goodreads.ccChapter Twenty-One
Does he think to frighten me by reminding me that he is supported by bloodthirsty killers? the Baron wondered.
"A certain amount of killing has always been an arm of business," the Baron said, "bu...ine has to be drawn somewhere. Someone must be left to work the spice."
The Count emitte...hort, barking laugh. "You think you can harness the Fremen?"
"There never were enough of them for that," the Baron said. "But the killing has made the rest of my population uneasy. It's reaching the point where I'm considering another solution to the Arrakeen problem, my dear Fenring. An...ust confess the Emperor deserves credit for the inspiration."
"Ah-h-h?"
"You see, Count...ave the Emperor's prison planet, Salusa Secundus, to inspire me."
The Count stared at him with glittering intensity. "What possible connection is there between Arrakis and Salusa Secundus?"
The Baron felt the alertness in Fenring's eyes, said: "No connection yet."
"Yet?"
"You must admit it'd b...ay to develo...ubstantial work force on Arraki...se the place a...rison planet."
"You anticipate an increase in prisoners?"
"There has been unrest," the Baron admitted. "I've had to squeeze rather severely, Fenring. After all, you know the pric...aid that damnable Guild to transport our mutual force to Arrakis. That money has to come from somewhere ."
"I suggest you not use Arrakis a...rison planet without the Emperor's permission, Baron."
"Of course not," the Baron said, and he wondered at the sudden chill in Fenring's voice.
"Another matter," the Count said. "We learn that Duke Leto's Mentat, Thufir Hawat, is not dead but in your employ."
"I could not bring myself to waste him," the Baron said.
"You lied to our Sardaukar commander when you said Hawat was dead."
"Onl...hite lie, my dear Count...adn't the stomach fo...ong argument with the man."
"Was Hawat the real traitor?"
"Oh, goodness, no! It was the false doctor." The Baron wiped at perspiration on his neck. "You must understand, Fenring...as withou...entat. You know that. I've never been withou...entat. It was most unsettling."
"How could you get Hawat to shift allegiance?"
"His Duke was dead." The Baron force...mile. "There's nothing to fear from Hawat, my dear Count. The Mentat's flesh has been impregnated wit...atent poison. We administer an antidote in his meals. Without the antidote, the poison is triggere...e'd die i...ew days."
"Withdraw the antidote," the Count said.
"But he's useful!"
"And he knows too many things no living man should know."
"You said the Emperor doesn't fear exposure."
"Don't play games with me, Baron!"
"Whe...ee such an order above the Imperial seal I'll obey it," the Baron said. "But I'll not submit to your whim."
"You think it whim?"
"What else can it be? The Emperor has obligations to me, too, Fenring...id him of the troublesome Duke."
"With the help o...ew Sardaukar."
"Where else would the Emperor have foun...ouse to provide the disguising uniforms to hide his hand in this matter?"
"He has asked himself the same question, Baron, but wit...lightly different emphasis."
The Baron studied Fenring, noting the stiffness of jaw muscles, the careful control. "Ah-h-h, now," the Baron said. "I hope the Emperor doesn't believe he can move against me in total secrecy."
"He hopes it won't become necessary."
"The Emperor cannot believ...hreaten him!" The Baron permitted anger and grief to edge his voice, thinking: Let him wrong me in that...ould place myself on the throne while still beating my breast over how I'd been wronged .
The Count's voice went dry and remote as he said: "The Emperor believes what his senses tell him."
"Dare the Emperor charge me with treason befor...ull Landsraad Council?" And the Baron held his breath with the hope of it.
"The Emperor need dare nothing."
The Baron whirled away in his suspensors to hide his expression. It could happen in my lifetime! he thought. Emperor! Let him wrong me! The...he bribes and coercion, the rallying of the Great Houses: they'd flock to my banner like peasants running for shelter. The thing they fear above all else is the Emperor's Sardaukar loosed upon them one House a...ime .
"It's the Emperor's sincere hope he'll never have to charge you with treason," the Count said.
The Baron found it difficult to keep irony out of his voice and permit only the expression of hurt, but he managed. "I've bee...ost loyal subject. These words hurt me beyond my capacity to express."
"Um-m-m-m-ah-hm-m-m," said the Count.
The Baron kept his back to the Count, nodding. Presently he said, "It's time to go to the arena."
"Indeed," said the Count.
They moved out of the cone of silence and, side by side, walked toward the clumps of Houses Minor at the end of the hall...ell bega...low tolling somewhere in the kee...wenty-minute warning for the arena gathering.
"The Houses Minor wait for you to lead them," the Count said, nodding toward the people they approached.
Double meanin... . double meanin...he Baron thought.
He looked up at the new talismans flanking the exit to his hal...he mounted bull's head and the oil painting of the Old Duke Atreides, the late Duke Leto's father. They filled the Baron with an odd sense of foreboding, and he wondered what thoughts these talismans had inspired in the Duke Leto as they hung in the halls of Caladan and then on Arraki...he bravura father and the head of the bull that had killed him.
"Mankind has ah only one mm-m-m science," the Count said as they picked up their parade of followers and emerged from the hall into the waiting roo... narrow space with high windows and floor of patterned white and purple tile.
"And what science is that?" the Baron asked.
"It's the um-m-m-ah-h science of ah-h-h discontent," the Count said.
The Houses Minor behind them, sheep-faced and responsive, laughed with just the right tone of appreciation, but the sound carrie...ote of discord as it collided with the sudden blast of motors that came to them when pages threw open the outer doors, revealing the line of ground cars, their guidon pennants whipping i...reeze.
The Baron raised his voice to surmount the sudden noise, said, "I hope you'll not be discontented with the performance of my nephew today, Count Fenring."
"I ah-h-h am filled um-m-m only wit...m-m-m sense of anticipation, yes," the Count said. "Always in the ah-h-h process verbal, one um-m-m ah-h-h must consider the ah-h-h office of origin."
The Baron hid his sudden stiffening of surprise by stumbling on the first step down from the exit. Process verbal! That wa...eport o...rime against the Imperium!
But the Count chuckled to make it see...oke, and patted the Baron's arm.
All the way to the arena, though, the Baron sat back among the armored cushions of his car, casting covert glances at the Count beside him, wondering why the Emperor's errand boy had thought it necessary to make that particular kind of joke in front of the Houses Minor. It was obvious that Fenring seldom did anything he felt to be unnecessary, or used two words where one would do, or held himself t...ingle meaning i...ingle phrase.
They were seated in the golden box above the triangular aren...orns blaring, the tiers above and around them jammed wit...ubbub of people and waving pennant...hen the answer came to the Baron.
"My dear Baron," the Count said, leaning close to his ear, "you know, don't you, that the Emperor has not given official sanction to your choice of heir?"
The Baron felt himself to be withi...udden personal cone of silence produced by his own shock. He stared at Fenring, barely seeing the Count's lady come through the guards beyond to join the party in the golden box.
"That's really why I'm here today," the Count said. "The Emperor wishes me to report on whether you've chose...orthy successor. There's nothing like the arena to expose the true person from beneath the mask, eh?"
"The Emperor promised me free choice of heir!" the Baron grated.
"We shall see," Fenring said, and turned away to greet his lady. She sat down, smiling at the Baron, then giving her attention to the sand floor beneath them where Feyd-Rautha was emerging in giles and tight...he black glove and the long knife in his right hand, the white glove and the short knife in his left hand.
"White for poison, black for purity," the Lady Fenring said. "A curious custom, isn't it, my love?"
"Um-m-m-m," the Count said.
The greeting cheer lifted from the family galleries, and Feyd-Rautha paused to accept it, looking up and scanning the face...eeing his cousines and cousins, the demibrothers, the concubines and out-freyn relations. They were so many pink trumpet mouths yammering amids...lutter of colorful clothing and banners.
It came to Feyd-Rautha then that the packed ranks of faces would look just as avidly at his blood as at that of the slave-gladiator. There was no...oubt of the outcome in this fight, of course. Here was only the form of danger without its substanc...e... .
