THE IMPERIAL Court after Roderick’s victory celebration over the Butlerians and Venport Holdings, she felt considerable satisfaction as she accompanied her brother to his first formal reception at the Palace. As a newly arrived member of the court, he would be presented at a crowded soiree. Danvis had arrived wearing his finest clothes from Lankiveil, but he still looked out of place here, his outfit years behind the fashion of the times. A bumpkin.

Valya had immediately intercepted him. Even though all of the Sisters at court dressed in the distinctive dark robes of their order, she dispatched them to find new garments for Danvis, swiftly tailoring them to fit her brother’s lanky form. He had looked uncomfortable and out of place, but now he looked dashing and stylish, an impressive young nobleman arriving at the Palace. A Harkonnen lord.

Danvis needed to learn so much.…

A Chusuk orchestra played on an elevated stage, its members dressed in black jackets and frilly white shirts. Several noble couples danced on a floor in front of the musicians, including a wrinkled and ancient Lord and Lady from Zanbar, who performed complicated, surprisingly energetic steps. The traditional music was fast-paced and upbeat.

Valya made a note to arrange intensive dance instruction for Danvis. He had to be better than the other new arrivals, not just in dance but in all things. He was a Harkonnen, and had to demonstrate his potential.

Now her brother mingled with other new arrivals, young Landsraad sons and daughters who had come to serve at court. Valya would have preferred to have Danvis announced with great fanfare, but there had been no time. For the moment he was just one of many minor nobles, eager to be noticed. Danvis would have to make his own way, seeking out his own acquaintances and creating his own alliances. Under orders from their Mother Superior, the Sisters at court would smooth the way for him. No other new arrival had such a powerful and unexpected resource.

Gaudily dressed men and women chatted about foolish things, holding wineglasses or long smokettes in their hands. They sampled from melange-laced hors d’oeuvres that servants carried on silver trays. The sanctioned delivery of spice had gone a long way toward convincing the people that peace and normalcy was at last restored, thanks to Emperor Roderick.

Young Danvis looked nervous and out of place among the new arrivals, but she was confident he would discover his internal strength. In the meantime, he had to learn to hide his weaknesses better.

When she found a chance, she went to him, and walked across the hall at his side. Many of the guests were part of the Imperial Court not because of their exemplary talents, but because of important family, business, or political connections. She counted on Danvis to make a name for himself. Perhaps being seen next to the Mother Superior would gain him more prominence. He looked relieved just to have familiar company.

“Be strong,” she whispered to her younger brother, and then added with just a hint of Voice, “You are better than them.”

Valya led him toward a long refreshment table on one side of the orchestra, where she critically assessed his appearance. His black hair was straight and neatly trimmed, but overall he looked ordinary and colorless, pedestrian in the midst of so many strutting noble peacocks. There would be time to enhance his appearance and his confidence, and House Harkonnen could afford the money. It was a worthwhile investment.