Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [277]
Around them in the balcony lobby of the Grand Theatre, elegantly dressed noblemen and ladies chatted and drank grand cru wines from tall-stemmed glasses. The octave-crystal hummed as glasses were touched together in repeated toasts. Within the hour, the assemblage would witness the climactic double event that would be held on center stage: the coronation of Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV and his wedding to the Lady Anirul Sadow Tonkin of the Bene Gesserit.
Fenring nodded his large head and executed a brief bow to her. “I would be honored to sit next to you, lovely Margot.” Balancing his plate, Fenring lowered himself onto the bench beside her. She inspected the hors d’oeuvres he had chosen and, without asking, reached over to pluck one of them for herself.
It was a cheerful gathering, Fenring thought, without the whisperings of discontent that had so poisoned the Palace in recent months. He was satisfied with his own efforts in this regard. Key alliances had been solidified, and the Federated Houses no longer made any serious talk of revolt against Shaddam. The Bene Gesserit had thrown their public support behind the Corrino reign, and no doubt the witches had continued their machinations behind the scenes at other Great Houses. Fenring found it curious that many of those who’d been the most suspicious and outspoken nobles were no longer counted among the living—and even more curious that he’d had nothing to do with it.
The trial of Leto Atreides had ended by fiat, and the only ones openly dissatisfied with the verdict were the Bene Tleilax. He and Shaddam would work to quiet them quickly, though. The greatest mystery in Fenring’s mind was that no one seemed to know exactly what had happened inside the Guild Heighliner.
The more he observed and the more he considered the strange sequence of events, the more he began to believe the possibility that young Leto Atreides had been framed after all—but how and by whom? No other House had come forward to gloat, and since virtually everyone had believed in Atreides culpability, even the most imaginative and loose tongues had not bothered to spread additional rumors.
Fenring would dearly love to know what had happened, if only to add the technique to his own repertoire. But, once he went off to his new assignment on Arrakis, he doubted he would have any opportunity to unravel the secret.
Before he could advance his pleasant conversation with Margot, though, he heard thunderous crowds outside and resonating trumpets. “Shaddam and the royal entourage are coming,” Margot said with a toss of her honey-blonde hair. “We’d best go find our seats.”
Fenring knew the Crown Prince’s carriage would now be entering the quadrangle containing the theatre and Imperial government buildings. He tried to cover his disappointment. “But you’ll be in the Bene Gesserit section, my dear.” He stared at her with glittering dark eyes as he dipped a piece of pheasant Kaitain into a bowl of plum sauce. “Would you like me to dress in one of those costumes and pretend to be in the Sisterhood?” He swallowed the morsel, savored its sweetness. “I’d do it, to be next to you, hm-m-m-m?”
She tapped him on the chest playfully. “You aren’t what you appear to be, that’s for certain, Hasimir Fenring.”
His overlarge eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”
“Meaning . . . we have much in common, you and I.” She pressed one of her soft breasts against his arm. “Perhaps it would be wise for the two of us to continue—and formalize—this alliance we seem to be forming.”
Fenring glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. He didn’t like snoopers. Leaning close to her, he spoke in a passionless voice. “I never intended to take a wife. I am a genetic-eunuch and cannot father children.”
“Then we may be required to make certain sacrifices, each in our