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.She was not a child; she was a weapon.Killing even a Kwisatz Haderach was not beyond her abilities.Coiling all of her energy, summoning every skill she had been taught, Marie launched herself toward Thallo, a guided human projectile.She saw a muscle flicker on the back of his neck.He began to turn, blindingly fast.She had anticipated his reaction, though — had planned for it, in fact.His hand blurred up, but he hesitated for the merest fraction of a second, either reluctant to release the controls… or afraid to hurt her.With the rigid tips of both feet, Marie slammed into his neck.She heard the cracking sound of breaking bone.Thallo’s head bent forward at a sharp, unnatural angle.His face slammed into the panel, and he slumped to the floor.As his fingers slid away from the controls, she pushed aside the heavy body of the would-be Kwisatz Haderach.No longer concerned about him, Marie concentrated on the complex banks of controls.She would have only moments to throttle back the pressure release.OUT IN THE corridor, Count Fenring heard the explosions rippling beneath the city.A deep thump came, and then another, much closer.Ereboam wailed, “It is too late!”But the rumbling seemed distant, the angry thrumming of energy discharges fading away.Fenring looked at his wife, saw her eyes filled with love and fear.The Count cocked his eyebrow at the researcher, speaking harshly, “Perhaps you should find out exactly what is happening, hmmm?”Tleilaxu researchers scurried to their update panels and control systems, speaking on comlines and chattering as they received results.Dr.Ereboam glanced around in amazement, his shock of white hair mussed.Presently he said, “You heard the explosions, but the discharge was… focused.The nerve gas was released into the lake, and the water reaction will render it inert.” He spun to the Count and his Lady.“Thallo has averted the disaster!”“Even so, I wouldn’t suggest going outside without a mask for some time,” Fenring said, still struggling with his deep concern.“Are you certain the lake water can neutralize the chemical?”“Poisons, by their very nature, are quite reactive.Some are activated by water, others are made safe.”Before he could continue his lecture, the heavy vault door opened, and Marie emerged, looking small and strong.Behind her, in transparent containment cells, nine Thallo clones lay dead, and on the mezzanine control deck above, the failed Kwisatz Haderach lay sprawled with his head lolling on a limp stalk of broken neck.Oddly, he wore a serene smile on his face.Marie hugged her parents, then gave them the most innocent of expressions.“My friend was broken, and I couldn’t fix him.He wasn’t right.”That one says he is my friend.The other one declares himself my enemy.With all my prescience, why is it so hard to tell the difference?—from Conversations with Muad’Dib by the PRINCESS IRULANKorba began the investigation of the assassination attempt with high fervor, exactly as Paul expected him to do.Swordmaster Bludd, clearly a hero for his bravery in shielding Princess Irulan and for knocking Paul and Chani clear of the bomb blast, had nearly died from his poisoned wound.Once he gathered sufficient strength, Bludd left the medics and retired to his quarters to recover.Meanwhile, Paul shut himself inside the enormous citadel, not out of fear or paranoia, but because he was so overwhelmed with fury that he did not trust himself to be seen among the populace.Though he’d had murky dreams, his prescience had been unable to prevent this.Such a reckless, hateful attack against him, with no regard for all the innocents who had been slain in the attempt.Duke Leto must have felt like this after the wedding-day massacre sucked him into the bloody War of Assassins; it was why his father became such a hardened man, a protective psychological response that anchored him against the tragedies.At the time, Paul had not understood the depths of his father’s difficulties, but he did now.Investigators stripped the Celestial Audience Hall down to its structural components.Chemical signatures were analyzed.Work logs were inspected to discover who might have had an opportunity to set up such a plot.The conspiracy had to be large and widespread; too many pieces had fit together perfectly.Unfortunately, by ordering his soldiers to blast the panels from which the hunter-seekers had emerged, Korba had also destroyed some of the evidence.The modified assassination devices were traced to an exiled Ixian merchant who had provided many technological toys and amusements for Muad’Dib.But the man’s ship had recently — and conveniently — been destroyed in a small Jihad skirmish on Crell.Many of the new servants hired for the Great Surrender ceremony were interrogated, and an unfortunately high percentage of them died during the aggressive questioning.Korba was certain they must be hiding something from him, even though no one divulged any useful information.Despite the nagging objections of his conscience, Paul allowed the merciless inquisition to continue.Innocent deaths? There had already been plenty, and there would be more.He even considered recruiting Bene Gesserit Truthsayers, but decided against the idea, because he could not entirely convince himself that the Sisterhood was not involved.But whom could he trust? Paul had only a few faithful confidantes — Chani, Stilgar, Alia.He could also trust his mother, and Gurney Halleck, but they were both far away on Caladan.Perhaps Korba, too, and Bludd.What about Irulan, though? He neither trusted nor distrusted her.She had lost her sister in the attack, and his truth-sense picked up no deception on her part.Could it have been a botched Corrino scheme, with Shaddam’s youngest daughter as a sacrificial lamb? Or some hitherto unknown Harkonnen heir?Other names and questions surfaced in Paul’s mind, but he set them aside.He didn’t want to go too far along that line of thinking, because paranoia could drive him mad.I must be more alert than ever.New security measures must be established to keep my enemies off balance.Not surprisingly, amidst the uproar, Memnon Thorvald dispatched a pompous-sounding message through disguised intermediaries, taking credit for the massacre
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