Feyd-Rautha held up his knives to the sun, saluted the three corners of the arena in the ancient manner. The short knife in white-gloved hand (white, the sign of poison) went first into its sheath. Then the long blade in the black-gloved han...he pure blade that now was unpure, his secret weapon to turn this day int...urely personal victory: poison on the black blade.
The adjustment of his body shield took onl...oment, and he paused to sense the skin-tightening at his forehead assuring him he was properly guarded.
This moment carried its own suspense, and Feyd-Rautha dragged it out with the sure hand o...howman, nodding to his handlers and distracters, checking their equipment wit...easuring star...yves in place with their prickles sharp and glistening, the barbs and hooks waving with their blue streamers.
Feyd-Rautha signaled the musicians.
The slow march began, sonorous with its ancient pomp, and Feyd-Rautha led his troupe across the arena for obeisance at the foot of his uncle's box. He caught the ceremonial key as it was thrown.
The music stopped.
Into the abrupt silence, he stepped back two paces, raised the key and shouted. "I dedicate this truth t... . " And he paused, knowing his uncle would think: The young fool's going to dedicate to Lady Fenring after all and caus...uckus!
"... . to my uncle and patron, the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen!" Feyd-Rautha shouted.
And he was delighted to see his uncle sigh.
The music resumed at the quick-march, and Feyd-Rautha led his men scampering back across the arena to the prudence door that admitted only those wearing the proper identification band. Feyd-Rautha prided himself that he never used the pru-door and seldom needed distracters. But it was good to know they were available this da...pecial plans sometimes involved special dangers.
Again, silence settled over the arena.
Feyd-Rautha turned, faced the big red door across from him through which the gladiator would emerge.
The special gladiator.
The plan Thufir Hawat had devised was admirably simple and direct, Feyd-Rautha thought. The slave would not be drugge...hat was the danger. Instead...ey word had been drummed into the man's unconscious to immobilize his muscles a...ritical instant. Feyd-Rautha rolled the vital word in his mind, mouthing it without sound: "Scum!" To the audience, it would appear that an un-drugged slave had been slipped into the arena to kill the na-Baron. And all the carefully arranged evidence would point to the slavemaster.
A low humming arose from the red door's servomotors as they were armed for opening.
Feyd-Rautha focused all his awareness on the door. This first moment was the critical one. The appearance of the gladiator as he emerged told the trained eye much it needed to know. All gladiators were supposed to be hyped on elacca drug to come out kill-ready in fighting stanc...ut you had to watch how they hefted the knife, which way they turned in defense, whether they were actually aware of the audience in the stands. The wa...lave cocked his head could give the most vital clue to counter and feint.
The red door slammed open.
Out charge...all, muscular man with shaved head and darkly pitted eyes. His skin was carrot-colored as it should be from the elacca drug, but Feyd-Rautha knew the color was paint. The slave wore green leotards and the red belt o...emishiel...he belt's arrow pointing left to indicate the slave's left side was shielded. He held his knife sword-fashion, cocked slightly outward in the stance o...rained fighter. Slowly, he advanced into the arena, turning his shielded side toward Feyd-Rautha and the group at the pru-door.
"I like not the look of this one, "said one of Feyd-Rautha's barb-men. "Are you sure he's drugged, m'Lord?"
"He has the color," Feyd-Rautha said.
"Yet he stands lik...ighter," said another helper.
Feyd-Rautha advanced two steps onto the sand, studied this slave.
"What has he done to his arm?" asked one of the distracters.
Feyd-Rautha's attention went t...loody scratch on the man's left forearm, followed the arm down to the hand as it pointed t...esign drawn in blood on the left hip of the green leotard... wet shape there: the formalized outline o...awk.
Hawk!
Feyd-Rautha looked up into the darkly pitted eyes, saw them glaring at him with uncommon alertness.
It's one of Duke Leto's fighting men we took on Arrakis! Feyd-Rautha thought. No simple gladiator this...hill ran through him, and he wondered if Hawat had another plan for this aren... feint withi...eint withi...eint. And only the slavemaster prepared to take the blame!
Feyd-Rautha's chief handler spoke at his ear: "I like not the look on that one, m'Lord. Let me se...arb or two in his knife arm to try him."
"I'll set my own barbs," Feyd-Rautha said. He too...air of the long, hooked shafts from the handler, hefted them, testing the balance. These barbs, too, were supposed to be drugge...ut not this time, and the chief handler might die because of that. But it was all part of the plan.
"You'll come out of thi...ero ," Hawat had said. "Killed your gladiator man to man and in spite of treachery. The slavemaster will be executed and your man will step into his spot ."
Feyd-Rautha advanced another five paces into the arena, playing out the moment, studying the slave. Already, he knew, the experts in the stands above him were aware that something was wrong. The gladiator had the correct skin color fo...rugged man, but he stood his ground and did not tremble. The aficionados would be whispering among themselves now: "See how he stands. He should be agitate...ttacking or retreating. See how he conserves his strength, how he waits. He should not wait."
Feyd-Rautha felt his own excitement kindle. Let there be treachery in Hawat's min...e thought...an handle this slave. And it's my long knife that carries the poison this time, not the short one. Even Hawat doesn't know that .
"Hai, Harkonnen!" the slave called. "Are you prepared to die?"
Deathly stillness gripped the arena. Slaves did not issue the challenge!
Now, Feyd-Rautha ha...lear view of the gladiator's eyes, saw the cold ferocity of despair in them. He marked the way the man stood, loose and ready, muscles prepared for victory. The slave grapevine had carried Hawat's message to this one: "You'll ge...rue chance to kill the na-Baron ." That much of the scheme was as they'd planned it, then.
A tight smile crossed Feyd-Rautha's mouth. He lifted the barbs, seeing success for his plans in the way the gladiator stood.
"Hai! Hai!" the slave challenged, and crept forward two steps.
No one in the galleries can mistake it no...eyd-Rautha thought.
This slave should have been partly crippled by drug-induced terror. Every movement should have betrayed his inner knowledge that there was no hope for hi...e could not win. He should have been filled with the stories of the poisons the na-Baron chose for the blade in his white-gloved hand. The na-Baron never gave quick death; he delighted in demonstrating rare poisons, could stand in the arena pointing out interesting side effects o...rithing victim. There was fear in the slave, ye...ut not terror.
Feyd-Rautha lifted the barbs high, nodded in an almost-greeting.
The gladiator pounced.
His feint and defensive counter were as good as any Feyd-Rautha had ever seen...imed side blow missed by the barest fraction from severing the tendons of the na-Baron's left leg.
Feyd-Rautha danced away, leavin...arbed shaft in the slave's right forearm, the hooks completely buried in flesh where the man could not withdraw them without ripping tendons.
A concerted gasp lifted from the galleries.
The sound filled Feyd-Rautha with elation.
He knew now what his uncle was experiencing, sitting up there with the Fenrings, the observers from the Imperial Cour...eside him. There could be no interference with this fight. The forms must be observed in front of witnesses. And the Baron would interpret the events in the arena only one wa...hreat to himself.
The slave backed, holding knife in teeth and lashing the barbed shaft to his arm with the pennant. "I do not feel your needle!" he shouted. Again he crept forward, knife ready, left side presented, his body bent backward to give it the greatest surface of protection from the half-shield.
That action, too, didn't escape the galleries. Sharp cries came from the family boxes. Feyd-Rautha's handlers were calling out to ask if he needed them.
He waved them back to the pru-door.
I'll give the...how such as they've never had befor...eyd-Rautha thought. No tame killing where they can sit back and admire the style. This'll be something to take them by the guts and twist them. When I'm Baron they'll remember this day and won't b...ne of them can escape fear of me because of this day .
Feyd-Rautha gave ground slowly before the gladiator's crablike advance. Arena sand grated underfoot. He heard the slave's panting, smelled his own sweat an...aint odor of blood on the air.
Steadily, the na-Baron moved backward, turning to the right, his second barb ready. The slave danced sideways. Feyd-Rautha appeared to stumble, heard the scream from the galleries.
