Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [176]
“You may strangle one of my servants,” the Baron offered, “if it will make you feel better. But only because I’m in such a good mood.”
From the suspensor platform, he gazed down at the placid dunes, knowing the danger and death that lurked beneath them. He wished his old rival Duke Paulus Atreides had been down there instead of the woman. For that, he would have had every Harkonnen holorecorder in operation, so that he could enjoy it from every angle and savor the experience over and over, each time tasting the morsel of human flesh as the worm did.
No matter, the Baron told himself. I have something just as interesting in mind for the old man.
Speak the truth. That is always much easier, and is often the most powerful argument.
—Bene Gesserit Axiom
Duncan Idaho stared at the monstrous Salusan bull through the force-field bars of its cage, his child’s gaze meeting the multifaceted eyes of the ferocious creature. The bull had a scaly black hide, multiple horns, and two brains that were capable of only one thought: Destroy anything that moves.
The boy had worked in the stables for weeks now, doing his best at even the most miserable of jobs, feeding and watering the combat bulls, tending them, cleaning their filthy cages while the beasts were pushed back behind force-barricades to keep them from attacking him.
He enjoyed his job, despite what others considered the degrading meniality of the tasks to be performed. Duncan didn’t even think of it as low-level work, though he knew several other stableboys did. These were simply chores to him, and he considered his payment in freedom and happiness more than sufficient. Because of the gracious generosity of his benefactor, Duke Paulus Atreides, he loved the old man dearly.
Duncan ate well now and had a warm place to live and fresh clothes whenever he needed them. Though no one asked him to, he worked hard anyway, driven and dedicated. There was even some time for relaxation, and he and the other workers had their own gymnasium and recreation hall. He could also go splashing in the sea whenever he wished, and a friendly man from the dockside occasionally took him along for a day’s fishing.
At present the Old Duke kept five of the mutated bulls for his games. Duncan had sought to befriend the beasts, trying to tame them with bribes of sweet green grass or fresh fruits, but an exasperated Stablemaster Yresk had caught him at it.
“The Old Duke uses them in his bullfights—do you think he prefers them tame?” His puffy eyes had widened with anger. The white-haired stablemaster had accepted him on the Duke’s orders, but grudgingly, and he gave Duncan no special treatment. “He wants them to attack. He doesn’t want the creatures to purr when he’s on display in the Plaza de Toros. What would the people think?”
Duncan had lowered his eyes and backed off. Always obedient, he never again tried to make these beasts his pets.
He had seen holorecordings of the Duke’s previous spectacles, as well as the performances of other renowned matadors; while he was saddened to witness the slaughter of one of his magnificent charges, he was amazed at the bravery and self-assurance of Duke Atreides.
The last corrida on Caladan had been staged to celebrate the departure of Leto Atreides for his off-planet schooling. Now after many months there would be another, as the Old Duke had recently announced a new grand bullfight, this one to entertain his guests from Ix, who had come to stay as exiles on Caladan. Exiles. In a sense, Duncan was one, too. . . .
Though he had his own sleeping quarters in a communal outbuilding where many of the Castle workers lived, sometimes Duncan bedded down out in the stables, where he could hear the snorting and simmering beasts. He had put up with far worse conditions in his life. The stables themselves were comfortable, and he enjoyed being alone with the animals.
Whenever he slept out there, he listened to the movements of the bulls in his dreams. He felt himself becoming attuned to their moods and instincts. For days now,