Dune - House Atreides

by Brian Herbert

  A silvery dart whizzed by Leto's ear, and now he rolled behind the holo-cart, which continued to project images above the desk. A second dart struck the wall beside his head, chipping the stone.

  Then he heard the hum of a lasgun. An arc of purple light filled the room.

  The second Tleilaxu's body slammed into the holo-cart, knocking it over. His face oozed onto the floor, liquefied by the hot beam of light. His body collapsed near Leto's hiding place.

  Thufir Hawat and a Landsraad guard captain strode into the cell and looked down at Leto. Behind them, guards inspected the two black-clad bodies. A burned-meat odor hung in the air.

  "Somehow they got past our security," the captain said.

  "I wouldn't call that security," Hawat snapped at him.

  One of the guards said, "This one's got a knife in his throat."

  "Where'd the knife come from?" The captain helped Leto to his feet. "Did you throw it, sir?"

  Leto glanced at his Mentat, but left it for Hawat to answer. "With all your security, Captain," Hawat said with a withering sneer, "how could anyone possibly smuggle a weapon in here?"

  "I wrested it from one of the attackers," Leto said, his expression confident. "Then I killed him with it." He blinked his gray eyes. His body trembled with the after-rush of adrenaline. "I guess the Bene Tleilax couldn't wait for the trial to be over."

  "Vermilion hells!" Rhombur said, stepping in and looking around at the mess. "On the, uh, bright side, this won't look good for the Tleilaxu in the trial. If they were so sure of winning, why should they try to take justice into their own hands?"

  Flushing in embarrassment, the guard captain turned to his men and directed them in the removal of the bodies and in the cleanup.

  "The assassins fired two darts," Leto said, pointing to where the needles had stuck.

  "Be careful handling them," Hawat said. "They're probably poisoned."

  When Leto, Rhombur, and Hawat were alone again, the Mentat slipped a smuggled maula pistol into a bottom drawer of the desk.

  "Just in case," he said. "Next time a dagger might not be sufficient."

  As seen from orbit, the world of Ix is pristine and placid. But beneath its surface, immense projects are undertaken and great works are achieved. In this way, our planet is a metaphor for the Imperium itself.

  -DOMINIC VERNIUS,

  The Secret Workings of Ix

  Smug and very satisfied, Hasimir Fenring extended to Shaddam a sheaf of covert documents written in the private language he and the Crown Prince had developed during their childhood. The grand audience hall echoed with every whisper and sound, but they could be confident in their own secrets. Shaddam sat wearily on the heavy throne, and the Hagal-crystal dais shone with inner illumination like a firelit aquamarine.

  Fenring twitched with enough nervous energy for both of them. "These are files for the Major Houses of the Landsraad who will be sitting at the Atreides Trial by Forfeiture." His large eyes were like black holes into the labyrinth of his mind. "I believe I've found something either embarrassing or illegal about each one of concern. All told, I believe we have the means of persuasion we need."

  Lurching forward on the throne, Shaddam looked as if he'd been taken completely by surprise. His eyes became wild and concerned, red from lack of sleep and flashing with anger.

  Fenring had seen him on the verge of panic before, just as when they had arranged for the death of his older brother Fafnir. "Calm yourself, Shaddam, hm-m-m-m-m?" he said quietly. "I've taken care of everything."

  "Damn you, Hasimir! If word ever gets out about any bribery attempts, it would ruin House Corrino. We can't allow anyone to see our connection to this!" Shaddam shook his head as if the Imperium was already crumbling around him, and he hadn't even been crowned yet. "They'll wonder why we would go to such lengths to save an insignificant Duke."

  Fenring smiled, trying to steady Shaddam with his own confidence. "The Landsraad is composed of Great Houses, many of which are already your allies, Sire. A few carefully phrased suggestions among the nobles, a bit of melange exchanged, some well-placed bribes and threats . . ."

