At face value, the Butlerians applauded the basic underpinnings of Mentat training — that humans could do anything that thinking machines could, and more. Their leader, legless Manford Torondo, often made use of Mentat calculations or strategies to achieve his ends, but he was also suspicious of any open exchange of ideas during lively discussions among the students. In an earlier semester, Gilbertus had exposed the school to great danger when he suggested during a hypothetical intellectual debate that thinking machines might not be as terrible as Butlerian propaganda made them out to be. The school, and Gilbertus himself, had barely survived their backlash. He had learned his lesson. Since then he’d remained quiet and conciliatory to avoid inflaming anyone again.

As he walked toward the outbuildings, one of the minor administrators transmitted an alert that the Imperial shuttle was on descent. Gilbertus touched his earadio. “Thank you. I will bring Anna Corrino to the landing zone.” He hoped she was having one of her lucid days, so she could interact with her brother, rather than remaining lost in a mental maze.

The school’s tallest building served as a naked-eye observatory, where Mentat students could study the universe, count the stars at night, and memorize the infinite patterns as a recall exercise. During the day, the high open deck would be empty — except for Anna Corrino, staring at her surroundings.

The young woman was fixated on the local landscape, where a labyrinth of sangrove trees created an impassable barrier to the east, and soupy marshes, quicksand, and tangled stagnant waterways made travel difficult to the south; the large, shallow marsh lake bounded the school to the north and west.

Gilbertus stepped up next to Anna. “Your brother is coming. He will be glad to see you.”

She did not acknowledge the Headmaster, but a small twitch in her cheek and a flicker of her eyelids told him she was aware of his presence. She turned to stare at a drained section of swamp that served as a landing field for shuttles and local flyers. Dangerous lake beasts had damaged the previous raft airfield, making it impractical to keep under repair.

His primary aide, Zendur, and a crew of Mentat trainees used blunt-nozzle devices to spray fire streams across the marsh grasses, clearing an area for Roderick Corrino’s shuttle. Because vegetation grew so rapidly here, the landing zone had to be groomed for each expected arrival; Gilbertus did not have trainees maintain the site otherwise, since he didn’t want to encourage unexpected visitors — Manford Torondo in particular.

Anna did not take her eyes from the clearing crew as she spoke. “How many flies do you think they’re killing?”

“Or how many blades of grass?” Gilbertus said, knowing it was a game for her.

Anna considered the problem. “If I knew the acreage of swampland for the landing field, I could calculate a probable distribution of grass blades. Given a certain amount of swamp grass, I could estimate how many flies are likely to inhabit it.”

“And how many spiders to eat them,” Gilbertus suggested, trying to keep her thoughts nimble.

“I can make a cascade projection following the food chain.” Anna’s narrow shoulders twitched, and she formed a small smile, turning to focus on him for the first time that day. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Because the grass will grow back, the flies will return, the spiders will eat them, and the swamp will reclaim its territory — until the next time we clear it.”

“I am going to meet your brother’s shuttle now. Would you join me?”

Anna considered. “I prefer to wait here and watch.”

“Prince Roderick is anxious to see you.”

“He is a good brother. I’ll talk with him … but I need time to arrange my thoughts first. I’ll be ready when you bring him here. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

Neither do I, Gilbertus thought.

AFTER CLEARING THE landing zone, trainees smothered the brush fires, then raked the area clear of charred vegetation. Although the air retained an odor of damp ashes, Gilbertus found it more pleasant than the swamp’s usual miasma.

As the Imperial shuttle landed, the Headmaster crossed a series of temporary boardwalks to meet Prince Roderick. The small diplomatic vessel bore the golden-lion insignia of House Corrino, but it was not a gaudy craft. It had been ferried to Lampadas aboard an Imperial military spacefolder. Only two people emerged and stepped down the ramp, with no entourage.

The tall, erect man was Prince Roderick, blond and handsome, with patrician Corrino features. In a flicker of Mentat recall, Gilbertus reviewed the nobleman’s file: the Emperor’s younger brother had a wife (Haditha), a son (Javicco), and three daughters (Tikya, Wissoma, Nantha). Known for his calm disposition and sharp mind, Roderick advised the Emperor in most things, and Salvador generally listened to him. By all indications, he was content to be an adviser rather than a ruler.

The old woman who accompanied the Prince was a surprise: Lady Orenna, called the “Virgin Empress” because she had been wife to Emperor Jules Corrino, but she had borne him no children (and supposedly never shared his bed). Instead, the children of Emperor Jules — Salvador, Roderick, and Anna — had three different mothers, all concubines.

Gilbertus’s thorough Mentat review was so swift that the visitors did not notice the pause. He stepped forward. “My Lord Roderick and Lady Orenna, welcome to the Mentat School. I just spoke with Anna. She is preparing herself to receive you.”

Roderick gave a quick nod. “I look forward to observing her progress.” He looked disappointed that his sister hadn’t come to greet them in person.

“She is safe, stable, content,” Gilbertus said. “The routine of the Mentat School helps her. I caution you not to expect miracles, though.”

Lady Orenna maintained a bright smile. “I miss the poor girl, but I want what’s best for her. I’ll sleep better on Salusa if I can see with my own eyes that she is happy here.”

As he tried to process why the old woman had come here, data clicked into place in Gilbertus’s mind. Though Orenna was not Anna’s mother, the Virgin Empress had taken the young woman under her wing, and the two had a special relationship. Anna had always been a flighty girl, easily distracted, with a swinging pendulum of emotions and an utter lack of common sense. Disappointed in the unruly girl, Salvador had banished her to the Sisterhood school on Rossak, but there her mind had been damaged rather than improved. And now she was here.

“You will find that she is healthy,” Gilbertus said. “Mentat techniques offer the best possible chance for recovery.”

Roderick was efficient, all business. “Our visit will be quite brief. We’re at the mercy of our transportation — this shuttle was a special dispensation, at the request of Emperor Salvador, since VenHold ships refuse to service Lampadas. The military spacefolder is finishing a grand patrol and needs to return to Salusa Secundus.”

The feud between the antitechnology Butlerians and the commercial empire of Venport Holdings had grown more bitter over time, with mutual antipathy spiraling into outright conflict. And the Imperial throne was caught up in the dispute. Instead of traveling aboard a safe VenHold spacefolder, guided by mysterious and infallible Navigators, Roderick had been forced to come here on a less reliable military transport.

Lady Orenna was clearly displeased that they would have to depart so quickly. “We traveled a long way to visit Anna. I don’t like to be rushed. We are the girl’s family — the Imperial Armed Forces should alter their schedules for our convenience.”

Roderick shook his head, lowered his voice. “I’m also disappointed, but I don’t want to disrupt the workings of the military, because they have to appear strong and reliable. We can’t simply commandeer a VenHold commercial ship and force Directeur Venport to do our bidding.”