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permit her to give water to the dead, not even for her son—and the Sisterhood discouraged emotions, except as a means of manipulating outsiders. Thus, both disciplines—Fremen and Bene Gesserit—prevented her from letting the tears flow.
    Jessica stepped toward the open hatch and the bright sunlight. “Did I retire from this place, Gurney, or did I
retreat
?” She had hoped to spend the rest of her life on Caladan, never setting foot on this world again. “Think of what this planet has done to us. Dune took my Duke and my son and shattered all our hopes and dreams as a family. It
swallows
people.”
    “ ‘Each person makes his own paradise, or his own hell.’ ” Gurney extended his arm, and she reluctantly took it. He activated his body shield before they stepped out into the open. “I recommend you do the same, my Lady. With a mob this size, they can’t all be searched for weapons.” Jessica did as he suggested, but even the shimmering field did not make her feel entirely safe.
    Flanked by six big Fedaykin guards, Stilgar appeared at the shuttle ramp to escort her. He looked weathered, dusty, and grim—as always.The same old Stilgar. She was reassured to see the Naib again. “Sayyadina, I am here to ensure your safety.” It was both a greeting and a promise; he did not allow himself to show any overt joy at seeing her again after so many years. “I will take you directly to Regent Alia.”
    “I am in your care, Stilgar.” Though he was all business now, she expected they would share spice coffee later and talk, after he and Gurney got her away from the throng.
    More Fremen warriors waited at the base of the shuttle ramp, forming a cordon to clear a way through the crowd for the Mother of Muad’Dib, as if sheltering her from the winds of a sandstorm. Stilgar led the visitors forward.
    Overlapping voices in the crowd called out her name, shouting, chanting, cheering, begging for blessings from Muad’Dib. The people wore grimy clothes of green, the color of Fremen mourning. Some had scratched at their eyes until blood ran down their cheeks in some kind of eerie homage to Paul’s blindness.
    With her heightened attention, Jessica perceived a thread of animosity woven into the tapestry of voices, calling out from every direction. They wanted, they needed, they demanded and grieved, but could not crystallize their feelings. The loss of Paul had left an immense void in society.
    Stilgar hurried her along. “We must not delay. There is danger here today.”
    There is always danger here,
she thought.
    As the Fedaykin guards pushed at the crowd, she heard a clatter of metal and a scream. Behind them, two of the guards threw themselves to the ground, covering something with their own bodies. Gurney put himself between them and Jessica, further protecting her with his body shield.
    An explosion tore the two guards into bloody fragments that splattered back into the crowd. Stunned by the shock wave, some people touched the red wetness, marveling at the moisture that had suddenly appeared on their clothes.
    Stilgar pulled Jessica toward the terminal building, hurting her arm. “Hurry,” he said, “there may be other assassins.” He did not look back at the fallen guards.
    With the shrieks and shouts rising to a roar of vengeance and anger,Jessica moved quickly into the guarded structure. Gurney and the remaining Fedaykin closed a heavy door behind them, greatly diminishing the crowd noise.
    The cavernous building had been swept and cleared for her arrival, and now it echoed with emptiness. “What happened, Stilgar? Who wants me dead?”
    “Some people wish only to cause harm, and any target will do. They want to hurt others as they have been hurt.” His voice was dark with disapproval. “Even when Muad’Dib was alive, there was much turmoil, resentment, and discontent. People are weak, and do not understand.”
    Gurney looked carefully at Jessica to make certain she was not injured. “Angry people lash out