Read Online Sisterhood of Dune by Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson - Free Book Online
Authors: Brian Herbert, Kevin J. Anderson
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tests anyway, just to make sure.”
“I’ll take care of everything.”
Salvador knew he didn’t have to worry. Roderick had always been the cooler, calmer brother. The Emperor let out a slow sigh. “If I knew where Bomoko was, I’d hand him over myself, just to keep the mobs happy.”
Roderick’s lips pulled together in a frown. He looked seriously at his brother. “I assume you’d talk it over with me first.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t do anything that serious without your advice.”
Over the years, protests had ebbed and flowed, though no major riots had occurred in more than a decade, not since Salvador took the Corrino throne. Soon, he would announce a revised (and somewhat sanitized) edition of the OC Bible, and that was bound to incense some people, as well. The new edition would bear Salvador’s own name, and at first that had seemed like a good idea. Through his religious scholars, Salvador had tried to solve some of the problematic text, but extremists wanted the consolidated holy book burned, not modified. He could not be too careful around religious zealots.
Roderick gave crisp orders to two officers of the palace guard. “Remove the body and clean up the scene.”
As the burned corpse was taken down, some of the reddened meat on the shoulders and torso slipped off the bone, and the guards recoiled with exclamations of disgust. One of the men brought Salvador the placard, and he squinted to read the small print on the back. The lynch mob felt they needed to explain that the victim’s body had been mutilated in precisely the same way that the thinking machines had done to Serena Butler—their justification for a horrendous act.
As he walked back to the royal carriage with his brother, the Emperor grumbled, “After a thousand years of machine enslavement, and more than a century of the bloody Jihad, you’d think people would be tired of it all by now.”
Roderick gave a quiet, knowing nod. “They do seem addicted to the clash and frenzy. The mood of the people is still raw.”
“Humanity is so damned impatient.” The Emperor stepped into the carriage. “After Omnius fell, did they really expect all problems would be solved in an instant? Eighty years after the Battle of Corrin, things should not still be in turmoil! I wish you could just fix it, Roderick.”
His brother gave him a thin smile. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Yes, I know you will.” Salvador pulled shut the door to the carriage, and the driver urged the lions to a fast pace as the rest of the entourage scrambled to follow.
* * *
THAT EVENING, RODERICK delivered the genetic results to his brother at his country estate. Salvador and the Empress Tabrina were in the midst of one of their loud arguments, this time over her desire to take a minor role in the government, rather than her customary ceremonial duties.
Salvador adamantly opposed the request. “It is not traditional, and the Imperium needs stability more than anything else.” The royal couple was in the trophy room, where a frozen menagerie of mounted fish and wild animals adorned the walls.
Fortunately, having heard the argument before, Prince Roderick marched into the trophy room, oblivious to their shouts. “Brother, I’ve brought the results. I thought you’d like to see them yourself.”
Salvador grabbed the paper from Roderick’s hands, pretending to be annoyed by the interruption, but he secretly gave his brother a grateful smile. While Tabrina seethed, sitting by the fireplace and drinking wine—too polite to keep quarreling in front of a guest—Salvador read the one-page report. Satisfied, he rolled it into a ball and tossed it in the fire. “Not the real Bomoko—just as I thought. The mobs string up anyone who arouses their suspicions.”
“I wish they’d string you up,” the Empress muttered under her breath. She was a strikingly beautiful woman with dark, almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, and a lithe body wrapped in a
“I’ll take care of everything.”
Salvador knew he didn’t have to worry. Roderick had always been the cooler, calmer brother. The Emperor let out a slow sigh. “If I knew where Bomoko was, I’d hand him over myself, just to keep the mobs happy.”
Roderick’s lips pulled together in a frown. He looked seriously at his brother. “I assume you’d talk it over with me first.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t do anything that serious without your advice.”
Over the years, protests had ebbed and flowed, though no major riots had occurred in more than a decade, not since Salvador took the Corrino throne. Soon, he would announce a revised (and somewhat sanitized) edition of the OC Bible, and that was bound to incense some people, as well. The new edition would bear Salvador’s own name, and at first that had seemed like a good idea. Through his religious scholars, Salvador had tried to solve some of the problematic text, but extremists wanted the consolidated holy book burned, not modified. He could not be too careful around religious zealots.
Roderick gave crisp orders to two officers of the palace guard. “Remove the body and clean up the scene.”
As the burned corpse was taken down, some of the reddened meat on the shoulders and torso slipped off the bone, and the guards recoiled with exclamations of disgust. One of the men brought Salvador the placard, and he squinted to read the small print on the back. The lynch mob felt they needed to explain that the victim’s body had been mutilated in precisely the same way that the thinking machines had done to Serena Butler—their justification for a horrendous act.
As he walked back to the royal carriage with his brother, the Emperor grumbled, “After a thousand years of machine enslavement, and more than a century of the bloody Jihad, you’d think people would be tired of it all by now.”
Roderick gave a quiet, knowing nod. “They do seem addicted to the clash and frenzy. The mood of the people is still raw.”
“Humanity is so damned impatient.” The Emperor stepped into the carriage. “After Omnius fell, did they really expect all problems would be solved in an instant? Eighty years after the Battle of Corrin, things should not still be in turmoil! I wish you could just fix it, Roderick.”
His brother gave him a thin smile. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Yes, I know you will.” Salvador pulled shut the door to the carriage, and the driver urged the lions to a fast pace as the rest of the entourage scrambled to follow.
* * *
THAT EVENING, RODERICK delivered the genetic results to his brother at his country estate. Salvador and the Empress Tabrina were in the midst of one of their loud arguments, this time over her desire to take a minor role in the government, rather than her customary ceremonial duties.
Salvador adamantly opposed the request. “It is not traditional, and the Imperium needs stability more than anything else.” The royal couple was in the trophy room, where a frozen menagerie of mounted fish and wild animals adorned the walls.
Fortunately, having heard the argument before, Prince Roderick marched into the trophy room, oblivious to their shouts. “Brother, I’ve brought the results. I thought you’d like to see them yourself.”
Salvador grabbed the paper from Roderick’s hands, pretending to be annoyed by the interruption, but he secretly gave his brother a grateful smile. While Tabrina seethed, sitting by the fireplace and drinking wine—too polite to keep quarreling in front of a guest—Salvador read the one-page report. Satisfied, he rolled it into a ball and tossed it in the fire. “Not the real Bomoko—just as I thought. The mobs string up anyone who arouses their suspicions.”
“I wish they’d string you up,” the Empress muttered under her breath. She was a strikingly beautiful woman with dark, almond-shaped eyes, high cheekbones, and a lithe body wrapped in a
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