Dune: House Atreides (59 page)

Now he wished for any other fate in the universe.

Lady Helena had locked herself in her chambers and ignored the servants who tried to attend her. Leto had never observed much love or affection between his parents, and right now he couldn't tell if his mother's grief was sincere or merely an act. The only people she agreed to see were her personal priests and spiritual advisors. Helena clung to the subtle meanings she pried loose from verses of the Orange Catholic Bible.

Leto knew he needed to bring himself out of this morass -- he had to reach deep for strength and turn to the business of running Caladan. Duke Paulus would have scorned Leto's misery and chastised him for not immediately facing the priorities of his new life. "Grieve during your private time, lad," he would have said, "but never reveal any sign of weakness on the part of House Atreides."

Silently, Leto vowed to do his best. This would be the first of many sacrifices he would no doubt have to make in his new position.

Prince Rhombur came up beside Leto as he sat in the heavy ducal chair in the empty meeting hall. Leto brooded, his eyes fixed on a large portrait on the opposite wall that showed his father in full matador regalia. Rhombur put a hand on his companion's shoulder and squeezed. "Leto, have you eaten? You've got to maintain your strength."

Taking a deep breath, Leto turned to look at his comrade from Ix, whose broad face was filled with concern. "No, I haven't. Would you care to join me for breakfast?" He rose stiffly from the uncomfortable chair. It was time to go about his duties.

Thufir Hawat accompanied them at a morning meal that extended for hours as they laid out plans and strategies for the new regime. During a pause in the discussion, the warrior Mentat bowed his head and met young Leto's gray-eyed gaze. "If I have not yet made it apparent, my Duke, I give you my utmost loyalty and renew my pledge to House Atreides. I will do everything I can to assist and advise you." Then his expression hardened. "But you must understand that all decisions are yours and yours alone. My advice may contradict Prince Rhombur's or your mother's, or that of any other advisors you choose. You must decide in each case. You are the Duke. You are House Atreides."

Leto trembled, feeling the responsibility hover over him like a Guild Heighliner ready to crash. "I'm aware of that, Thufir, and I'll need all the assistance I can get." He sat up straight and sipped sweet cream from a bowl of warm pundi rice pudding, prepared by one of the chefs who knew it had been his favorite as a boy. Now it didn't taste the same, though; his taste buds seemed dulled.

"How goes the investigation into my father's death? Was it truly an accident, as it appears? Or only made to look that way?"

The Mentat frowned, and a troubled expression clouded his leathery face. "I'm hesitant to say this, my Duke, but I fear it was murder. Evidence is mounting of a devious plan, indeed."

"What?" Rhombur said, pounding his fist on the table. His face flushed. "Who did this to the Duke? How?" He felt affection not only for Leto, but for the Atreides patriarch who had granted sanctuary to him and his sister. A visceral, sinking feeling told Rhombur the motivation might have been to punish Paulus for showing kindness to the Ixian exiles.

"I am the Duke, Rhombur," Leto said, resting a hand on his friend's forearm. "I will have to handle this."

Leto could almost hear the wheels humming inside the Mentat's complex mind.

Hawat said, "Chemical analysis of muscle tissue in the Salusan bull revealed faint traces of two drugs."

"I thought the beasts were checked before every fight." Leto narrowed his eyes, but for a moment he could not drive away the memory flashes of his younger days, when he had gone to look at the massive bulls in the stables and puffy-eyed Stablemaster Yresk had let him feed the beasts -- to the horror of the stableboys. "Was our veterinarian in on a plot?"

"The usual tests were performed as required, before the paseo." A frown on his red-stained lips, Thufir tapped his fingers on the table as he marshaled his thoughts and assessed his answer. "Unfortunately, the prescribed analyses tested for the wrong things. The bull had been enraged by a harsh stimulant that gradually built up in its body over days, delivered in time-released amounts."

"That wouldn't have been enough," Leto said, flaring his nostrils. "My father was a good fighter. The best."

The Mentat shook his shaggy head. "The bull was also given a neutralizing agent, a chemical that counteracted the neurotoxin in the Duke's banderillas and simultaneously triggered a release of the stimulant. When the bull should have been paralyzed, the stimulant was increased instead. The beast became an even more dangerous killing machine, just as the Old Duke was growing tired."

