Dune (25 page)

“We can’t argue with him all night,” Jessica said. And she thought: This
calls for shock treatment.

“There’s no reason for you to stay, my Lady,” Yueh said. “I can take care of
this.”

Jessica shook her head. She stepped forward, slapped Idaho sharply across
the cheek.
He stumbled back with his guards, glaring at her.

“This is no way to act in your Duke’s home,” she said. She snatched the cup
from Yueh’s hands, spilling part of it, thrust the cup toward Idaho. “Now drink
this! That’s an order!”

Idaho jerked himself upright, scowling down at her. He spoke slowly, with
careful and precise enunciation: “I do not take orders from a damn’ Harkonnen
spy.”

Yueh stiffened, whirled to face Jessica.

Her face had gone pale, but she was nodding. It all became clear to her–the
broken stems of meaning she had seen in words and actions around her these past
few days could now be translated. She found herself in the grip of anger almost
too great to contain. It took the most profound of her Bene Gesserit training to
quiet her pulse and smooth her breathing. Even then she could feel the blaze
flickering.

They were always calling on Idaho for surveillance of the ladies!

She shot a glance at Yueh. The doctor lowered his eyes.

“You knew this?” she demanded.

“I . . . heard rumors, my Lady. But I didn’t want to add to your burdens.”

“Hawat!” she snapped. “I want Thufir Hawat brought to me immediately!”

“But, my Lady . . . ”

“Immediately!”

It has to be Hawat, she thought. Suspicion such as this could come from no
other source without being discarded immediately.

Idaho shook his head, mumbled. “Chuck th’ whole damn thing.”

Jessica looked down at the cup in her hand, abruptly dashed its contents
across Idaho’s face. “Lock him in one of the guest rooms of the east wing,” she
ordered. “Let him sleep it off.”

The two guards stared at her unhappily. One ventured: “Perhaps we should
take him someplace else, m’Lady. We could . . . ”

“He’s supposed to be here!” Jessica snapped. “He has a job to do here.” Her
voice dripped bitterness. “He’s so good at watching the ladies.”

The guard swallowed.

“Do you know where the Duke is?” she demanded.

“He’s at the command post, my Lady.”

“Is Hawat with him?”

“Hawat’s in the city, my Lady.”

“You will bring Hawat to me at once,” Jessica said. “I will be in my sitting
room when he arrives.”

“But, my Lady . . . ”

“If necessary, I will call the Duke,” she said. “I hope it will not be
necessary. I would not want to disturb him with this.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Jessica thrust the empty cup into Mapes’ hands, met the questioning stare of
the blue-?within-?blue eyes. “You may return to bed, Mapes.”

“You’re sure you’ll not need me?”

Jessica smiled grimly. “I’m sure.”

“Perhaps this could wait until tomorrow,” Yueh said. “I could give you a
sedative and . . . ”

“You will return to your quarters and leave me to handle this my way,” she
said. She patted his arm to take the sting out of her command. “This is the only
way.”

Abruptly, head high, she turned and stalked off through the house to her
rooms. Cold walls . . . passages . . . a familiar door . . . She jerked the door
open, strode in, and slammed it behind her. Jessica stood there glaring at the
shield-?blanked windows of her sitting room. Hawat! Could he be the one the
Harkonnens bought? We shall see.
Jessica crossed to the deep, old-?fashioned armchair with an embroidered
cover of schlag skin, moved the chair into position to command the door. She was
suddenly very conscious of the crysknife in its sheath on her leg. She removed
the sheath and strapped it to her arm, tested the drop of it. Once more, she
glanced around the room, placing everything precisely in her mind against any
emergency: the chaise near the corner, the straight chairs along the wall, the
two low tables, her stand-?mounted zither beside the door to her bedroom.

Pale rose light glowed from the suspensor lamps. She dimmed them, sat down
in the armchair, patting the upholstery, appreciating the chair’s regal
heaviness for this occasion.

Now, let him come, she thought. We shall see what we shall see. And she
prepared herself in the Bene Gesserit fashion for the wait, accumulating
patience, saving her strength.

Sooner than she had expected, a rap sounded at the door and Hawat entered at
her command.

She watched him without moving from the chair, seeing the crackling sense of
drug-?induced energy in his movements, seeing the fatigue beneath. Hawat’s rheumy
old eyes glittered. His leathery skin appeared faintly yellow in the room’s
light, and there was a wide, wet stain on the sleeve of his knife arm.

She smelled blood there.

Jessica gestured to one of the straight-?backed chairs, said: “Bring that
chair and sit facing me.”

Hawat bowed, obeyed. That drunken fool of an Idaho! he thought. He studied
Jessica’s face, wondering how he could save this situation.

“It’s long past time to clear the air between us,” Jessica said.

“What troubles my Lady?” He sat down, placed hands on knees.

“Don’t play coy with me!” she snapped. “If Yueh didn’t tell you why I
summoned you, then one of your spies in my household did. Shall we be at least
that honest with each other?”