  "Ah, yes. I've always gone along with you -- perhaps too often, as if I had no brain of my own. Soon I will be Emperor of a Million Worlds, and I'll have to think for myself. I'm doing that now."

  "Emperors have advisors, Shaddam. Always." Fenring suddenly realized he had to be more cautious. Something had unsettled Shaddam, something recent. What does he know that I don't?

  "For once we won't use your methods, Hasimir." He was firm, insistent. "I forbid it. We will find some other way."

  Intense now, Fenring climbed the steps to stand beside the Crown Prince, like an equal. For some reason, though, the atmosphere was uncomfortably changed. What had gone wrong? As babies had they not both sucked on the same breast when Fenring's mother had been Shaddam's wet nurse? As boys, hadn't they been tutored side by side? Had they not concocted plots and schemes together as they grew older? Why was Shaddam suddenly refusing to listen to his advice?

  Fenring leaned close to the Crown Prince's ear. He sounded as contrite as he could be. "My apologies, Sire, but, hm-m-m-ah, it has . . . already been done. I was certain of your approval, and so the notes were cleverly delivered to the appropriate representatives, asking for them to support their Emperor when it comes time to call for a vote in the trial."

  "You dared that? Without consulting me first?" Shaddam purpled with outrage and could not find his voice for some moments. "You just thought I'd follow your lead? In whatever schemes you might contrive?"

  Shaddam had grown incensed, too incensed. What else was bothering him? Fenring backed one step away from the throne. "Please, Sire. You're overreacting, losing perspective."

  "On the contrary, I believe I'm gaining perspective." His nostrils flared. "You don't think I'm terribly bright, do you, Hasimir? Since we were children you've had a snide way of explaining things to me in training class, of helping me on examinations. And you were always the faster thinker, more intelligent, more ruthless -- or so you made it appear. But, believe it or not, I can handle situations by myself."

  "I've never doubted your intelligence, my friend." Fenring's overlarge head bobbed on his thin neck. "With your standing in House Corrino, your future has always been guaranteed, but I've had to fight for my position every step of the way. I want to be your sounding board and confidant."

  Shaddam sat forward on the massive crystal throne that threw sparkle-fire from the glowglobes around the chamber. "Ah, yes. You thought you'd be the power behind the throne, with me as your puppet?"

  "Puppet? Certainly not." Fenring backed another step away now. Shaddam was terrifyingly unstable, and Fenring didn't know how he had strayed onto such uncertain ground. He knows something I don't. Shaddam had never questioned his friend's actions before, had never wanted to know the details of bribery and violence. "Hm-m-m-m . . . I have always considered how best I might help you to become a great ruler."

  Shaddam rose to his feet, slow and regal, looking down his nose at the weasel-faced man who stood at the foot of the dais. Fenring decided not to back farther away. What does he know? What news?

  "But, I'd never do anything at your expense, old friend. We've, ahhhh, known each other too long. Indeed, we share too much blood on our hands." He held his hand over his heart, in the way of the Imperium. "I am aware of how you think, and of your . . . limitations, hm-m-m-m-ah? In fact, you're exceptionally bright. The problem is, you often find it hard to make the difficult but necessary decisions."

  Shaddam climbed down from the Golden Lion Throne and stalked across the floor of polished stones from a million Imperial worlds. "A hard decision is needed right now, Hasimir, and it regards your service to me in the immediate future."

  Fenring waited, afraid of what ill-advised ideas the Crown Prince might have gotten into his head. But he dared not argue.

  "Know this -- I won't forget the grievous breach of conduct you have committed. If this bribery scheme com
es back to bite us, your head will roll. I would have no qualms about signing an execution order for treason."

  Fenring paled, and the startled look on his narrow face sent a wave of pleasure through the Crown Prince. In Shaddam's present mood, Fenring realized that his friend just might be capable of issuing such an order.