Again, the slave pounced.
Gods, wha...ighting man! Feyd-Rautha thought as he leaped aside. Only youth's quickness saved him, but he left the second barb buried in the deltoid muscle of the slave's right arm.
Shrill cheers rained from the galleries.
They cheer me no...eyd-Rautha thought. He heard the wildness in the voices just as Hawat had said he would. They'd never cheere...amily fighter that way before. And he thought with an edge of grimness o...hing Hawat had told him: "It's easier to be terrified by an enemy you admire ."
Swiftly, Feyd-Rautha retreated to the center of the arena where all could see clearly. He drew his long blade, crouched and waited for the advancing slave.
The man took only the time to lash the second barb tight to his arm, then sped in pursuit.
Let the family see me do this thin...eyd-Rautha thought...m their enemy: let them think of me as they see me now.
He drew his short blade.
"I do not fear you, Harkonnen swine," the gladiator said. "Your tortures cannot hur...ead man...an be dead on my own blade befor...andler lays finger to my flesh. And I'll have you dead beside me!"
Feyd-Rautha grinned, offered now the long blade, the one with the poison. "Try this one," he said, and feinted with the short blade in his other hand.
The slave shifted knife hands, turned inside both parry and feint to grapple the na-Baron's short blad...he one in the white gloved hand that tradition said should carry the poison.
"You will die, Harkonnen," the gladiator gasped.
They struggled sideways across the sand. Where Feyd-Rautha's shield met the slave's halfshield...lue glow marked the contact. The air around them filled with ozone from the field.
"Die on your own poison!" the slave grated.
He began forcing the white-gloved hand inward, turning the blade he thought carried the poison.
Let them see this! Feyd-Rautha thought. He brought down the long blade, felt it clang uselessly against the barbed shaft lashed to the slave's arm.
Feyd-Rautha fel...oment of desperation. He had not thought the barbed shafts would be an advantage for the slave. But they gave the man another shield. And the strength of this gladiator! The short blade was being forced inward inexorably, and Feyd-Rautha focused on the fact tha...an could also die on an unpoisoned blade.
"Scum!" Feyd-Rautha gasped.
At the key word, the gladiator's muscles obeyed wit...omentary slackness. It was enough for Feyd-Rautha. He opene...pace between them sufficient for the long blade. Its poisoned tip flicked out, dre...ed line down the slave's chest. There was instant agony in the poison. The man disengaged himself, staggered backward.
Now, let my dear family watc...eyd-Rautha thought. Let them think on this slave who tried to turn the knife he thought poisoned and use it against me. Let them wonder ho...ladiator could come into this arena ready for such an attempt. And let them always be aware they cannot know for sure which of my hands carries the poison .
Feyd-Rautha stood in silence, watching the slowed motions of the slave. The man moved withi...esitation-awareness. There was an orthographic thing on his face now for every watcher to recognize. The death was written there. The slave knew it had been done to him and he knew how it had been done. The wrong blade had carried the poison.
"You!" the man moaned.
Feyd-Rautha drew back to give death its space. The paralyzing drug in the poison had yet to take full effect, but the man's slowness told of its advance.
The slave staggered forward as though drawn b...trin...ne dragging step a...ime. Each step was the only step in his universe. He still clutched his knife, but its point wavered.
"One da... . on... . of u... . wil... . ge... . you," he gasped.
A sad little moue contorted his mouth. He sat, sagged, then stiffened and rolled away from Feyd-Rautha, face down.
Feyd-Rautha advanced in the silent arena, pu...oe under the gladiator and rolled him onto his back to give the gallerie...lear view of the face when the poison began its twisting, wrenching work on the muscles. But the gladiator came over with his own knife, protruding from his breast.
In spite of frustration, there was for Feyd-Rauth...easure of admiration for the effort this slave had managed in overcoming the paralysis to do this thing to himself. With the admiration came the realization that here was trul...hing to fear.
That which make...an superhuman is terrifying.
As he focused on this thought, Feyd-Rautha became conscious of the eruption of noise from the stands and galleries around him. They were cheering with utter abandon.
Feyd-Rautha turned, looking up at them.
All were cheering except the Baron, who sat with hand to chin in deep contemplatio...nd the Count and his lady, both of whom were staring down at him, their faces masked by smiles.
Count Fenring turned to his lady, said: "Ah-h-h-um-m-m...esourceful um-m-m-m young man. Eh, mm-m-m-ah, my dear?"
"His ah-h-h synaptic responses are very swift," she said.
The Baron looked at her, at the Count, returned his attention to the arena, thinking: If someone could get that close to one of mine! Rage began to replace his fear. I'll have the slavemaster dead ove...low fire this nigh... . and if this Count and his lady ha...and in i... .
The conversation in the Baron's box was remote movement to Feyd-Rautha, the voices drowned in the foot-stamping chant that came now from all around:
"Head! Head! Head! Head!"
The Baron scowled, seeing the way Feyd-Rautha turned to him. Languidly, controlling his rage with difficulty, the Baron waved his hand toward the young man standing in the arena beside the sprawled body of the slave. Give the bo...ead. He earned it by exposing the slavemaster .
Feyd-Rautha saw the signal of agreement, thought: They think they honor me. Let them see wha...hink!
He saw his handlers approaching wit...aw-knife to do the honors, waved them back, repeated the gesture as they hesitated. They think they honor me with jus...ead! he thought. He bent and crossed the gladiator's hands around the protruding knife handle, then removed the knife and placed it in the limp hands.
It was done in an instant, and he straightened, beckoned his handlers. "Bury this slave intact with his knife in his hands," he said. "The man earned it."
In the golden box, Count Fenring leaned close to the Baron, said: "A grand gesture, tha...rue bravura. Your nephew has style as well as courage."
"He insults the crowd by refusing the head," the Baron muttered.
"Not at all," Lady Fenring said. She turned, looking up at the tiers around them.
And the Baron noted the line of her nec... truly lovely flowing of muscle...ik...oung boy's.
"They like what your nephew did," she said.
As the import of Feyd-Rautha's gesture penetrated to the most distant seats, as the people saw the handlers carrying off the dead gladiator intact, the Baron watched them and realized she had interpreted the reaction correctly. The people were going wild, beating on each other, screaming and stamping.
The Baron spoke wearily. "I shall have to orde...ete. You cannot send people home like this, their energies unspent. They must see tha...hare their elation." He gav...and signal to his guard, an...ervant above them dipped the Harkonnen orange pennant over the bo...nce, twice, three time...ignal fo...ete.
Feyd-Rautha crossed the arena to stand beneath the golden box, his weapons sheathed, arms hanging at his sides. Above the undiminished frenzy of the crowd, he called: "A fete, Uncle?"
The noise began to subside as people saw the conversation and waited.
"In your honor, Feyd!" the Baron called down. And again, he caused the pennant to be dipped in signal.
Across the arena, the pru-barriers had been dropped and young men were leaping down into the arena, racing toward Feyd-Rautha.
"You ordered the pru-shields dropped. Baron?" the Count asked.
"No one will harm the lad," the Baron said. "He'...ero."
The first of the charging mass reached Feyd-Rautha, lifted him on their shoulders, began parading around the arena.
"He could walk unarmed and unshielded through the poorest quarters of Harko tonight," the Baron said. "They'd give him the last of their food and drink just for his company."
The Baron pushed himself from his chair, settled his weight into his suspensors. "You will forgive me, please. There are matters that require my immediate attention. The guard will see you to the keep."
The Count arose, bowed. "Certainly, Baron. We're looking forward to the fete. I've ah-h-h-mm-m-m never see...arkonnen fete."
"Yes," the Baron said. "The fete." He turned, was enveloped by guards as he stepped into the private exit from the box.
A guard captain bowed to Count Fenring. "Your orders, my Lord?"
"We will ah-h-h wait for the worst mm-m-m crush to um-m-m pass," the Count said.
"Yes, m'Lord." The man bowed himself back three paces.
Count Fenring faced his lady, spoke again in their personal humming-code tongue: "You saw it, of course?"
