Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [54]
Rhombur laughed at him. “I can, uh, arrange a mind probe if you really wish to undergo the rigors. . . .” The Ixian Prince studied Leto intently. “Leto, Leto, if we didn’t trust you in the first place, you never would have been allowed on Ix. Security has, um, changed a lot here since your father’s day. Don’t listen to all those dark, sinister stories we spread about ourselves. They’re just to scare away the curious.”
The capsule finally settled onto a sprawling balcony constructed of interlocking tiles, and Leto felt a holding apparatus engage underneath them. The chamber began to move laterally toward an armor-plaz building.
Leto tried not to let his relief show. “All right. I’ll defer to your judgment.”
“And I’ll do the same when we’re on your planet. Water and fish and open skies. Caladan sounds . . . uh, wonderful.” His tone said the exact opposite.
Household personnel clad in black-and-white livery streamed out of the armor-plaz building. Forming a neat line on each side of the tube path, the uniformed men and women stood rigidly at attention.
“This is the Grand Palais,” Rhombur said, “where our staff will see to your every wish. Since you’re the only current visitor, you might be in for some pampering.”
“All these people just to serve . . . me?” Leto remembered the times when he’d had to scale and fillet the fish he caught, if he wanted to eat.
“You are an important dignitary, Leto. The son of a Duke, the friend of our family, an ally in the Landsraad. Do you expect anything less?”
“In truth, I’m from a House with no substantial wealth, on a planet where the only glamour comes from fishermen, harvesters of floating paradan melons, and pundi rice farmers.”
Rhombur laughed, a friendly peal. “Oh, and you’re modest, too!”
Followed by the suspensor-borne luggage, the young men walked side by side up three wide, elegant stairs into the Grand Palais.
Looking around the central lobby, Leto identified Ixian crystal chandeliers, the finest in all the Imperium. Crystal goblets and vases adorned marbleplaz tables, and on each side of a blackite reception desk were full-size lapisjade statuaries of Earl Dominic Vernius and his Lady Shando Vernius. Leto recognized the royal couple from triphotos he had seen.
The uniformed household staff filtered back into the building and took up positions where they would be available for instructions from superiors. Across the lobby, double doors opened and big-shouldered, bald Dominic Vernius himself approached, looking like some djinn out of a bottle. He wore a silver-and-gold sleeveless tunic trimmed in white at the collar. A purple-and-copper Ixian helix adorned his breast.
“Ah, so this is our young visitor!” Dominic effused with blustery good humor. Crow’s-feet became laugh lines around his bright brown eyes. His facial construction looked very much like that of his son Rhombur, except the fat he carried had set into ruddy folds and creases, and his dark bushy mustache made for a striking frame around white teeth. Earl Dominic was several centimeters taller than his son. The Earl’s features were not narrow and hard like the Atreides and Corrino bloodlines, but came instead from a lineage that had been ancient at the time of the Battle of Corrin.
Behind him came his wife Shando, former concubine of the Emperor, dressed in a formal gown. Her finely chiseled features, delicately pointed nose, and creamy skin suffused her appearance with a regal beauty that would have shone through even the most drab of garments. She looked slight and delicate at first glance, but carried a toughness and resilience about her.
Beside her, their daughter Kailea seemed to be trying to outshine even her mother in a brocaded lavender dress that set off copper-dark hair. Kailea looked a little younger than