Leto glowered. With an angry lurch he rose from the breakfast table and glanced up at the omnipresent poison-snooper. He paced, letting his rice pudding grow cold. Then he turned and spoke sharply, summoning all the techniques of leadership he had been taught. "Mentat, give me a prime projection. Who would do this?"

Thufir sat motionless as he entered deep Mentat mode. Data streamed through the computer inside his skull, a human brain that simulated the capabilities of the ancient, hated enemies of mankind.

"Most likely possibility: a personal attack from a major political enemy of House Atreides. Because of the timing, I suspect it may be a punishment of the Old Duke for his support of House Vernius."

"My suspicion exactly," Rhombur muttered. The son of Dominic Vernius seemed very much an adult now, hardened and tempered, no longer just a good-natured study companion who had lived a pampered life. Since coming to Caladan he had trimmed down, tightened his muscles. His eyes had taken on a flinty gleam.

"But no House has declared kanly on us," Leto said. "In the ancient rite of vendetta there are requirements, forms to be followed, are there not, Thufir?"

"But we can't trust all of the Old Duke's enemies to adhere to such niceties,"

Hawat said. "We must be very cautious."

Rhombur reddened, thinking of his own family's ouster from Ix. "And there are those who twist the forms to match their needs."

"Secondary possibility," the Mentat continued. "The target could have been Duke Paulus himself, and not House Atreides -- the result of a small vendetta or personal grudge. The culprit could perhaps be a local petitioner who didn't like a decision the Duke had made. Though this murder has galactic consequences, its cause could, ironically, be a trivial thing."

Leto shook his head. "I can't believe that. I saw how much the people loved my father. None of his subjects would turn on him, not a single one."

Hawat did not flinch. "My Duke, do not overestimate the strength of love and loyalty, and do not underestimate the power of personal hatred."

"Uh, what's a better possibility?" Rhombur inquired.

Hawat looked his Duke in the eye. "An attack to weaken House Atreides. The death of the patriarch leaves you, m 'Lord, in a vulnerable position. You are young and untrained."

Leto drew in a deep breath, but restrained his temper as he listened.

"Your enemies will now see House Atreides as unstable, and could make a move against us. Your allies may also see you as a liability and support you with somewhat . . . limited enthusiasm. This is a very dangerous time for you."

"The Harkonnens?" Leto asked.

Hawat shrugged. "Possibly. Or some ally of theirs."

Leto pressed his hands against his temples and drew another deep breath. He saw Rhombur looking uneasily at him.

"Continue your investigation, Thufir," Leto said. "Since we know that drugs were introduced to the Salusan bull, I suggest you target your interrogations around the stables."

THE STABLEBOY DUNCAN Idaho stood in front of his new Duke, bowing proudly, ready to swear his fealty again. The household staff had cleaned him up, though he still wore stable clothes. The ruined garments he'd been given for the illfated final bullfight had been discarded. His curly black hair was disheveled.

A rage burned inside him. He was certain that Duke Paulus's death could have been avoided if someone had only listened to him. The grief struck him sharply, and he agonized over whether he might have done more: Should he have insisted harder or spoken to someone other than Stablemaster Yresk? He wondered if he should reveal what he had tried to do, but for the moment held his tongue.

Looking too small in the ducal chair, Leto Atreides narrowed his gray eyes and skewered Duncan with a gaze. "Boy, I remember when you joined our household."

His face looked thinner, and much older than it had been when Duncan had first stood inside the Castle hall. "It was just after I escaped from Ix with Rhombur and Kailea."

Both of the Vernius refugees also sat in the main hall, as did Thufir Hawat and a contingent of guards. Duncan glanced over at them, then returned his attention to the young Duke.

"I heard stories of your escape from the Harkonnens, Duncan Idaho," Leto continued, "of how you were tortured and imprisoned. My father trusted you when he gave you a position here at Castle Caladan. You know how unusual it was for him to do that?" He leaned forward on the dark, wooden chair.

Duncan nodded. "Yes, m'Lord." He felt a hot flush of guilt on his face at having failed the benefactor who had been so kind to him. "Yes, I know."

"But someone drugged the Salusan bulls before my father's last fight -- and you were one of those tending the beasts. You had ample opportunity. Why didn't I see you at the paseo when all the others marched around the arena? I remember looking for you." His voice became much sharper. "Duncan Idaho, were you sent here, all innocent looking and indignant, as a secret assassin in the employ of the Harkonnens?"

