Dune: The Butlerian Jihad (15 page)

A
fter his long sojourn in space, Xavier could think only of being home, and back in the warm embrace of Serena Butler.

On furlough, he returned to the Tantor estate where he was welcomed by his adoptive parents and their enthusiastic son Vergyl. The Tantors were a soft-spoken older couple, gentle and intelligent, with dark skin and hair the color of thick smoke. Xavier seemed to be cut from the same mold, with similar interests and high moral values. He had grown up in this warm and spacious manor house, which he still considered home. Though he had legally inherited other Harkonnen holdings— mining and industrial operations on three planets— many rooms in the Tantor mansion were still set aside for his use.

As he entered his familiar large suite, Xavier found a pair of shaggy gray wolfhounds awaiting him, wagging their tails. He dropped his bags and wrestled with the dogs. The animals, larger than his little brother, were always playful and delighted to see him.

That evening, the family feasted on the cook’s specialty of sage fowl roasted with honey, slivered nuts, and olives from the Tantors’ own groves. Unfortunately, after his exposure to the cymeks’ searing gas, the subtle nuances of flavors and aromas now eluded him. The cook gave him an alarmed look when he dumped salt and seasoning— which he needed to taste anything at all— onto the delicate food.

Another thing the thinking machines had taken from him.

Afterward, Xavier lounged in a heavy oak chair before a roaring fire, sipping a red wine from the Tantor family vineyards— also, unfortunately, nearly tasteless. He luxuriated in relaxing at home, away from military protocol. He had spent almost half a year aboard the efficient but bare-bones Armada survey ships; tonight he would sleep like a babe in his own bedchamber.

One of the gray wolfhounds snored loudly, resting a furry muzzle on Xavier’s stockinged feet. Emil Tantor, with a fringe of smoky hair around his bald crown, sat in the chair opposite his adopted son. Emil asked about the strategic positions of the Synchronized Worlds and the military capabilities of the Armada. “What are the chances of the war escalating after the attack on Zimia? Can we ever do more than drive them back?”

Xavier finished his wine, poured another half glass for himself and a full one for the older man, then sat back in the chair again, all without disturbing the gray dog. “The situation looks grim, Father.” Barely remembering his own parents, he had always called the Tantor lord his father. “But, then, it has always looked grim, ever since the Time of Titans. Perhaps we lived too comfortably in the days of the Old Empire. We forgot how to be ourselves, how to live up to our potential, and for a thousand years afterward we’ve paid the price. We were easy prey— first for evil men, then for soulless machines.”

Emil Tantor sipped his wine, and stared into the fireplace. “So is there hope, at least? We must have something to cling to.”

Xavier’s lips formed a gentle smile. “We are human, Father. As long as we hold onto that, there is always hope.”

THE NEXT DAY Xavier sent a message to the Butler estate, asking permission to accompany the Viceroy’s daughter on the annual bristleback hunt, scheduled in two days. Serena would already know that Xavier had returned. His survey ships had arrived with much fanfare, and Manion Butler would have been expecting his note.

Still, Salusan society was formal and extravagant. In order to court the beautiful daughter of the Viceroy, one had to bow to certain expectations.

In late morning a messenger pounded on the doors of the Tantor manor house; Vergyl stood beside his big brother, grinning when he saw the expression on Xavier’s face. “What is it? Can I come along? Did the Viceroy say yes?”

Xavier made a mock-stern expression. “How could he possibly turn down the man who saved Salusa Secundus from the cymeks? Remember that, Vergyl, if you ever wish to win the affections of a young lady.”

“I need to save a
planet
just to have a girlfriend?” The boy sounded skeptical, though wary of outright disbelief when it came to Xavier’s words.

“For a woman as magnificent as Serena, that is exactly what you must do.” He strode into the great house to tell the Tantors his plans.

The next dawn, Xavier dressed in his finest equestrian outfit and rode into brightening daylight toward the Butler property. He borrowed his father’s chocolate-brown Salusan stallion, a fine beast with a braided mane, narrow muzzle, and bright eyes. The animal’s ears were large, and its gait flowed without the jarring rhythm of less conditioned horses. On the crest of a grassy hill stood a cluster of ornate whitewashed buildings— a main house, stables, servants’ quarters, and storage sheds arranged as outbuildings along the perimeter of a split-rail fence. As his horse climbed, he saw impressive vistas of the white spires of Zimia far behind him.

