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He marched up to the bridge deck. "You'll be at work here for another hour,
won't you, Captain?"
The big-shouldered man nodded. "Aye. Then we go home tonight. Do you want to
get down into the wet work?"
Abulurd drew himself up, queasy at the prospect of being smothered in whale
blood. "No . . . actually, I'd like to borrow one of the small boats to go
explore . . . something I found on an iceberg." Normally, he would have asked
for an escort, but the whalers were all occupied with the butchery. Even in
these cold, uncharted seas, Abulurd would be glad to be away from the smell of
death.
The captain raised his bushy eyebrows. Abulurd could tell the gruff man wanted
to express his skepticism, but he maintained his silence. His broad, flat face
carried only respect for the planetary governor.
Abulurd Harkonnen knew how to handle a boat himself -- often taking one into the
fjords and exploring the coastline -- so he declined the offer of other whalers
to accompany him. Alone, he cruised away at a slow speed, watching out for
dangerous ice. Behind him, the butchering continued, filling the iron-scented
air with a richer smell of blood and entrails.
Twice as he piloted his boat through the maze of floating mountains, Abulurd
lost sight of his target, but eventually he found it again. Hidden among the
drifting icebergs, this one chunk seemed not to have moved. He wondered if it
was anchored in place.
He brought the small boat up against the rugged side, then momentum-locked it to
the ice. A feeling of unreality and displacement shrouded this strange
monolith. As he gingerly stepped out of the boat and onto the nearest flat
white surface, he realized just how exotic this object was.
The ice was not cold.
Abulurd bent to touch what appeared to be milky shards of ice. He rapped with
his knuckles: The substance was some kind of polymer crystal, a translucent
solid that had the appearance of ice -- almost. He stomped hard, and the
iceberg echoed beneath him. Very odd indeed.
He rounded a jagged corner to the place where he'd seen a geometrically even
line of cracks, a parallelogram that might have been an access hatch. He stared
at it until he found an indentation, an access panel that appeared to have been
damaged, perhaps in a collision with a real iceberg. He found an activation
button, and the trapezoidal covering slid aside.
He gasped as a strong cinnamon scent wafted out, a pungent odor that he
recognized instantly. He had smelled enough of it during his time on Arrakis.
Melange.
He breathed deeply just to make sure, then ventured into the eerie corridors.
The floors were smooth, as if worn down by many feet. A secret base? A command
post? A hidden archive?
He discovered room upon room filled with nullentropy containers, sealed bins
that bore the pale blue griffin of House Harkonnen. A stockpile of spice put
here by his own family -- and no one had told him of it. A grid map showed how
far the storehouse extended beneath the water. Here on Lankiveil, under
Abulurd's own nose, the Baron had secreted a huge illegal hoard!
Such an amount of spice could have purchased this entire planetary system many
times over. Abulurd's mind reeled, unable to comprehend the treasure he had
stumbled upon. He needed to think. He needed to talk to Emmi. With her quiet
wisdom, she would give him the advice he needed. Together they would decide
what to do.
Though he considered the whaling crew to be honest, wholesome men, such a
stockpile would tempt even the best of them. Abulurd left in a hurry, sealed
the door behind him, and scrambled aboard his boat.
Upon returning to the whaling ship, he made sure to mark the coordinates
carefully in his mind. When the captain asked if he had found anything, Abulurd
shook his head and retreated into his private cabin. He didn't trust himself to
control his expressions around the other men. It would be a long voyage home
until he could get back to his wife. Oh, how he missed her, how he needed her
wisdom.
BEFORE LEAVING THE DOCK AT TULA FJORD, the captain presented the fur whale's
liver to Abulurd as his reward, though it was worth little compared to the share
of the albino's fur he had given to each of the crewmen.
When he and Emmi dined together at the main lodge for the first time in a week,
Abulurd was distracted and fidgeting, waiting for the chef to finish her grand
workings.
The steaming, savory whale liver came out on two gilded silver platters,
surrounded by mounds of salted stringreens with a side dish of smoked oyster
nuts. The long formal dining table could accommodate up to thirty guests, but
Abulurd and Emmi sat next to each other near one end, serving themselves from
the platters.
Emmi had a pleasant, wide Lankiveil face and a squarish chin that was not
glamorous or beautiful -- but Abulurd adored it anyway. Her hair was the truest
color of black and hung straight, cut horizontally just below her shoulders.
Her round eyes were the rich brown of polished jasper.
Often, Abulurd and his wife would eat with the others in the communal dining
hall, joining in the conversations. But since Abulurd had just returned from a
long whaling journey, everyone in the household knew the two wanted to talk
quietly. Abulurd had no qualms about telling his wife the great secret he had
discovered in the icy sea.
Emmi was silent, but deep. She thought before she spoke, and didn't talk unless
she had something to say. Now she listened to her husband and did not interrupt
him. When Abulurd finished his tale, Emmi sat in silence, thinking about what
he had said. He waited long enough for her to consider a few possibilities,
then said to her, "What shall we do, Emmi?"
"All that wealth must have been stolen from the Emperor's share. It's probably
been there for years." She nodded to reinforce her own convictions. "You don't
want to dirty your hands with it."
"But my own half-brother has deceived me."
"He must have plans for it. He didn't tell you because he knew you'd feel
honor-bound to report it."
Abulurd chewed a mouthful of the tart stringreens and swallowed, washing it down
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