  The fidgety man's jaw clenched, and he decided to put an end to this foolishness immediately. "What I've said to you about friendship is the truth, Shaddam." He measured his words carefully. "But I'd be a fool if I hadn't taken certain precautions that could expose your involvement in certain . . . mm-m-m-m . . . shall we call them, ah . . . adventures? If anything happens to me, all will be revealed: how your father really died, the artificial-spice activities on Ix, even the assassination of Fafnir when you were a teenager. If I hadn't poisoned your brother, he would be sitting on the throne right now, not you. We're in lockstep, you and I. Up or down . . . together."

  Shaddam looked as if he had expected to hear nothing else. "Ah, yes. Very predictable, Hasimir. You always warned me not to be predictable."

  Fenring had the good grace to look embarrassed. He held his silence.

  "You're the one who got me into this risky scheme in the first place, and who knows when we'll see any payback from our dangerous investment on Ix." Shaddam's eyes flashed fire. "Synthetic spice, indeed! I wish we'd never allied with the Tleilaxu. And now I'm stuck with the unpleasant aftermath. See where your scheming has gotten us?"

  "Hm-m-m-m-ah, I won't be drawn into an argument with you, Shaddam. It wouldn't be productive. But you knew the risks from the outset, and the enormous possible gains. Please be patient."

  "Patient? At the moment we're faced with two distinct possibilities." Shaddam sat back down and hunched forward on the throne, hawklike. "As you said, either I will be crowned, and you and I can rise to the top together -- or we go down together . . . into exile or death." He let his breath out in a slow whistle. "At the moment we're both in mortal danger, all because of your infernal spice scheme."

  Fenring pressed his last desperate idea, large eyes flicking from side to side in search of some escape. "You have had some disturbing news, Sire. I can sense it. Tell me what has happened." Few things in the Imperial Palace or the capital city occurred without Fenring knowing about them immediately.

  Shaddam clasped his long-fingered hands together. Fenring flushed and leaned forward, his dark eyes widening with interest. The Crown Prince sighed in resignation. "The Tleilaxu sent two assassins to kill Leto Atreides in his protected cell."

  Fenring's heart leaped, wondering if this was good news or bad. "And did they succeed?"

  "No, no. Our young Duke somehow managed to smuggle a weapon in and protected himself. But this causes me great concern."

  Fenring hunkered down, astonished at the news. "That's impossible. I thought you'd already spoken to our Tleilaxu contact and told him in no uncertain terms --"

  "I did," Shaddam snapped. "But apparently you aren't the only one who no longer listens to my commands. Either Ajidica ignored my instructions, or he has no power to control his own people."

  Fenring growled, happy to divert the Crown Prince's anger. "We need to strike back in a similar manner: Let Hidar Fen Ajidica know that he must heed all orders from his Emperor, or the price will grow much higher."

  Shaddam looked at him, but his eyes were weary now and no longer as warm or open as they had once been. "You know exactly what to do, Hasimir."

  Fenring seized the chance to restore himself to the Crown Prince's good graces. "I always do, Sire." He scuttled away across the long reception hall.

  Shaddam paced the polished floor in front of the crystalline throne, trying to calm himself and put his thoughts in order. Just as Fenring reached the archway, he called out, "This isn't over between us, Hasimir. Things must change once I am crowned."

  "Yes, Sire. You must . . . hm-m-m-m, do as you see fit." Bowing deeply, Fenring backed out of the audience chamber, relieved to depart with his life.

  When faced with necessary actions, there are always choices. So long as the job gets done.

  -COUNT HASIMIR FENRING,

  Dispatches from Arrakis

  The Tleilaxu pilot who had survived the Atreides attack inside the Heighliner was a material witness at the trial, and thus had been forced to remain on Kaitain. He wasn't a prisoner, and his needs were taken care of, though no one sought out his company. The Bene Tleilax hadn't even made his name commonly known. He wanted to be back on his ship, back at work.

  However, because of the huge influx of guests arriving for Shaddam's upcoming coronation ceremony and the Imperial wedding, accommodations were difficult to find. Shaddam's protocol ministers had taken great pleasure in finding only an austere and unpleasant room for the man.