A path paved with crushed limestone wound up to the crest. The gravel crunched under the stallion’s hooves as Xavier rode, breathing the crisp air. He could feel the moist chill of early spring, saw fresh leaves on the trees, a dazzle of wildflowers in their first bloom. But each breath he drew into his new lungs smelled flat.

Grapevines lined the hill like green corduroy, carefully tended and watered, each vine tied to cables between stakes so that the clusters would hang off the ground for easy picking. Twisted olive trees surrounded the main house, their low branches awash with white flowers. Each year, the first pressings of grapes and olives were cause for feasting in every Salusan household; local vineyards vied against each other to see which could produce the best vintages.

As Xavier rode through the gates and into the courtyard, other horsemen in hunting outfits milled about. Barking dogs dodged around the stallion’s legs, but the chocolate-brown horse stood majestically, ignoring the hounds as if they were ill-mannered little boys.

Contract huntsmen grabbed the leashes and pulled the dogs back into order. A number of short black hunting horses pranced about, as impatient as the dogs. Two of the huntsmen whistled loudly and others joined them, ready to begin the day’s festivities.

Manion Butler strolled out of the stables, calling up his team like a military commander positioning troops for battle. He glanced at the young officer, raised a hand in greeting.

Then Xavier saw Serena riding out on a gray mare with beautiful lines and an ornate saddle. She wore high boots, jodhpurs, and a black riding jacket. Her eyes were like electric sparks as her gaze met his.

She cantered over to where Xavier sat astride his mount, a smile forming at the edges of her mouth. Even with all the barking dogs, restless horses, and shouting huntsmen, Xavier wanted to kiss her so badly that he could barely restrain himself. Yet Serena remained coolly formal, extending a gloved hand in greeting. He took it, holding her fingertips.

How he wished he could be telepathic like the Sorceresses of Rossak, just to send her his thoughts. But from the obvious delight suffusing her face, he thought Serena understood his feelings well enough, and reciprocated them.

“The journeys across space were so long,” he said. “And I thought about you all the time.”

“
All
the time? You should have been concentrating on your duties.” She gave him a skeptical smile. “Perhaps we can find time alone during today’s hunt, and you will tell me what you dreamed of.”

Playfully, she urged her gray mare to trot over to where her father waited. Conscious of the eyes watching them, she and Xavier maintained an acceptable distance. He rode forward and clasped her father’s black-gloved hand. “I thank you for allowing me to participate in the hunt, Viceroy.”

Manion Butler’s florid face rearranged itself into a grin. “I’m glad you could join us, Tercero Harkonnen. This year I’m certain we’ll track down a bristleback. The beasts are definitely in these woods— and I, for one, have been craving hams and roasts. And bristlebacon, especially. There’s nothing like it.”

Her eyes dancing, Serena looked at him. “Perhaps, Father, if you brought along fewer barking dogs, galloping horses, and men crashing through the underbrush, some of those shy animals would be easier to find.”

In response, Manion smiled as if she were still a precocious little girl. Glancing at Xavier, he said, “I’m glad you’ll be there to protect her, young man.”

The Viceroy raised his right arm. Horns sounded and a brass gong clanged from the stables. The purebred hounds began to bay, clustering toward the far fence. Ahead, the path led beyond the blossoming olive groves and into the scrubby Salusan forest. Two eager-eyed boys swung open the gates, already anticipating their first bristleback hunt.

The party rode out like a rowdy gang, dogs pushing first through the gates, followed by the big horses that carried the professional huntsmen. Manion Butler rode with them, blowing an antique bugle that had been with his family since Bovko Manresa’s first settlement on Salusa.

The followers rode lesser mounts, hurrying behind the horses. These helper crews would set up camp and dress and skin whatever wild game the huntsmen caught. They would also prepare the feast once the party returned to the main house.

The hunters had already spread out, with each chief taking a point and plunging into the outskirts of the forest. Unhurried, Xavier and Serena trotted toward the dark green woods. One bright-eyed young man, trailing behind, glanced over his shoulder and winked at Xavier, as if he knew that the young couple had no intention of enjoying the hunt for its own sake.

