Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [68]
His mother Chaola, an introspective lady-in-waiting, had settled into a quiet home and lived on her Imperial pension after the death of the Emperor’s fourth wife Habla. In raising the two young boys together while she attended the Empress Habla, Chaola had given Fenring the chance to be so much more—almost as if she had planned it that way.
These days Chaola pretended not to understand what her son did at Court, though she was Bene Gesserit–trained. Fenring was wily enough to know that his mother comprehended far more than her station suggested, and that many plans and breeding schemes had gone on without his knowledge.
Now Shaddam let out a miserable groan and turned from the machine. “Why can’t the old creature just die and make it easy for me?” He covered his mouth, suddenly alarmed at what he had blurted.
Fenring paced the long floor, glancing up at the hanging banners of the Landsraad. The Crown Prince was expected to know the colors and crests of every Great and Minor House, but Shaddam had difficulty simply remembering all the family names.
“Be patient, my friend. All in its own time.” In one of the alcoves, Fenring struck a combustible spike of vanilla-scented incense and inhaled a long breath of the fumes. “In the meantime, learn about subjects that will be relevant to your reign. You’ll need such information in the near future, hmm-m-m-ah?”
“Stop making that noise, Hasimir. It’s annoying.”
“Hmmmm?”
“It irritated me when we were children, and you know it still does. Stop it!”
In the adjoining room, behind supposed privacy screens, Shaddam could hear his tutor giggling, the sounds of clothes rustling, bedsheets, skin upon skin. The tutor spent his afternoons with a willowy, achingly beautiful woman who had been sexually trained to Expert Class. Shaddam had given the girl her orders, and her ministrations kept the tutor out of the way so that he and Fenring could have private conversations—difficult enough in a palace full of prying eyes and attentive ears.
The tutor did not know, however, that the girl was intended for Elrood as a gift, a perfect addition to his harem. This little trick gave the Crown Prince a large club to wield as a threat against the bothersome teacher. If the Emperor ever found out . . .
“Learning to manipulate people is an important part of ruling,” Fenring often told him upon suggesting an idea. That much, at least, Shaddam had understood. As long as the Crown Prince listens to my advice, Fenring thought, he could become a good enough ruler, after all.
Screens displayed dull statistics of shipping resources, primary exports of major planets, holographic images of every conceivable product from the finest dyed whale-fur, to Ixian soothe-sonic tapestries . . . inkvines, shigawire, fabulous Ecazi art objects, pundi rice, and donkey dung. Everything spewed from the teaching machine like an out-of-control font of wisdom, as if Shaddam was supposed to know and remember all the details. But that’s what advisors and experts are for.
Fenring glanced down at the display. “Of all the things in the Imperium, Shaddam, what do you suppose is most important, hm-m-m-m?”
“Are you my tutor now too, Hasimir?”
“Always,” Fenring replied. “If you turn out to be a superb Emperor, it will benefit all the populace . . . including me.”
The bed in the next room made rhythmic, thought-scattering sounds.
“Peace and quiet is the most important thing.” Shaddam grumbled his answer.
Fenring tapped a key on the teaching machine. Machinery clicked, chimed, hummed. An image of a desert planet appeared. Arrakis. Fenring slid onto the bench beside Shaddam. “The spice melange. That’s the most important thing. Without it, the Imperium would crumble.”
He leaned forward, and his nimble fingers flew across the controls,