Dune: House Atreides (75 page)

Personal articles and comforts surrounded him for his use during the long hours of anticipation, contemplation, and boredom: filmbooks, fine clothing, writing instruments, even Couriers waiting outside his cell to carry personal message cubes to any recipients he chose. Everyone knew how much was at stake in this trial, and not everyone on Kaitain wanted Leto to win.

Technically, because of the legal procedures in which he was embroiled, he no longer owned any personal items; still, he appreciated the use of them. The filmbooks and clothing provided a sense of stability, a link with what he thought of as his "former life." Since the mysterious attack inside the Heighliner, he had been thrown into a state of chaos.

Leto's whole future, the fate of his House, and his holdings on Caladan hung precariously on the Trial by Forfeiture, all or nothing. If he failed here, his Great House would be even worse off than the renegade family Vernius. House Atreides would no longer exist -- at all.

At least then, he thought with forced wryness, I won't have to worry about negotiating an appropriate marriage to make the best Landsraad connections. He released a deep sigh, thinking of copper-haired Kailea and her dreams for a future that would never come to pass. If he was stripped of his titles and possessions, Leto Atreides could choose to marry her without considering dynasties and politics . . . but would she, with her dreams of Kaitain and the Imperial Court, want him if he wasn't a Duke?

Somehow, I always manage to find advantages, Rhombur had said. He could use a little more of his friend's optimism now.

At the crowded blueplaz desk, deep in silent concentration, Thufir Hawat flipped through holo-pages projected in front of his eyes -- a compilation of the probable evidence that would be used against Leto, as well as analyses of Landsraad law. This information included the input of Atreides attorneys and the Mentat projections Hawat himself had made.

The case rested entirely on circumstantial evidence, but it was highly compelling, beginning with Leto's own angry statement in front of the Landsraad Council. He had an obvious motive, having already declared a verbal war on the Tleilaxu.

"It all points to my guilt, doesn't it?" Leto said. He sat up in the swaying bed, and the massage unit automatically paused.

Hawat nodded. "Too perfectly, my Lord. And the evidence continues to grow worse. The multiphase projectile launchers on our combat pods were checked during the investigation, and found to have been fired. Quite a damning result, and it adds to the body of evidence."

"Thufir, we know the projectiles were fired. We've reported that from the beginning. Rhombur and I went out on skeet-drone practice before the Heighliner folded space. Every member of our crew can testify to that."

"The magistrates may not believe us. The explanation sounds too convenient, as if it were a concocted alibi. They'll think we practiced in order to establish a reason for the weapons results, because we knew we would fire upon the Tleilaxu. A simple enough trick."

"You were always good at the intricate details," Leto said with a gentle smile.

"It's your security-corps training. You pore over everything repeatedly, searching each layer, making calculations and projections."

"That is exactly what we need right now, my Duke."

"Don't forget that we have truth on our side, Thufir, and that's a powerful ally. Holding our heads high, we will stand before the tribunal of our peers and tell them everything that happened, and most of all what didn't happen.

They must believe us, or else centuries of Atreides honor and honesty will mean nothing."

"I wish I had your strength . . . your optimism," Hawat responded. "You show remarkable steadiness and composure." A bittersweet expression crossed his weathered face. "Your father taught you well. He would be proud of you." He flicked off the holoprojector, and the dancing pages of evidence disappeared in the heavy prison air. "So far, among the magistrates and voting members of the Landsraad jury, we do have a few who are likely to find you innocent, thanks to past allegiances."

Leto smiled, but noted how uneasy his Mentat was. He swung out of bed onto the floor. Wearing a blue robe, Leto left his feet bare as he paced. A chill ran up his arms, and he adjusted the temperature in the cell. "There'll be more believers after they listen to my statement and see the evidence."

Hawat looked at Leto as if he were a mere child again. "One advantage we have is that most of your allies will vote to acquit you solely because they despise the Tleilaxu. Regardless of what they think you may have done, you are of noble blood from a respected Landsraad family. You are one of them, and they would not destroy you to reward the Bene Tleilax. Several Houses have given us their support because of prior respect for your father. At least one magistrate was impressed by the boldness of your initial presentation at the Landsraad Council months ago."