Xavier urged his stallion forward. Serena rode beside him, and they chose their own path through thinning trees to a muddy streambed wet with spring flow. Smiling secretively at each other, they listened to the distant sounds of dogs and her father’s continuing bugle blasts.

The Butler’s private forest covered hundreds of acres, crisscrossed by game trails. Mostly it was left as a preserve, with meadows and sparkling creeks, nesting birds, and lush patches of flowers that bloomed in successive splashes of color as the patches of crusty snow faded.

Xavier was simply happy to be alone with Serena. Riding side by side, they brushed arms and shoulders, intentionally. He would reach up to hold green branches away from her face, and Serena pointed out birds and small animals, identifying them.

In his comfortable hunting outfit, Xavier carried a sheathed ceremonial dagger, a bullwhip, and a Chandler pistol that shot jacketed crystal fragments. Serena carried her own knife and a small pistol. But neither of them expected to bring down any prey. To them, their hunt was for each other, and both knew it.

Serena chose her path without hesitation, as if she had spent time during Xavier’s survey mission riding through the forest in search of places where they could be alone. Finally, she led him through a stand of dark pines to a meadow with tall grasses, starlike flowers, and thick reeds taller than her head. The reeds surrounded a mirror-smooth pond, a shallow old tarn created by winter snow melt and refreshed by an underground spring.

“The water has bubbles in it,” she said. “It tingles your skin.”

“Does that mean you want to go for a swim?” Xavier’s throat tightened at the prospect.

“It’ll be cold, but the spring has some natural heat. I’m willing to risk it.” With a smile, Serena dismounted and let her mare graze. She heard a splash out in the pond, but the reeds blocked their view.

“Sounds like a lot of fish, too,” Xavier said. He slid down from his stallion, patted the muscular neck, and let his mount sniff at the thick grasses and flowers near the gray mare.

Serena pulled off her riding boots and stockings, then lifted her loose jodhpurs above her knees as she walked barefoot into the rushes. “I’m going to test the water.” She pushed the hollow grasses aside.

Xavier checked the fastenings on his stallion’s saddle. He worked open one of the leather compartments and brought out a bottle of fresh citrus water to share. He followed Serena toward the reeds, already imagining how it would be to swim beside her, just the two of them stroking naked through this lonely forest lake, kissing each other. . . .

Without warning, a monstrous bristleback charged out of the reeds, spraying mud and water from its cool wallowing hole. Serena let out a cry, more of alarm than terror, and fell backward into the mud.

The bristleback pawed at the rushes with its cloven hooves. Long tusks protruded from a squarish snout, each a bony maul for uprooting saplings and eviscerating enemies. The animal had wide-set eyes, large and black. It made loud grunts as if preparing to breathe fire. In tales of great bristleback hunts, many men, hunting dogs, and horses had died— but there were so few of the animals anymore.

“Into the water, Serena!”

The bristleback turned as it heard his shout. Serena did exactly as Xavier said, splashing away from the rushes, deeper into the pond. She began to swim, knowing the boar could not charge her if she was in deep enough water.

The bristleback stomped out of the rushes. The two horses squealed and skittered back toward the edge of the meadow.

“Look out, Xavier!” Waist deep now, Serena drew her hunting knife, but knew she couldn’t help him.

Xavier planted his legs firmly, held a knife in one hand and the Chandler pistol in the other. Without flinching, he aimed the crystal-shard weapon and shot the bristleback three times in the face. The sharp projectiles tore through the animal’s cheek and forehead, gouging the thick skull. Another shot splintered one of the tusks. But the bristleback kept charging toward him, caught up in its own solitary stampede.

Xavier fired twice more. The mangled creature bled profusely, mortally wounded— but even imminent death did not diminish its momentum. As the beast thundered toward him, Xavier jumped to one side and slashed the sharp knife across its throat, opening jugular and carotid vessels. The bristleback turned, gushing blood upon him even as its heart began to fade.

The weight of the falling creature knocked Xavier to the ground, but he wrestled it away, avoiding the convulsive thrusts of the razor tusks. The killing done, Xavier climbed back to his feet and staggered away, shivering in shock. His hunting outfit was soaked with the beast’s blood.