Duncan stepped back, appalled. "Indeed not, m'Lord Duke!" he cried. "I tried to warn everyone. For days I knew something was wrong with the bulls. I told Stablemaster Yresk again and again, but he wouldn't do anything. He just laughed at me. I even argued with him. That's why I wasn't at the paseo. I was going to go warn the Old Duke myself, but instead the stablemaster locked me in one of the dirty stalls during the fight." Tears welled up in his eyes.

"All the fine clothes your father gave me were ruined. I didn't even see him fall in the arena."

Surprised at this, Leto sat up in his father's large chair. He looked over at Hawat.

I will find out, m'Lord," the Mentat said.

Leto scrutinized the boy. Duncan Idaho stood before him showing no fear, only deep sadness. As he studied him, Leto thought he recognized an openness and a heartfelt devotion on the young face. By appearances, this nine-year-old refugee seemed truly glad to be part of Castle Caladan, despite his demeaning, thankless chores as a stableboy.

Leto Atreides did not have many years of experience in judging devious people and weighing the hearts of men, but he had an intuition that he could trust this earnest boy. Duncan was tough and intelligent and fierce -- but not treacherous.

Be cautious, Duke Leto, he told himself. There are many tricks in the Imperium, and this could be one of them. Then he thought of the old stablemaster; Yresk had been with Castle Caladan ever since the arranged marriage of Leto's parents

. . . . Could such a plan have been so many years in germination? Yes, he supposed it could. Though he trembled at the implications.

Unaccompanied, the Lady Helena glided into the reception hall, taking furtive steps. Deep shadows hovered around her eyes. Leto watched his mother slip into the empty chair beside his, the one reserved for times when she had sat beside her husband. Straight-backed and without words, she examined the young boy before them.

Moments later, Stablemaster Yresk was unceremoniously brought into the hall by Atreides guards. His shock of white hair was mussed, and his baggy eyes seemed wide and uncertain. When Thufir Hawat finished summarizing the story Duncan had told, the stablemaster laughed and his bony shoulders sagged with exaggerated relief. "After all the years I served you, would you believe this stable-rat, this Harkonnen?" He rolled his puffy eyes in indignation. "Please, m'Lord!"

Overly dramatic, Leto thought; Hawat saw it, too.

Yresk placed a finger to his lips, as if considering a possibility. "Now that you mention it, m'Lord, it could well be that the boy himself was poisoning the bull. I couldn't watch him every moment."

"That's a lie!" Duncan shouted. "I wanted to tell the Duke, but you locked me in a stall. Why didn't you try to stop the bullfight? I warned you and warned you -- and now the Duke is dead."

Hawat listened, his eyes distant, his lips moist and cranberry-stained from a fresh swallow of sapho juice. Leto saw he had entered Mentat mode again, racing through all the data he recalled of the events involving young Duncan and Yresk as well.

"Well?" Leto asked the stablemaster. He forced himself not to think of old times with the lanky man who had always smelled of sweat and manure.

"The stable-rat may have prattled some at me, m'Lord, but he was afraid of the bulls. I can't simply cancel a bullfight because a child thinks the beasts are terrifying." He snorted. "I took care of this pup, gave him every chance-"

"Yet you didn't listen to him when he warned you about the bulls, and now my father is dead," Leto said, noting that Yresk suddenly seemed afraid. "Why would you do that?"

"Possible projection," Hawat said. "Through the Lady Helena, Yresk has worked for House Richese all his life. Richese has had ties to the Harkonnens in the past, as well as an adversarial relationship with Ix. He may not even be aware of his part in the overall scheme or --"

"What? This is absurd!" Yresk insisted. He scratched his white hair. "I have nothing to do with the Harkonnens." He flashed a glance at the Lady Helena, but she refused to meet his gaze.

"Don't interrupt my Mentat," Leto warned.

Thufir Hawat studied Lady Helena, whose icy stare was leveled at him. Then his gaze slid to her son, where it remained as he continued to lay out his projection: "Summary: The marriage of Paulus Atreides to Helena of House Richese was dangerous, even at the time. The Landsraad saw it as a way to weaken Richese/Harkonnen ties, while Count Ilban Richese accepted the marriage as a last-ditch effort to salvage some of his family fortune at the time they were losing Arrakis. As for House Atreides, Duke Paulus received a formal CHOAM