"But everybody still believes I did such a terrible thing?" He frowned dejectedly. "Those other reasons are incidental."

"You are unknown to them, little more than a boy, reputed to be brash and impulsive. For now, my Duke, we must be more concerned with the verdict itself, and less with the reasons. If you succeed, you will have many years to rebuild your reputation."

"And if I lose, it won't matter a bit."

Nodding solemnly, Hawat stood like a monolith. "There are no set rules for conducting a Trial by Forfeiture. It is a freestyle forum without rules of evidence or procedures, a container without contents. Without a disclosure process, we don't have to reveal to the court what evidence we'll present -- but neither does anyone else. We can't know the lies our enemies may tell, or what exhibits they may have doctored. We won't see ahead of time what alleged proof the Tleilaxu possess, how their main witnesses will testify. Many ugly things will be said about House Atreides. Prepare yourself for it."

Looking up at a noise, Leto saw a guard shut down the humming confinement field to let Rhombur enter. The Ixian Prince wore a white shirt with a Vernius helix on the collar. His face was flushed from a session in the gym, his hair wet from a shower. On his right hand, the fire-jewel ring glinted.

Leto thought of the similarities between his situation and his friend's, with their Houses in disarray and near annihilation. Rhombur, who had received the temporary protection of the court, came at the same time each day.

"Finish your exercises?" Leto inquired, forcing a hearty tone despite Hawat's grim pessimism.

"Today I broke the physical-training machine," Rhombur responded with an impish smile. "The device must have been built by one of those disreputable Houses Minor. No quality control. Certainly not good Ixian stuff." Leto laughed as he and Rhombur interlocked fingertips in the half handshake of the Imperium.

Rhombur scratched his damp, tousled blond hair. "The hard exercise helps me to think. These days it's difficult enough to concentrate on anything. Uh, my sister sends her support, by the way, via a fresh Courier from Caladan. I thought you'd like to know. It might cheer you up."

His expression grew serious, and revealed the layered strain of his long ordeal, the subtle signs of stress and instant maturity that a boy of sixteen shouldn't have had to endure. Leto knew his friend was concerned about where he and Kailea would end up if House Atreides lost this trial . . . two great noble families destroyed in a frighteningly short time. Perhaps Rhombur and Kailea would go in search of their renegade father . . . .

"Thufir and I were just discussing the merits of our case," Leto said. "Or as he might put it, the lack of merits."

"I wouldn't say that, my Duke," Hawat protested.

"Well, then, I bring good news," Rhombur announced. "The Bene Gesserit wish to provide Truthsayers at the trial. Those Reverend Mothers can draw falsehoods out of anyone."

"Excellent," Leto said. "They'll end this whole problem in a moment. Once I speak, they can verify I'm telling the truth. Can it be that simple?"

"Normally a Truthsayer's testimony would be inadmissible," Hawat cautioned. "An exception may be granted here, but it's doubtful. Witches have their own agendas, and legal analysts posit that they can therefore be bribed."

Leto blinked in surprise. "Bribed? Then they don't know very many Reverend Mothers." He began to think more about this, though, considering various possibilities. "But secret agendas? Why would the Bene Gesserit make such an offer? What do they have to gain by my innocence -- or my guilt, for that matter?"

"Be cautious, my Duke," Hawat said.

"It's worth a try," Rhombur said. "Even if it isn't binding, a Truthsayer's testimony would lend weight to Leto's version of events. You and all the people around you -- including Thufir, me, the frigate crew, and even your servants from Caladan -- can all be scrutinized by Truthsayers. And we know the stories will be consistent. They'll prove your innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt."

He grinned. "We'll be back on Caladan before you know it."

Hawat, though, remained unconvinced. "Exactly who contacted you, young Prince?

Who among the Bene Gesserit made this generous offer? And what did she ask in payment?"

"She, uh, didn't ask for anything," Rhombur said, surprised.

"Not yet, maybe," Hawat said, "but those witches think in the long term."

The Ixian Prince scratched his temple. "Her name is Margot. She's in Lady Anirul's entourage, here for the Imperial wedding, I suppose."

