Navigators of Dune

Manford knew he was exaggerating his own importance, but the Emperor could not pretend that Salusa Secundus would have survived without the Butlerian intervention. And Manford did not intend to let him forget it. Roderick Corrino might not be as weak as Salvador had been … but Manford was not weak either.

After the three cymeks had attacked Lampadas and killed Sister Woodra, Manford’s devoted followers howled for blood. New converts had rushed to his ranks, and even more joined after Venport’s invasion of the Imperial capital. That dangerous man, his monstrous Navigators, his insidious machines, and his terrible cymeks had to be eradicated from the galaxy!

But not everything could be blamed on Directeur Venport. Even as the struggle for the human soul continued across the Imperium, a smaller-scale disaster occurred on Salusa Secundus. Far from Zimia in the southern lowlands, a large flood broke the banks of a Salusan river delta, and the rushing water devastated several trading settlements and river communities. Thousands were killed, tens of thousands displaced. The Emperor rushed to send emergency crews with temporary shelters and medical supplies. The suffering was extreme.

Empress Haditha announced that she would lead the relief efforts, calling upon the citizens of Salusa to contribute their work and supplies. She showed her strength and leadership by rallying support from all quarters. Manford found it admirable, but it was none of his concern.

And then Roderick came to see him. Tens of thousands of Butlerians were camped throughout the palace district, and Manford received him there like a visiting dignitary. The Emperor made his appeal. “I have work for your people, Manford Torondo. If you truly care about the well-being of humankind, then your followers can assist the flood victims. I will provide transportation to take them as humanitarian work crews.”

Manford maintained a neutral expression, but he knew exactly what Roderick’s real intent must be. The Emperor wanted to use this mundane catastrophe as an excuse to disperse the huge crowds of Butlerians, to get rid of them. No, he and his followers would not be deceived so easily.

“The flood victims are suffering, Sire, but that disaster was clearly an act of God,” Manford said. “Those people must have been machine sympathizers. I would be cautious about helping them, because they likely deserved their punishment.” He nodded as if to reaffirm his own conclusion. “Thank you, but my followers will stay right here, at the heart of our glorious capital. Surely you have enough trained home troops to handle a civil matter such as this? Weather events are rather commonplace, are they not?”

The Emperor looked angry on many levels, but Manford just smiled placidly at him. Anari Idaho stood like a statue, not questioning Manford’s decision. Unable to coerce him, Roderick and his entourage departed.

* * *

THE FOLLOWING DAY, as Manford sat propped on cushions under the rippling fabric of his pavilion, he contemplated his next steps. Butlerians filled the palace square on the west side of Zimia, and tens of thousands of believers strained the city’s resources, but everyone would share the burden for the common good.

“‘The mind of man is holy.’” He always found the mantra calming.

Manford knew the restless crowds could easily be driven to violence, and he fully understood the necessity of occasional mob celebrations as a pressure-release valve, although the last event in Zimia had gotten out of control. The death of the Emperor’s young daughter had been an unfortunate tragedy, but at least the poor girl was a martyr.

That realization gave him an idea that brought a broad smile to his face. Perhaps if Manford presented it that way, the Emperor and Empress would forgive him.…

Anari had arranged for Manford’s pavilion to be set up not far from a four-meter-high bronze statue of Emperor Faykan Corrino. Manford looked up at the statue, both impressed and offended by the towering figure. Faykan had been a hero at the end of the Jihad, and he certainly deserved to be celebrated—but not deified. Maybe someday there would be similar statues of Manford, though. He’d certainly done as much for humanity’s future as Faykan had, and arguably more.…

He adjusted the cushions, felt a warm breeze on his face. He was making an impact here, but his goal was not to relax and enjoy the sunshine. After what the demon Venport had done—both on Lampadas and here—he knew he had to move against Kolhar as soon as possible. But even the Emperor was afraid to risk a military assault against VenHold headquarters. Deacon Harian wanted to unleash the Butlerians in a rampaging mob, not caring how many would be slaughtered, and Manford knew his followers would fight to the death no matter the odds. But he wanted to win, not just create another long list of martyrs. He needed some way to guarantee a victory. He prayed for a miracle.