In the same humming tongue, she said: "The lad knew the gladiator wouldn't be drugged. There wa...oment of fear, yes, but no surprise."
"It was planned," he said. "The entire performance."
"Withou...oubt."
"It stinks of Hawat."
"Indeed," she said.
"I demanded earlier that the Baron eliminate Hawat."
"That was an error, my dear."
"I see that now."
"The Harkonnens may hav...ew Baron ere long."
"If that's Hawat's plan."
"That will bear examination, true," she said.
"The young one will be more amenable to control."
"For u... . after tonight," she said.
"You don't anticipate difficulty seducing him, my little brood-mother?"
"No, my love. You saw how he looked at me."
"Yes, an...an see now why we must have that bloodline."
"Indeed, and it's obvious we must hav...old on him. I'll plant deep in his deepest self the necessary prana-bindu phrases to bend him."
"We'll leave as soon as possibl...s soon as you're sure," he said.
She shuddered. "By all means...hould not want to bea...hild in this terrible place."
"The things we do in the name of humanity," he said.
"Yours is the easy part," she said.
"There are some ancient prejudice...vercome," he said. "They're quite primordial, you know."
"My poor dear," she said, and patted his cheek. "You know this is the only way to be sure of saving that bloodline."
He spoke i...ry voice: "I quite understand what we do."
"We won't fail," she said.
"Guilt starts a...eeling of failure," he reminded.
"There'll be no guilt," she said. "Hypno-ligation of that Feyd-Rautha's psyche and his child in my wom...hen we go."
"That uncle," he said. "Have you ever seen such distortion?"
"He's pretty fierce," she said, "but the nephew could well grow to be worse."
"Thanks to that uncle. You know, when you think what this lad could've been with some other upbringin...ith the Atreides code to guide him, for example."
"It's sad, "she said.
"Would that we could've saved both the Atreides youth and this one. From wha...eard of that young Pau... most admirable lad, good union of breeding and training." He shook his head. "But we shouldn't waste sorrow over the aristocracy of misfortune."
"There'...ene Gesserit saying," she said.
"You have sayings for everything!" he protested.
"You'll like this one," she said. "It goes: 'Do not coun...uman dead until you've seen his body. And even then you can mak...istake.' "
Muad'Dib tells us in "A Time of Reflection" that his first collisions with Arrakeen necessities were the true beginnings of his education. He learned then how to pole the sand for its weather, learned the language of the wind's needles stinging his skin, learned how the nose can buzz with sand-itch and how to gather his body's precious moisture around him to guard it and preserve it. As his eyes assumed the blue of the Ibad, he learned the Chakobsa way.
- Stilgar's preface to "Muad'Dib, the Man" by the Princess Irulan
Stilgar's troop returning to the sietch with its two strays from the desert climbed out of the basin in the waning light of the first moon. The robed figures hurried with the smell of home in their nostrils. Dawn's gray line behind them was brightest at the notch in their horizon-calendar that marked the middle of autumn, the month of Caprock.
Wind-raked dead leaves strewed the cliffbase where the sietch children had been gathering them, but the sounds of the troop's passage (except for occasional blunderings by Paul and his mother) could not be distinguished from the natural sounds of the night.
Paul wiped sweat-caked dust from his forehead, fel...ug at his arm, heard Chani's voice hissing. "Do a...old you: bring the fold of your hood down over your forehead! Leave only the eyes exposed. You waste moisture."
A whispered command behind them demanded silence: "The desert hears you!"
A bird chirruped from the rocks high above them.
The troop stopped, and Paul sensed abrupt tension.
There cam...aint thumping from the rocks...ound no louder than mice jumping in the sand.
Again, the bird chirruped.
A stir passed through the troop's ranks. And again, the mouse-thumping pecked its way across the sand.
Once more, the bird chirruped.
The troop resumed its climb up int...rack in the rocks, but there wa...tillness of breath about the Fremen now that filled Paul with caution, and he noted covert glances toward Chani, the way she seemed to withdraw, pulling in upon herself.
There was rock underfoot now...aint gray swishing of robes around them, and Paul sense...elaxing of discipline, but still that quiet-of-the-person about Chani and the others. He followe...hadow shap...p steps...urn, more steps, int...unnel, past two moisture-sealed doors and int...lobelighted narrow passage with yellow rock walls and ceiling.
All around him, Paul saw the Fremen throwing back their hoods, removing nose plugs, breathing deeply. Someone sighed. Paul looked for Chani, found that she had left his side. He was hemmed in b...ress of robed bodies. Someone jostled him, said, "Excuse me, Usul. Wha...rush! It's always this way."
On his left, the narrow bearded face of the one called Farok turned toward Paul. The stained eyepits and blue darkness of eyes appeared even darker under the yellow globes. "Throw off your hood, Usul," Farok said. "You're home." And he helped Paul, releasing the hood catch, elbowin...pace around them.
Paul slipped out his nose plugs, swung the mouth baffle aside. The odor of the place assailed him: unwashed bodies, distillate esters of reclaimed wastes, everywhere the sour effluvia of humanity with, over it all...urbulence of spice and spicelike harmonics.
"Why are we waiting, Farok?" Paul asked.
"For the Reverend Mother...hink. You heard the messag...oor Chani."
Poor Chani? Paul asked himself. He looked around, wondering where she was, where his mother had got to in all this crush.
Farok too...eep breath. "The smells of home," he said.
Paul saw that the man was enjoying the stink of this air, that there was no irony in his tone. He heard his mother cough then, and her voice came back to him through the press of the troop: "How rich the odors of your sietch, Stilgar...ee you do much working with the spic... . you make pape... . plastic... . and isn't that chemical explosives?"
"You know this from what you smell?" It was another man's voice.
And Paul realized she was speaking for his benefit, that she wanted him to mak...uick acceptance of this assault on his nostrils.
There cam...uzz of activity at the head of the troop an...rolonged indrawn breath that seemed to pass through the Fremen, and Paul heard hushed voices back down the line: "It's true the...iet is dead."
Lie...aul thought. Then: Chani, daughter of Lie...he pieces fell together in his mind. Liet was the Fremen name of the planetologist.
Paul looked at Farok, asked: "Is it the Liet known as Kynes?"
"There is only one Liet," Farok said.
Paul turned, stared at the robed back o...remen in front of him. Then Liet-Kynes is dea...e thought.
"It was Harkonnen treachery," someone hissed. "They made it seem an acciden... . lost in the deser... ...#039;thopter cras... . "
Paul fel...urst of anger. The man who had befriended them, helped save them from the Harkonnen hunters, the man who had sent his Fremen cohorts searching for two strays in the deser... . another victim of the Harkonnens.
"Does Usul hunger yet for revenge?" Farok asked.
Before Paul could answer, there cam...ow call and the troop swept forward int...ider chamber, carrying Paul with them. He found himself in an open space confronted by Stilgar an...trange woman wearin...lowing wraparound garment of brilliant orange and green. Her arms were bare to the shoulders, and he could see she wore no stillsuit. Her skin wa...ale olive. Dark hair swept back from her high forehead, throwing emphasis on sharp cheekbones and aquiline nose between the dense darkness of her eyes.
She turned toward him, and Paul saw golden rings threaded with water tallies dangling from her ears.
"This bested my Jamis?" she demanded.
"Be silent, Harah," Stilgar said. "It was Jamis' doin...e invoked the tahaddi al-burhan."
"He's not bu...oy!" she said. She gave her hea...harp shake from side to side, setting the water tallies to jingling. "My children made fatherless by another child? Surely, 'twas an accident!"
"Usul, how many years have you?" Stilgar asked.
"Fifteen standard," Paul said.
Stilgar swept his eyes over the troop. "Is there one among you cares to challenge me?"
Silence.
Stilgar looked at the woman. "Until I've learned his weirding ways. I'd not challenge him."
She returned his stare. "Bu...quot;
"You saw the stranger, woman who went with Chani to the Reverend Mother?" Stilgar asked. "She's an out-freyn Sayyadina, mother to this lad. The mother and son are masters of the weirding ways of battle."
