Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [292]
Caladan—his world, rich in seas and jungles, arable land and natural resources. It had belonged to House Atreides for twenty-six generations. Now it belonged to him, uncontested.
He loved this place, the smell of the air, the salt of the ocean, the tang of kelp and fish. The people here had always worked hard for their Duke, and Leto tried to do his best for them as well. If he had lost his Trial by Forfeiture, what would have happened to the good citizens of Caladan? Would they even have noticed if these holdings had been given over to the surrogate governorship of, say, House Teranos, House Mutelli, or any other reputable member of the Landsraad? Perhaps. . . . Perhaps not.
Leto, though, could not imagine being anyplace else. This was where the Atreides belonged. Even if he’d been stripped of everything, he would have returned to Caladan to live out his life near the sea.
Though Leto knew he was innocent, he still did not understand what had happened to the Tleilaxu ships inside the Heighliner. He had no evidence to prove to anyone else that he hadn’t fired the blasts that nearly triggered a major war. On the contrary, he’d certainly had sufficient motive, and because of this, the other Houses had been reluctant to speak strongly in his defense, allies or not. Had they done so, they would have risked their share of the spoils if the Atreides holdings were forfeited and divided. Yet even during that time, many Houses had sent silent expressions of approval for the way Leto had protected his crew members and friends.
And then, by some miracle, Emperor Shaddam had saved him.
On the flight home from Kaitain, Leto had spoken at length with Thufir Hawat, but neither the young Duke nor the warrior Mentat could fathom Emperor Shaddam’s reason for coming to the aid of the Atreides, or why he had so feared Leto’s desperate bluff. Even as a boy, Leto had known never to trust an explanation of pure altruism, no matter what Shaddam said in his moving statement before the court. This much was certain: The new Emperor had something to hide. Something involving the Tleilaxu.
Under Leto’s guidance, Hawat had dispatched Atreides spies to many worlds, hoping to uncover further information. But the Emperor, forewarned by Leto’s mysterious, provocative message, would no doubt be more careful than ever.
In the vast spectrum of the Imperium, House Atreides was still not particularly powerful and had no hold on the Corrino family, no apparent reason to be protected. The blood ties were not in themselves enough. Though Leto himself was a cousin to Shaddam, many in the Landsraad could trace their bloodlines at least peripherally back to the Corrinos, especially if one went all the way back to the days of the Great Revolt.
And where did the Bene Gesserit fit in? Were they Leto’s allies, or his enemies? Why had they offered to help him? Who had sent the information about Shaddam’s involvement in the first place? The coded message cube had disintegrated. Leto had come to expect hidden enemies—but not allies who remained so secretive.
And, most enigmatic of all, who really had destroyed the Tleilaxu ships?
Alone for the moment, but still troubled, Leto stepped away from the cliffs and crossed a gentle downslope along the gray-black shingle at the water’s edge, until he reached the quiet docks. All the boats had been taken out for the day, save for one small beached coracle and a yacht at anchor, flying a faded pennant with the hawk crest of the Atreides.
That hawk had come perilously close to extinction.
In bright sunlight, Leto sat at the end of the main dock, listening to the lapping waves and the songs of gray gulls. He smelled salt and fish and the sweet, fresh air. He remembered when he and Rhombur had gone out together to dive for coral gems . . . the accidental fire and the near disaster they had suffered out on the distant reefs. A small matter in comparison with what had occurred later.
Peering into the water below him, he watched a rock crab