Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [204]
“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 tar-get 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