......
"A certain amount of killing has always been an arm of business," the Baron said, "bu...ine has to be drawn somewhere. Someone must be left to work the spice."
The Count emitte...hort, barking laugh. "You think you can harness the Fremen?"
"There never were enough of them for that," the Baron said. "But the killing has made the rest of my population uneasy. It's reaching the point where I'm considering another solution to the Arrakeen problem, my dear Fenring. An...ust confess the Emperor deserves credit for the inspiration."
"Ah-h-h?"
"You see, Count...ave the Emperor's prison planet, Salusa Secundus, to inspire me."
The Count stared at him with glittering intensity. "What possible connection is there between Arrakis and Salusa Secundus?"
The Baron felt the alertness in Fenring's eyes, said: "No connection yet."
"Yet?"
"You must admit it'd b...ay to develo...ubstantial work force on Arraki...se the place a...rison planet."
"You anticipate an increase in prisoners?"
"There has been unrest," the Baron admitted. "I've had to squeeze rather severely, Fenring. After all, you know the pric...aid that damnable Guild to transport our mutual force to Arrakis. That money has to come from somewhere ."
"I suggest you not use Arrakis a...rison planet without the Emperor's permission, Baron."
"Of course not," the Baron said, and he wondered at the sudden chill in Fenring's voice.
"Another matter," the Count said. "We learn that Duke Leto's Mentat, Thufir Hawat, is not dead but in your employ."
"I could not bring myself to waste him," the Baron said.
"You lied to our Sardaukar commander when you said Hawat was dead."
"Onl...hite lie, my dear Count...adn't the stomach fo...ong argument with the man."
"Was Hawat the real traitor?"
"Oh, goodness, no! It was the false doctor." The Baron wiped at perspiration on his neck. "You must understand, Fenring...as withou...entat. You know that. I've never been withou...entat. It was most unsettling."
"How could you get Hawat to shift allegiance?"
"His Duke was dead." The Baron force...mile. "There's nothing to fear from Hawat, my dear Count. The Mentat's flesh has been impregnated wit...atent poison. We administer an antidote in his meals. Without the antidote, the poison is triggere...e'd die i...ew days."
"Withdraw the antidote," the Count said.
"But he's useful!"
"And he knows too many things no living man should know."
"You said the Emperor doesn't fear exposure."
"Don't play games with me, Baron!"
"Whe...ee such an order above the Imperial seal I'll obey it," the Baron said. "But I'll not submit to your whim."
"You think it whim?"
"What else can it be? The Emperor has obligations to me, too, Fenring...id him of the troublesome Duke."
"With the help o...ew Sardaukar."
"Where else would the Emperor have foun...ouse to provide the disguising uniforms to hide his hand in this matter?"
"He has asked himself the same question, Baron, but wit...lightly different emphasis."
The Baron studied Fenring, noting the stiffness of jaw muscles, the careful control. "Ah-h-h, now," the Baron said. "I hope the Emperor doesn't believe he can move against me in total secrecy."
"He hopes it won't become necessary."
"The Emperor cannot believ...hreaten him!" The Baron permitted anger and grief to edge his voice, thinking: Let him wrong me in that...ould place myself on the throne while still beating my breast over how I'd been wronged .
The Count's voice went dry and remote as he said: "The Emperor believes what his senses tell him."
"Dare the Emperor charge me with treason befor...ull Landsraad Council?" And the Baron held his breath with the hope of it.
"The Emperor need dare nothing."
The Baron whirled away in his suspensors to hide his expression. It could happen in my lifetime! he thought. Emperor! Let him wrong me! The...he bribes and coercion, the rallying of the Great Houses: they'd flock to my banner like peasants running for shelter. The thing they fear above all else is the Emperor's Sardaukar loosed upon them one House a...ime .
"It's the Emperor's sincere hope he'll never have to charge you with treason," the Count said.
The Baron found it difficult to keep irony out of his voice and permit only the expression of hurt, but he managed. "I've bee...ost loyal subject. These words hurt me beyond my capacity to express."
"Um-m-m-m-ah-hm-m-m," said the Count.
The Baron kept his back to the Count, nodding. Presently he said, "It's time to go to the arena."
"Indeed," said the Count.
They moved out of the cone of silence and, side by side, walked toward the clumps of Houses Minor at the end of the hall...ell bega...low tolling somewhere in the kee...wenty-minute warning for the arena gathering.
"The Houses Minor wait for you to lead them," the Count said, nodding toward the people they approached.
Double meanin... . double meanin...he Baron thought.
He looked up at the new talismans flanking the exit to his hal...he mounted bull's head and the oil painting of the Old Duke Atreides, the late Duke Leto's father. They filled the Baron with an odd sense of foreboding, and he wondered what thoughts these talismans had inspired in the Duke Leto as they hung in the halls of Caladan and then on Arraki...he bravura father and the head of the bull that had killed him.
"Mankind has ah only one mm-m-m science," the Count said as they picked up their parade of followers and emerged from the hall into the waiting roo... narrow space with high windows and floor of patterned white and purple tile.
"And what science is that?" the Baron asked.
"It's the um-m-m-ah-h science of ah-h-h discontent," the Count said.
The Houses Minor behind them, sheep-faced and responsive, laughed with just the right tone of appreciation, but the sound carrie...ote of discord as it collided with the sudden blast of motors that came to them when pages threw open the outer doors, revealing the line of ground cars, their guidon pennants whipping i...reeze.
The Baron raised his voice to surmount the sudden noise, said, "I hope you'll not be discontented with the performance of my nephew today, Count Fenring."
"I ah-h-h am filled um-m-m only wit...m-m-m sense of anticipation, yes," the Count said. "Always in the ah-h-h process verbal, one um-m-m ah-h-h must consider the ah-h-h office of origin."
The Baron hid his sudden stiffening of surprise by stumbling on the first step down from the exit. Process verbal! That wa...eport o...rime against the Imperium!
But the Count chuckled to make it see...oke, and patted the Baron's arm.
All the way to the arena, though, the Baron sat back among the armored cushions of his car, casting covert glances at the Count beside him, wondering why the Emperor's errand boy had thought it necessary to make that particular kind of joke in front of the Houses Minor. It was obvious that Fenring seldom did anything he felt to be unnecessary, or used two words where one would do, or held himself t...ingle meaning i...ingle phrase.
They were seated in the golden box above the triangular aren...orns blaring, the tiers above and around them jammed wit...ubbub of people and waving pennant...hen the answer came to the Baron.
"My dear Baron," the Count said, leaning close to his ear, "you know, don't you, that the Emperor has not given official sanction to your choice of heir?"
The Baron felt himself to be withi...udden personal cone of silence produced by his own shock. He stared at Fenring, barely seeing the Count's lady come through the guards beyond to join the party in the golden box.
"That's really why I'm here today," the Count said. "The Emperor wishes me to report on whether you've chose...orthy successor. There's nothing like the arena to expose the true person from beneath the mask, eh?"
"The Emperor promised me free choice of heir!" the Baron grated.
"We shall see," Fenring said, and turned away to greet his lady. She sat down, smiling at the Baron, then giving her attention to the sand floor beneath them where Feyd-Rautha was emerging in giles and tight...he black glove and the long knife in his right hand, the white glove and the short knife in his left hand.
"White for poison, black for purity," the Lady Fenring said. "A curious custom, isn't it, my love?"
"Um-m-m-m," the Count said.
The greeting cheer lifted from the family galleries, and Feyd-Rautha paused to accept it, looking up and scanning the face...eeing his cousines and cousins, the demibrothers, the concubines and out-freyn relations. They were so many pink trumpet mouths yammering amids...lutter of colorful clothing and banners.
It came to Feyd-Rautha then that the packed ranks of faces would look just as avidly at his blood as at that of the slave-gladiator. There was no...oubt of the outcome in this fight, of course. Here was only the form of danger without its substanc...e... .
