Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [111]
Yungar spoke in an irritating whine. “Though we are perhaps not as prominent as the Mentats or the Bene Gesserit, the Suk School is still one of the greatest in the Imperium. My equipment alone costs more than most planets.” Yungar pointed to a suspensor pod at his side. “I do not receive your payment on my own behalf, of course. I am only a custodian, holding it in a fiduciary capacity. When I return, your credits go with me to the Suk School, for the benefit of mankind.”
Hesban glared at him with unconcealed loathing, his face turning ruddy, his mustaches twitching. “Or at least to benefit that portion of mankind that can afford your services.”
“Correct, Chamberlain.”
Seeing the doctor’s staunch and misplaced self-importance, Shaddam shuddered. When he sat on the throne himself, he wondered if he could initiate any changes to put these Suks in their place. . . . He caught his rambling thoughts and quelled them. All in due time.
He sighed. His father Elrood had let too many threads of control slip right through his fingers. Fenring was right. As much as Shaddam despised dirtying his fingers with blood, removing the ancient Emperor was a necessary action.
“If cost of treatment is your paramount concern,” the Suk doctor said, quietly goading the Chamberlain, “you are welcome to hire a less expensive physician for the Emperor of the Known Universe.”
“Enough bickering. Come with me, Doctor,” Shaddam said, taking charge. Dr. Yungar nodded, then turned his back on the Chamberlain, as if he was of no consequence whatsoever.
“Now I know why you people have the shape of a diamond tattooed on your foreheads,” Hesban growled as he followed behind them. “You always have treasure on your minds.”
The Crown Prince led the way to a security-shielded antechamber and passed through a shimmering electrical curtain to the inner vault. On a golden table at the center of the room lay opafire pendants, danikins of melange, and fold-pouches partially open to reveal glittering soostones.
“This will be sufficient,” the Suk said. “Unless the treatment proves to be more involved than we expect.” With his floating equipment pod at his side like a dutiful pet dog, the doctor shuffled back the way they had come. “I already know the way to the Emperor’s chamber.” Without explanation, Yungar hurried through a doorway and up the grand staircase that led to the guarded bedroom suites where the Emperor rested.
Sardaukar guards remained behind at the force field that protected the treasure vault, while Shaddam and Hesban marched after the doctor. Fenring would already be waiting at the dying old man’s side, making his annoying humming noises and making sure none of the treatment could potentially be successful.
The withered emperor lay on an enormous four-poster bed beneath a canopy of the finest merh-silks embroidered in the ancient Terran method. The bedposts were carved ucca, a fast-growing hardwood native to Elacca. Soothing fountains, set into alcoves in the walls, trickled fresh water, bubbling and whispering. Scented glowglobes tuned to the low range floated in the corners of the room.
As Shaddam and Fenring stood together and watched, the Suk doctor waved a liveried attendant away and mounted the two shallow steps to the bedside. Three lovely Imperial concubines hovered behind the ailing man, as if their mere presence could revitalize him. The old man’s stink clung to the air, despite the ventilation and the incense.
Emperor Elrood wore slick royal satins and an old-fashioned sleeping cap that covered his liver-spotted scalp. He lay atop the covers, since he had complained about being too warm. The man looked haggard, could barely keep his eyes open.
Shaddam was pleased to see how markedly his father’s health had declined since the Tleilaxu Ambassador’s visit. Still, Elrood had good days and bad days, and he had the annoying habit of recovering his vitality after a significant downslide like this one.
A tall mug of cool spice beer rested on a tray beside his clawed and ring-bedecked