Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [208]
Leto looked at the frantic, scarecrowish man and compared his demeanor with the proud young Duncan’s. Yresk’s puffy-eyed face sparkled with perspiration. “I do find him more credible, Yresk,” Leto said slowly. “And never call me ‘boy’ again.”
Hawat stepped forward. “We might retrieve further information through deep interrogation. I shall personally question this stablemaster.”
Leto’s gaze fell on his Mentat. “In private would be best, Thufir. No one but you.” He closed his eyes for the briefest moment and swallowed hard. Later, he knew, he would have to send a message to Hawat that the stablemaster must not be allowed to survive the interrogation . . . for fear of what else he might reveal. The Mentat’s fractional nod told Leto that he understood much that had been left unsaid. All information Hawat extracted would remain a secret between himself and his Duke.
Yresk howled as the guards grasped his thin arms. Before the stablemaster could shout anything, Hawat clapped a hand over his mouth.
Then, as if it had been timed to occur during the moment of greatest confusion, the guards opened the main hall doors to allow the entry of a uniformed man. He strode in, eyes fixed on Leto and Leto alone, who sat on the chair at the end of the hall. His electronic identity badge marked him as an official Courier, newly disembarked from a lighter at Cala City Spaceport. Leto stiffened, knowing this man could not possibly bear good tidings.
“M’Lord Duke, I bring terrible news.” The Courier’s words sent an electric shock through everyone in the Court. The hall guards holding Yresk captive stood still, and Hawat gestured for them to leave before the announcement.
The messenger marched up to the chair and stood straight, then drew deep breaths to prepare himself. Knowing the situation here on Caladan with the new Duke and the exiled Ixians, he chose his words carefully.
“It is my sad duty to inform you that the Lady Shando—branded as a renegade and traitor by Emperor Elrood IX—has been tracked down and, in accordance with Imperial decree, executed by Sardaukar on Bela Tegeuse. All members of her entourage have also been killed.”
Rhombur, looking as if the wind had been knocked from him, slumped in shock onto the polished marble step beside the ducal chair. Kailea, who had watched the entire proceedings in silence, now sobbed. Tears spilled unchecked from her emerald eyes. She leaned against a wall, pounding a stone pillar with a fragile fist until blood blossomed from her hand.
Helena looked at her son with sadness and nodded. “You see, Leto? Another punishment. I was right. The Ixians and all those who assist them are cursed.”
Giving his mother a look of hatred, Leto snapped to the guards, “Please take my mother to her chambers and instruct her servants to pack for a long journey.” He fought to keep his voice from trembling. “I believe the stress of recent days requires that she take a quiet rest, someplace far, far from here.”
In adverse circumstances, every creature becomes something else, evolving or devolving. What makes us human is that we know what we once were, and—let us hope—we remember how to change back.
—AMBASSADOR CAMMAR PILRU,
Dispatches in Defense of Ix
The hiding chamber’s silent alarm system woke him again. Damp with sweat from recurring nightmares, C’tair sat bolt upright, ready to fight and fend off the invaders hunting for him.
But the Bene Tleilax hadn’t found this place yet, though they had come close, using their damnable scanners. His transmission-shielded bolt-hole was equipped with an automatic internal monitor that should have operated for centuries without trouble, but the fanatical investigators used technology-scanning devices to detect the operation of unapproved machines. Sooner or later they would catch him.
Working with quiet efficiency, he scrambled to shut everything down: all the lights, ventilation, heating elements. Then he sat in the stifling utter darkness, sweating, waiting. He heard nothing except