Feyd-Rautha held up his knives to the sun, saluted the three corners of the arena in the ancient manner. The short knife in white-gloved hand (white, the sign of poison) went first into its sheath. Then the long blade in the black-gloved han...he pure blade that now was unpure, his secret weapon to turn this day int...urely personal victory: poison on the black blade.
The adjustment of his body shield took onl...oment, and he paused to sense the skin-tightening at his forehead assuring him he was properly guarded.
This moment carried its own suspense, and Feyd-Rautha dragged it out with the sure hand o...howman, nodding to his handlers and distracters, checking their equipment wit...easuring star...yves in place with their prickles sharp and glistening, the barbs and hooks waving with their blue streamers.
Feyd-Rautha signaled the musicians.
The slow march began, sonorous with its ancient pomp, and Feyd-Rautha led his troupe across the arena for obeisance at the foot of his uncle's box. He caught the ceremonial key as it was thrown.
The music stopped.
Into the abrupt silence, he stepped back two paces, raised the key and shouted. "I dedicate this truth t... . " And he paused, knowing his uncle would think: The young fool's going to dedicate to Lady Fenring after all and caus...uckus!
"... . to my uncle and patron, the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen!" Feyd-Rautha shouted.
And he was delighted to see his uncle sigh.
The music resumed at the quick-march, and Feyd-Rautha led his men scampering back across the arena to the prudence door that admitted only those wearing the proper identification band. Feyd-Rautha prided himself that he never used the pru-door and seldom needed distracters. But it was good to know they were available this da...pecial plans sometimes involved special dangers.
Again, silence settled over the arena.
Feyd-Rautha turned, faced the big red door across from him through which the gladiator would emerge.
The special gladiator.
The plan Thufir Hawat had devised was admirably simple and direct, Feyd-Rautha thought. The slave would not be drugge...hat was the danger. Instead...ey word had been drummed into the man's unconscious to immobilize his muscles a...ritical instant. Feyd-Rautha rolled the vital word in his mind, mouthing it without sound: "Scum!" To the audience, it would appear that an un-drugged slave had been slipped into the arena to kill the na-Baron. And all the carefully arranged evidence would point to the slavemaster.
A low humming arose from the red door's servomotors as they were armed for opening.
Feyd-Rautha focused all his awareness on the door. This first moment was the critical one. The appearance of the gladiator as he emerged told the trained eye much it needed to know. All gladiators were supposed to be hyped on elacca drug to come out kill-ready in fighting stanc...ut you had to watch how they hefted the knife, which way they turned in defense, whether they were actually aware of the audience in the stands. The wa...lave cocked his head could give the most vital clue to counter and feint.
The red door slammed open.
Out charge...all, muscular man with shaved head and darkly pitted eyes. His skin was carrot-colored as it should be from the elacca drug, but Feyd-Rautha knew the color was paint. The slave wore green leotards and the red belt o...emishiel...he belt's arrow pointing left to indicate the slave's left side was shielded. He held his knife sword-fashion, cocked slightly outward in the stance o...rained fighter. Slowly, he advanced into the arena, turning his shielded side toward Feyd-Rautha and the group at the pru-door.
"I like not the look of this one, "said one of Feyd-Rautha's barb-men. "Are you sure he's drugged, m'Lord?"
"He has the color," Feyd-Rautha said.
"Yet he stands lik...ighter," said another helper.
Feyd-Rautha advanced two steps onto the sand, studied this slave.
"What has he done to his arm?" asked one of the distracters.
Feyd-Rautha's attention went t...loody scratch on the man's left forearm, followed the arm down to the hand as it pointed t...esign drawn in blood on the left hip of the green leotard... wet shape there: the formalized outline o...awk.
Hawk!
Feyd-Rautha looked up into the darkly pitted eyes, saw them glaring at him with uncommon alertness.
It's one of Duke Leto's fighting men we took on Arrakis! Feyd-Rautha thought. No simple gladiator this...hill ran through him, and he wondered if Hawat had another plan for this aren... feint withi...eint withi...eint. And only the slavemaster prepared to take the blame!
Feyd-Rautha's chief handler spoke at his ear: "I like not the look on that one, m'Lord. Let me se...arb or two in his knife arm to try him."
"I'll set my own barbs," Feyd-Rautha said. He too...air of the long, hooked shafts from the handler, hefted them, testing the balance. These barbs, too, were supposed to be drugge...ut not this time, and the chief handler might die because of that. But it was all part of the plan.
"You'll come out of thi...ero ," Hawat had said. "Killed your gladiator man to man and in spite of treachery. The slavemaster will be executed and your man will step into his spot ."
Feyd-Rautha advanced another five paces into the arena, playing out the moment, studying the slave. Already, he knew, the experts in the stands above him were aware that something was wrong. The gladiator had the correct skin color fo...rugged man, but he stood his ground and did not tremble. The aficionados would be whispering among themselves now: "See how he stands. He should be agitate...ttacking or retreating. See how he conserves his strength, how he waits. He should not wait."
Feyd-Rautha felt his own excitement kindle. Let there be treachery in Hawat's min...e thought...an handle this slave. And it's my long knife that carries the poison this time, not the short one. Even Hawat doesn't know that .
"Hai, Harkonnen!" the slave called. "Are you prepared to die?"
Deathly stillness gripped the arena. Slaves did not issue the challenge!
Now, Feyd-Rautha ha...lear view of the gladiator's eyes, saw the cold ferocity of despair in them. He marked the way the man stood, loose and ready, muscles prepared for victory. The slave grapevine had carried Hawat's message to this one: "You'll ge...rue chance to kill the na-Baron ." That much of the scheme was as they'd planned it, then.
A tight smile crossed Feyd-Rautha's mouth. He lifted the barbs, seeing success for his plans in the way the gladiator stood.
"Hai! Hai!" the slave challenged, and crept forward two steps.
No one in the galleries can mistake it no...eyd-Rautha thought.
This slave should have been partly crippled by drug-induced terror. Every movement should have betrayed his inner knowledge that there was no hope for hi...e could not win. He should have been filled with the stories of the poisons the na-Baron chose for the blade in his white-gloved hand. The na-Baron never gave quick death; he delighted in demonstrating rare poisons, could stand in the arena pointing out interesting side effects o...rithing victim. There was fear in the slave, ye...ut not terror.
Feyd-Rautha lifted the barbs high, nodded in an almost-greeting.
The gladiator pounced.
His feint and defensive counter were as good as any Feyd-Rautha had ever seen...imed side blow missed by the barest fraction from severing the tendons of the na-Baron's left leg.
Feyd-Rautha danced away, leavin...arbed shaft in the slave's right forearm, the hooks completely buried in flesh where the man could not withdraw them without ripping tendons.
A concerted gasp lifted from the galleries.
The sound filled Feyd-Rautha with elation.
He knew now what his uncle was experiencing, sitting up there with the Fenrings, the observers from the Imperial Cour...eside him. There could be no interference with this fight. The forms must be observed in front of witnesses. And the Baron would interpret the events in the arena only one wa...hreat to himself.
The slave backed, holding knife in teeth and lashing the barbed shaft to his arm with the pennant. "I do not feel your needle!" he shouted. Again he crept forward, knife ready, left side presented, his body bent backward to give it the greatest surface of protection from the half-shield.
That action, too, didn't escape the galleries. Sharp cries came from the family boxes. Feyd-Rautha's handlers were calling out to ask if he needed them.
He waved them back to the pru-door.
I'll give the...how such as they've never had befor...eyd-Rautha thought. No tame killing where they can sit back and admire the style. This'll be something to take them by the guts and twist them. When I'm Baron they'll remember this day and won't b...ne of them can escape fear of me because of this day .
Feyd-Rautha gave ground slowly before the gladiator's crablike advance. Arena sand grated underfoot. He heard the slave's panting, smelled his own sweat an...aint odor of blood on the air.
Steadily, the na-Baron moved backward, turning to the right, his second barb ready. The slave danced sideways. Feyd-Rautha appeared to stumble, heard the scream from the galleries.
Again, the slave pounced.