  Much to the protocol ministers' annoyance, the Tleilaxu pilot didn't seem to mind. He said nothing in complaint while he waited, and sulked and stewed until he could bring the foul criminal Leto Atreides to justice . . . .

  Kaitain nights were perfect, clear and full of stars and moons. Through shimmering curtains of auroras, complete darkness never fell. Even so, most of the capital city slept during certain hours.

  Hasimir Fenring easily crept into the sealed room that held the Tleilaxu man. He moved stealthily, like a shadow on a suspensorlift, and made no sound, used no illumination. He was accustomed to the night; it was his friend.

  Fenring had never seen a Tleilaxu asleep before -- but as he stepped closer to the bed, he found the pilot already sitting up, totally awake. The gray-skinned man stared at him through the darkness as if he could see better even than Shaddam's henchman.

  "I have a flechette pistol trained directly at your body core," the Tleilaxu said. "Who are you? Have you come to kill me?"

  "Hm-m-m-m-ah, no." Fenring recovered quickly and used his sweetest, silkiest voice to introduce himself. "I am Hasimir Fenring, boon companion to Crown Prince Shaddam, bearing a message and a request."

  "What is it?" the pilot said.

  "Crown Prince Shaddam beseeches you to reconsider the details of your testimony, hm-m-m-m? He desires peace among the Houses of the Landsraad, and does not wish for such a shadow to fall upon House Atreides, whose members have served the Padishah Emperors since the time of the Great Revolt."

  "Nonsense," the Tleilaxu snapped. "Leto Atreides fired upon our sovereign ships, destroying one, damaging mine. Hundreds are dead. He has created the largest political firestorm in recent decades."

  "Yes, yes!" Fenring said. "And you can prevent it from escalating further, hmmm? Shaddam wishes to begin his reign with quiet and prosperity. Can you not consider the larger picture?"

  "I think only of my people," the pilot said," and how we have been wronged by one man. Everyone knows the Atreides is guilty, and he must pay the price. Only then will we be satisfied." He smiled with thin lips. The flechette pistol in his hand did not move a millimeter. Fenring could see how this man could have risen to the rank of pilot; he clearly had the stomach to command ships. "After that happens, Shaddam may have as quiet a reign as he chooses."

  "You make me sad," Fenring said, sounding disappointed. "I will take your answer back to the Crown Prince." He crossed his arms over his chest and bowed in farewell, extending his palms forward. The motion triggered two needle guns mounted to his wrists. In silence, they fired deadly paralytic darts into the pilot's throat.

  The Tleilaxu clenched in a spasm, reflexively firing the flechette pistol. Fenring easily ducked out of the way. The long spikes hammered into the wall and hung there quivering. A second later, an occupant in the adjacent room pounded on the wall for quiet.

  Still in darkness, Fenring studied his work. The evidence was all here, and the Bene Tleilax would understand what had happened. After the outrageous assassination attempt on Leto Atreides -- despite Shaddam's specific orders for them to drop the matter -- Hidar Fen Ajidica had much to atone for.

  The Tleilaxu prided themselves on their ability to keep secrets. No doub
t they would discreetly remove the pilot's name from the witness list and not mention him again. Without his testimony, their case would be weaker.

  Fenring hoped, though, that this murder wouldn't make the little men even more vengeful. How would Hidar Fen Ajidica respond?

  Departing from the locked room, Fenring slid through the shadows. He left the body, just in case the Bene Tleilax wanted to resurrect him as a ghola. After all, despite the little man's failings, he might have been a good pilot.

  In plotting any course of revenge, one must savor the anticipation phase and all its moments, for the actual execution often differs widely from the original plan.

  -HASIMIR FENRING,

  Dispatches from Arrakis

  The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen couldn't have been more delighted at the way events were turning out. He might have taken deeper pleasure if the rest of the Imperium could appreciate the delicious complexities of what he had done -- but of course he could never reveal those.