Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [14]
On the lowest level of the restored castle, where other great houses would have prepared chambers for “policy enforcement activities,” House Atreides had instead used the space for food storage rooms, a wine cellar, and an emergency shelter. Being a more traditional nobleman, the Baron had installed dungeons, interrogation rooms, and a well-equipped torture chamber. He also had a party room on that level, where he often took young boys from the fishing village.
You can’t remove the marks of House Atreides with such cosmetic changes, Grandfather, said the pestering voice of Alia. I preferred the old castle.
“Shut up, devil child! You were never here in life, either.”
Oh, I visited my ancestral home when my mother lived here, when Muad’Dib was Emperor and his jihad splashed blood across the star systems. Don’t you remember, Grandfather? Or weren’t you inside my head then?
“I wish you weren’t inside mine. I was born before you! I can’t possibly have your memories inside me. You’re an Abomination!”
Alia chuckled in a particularly disconcerting way. Yes, Grandfather. I’m that, and much more. Perhaps that’s why I have the power to be inside you. Or, perhaps you are just flawed—completely mad. Have you considered the possibility that you might be imagining me? That’s what everyone else thinks.
Servants hurried by, glancing fearfully at him. Just then the Baron saw a groundcar negotiating the steep road from the spaceport. “Ah, here is our guest.” Despite Alia’s intrusion, he expected this to be an entertaining day.
After the groundcar pulled up, a tall man stepped out of the rear compartment and made his way past statues of great Harkonnens that the Baron had erected in the past year. A suspensor platform floated behind the antiquities dealer, carrying his wares.
What do you plan to do with him, Grandfather?
“You know damned well what I’m going to do.” High on the wall above, the Baron rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation. “Make yourself useful for a change, Abomination.” Alia giggled, but it sounded as if she was laughing at him.
The Baron hurried down as a haunted-looking house servant escorted the visitor inside. Shay Vendee was an antiquities dealer, always pleased to meet with one of his best customers. As he strolled in with his goods trailing behind him, his round face shone as radiantly as a small red sun.
The Baron greeted him with a moist handshake, clasping with both hands and holding on a little too long, squeezing a bit too hard.
The merchant extricated himself from his customer’s grip. “You’ll marvel at what I’ve brought, Baron—amazing what turns up with a little digging.” He opened one of the cases on the suspensor platform. “I saved these treasures especially for you.”
The Baron brushed a speck off one of the jeweled rings on his fingers. “First I have something to show you, my dear Mr. Vendee. My new wine cellar. I am quite proud of it.”
A look of surprise. “Are the Danian vineyards operating again?”
“I have other sources.”
After the dealer disengaged his suspensor platform, the Baron led him down a wide rock staircase into increasing gloom. Oblivious to the danger, Vendee chattered cordially. “Caladan wines used to be quite famous, and deservedly so. In fact, I heard a rumor that a cache was found on the ruins of Kaitain, bottles perfectly preserved in a nullentropy vault. The nullentropy field prevented the wine from aging and mellowing—in this case for thousands of years—but even so, the vintage must be quite extraordinary. Would you like me to see if I can acquire a bottle or two for you?”
The Baron stopped at the bottom of the dim stairs and peered with spider-black eyes at his guest. “So long as you can provide the appropriate documentation. I wouldn’t want to be duped