Gods, wha...ighting man! Feyd-Rautha thought as he leaped aside. Only youth's quickness saved him, but he left the second barb buried in the deltoid muscle of the slave's right arm.
Shrill cheers rained from the galleries.
They cheer me no...eyd-Rautha thought. He heard the wildness in the voices just as Hawat had said he would. They'd never cheere...amily fighter that way before. And he thought with an edge of grimness o...hing Hawat had told him: "It's easier to be terrified by an enemy you admire ."
Swiftly, Feyd-Rautha retreated to the center of the arena where all could see clearly. He drew his long blade, crouched and waited for the advancing slave.
The man took only the time to lash the second barb tight to his arm, then sped in pursuit.
Let the family see me do this thin...eyd-Rautha thought...m their enemy: let them think of me as they see me now.
He drew his short blade.
"I do not fear you, Harkonnen swine," the gladiator said. "Your tortures cannot hur...ead man...an be dead on my own blade befor...andler lays finger to my flesh. And I'll have you dead beside me!"
Feyd-Rautha grinned, offered now the long blade, the one with the poison. "Try this one," he said, and feinted with the short blade in his other hand.
The slave shifted knife hands, turned inside both parry and feint to grapple the na-Baron's short blad...he one in the white gloved hand that tradition said should carry the poison.
"You will die, Harkonnen," the gladiator gasped.
They struggled sideways across the sand. Where Feyd-Rautha's shield met the slave's halfshield...lue glow marked the contact. The air around them filled with ozone from the field.
"Die on your own poison!" the slave grated.
He began forcing the white-gloved hand inward, turning the blade he thought carried the poison.
Let them see this! Feyd-Rautha thought. He brought down the long blade, felt it clang uselessly against the barbed shaft lashed to the slave's arm.
Feyd-Rautha fel...oment of desperation. He had not thought the barbed shafts would be an advantage for the slave. But they gave the man another shield. And the strength of this gladiator! The short blade was being forced inward inexorably, and Feyd-Rautha focused on the fact tha...an could also die on an unpoisoned blade.
"Scum!" Feyd-Rautha gasped.
At the key word, the gladiator's muscles obeyed wit...omentary slackness. It was enough for Feyd-Rautha. He opene...pace between them sufficient for the long blade. Its poisoned tip flicked out, dre...ed line down the slave's chest. There was instant agony in the poison. The man disengaged himself, staggered backward.
Now, let my dear family watc...eyd-Rautha thought. Let them think on this slave who tried to turn the knife he thought poisoned and use it against me. Let them wonder ho...ladiator could come into this arena ready for such an attempt. And let them always be aware they cannot know for sure which of my hands carries the poison .
Feyd-Rautha stood in silence, watching the slowed motions of the slave. The man moved withi...esitation-awareness. There was an orthographic thing on his face now for every watcher to recognize. The death was written there. The slave knew it had been done to him and he knew how it had been done. The wrong blade had carried the poison.
"You!" the man moaned.
Feyd-Rautha drew back to give death its space. The paralyzing drug in the poison had yet to take full effect, but the man's slowness told of its advance.
The slave staggered forward as though drawn b...trin...ne dragging step a...ime. Each step was the only step in his universe. He still clutched his knife, but its point wavered.
"One da... . on... . of u... . wil... . ge... . you," he gasped.
A sad little moue contorted his mouth. He sat, sagged, then stiffened and rolled away from Feyd-Rautha, face down.
Feyd-Rautha advanced in the silent arena, pu...oe under the gladiator and rolled him onto his back to give the gallerie...lear view of the face when the poison began its twisting, wrenching work on the muscles. But the gladiator came over with his own knife, protruding from his breast.
In spite of frustration, there was for Feyd-Rauth...easure of admiration for the effort this slave had managed in overcoming the paralysis to do this thing to himself. With the admiration came the realization that here was trul...hing to fear.
That which make...an superhuman is terrifying.
As he focused on this thought, Feyd-Rautha became conscious of the eruption of noise from the stands and galleries around him. They were cheering with utter abandon.
Feyd-Rautha turned, looking up at them.
All were cheering except the Baron, who sat with hand to chin in deep contemplatio...nd the Count and his lady, both of whom were staring down at him, their faces masked by smiles.
Count Fenring turned to his lady, said: "Ah-h-h-um-m-m...esourceful um-m-m-m young man. Eh, mm-m-m-ah, my dear?"
"His ah-h-h synaptic responses are very swift," she said.
The Baron looked at her, at the Count, returned his attention to the arena, thinking: If someone could get that close to one of mine! Rage began to replace his fear. I'll have the slavemaster dead ove...low fire this nigh... . and if this Count and his lady ha...and in i... .
The conversation in the Baron's box was remote movement to Feyd-Rautha, the voices drowned in the foot-stamping chant that came now from all around:
"Head! Head! Head! Head!"
The Baron scowled, seeing the way Feyd-Rautha turned to him. Languidly, controlling his rage with difficulty, the Baron waved his hand toward the young man standing in the arena beside the sprawled body of the slave. Give the bo...ead. He earned it by exposing the slavemaster .
Feyd-Rautha saw the signal of agreement, thought: They think they honor me. Let them see wha...hink!
He saw his handlers approaching wit...aw-knife to do the honors, waved them back, repeated the gesture as they hesitated. They think they honor me with jus...ead! he thought. He bent and crossed the gladiator's hands around the protruding knife handle, then removed the knife and placed it in the limp hands.
It was done in an instant, and he straightened, beckoned his handlers. "Bury this slave intact with his knife in his hands," he said. "The man earned it."
In the golden box, Count Fenring leaned close to the Baron, said: "A grand gesture, tha...rue bravura. Your nephew has style as well as courage."
"He insults the crowd by refusing the head," the Baron muttered.
"Not at all," Lady Fenring said. She turned, looking up at the tiers around them.
And the Baron noted the line of her nec... truly lovely flowing of muscle...ik...oung boy's.
"They like what your nephew did," she said.
As the import of Feyd-Rautha's gesture penetrated to the most distant seats, as the people saw the handlers carrying off the dead gladiator intact, the Baron watched them and realized she had interpreted the reaction correctly. The people were going wild, beating on each other, screaming and stamping.
The Baron spoke wearily. "I shall have to orde...ete. You cannot send people home like this, their energies unspent. They must see tha...hare their elation." He gav...and signal to his guard, an...ervant above them dipped the Harkonnen orange pennant over the bo...nce, twice, three time...ignal fo...ete.
Feyd-Rautha crossed the arena to stand beneath the golden box, his weapons sheathed, arms hanging at his sides. Above the undiminished frenzy of the crowd, he called: "A fete, Uncle?"
The noise began to subside as people saw the conversation and waited.
"In your honor, Feyd!" the Baron called down. And again, he caused the pennant to be dipped in signal.
Across the arena, the pru-barriers had been dropped and young men were leaping down into the arena, racing toward Feyd-Rautha.
"You ordered the pru-shields dropped. Baron?" the Count asked.
"No one will harm the lad," the Baron said. "He'...ero."
The first of the charging mass reached Feyd-Rautha, lifted him on their shoulders, began parading around the arena.
"He could walk unarmed and unshielded through the poorest quarters of Harko tonight," the Baron said. "They'd give him the last of their food and drink just for his company."
The Baron pushed himself from his chair, settled his weight into his suspensors. "You will forgive me, please. There are matters that require my immediate attention. The guard will see you to the keep."
The Count arose, bowed. "Certainly, Baron. We're looking forward to the fete. I've ah-h-h-mm-m-m never see...arkonnen fete."
"Yes," the Baron said. "The fete." He turned, was enveloped by guards as he stepped into the private exit from the box.
A guard captain bowed to Count Fenring. "Your orders, my Lord?"
"We will ah-h-h wait for the worst mm-m-m crush to um-m-m pass," the Count said.
"Yes, m'Lord." The man bowed himself back three paces.
Count Fenring faced his lady, spoke again in their personal humming-code tongue: "You saw it, of course?"