Leto drew a quick breath as an idea occurred to him. "A Bene Gesserit is to be married to the Emperor. Is this Shaddam's doing, then? In response to our message?"

"The Bene Gesserit aren't errand girls for anyone," Hawat said. "They're notoriously independent. They made this offer because they wanted to, because it benefits them somehow."

"I didn't stop to wonder why she would come to me, of all people," Rhombur said.

"But think about it: Her offer could be of no advantage to us, unless Leto is indeed innocent."

"I am!"

Hawat smiled at Rhombur in admiration. "Of course. But now we have proof that the Bene Gesserit know Leto's telling the truth, too, else they would never have made such a suggestion." He wondered what the Sisters knew, and what they hoped to gain.

"Unless they were testing me," Leto suggested. "Just by accepting their Truthsayer, they'd know I wasn't lying. If I turned them down, they'd be convinced I have something to hide."

Standing by the cell wall, Hawat gazed through an armor-plaz window. "Be mindful that we're in a trial that is a shell only. Prejudices exist against the Bene Gesserit as well and their arcane weirding ways. Truthsayers might betray their oath and lie for a greater purpose. Witchcraft, sorcery . . .

Perhaps we should not be so quick to accept their help."

"You think it's a trick?" Leto asked.

"I always suspect deception," the Mentat said. His eyes flashed. "It's in my nature to do so." He switched to Atreides hand signals and signed to Leto,

"These witches may be on an Imperial errand after all. What alliances are hidden from us?"

The worst sort of alliances are those which weaken us. Worse still is when an Emperor fails to recognize such an alliance for what it is.

-PRINCE RAPHAEL CORRINO,

Discourses on Leadership

Crown Prince Shaddam did as little as possible to make the Tleilaxu representative feel comfortable or welcome in the Palace. Shaddam hated even being in the same room with him, but this meeting could not be helped. Heavily armed Sardaukar escorted Hidar Fen Ajidica through a back passageway, through maintenance corridors, down unmarked stairways, and finally behind a succession of barred doors.

Shaddam chose the most private room, a chamber so discreet it appeared on no printed floor plans. Long ago, a few years after the death of Crown Prince Fafnir, Hasimir Fenring had uncovered this place during his usual skulking around. Apparently, the hidden room had been used by Elrood in the early days of his interminable reign, when he had taken numerous unofficial concubines as well as those he formally adopted into his household.

A single table remained in the chill room, illuminated by new glowglobes dragged in for the occasion. The walls and floor smelled of dust. The sheets and blankets on the narrow bed against the wall were now little more than frayed fibers and lint. An ancient bouquet, now petrified into a clump of blackened leaves and stems, lay in a corner where it had been tossed decades ago. The place conveyed the desired impression, though Shaddam knew the Bene Tleilax were not known for their attention to subtleties.

Across the plain table, Hidar Fen Ajidica, swathed in his maroon robes, folded his grayish hands on the wooden surface. He blinked his close-set eyes and looked across at Shaddam. "You summoned me, Sire? I came from my researches at your command."

Shaddam picked at a plate of glazed slig meat one of the guards had brought him, since he'd had no time today for a formal dinner. He savored the buttery mushroom sauce, then grudgingly nudged the platter toward Ajidica to offer his guest a morsel.

The diminutive man drew back and refused to touch the food. Shaddam frowned.

"Slig meat is of your own manufacture. Don't you Tleilaxu eat your own delicacies?"

Ajidica shook his head. "Though we breed those creatures, we do not consume them ourselves. Please forgive me, Sire. You need offer me no amenities. Let us discuss what we must. I am anxious to return to Xuttah and my laboratories."

Shaddam sniffed, relieved that he didn't have to make any further attempts to be polite. He had no interest in displaying proper etiquette to this man.

Instead, he rubbed his temples, where his long-standing headache threatened to grow even worse within the hour. "I must make a request -- no, a demand as your Emperor."

"Forgive me, my Lord Prince," Ajidica interrupted, "but you have not yet been crowned."

The guards at the door stiffened. Shaddam's eyes flew open wide in astonishment. "Does any man's command bear more weight than mine? In all the Imperium?"