Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [70]
Fenring circled the teaching machine like a prowling Laza tiger. He plucked a sugared date from a fruit tray unobtrusively displayed on a side table. “Old Elrood made similar pronouncements a long time ago, yet so far he hasn’t followed through on any of them.” He waved his long-fingered hand. “Oh, in the beginning he asked the Ixians to look into the matter. He also offered a large bounty for any explorer who found even melange precursors on uncharted planets.” He popped the date into his mouth, licked his sticky fingers, and swallowed the smooth, sweet fruit. “Still nothing.”
“Then my father should increase the reward,” Shaddam said. “He’s not trying hard enough.”
Fenring studied his neatly clipped nails, then raised his overlarge eyes to meet Shaddam’s. “Or could it be that old Elrood IX isn’t willing to consider all the necessary alternatives?”
“He’s incompetent, but not entirely stupid. Why would he do that?”
“Suppose someone were to suggest using . . . the Bene Tleilax, for example? As the only possible solution?” Fenring leaned against a stone pillar to observe Shaddam’s reaction.
A ripple of disgust crossed the Crown Prince’s face. “The filthy Tleilaxu! Why would anyone want to work with them?”
“Because they might provide the answer we seek.”
“You must be joking. Who can trust anything the Tleilaxu say?” He pictured the gray-skinned race, their oily hair and dwarfish stature, their beady eyes, pug noses, and sharp teeth. They kept to themselves, isolating their core planets, intentionally digging a societal ditch in which they could wallow.
The Bene Tleilax were, however, true genetic wizards, willing to use unorthodox and socially heinous methods, dealing in live or dead flesh, in biological waste. With their mysterious yet powerful axlotl tanks they could grow clones from live cells and gholas from dead ones. The Tleilaxu had a slippery, shifty aura about them. How can anyone take them seriously?
“Think about it, Shaddam. Are the Tleilaxu not masters of organic chemistry and cellular mechanics, hm-m-m-m-ah?” Fenring sniffed. “Through my own web of spies I’ve learned that the Bene Tleilax, despite the distaste with which we view them, have developed a new technique. I have certain . . . technical skills myself, you know, and I believe this Tleilaxu technique could be applicable to the production of artificial melange . . . our own source.” He fixed his bright birdlike eyes on Shaddam’s. “Or are you unwilling to consider all alternatives, and let your father maintain control?”
Shaddam squirmed, hesitating to answer. He would much rather have been playing a game of shield-ball. He didn’t like to think of the gnomelike men; religious fanatics, the Bene Tleilax were intensely secretive and did not invite guests. Heedless of how other worlds regarded them, they sent their representatives out to observe and to make deals at the highest levels for unique bioengineered products. Rumor held that no outsider had ever seen a Tleilaxu woman. Never. He thought they must be either wildly beautiful . . . or incredibly ugly.
Seeing the Crown Prince shudder, Fenring pointed a finger at him. “Shaddam, don’t fall into the same trap as your father. As your friend and advisor, I must investigate unseen opportunities, hm-m-m-m-ah? Put aside such feelings and consider the possible victory if this works—a victory over the Landsraad, the Guild, CHOAM, and the scheming House Harkonnen. How amusing to think that all the strings the Harkonnens pulled to gain Arrakis after the downfall of Richese would be for naught.”
His voice became softer, infinitely reasonable. “What difference does it make if we have to deal with the Tleilaxu? So long as House Corrino breaks the spice monopoly and establishes an independent source?”
Shaddam looked at him, turning his back on the teaching machine. “You’re sure about this?”