Dune_ House Atreides - Brian Herbert [8]
Court functionaries in dazzling raiment and brilliant plumage strutted about, showing off fabrics that had been spun with threads of precious metal. Carrying documents, they conducted inexplicable business, hurrying to meetings, whispering to each other as if only they understood what their true functions were.
Kynes was an alien in this political world; he would rather have the wilderness any day. Though the splendor fascinated him, he longed for solitude, unexplored landscapes, and the mysteries of strange flora and fauna. This bustling place would give him a headache before long.
The Sardaukar guards ushered him across a long promenade beneath prismatic lights, taking sharp, rhythmic footsteps that sounded like weapons fire; Kynes’s stumbles provided the only dissonance.
Ahead on a raised dais of blue-green crystal sat the translucent Golden Lion Throne, carved from a single piece of Hagal quartz. And on the dazzling chair perched the old man himself—Elrood Corrino IX, Imperial ruler of the Known Universe.
Kynes stared at him. The Emperor was a distressingly gaunt man, skeletal with age, with a ponderously large head on a thin neck. Surrounded by such incredible luxury and dramatic richness, the aged ruler appeared somehow insignificant. But with a twitch of his large-knuckled finger, the Emperor could condemn entire planets to annihilation, killing billions of people. Elrood had sat upon the Golden Lion Throne for nearly a century and a half. How many planets were in the Imperium? How many people did this man rule? Kynes wondered how anyone could tally such a staggering amount of information.
As he was led to the base of the dais, Kynes smiled uncertainly at Elrood, then swallowed hard, averted his gaze, and bowed low. No one had bothered to instruct him in the proper protocol here, and he’d had little use for manners and social niceties. The faint cinnamon odor of melange touched his nostrils from a mug of spice beer the Emperor kept on a small table beside his throne.
A page stepped forward, nodded to the leader of the Sardaukar guard escort, and turned, booming out in Galach, the common language, “The Planetologist Pardot Kynes!”
Kynes squared his shoulders and tried to stand straight, wondering why they had made such a loud and portentous introduction when the Emperor obviously knew who he was—else why summon him here? Kynes wondered if he should say hello, but decided instead to wait and let the Court determine the flow of events.
“Kynes,” the old Emperor said in a reedy, scratchy voice that suffered from too many years of issuing firm commands, “you come to me highly recommended. Our advisors have studied many candidates, and they’ve chosen you above all others. What do you say to that?” The Emperor leaned forward, raising his eyebrows so that his skin furrowed all the way to the top of his cranium.
Kynes mumbled something about being honored and pleased, then cleared his throat and asked the real question. “But, sir, what exactly have I been chosen for?”
Elrood cackled at that and sat back. “How refreshing to see someone more concerned with satisfying his own curiosity than with saying the right thing, or pandering to these stupid clingers and buffoons.” As he smiled, Elrood’s face turned rubbery, the wrinkles stretching back. His skin had a grayish, parchment tone. “The report says you grew up on Salusa Secundus, and you wrote definitive, complex reports on the ecology of the planet.”
“Yes, Sire, uh, Your Majesty. My parents were bureaucratic functionaries, sent to work in your Imperial prison there. I was just a child and went along with them.”
In truth, Kynes had heard rumors that his mother or father had displeased Elrood somehow, and that they had been transferred in disgrace to the punishment planet. But young Pardot Kynes had found the wastelands fascinating. After the tutors were finished with him, he’d spent his days exploring the blasted wilderness—taking notes, studying the insects and weeds and hardy animals that had managed