Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [216]
Shaddam cleared his throat. “What else could it be, Doctor? The security around my father is impenetrable, guards and poison-snoopers everywhere. No one could possibly have harmed him.”
Yungar looked uneasily past the Crown Prince to the ferretlike man behind him. “Identity, motive, and opportunity. Those are the questions, and though I’m not a police investigator, I’m certain a Mentat could provide answers to all three. I will compile my data and provide it to a review board. It is strictly a formality, but it must be done.”
“Who would do such a thing to my father?” Shaddam demanded, stepping closer. The doctor’s abruptness made him stiffen, but this Suk had already demonstrated his pompous nature. The dead man on the bed seemed to be watching them, his clawed fingers pointing in accusation.
“More evidence needs to be gathered first, Sire.”
“Evidence? Of what sort?” He calmed himself. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he ran a hand across his carefully styled reddish hair. Perhaps he was carrying the act too far.
Fenring seemed entirely calm and moved to the other side of the bed, near where the remains of the Emperor’s last glass of spice beer sat.
In a whisper that only Shaddam could hear, the doctor said, “It is my duty as a loyal Suk to warn you, Prince Shaddam, that you, too, may be in extreme danger. Certain forces . . . according to reports I’ve seen . . . do not want House Corrino to remain in power.”
“Since when does the Suk School obtain reports about Imperial alliances and intrigues?” Fenring asked, slithering closer. He had not heard the specific words, but years ago he had taught himself the valuable skill of reading lips. It helped greatly with his spying activities. He had tried to teach Shaddam the trick, but the Crown Prince had not caught the knack of it yet.
“We have our sources,” the Suk doctor said. “Regrettably, such connections are necessary even for a school such as ours dedicated to healing.” Recalling the doctor’s insistence on full payment before even looking at a patient, Shaddam frowned at this irony. “We live in perilous times.”
“Do you suspect anyone in particular?” Shaddam husked, following the direction of the doctor’s gaze. Perhaps they could set up Chamberlain Hesban to take the fall—plant evidence, start rumors.
“In your position it would be safest to suspect everyone, Sire. I would like to conduct an autopsy on Emperor Elrood. Working with a partner from the Inner School, we can scanalyze every organ, every tissue, every cell . . . just to be safe.”
Shaddam frowned. “It seems a terrible disrespect to my father, slicing him up into little pieces. He had quite a . . . a horror of surgery. Ah, yes. Better to let him lie in peace. We must prepare immediately for the funeral of state. And my coronation ceremony.”
“On the contrary,” Yungar persisted, “we show respect for Elrood’s memory by trying to determine what happened to him. Perhaps something was implanted in his body some time ago, when his behavior began to change—something that caused his slow death. A Suk doctor could find the subtlest traces, even after two years.”
“The very thought of an autopsy sickens me,” Shaddam said. “I am the heir to the Imperium, and I forbid it.” He looked down at the dead old man, and his arms broke out in gooseflesh, as if the ancient creature’s ghost hovered over his head. He glanced warily at shadows in the corners and in the cold fireplace.
He had expected to experience elation when his father finally passed the Golden Lion Throne to him—but now, knowing that his own chaumurky had been the cause of the Emperor’s death, Shaddam’s skin crawled.
“According to Imperial Law, I could formally insist upon it, Sire,” the Suk doctor explained, his voice still low and calm. “And for your own good I must do exactly that. I see that you are inexperienced in the ways of intrigue, since you have grown up protected in the Court. You undoubtedly think I’m being foolish, but I assure you I am not wrong about this. I feel it in the pit of my stomach.”
“Perhaps the good doctor is right,” Fenring said.