In the same humming tongue, she said: "The lad knew the gladiator wouldn't be drugged. There wa...oment of fear, yes, but no surprise."
"It was planned," he said. "The entire performance."
"Withou...oubt."
"It stinks of Hawat."
"Indeed," she said.
"I demanded earlier that the Baron eliminate Hawat."
"That was an error, my dear."
"I see that now."
"The Harkonnens may hav...ew Baron ere long."
"If that's Hawat's plan."
"That will bear examination, true," she said.
"The young one will be more amenable to control."
"For u... . after tonight," she said.
"You don't anticipate difficulty seducing him, my little brood-mother?"
"No, my love. You saw how he looked at me."
"Yes, an...an see now why we must have that bloodline."
"Indeed, and it's obvious we must hav...old on him. I'll plant deep in his deepest self the necessary prana-bindu phrases to bend him."
"We'll leave as soon as possibl...s soon as you're sure," he said.
She shuddered. "By all means...hould not want to bea...hild in this terrible place."
"The things we do in the name of humanity," he said.
"Yours is the easy part," she said.
"There are some ancient prejudice...vercome," he said. "They're quite primordial, you know."
"My poor dear," she said, and patted his cheek. "You know this is the only way to be sure of saving that bloodline."
He spoke i...ry voice: "I quite understand what we do."
"We won't fail," she said.
"Guilt starts a...eeling of failure," he reminded.
"There'll be no guilt," she said. "Hypno-ligation of that Feyd-Rautha's psyche and his child in my wom...hen we go."
"That uncle," he said. "Have you ever seen such distortion?"
"He's pretty fierce," she said, "but the nephew could well grow to be worse."
"Thanks to that uncle. You know, when you think what this lad could've been with some other upbringin...ith the Atreides code to guide him, for example."
"It's sad, "she said.
"Would that we could've saved both the Atreides youth and this one. From wha...eard of that young Pau... most admirable lad, good union of breeding and training." He shook his head. "But we shouldn't waste sorrow over the aristocracy of misfortune."
"There'...ene Gesserit saying," she said.
"You have sayings for everything!" he protested.
"You'll like this one," she said. "It goes: 'Do not coun...uman dead until you've seen his body. And even then you can mak...istake.' "
Muad'Dib tells us in "A Time of Reflection" that his first collisions with Arrakeen necessities were the true beginnings of his education. He learned then how to pole the sand for its weather, learned the language of the wind's needles stinging his skin, learned how the nose can buzz with sand-itch and how to gather his body's precious moisture around him to guard it and preserve it. As his eyes assumed the blue of the Ibad, he learned the Chakobsa way.
- Stilgar's preface to "Muad'Dib, the Man" by the Princess Irulan
Stilgar's troop returning to the sietch with its two strays from the desert climbed out of the basin in the waning light of the first moon. The robed figures hurried with the smell of home in their nostrils. Dawn's gray line behind them was brightest at the notch in their horizon-calendar that marked the middle of autumn, the month of Caprock.
Wind-raked dead leaves strewed the cliffbase where the sietch children had been gathering them, but the sounds of the troop's passage (except for occasional blunderings by Paul and his mother) could not be distinguished from the natural sounds of the night.
Paul wiped sweat-caked dust from his forehead, fel...ug at his arm, heard Chani's voice hissing. "Do a...old you: bring the fold of your hood down over your forehead! Leave only the eyes exposed. You waste moisture."
A whispered command behind them demanded silence: "The desert hears you!"
A bird chirruped from the rocks high above them.
The troop stopped, and Paul sensed abrupt tension.
There cam...aint thumping from the rocks...ound no louder than mice jumping in the sand.
Again, the bird chirruped.
A stir passed through the troop's ranks. And again, the mouse-thumping pecked its way across the sand.
Once more, the bird chirruped.
The troop resumed its climb up int...rack in the rocks, but there wa...tillness of breath about the Fremen now that filled Paul with caution, and he noted covert glances toward Chani, the way she seemed to withdraw, pulling in upon herself.
There was rock underfoot now...aint gray swishing of robes around them, and Paul sense...elaxing of discipline, but still that quiet-of-the-person about Chani and the others. He followe...hadow shap...p steps...urn, more steps, int...unnel, past two moisture-sealed doors and int...lobelighted narrow passage with yellow rock walls and ceiling.
All around him, Paul saw the Fremen throwing back their hoods, removing nose plugs, breathing deeply. Someone sighed. Paul looked for Chani, found that she had left his side. He was hemmed in b...ress of robed bodies. Someone jostled him, said, "Excuse me, Usul. Wha...rush! It's always this way."
On his left, the narrow bearded face of the one called Farok turned toward Paul. The stained eyepits and blue darkness of eyes appeared even darker under the yellow globes. "Throw off your hood, Usul," Farok said. "You're home." And he helped Paul, releasing the hood catch, elbowin...pace around them.
Paul slipped out his nose plugs, swung the mouth baffle aside. The odor of the place assailed him: unwashed bodies, distillate esters of reclaimed wastes, everywhere the sour effluvia of humanity with, over it all...urbulence of spice and spicelike harmonics.
"Why are we waiting, Farok?" Paul asked.
"For the Reverend Mother...hink. You heard the messag...oor Chani."
Poor Chani? Paul asked himself. He looked around, wondering where she was, where his mother had got to in all this crush.
Farok too...eep breath. "The smells of home," he said.
Paul saw that the man was enjoying the stink of this air, that there was no irony in his tone. He heard his mother cough then, and her voice came back to him through the press of the troop: "How rich the odors of your sietch, Stilgar...ee you do much working with the spic... . you make pape... . plastic... . and isn't that chemical explosives?"
"You know this from what you smell?" It was another man's voice.
And Paul realized she was speaking for his benefit, that she wanted him to mak...uick acceptance of this assault on his nostrils.
There cam...uzz of activity at the head of the troop an...rolonged indrawn breath that seemed to pass through the Fremen, and Paul heard hushed voices back down the line: "It's true the...iet is dead."
Lie...aul thought. Then: Chani, daughter of Lie...he pieces fell together in his mind. Liet was the Fremen name of the planetologist.
Paul looked at Farok, asked: "Is it the Liet known as Kynes?"
"There is only one Liet," Farok said.
Paul turned, stared at the robed back o...remen in front of him. Then Liet-Kynes is dea...e thought.
"It was Harkonnen treachery," someone hissed. "They made it seem an acciden... . lost in the deser... ...#039;thopter cras... . "
Paul fel...urst of anger. The man who had befriended them, helped save them from the Harkonnen hunters, the man who had sent his Fremen cohorts searching for two strays in the deser... . another victim of the Harkonnens.
"Does Usul hunger yet for revenge?" Farok asked.
Before Paul could answer, there cam...ow call and the troop swept forward int...ider chamber, carrying Paul with them. He found himself in an open space confronted by Stilgar an...trange woman wearin...lowing wraparound garment of brilliant orange and green. Her arms were bare to the shoulders, and he could see she wore no stillsuit. Her skin wa...ale olive. Dark hair swept back from her high forehead, throwing emphasis on sharp cheekbones and aquiline nose between the dense darkness of her eyes.
She turned toward him, and Paul saw golden rings threaded with water tallies dangling from her ears.
"This bested my Jamis?" she demanded.
"Be silent, Harah," Stilgar said. "It was Jamis' doin...e invoked the tahaddi al-burhan."
"He's not bu...oy!" she said. She gave her hea...harp shake from side to side, setting the water tallies to jingling. "My children made fatherless by another child? Surely, 'twas an accident!"
"Usul, how many years have you?" Stilgar asked.
"Fifteen standard," Paul said.
Stilgar swept his eyes over the troop. "Is there one among you cares to challenge me?"
Silence.
Stilgar looked at the woman. "Until I've learned his weirding ways. I'd not challenge him."
She returned his stare. "Bu...quot;
"You saw the stranger, woman who went with Chani to the Reverend Mother?" Stilgar asked. "She's an out-freyn Sayyadina, mother to this lad. The mother and son are masters of the weirding ways of battle."
......