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.
Anari approached him, accompanied by a nobleman Manford did not recognize. The man wore expensive clothes, a rich green cloak, a gold-embroidered vest, and flowing pantaloons. A pie-shaped hat rested on his blond curls, making him appear more effete than handsome, but his eyes were open wide in adoration as he greeted the Butlerian leader. The man removed his hat and held it against his chest.
Anari provided the introduction. “Manford, this is an important Landsraad leader, Udorum Pondi from Gillek. Lord Pondi is a fervent convert to our Butlerian cause.”
The nobleman stepped forward, as if he didn’t know whether to fall to his knees or simply bow. “I am honored to meet you, Leader Torondo, and totally amazed. To be perfectly honest, my heart might burst.”
Manford nodded, accepting the enthusiasm. It was not the only time he had received such accolades, and he always liked to listen to them.
“I was one of the first noblemen to take the pledge on behalf of my entire planet. We swore not to interact with evil machines. We cut off all dealings with Venport Holdings. We purged our cities, removed any hint of dangerous technology. I memorized the speeches of our beloved martyr Rayna Butler, and I listened to each of your recorded rallies. I read all of your writings and took them to heart. I want my planet to remain pure, even though we suffered greatly after we were cut off by the VenHold embargo.”
“I wish I had many more like you.” Manford’s comment made the man’s expression light up. “Many of us have suffered. Suffering is part of life — but humanity suffered far worse under the thinking machines.”
Pondi wasn’t finished. “Yes, yes, Leader Torondo! I also spoke out on behalf of our cause at the Landsraad Hall, but there are those who don’t wish to listen, nobles with weak convictions. I’m not even convinced about Emperor Roderick’s dedication, but I know I can trust you.” He looked away as if ashamed. “I feel soiled by what I recently discovered on Gillek, but it is too important to ignore. I must turn it over to your hands. Such terrible weapons! Only you can be trusted to know what to do with so much power, Leader Torondo.”
Anari looked at him intently, gave Pondi a meaningful nod. Manford was intrigued. “And what is it you’ve found?”
“During the purge of my planet, we ransacked technological vaults and discovered things that had been hidden away for decades, maybe even a century or more. What we found there…” Pondi shuddered, and tears began to pour down his cheeks. “I’m not worthy to keep it. Such a resource must be yours.”
“What is it?” Manford repeated.
“A dangerous stockpile placed there for use against the thinking machines, but never deployed. They are intact. Perhaps … perhaps you can use them to save us all?”
Manford was growing impatient. “What things?”
Udorum Pondi looked up. “Atomics, Leader Torondo. A large stockpile of atomics from the Jihad. Enough warheads to destroy an entire thinking-machine world.” He began to stammer. “I–I believe they can be better used for the Butlerian cause, under your guidance. If you will do me the honor of accepting them.”
Manford’s throat went dry, and he kept his voice steady. “Yes, Lord Pondi, I believe we can put them to very good use.”
48
Is the ally of an outlaw also an outlaw?
As a business leader, Josef could not let Venport Holdings be vulnerable to any single point of failure. Even after the seizure of his galactic banking operations, he still had wealth in places that the Emperor couldn’t touch. And, given time and increased production, he would even rebuild his lost spice stockpile. He would not give up.
He didn’t fool himself, though: He had been damaged severely but not defeated. No, he would find a way to grow strong again. The planetary shields and guardian ships would keep Kolhar safe, and all those additional warships on Arrakis should ensure that his hold remained firm there. Spice was the first and most important piece of the puzzle.
His operatives on numerous planets, particularly those with black-market connections, had scrounged alternative financing and secured temporary high-interest loans to keep VenHold functioning. Josef was forced to send some of his trading ships to service Butlerian-dominated planets, despite his prior edict to cut off the fanatics until they recanted their foolishness. Now, he could sell goods at exorbitant prices to those distressed people, while the extraordinary profits allowed him to maintain his defenses on Kolhar and to dispatch further shipments. His situation was no longer about the bottom-line profits that he could keep, but about survival, and making the money he needed to accomplish that. Too much was at stake — not just for him, but for the future of civilization.