“As you wish, my Lady.”

“First, you will answer me one question,” she said. “Are you now a Harkonnen
agent?”

Hawat surged half out of his chair, his face dark with fury, demanding: “You
dare insult me so?”

“Sit down,” she said. “You insulted me so.”

Slowly, he sank back into the chair.

And Jessica, reading the signs of this face that she knew so well, allowed
herself a deep breath. It isn’t Hawat.

“Now I know you remain loyal to my Duke,” she said. “I’m prepared,
therefore, to forgive your affront to me.”

“Is there something to forgive?”

Jessica scowled, wondering: Shall I play my trump? Shall I tell him of the
Duke’s daughter I’ve carried within me these few weeks? No . . . Leto himself
doesn’t know. This would only complicate his life, divert him in a time when he
must concentrate on our survival. There is yet time to use this.

“A Truthsayer would solve this,” she said, “but we have no Truthsayer
qualified by the High Board.”

“As you say. We’ve no Truthsayer.”

“Is there a traitor among us?” she asked. “I’ve studied our people with
great care. Who could it be? Not Gurney. Certainly not Duncan. Their lieutenants
are not strategically enough placed to consider. It’s not you, Thufir. It cannot
be Paul. I know it’s not me. Dr. Yueh, then? Shall I call him in and put him to
the test?”

“You know that’s an empty gesture,” Hawat said. “He’s conditioned by the
High College. That I know for certain.”

“Not to mention that his wife was a Bene Gesserit slain by the Harkonnens,”
Jessica said.
“So that’s what happened to her,” Hawat said.

“Haven’t you heard the hate in his voice when he speaks the Harkonnen name?”

“You know I don’t have the ear,” Hawat said.

“What brought this base suspicion on me?” she asked.

Hawat frowned. “My Lady puts her servant in an impossible position. My first
loyalty is to the Duke.”

“I’m prepared to forgive much because of that loyalty,” she said.

“And again I must ask: Is there something to forgive?”

“Stalemate?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“Let us discuss something else for a minute, then,” she said. “Duncan Idaho,
the admirable fighting man whose abilities at guarding and surveillance are so
esteemed. Tonight, he overindulged in something called spice beer. I hear
reports that others among our people have been stupefied by this concoction. Is
that true?”

“You have your reports, my Lady.”

“So I do. Don’t you see this drinking as a symptom, Thufir?”

“My Lady speaks riddles.”

“Apply your Mentat abilities to it!” she snapped. “What’s the problem with
Duncan and the others? I can tell you in four words–they have no home.”

He jabbed a finger at the floor. “Arrakis, that’s their home.”

“Arrakis is an unknown! Caladan was their home, but we’ve uprooted them.
They have no home. And they fear the Duke’s failing them.”

He stiffened. “Such talk from one of the men would be cause for–”

“Oh, stop that, Thufir. Is it defeatist or treacherous for a doctor to
diagnose a disease correctly? My only intention is to cure the disease.”

“The Duke gives me charge over such matters.”

“But you understand I have a certain natural concern over the progress of
this disease,” she said. “And perhaps you’ll grant I have certain abilities
along these lines.”

Will I have to shock him severely? she wondered. He needs shaking up–
something to break him from routine.

“There could be many interpretations for your concern,” Hawat said. He
shrugged.

“Then you’ve already convicted me?”

“Of course not, my Lady. But I cannot afford to take any chances, the
situation being what it is.”

“A threat to my son got past you right here in this house,” she said. “Who
took that chance?”

His face darkened. “I offered my resignation to the Duke.”

“Did you offer your resignation to me . . . or to Paul?”

Now he was openly angry, betraying it in quickness of breathing, in dilation
of nostrils, a steady stare. She saw a pulse beating at his temple.

“I’m the Duke’s man,” he said, biting off the words.

“There is no traitor,” she said. “The threat’s something else. Perhaps it
has to do with the lasguns. Perhaps they’ll risk secreting a few lasguns with
timing mechanisms aimed at house shields. Perhaps they’ll . . . ”

“And who could tell after the blast if the explosion wasn’t atomic?” he
asked. “No, my Lady. They’ll not risk anything that illegal. Radiation lingers.
The evidence is hard to erase. No. They’ll observe most of the forms. It has to
be a traitor.”

“You’re the Duke’s man,” she sneered. “Would you destroy him in the effort
to save him?”

He took a deep breath, then: “If you’re innocent, you’ll have my most abject
apologies.”

“Look at you now, Thufir,” she said. “Humans live best when each has his own
place, when each knows where he belongs in the scheme of things. Destroy the
place and destroy the person. You and I, Thufir, of all those who love the Duke,
are most ideally situated to destroy the other’s place. Could I not whisper
suspicions about you into the Duke’s ear at night? When would he be most
susceptible to such whispering, Thufir? Must I draw it for you more clearly?“

”You threaten me?“ he growled.

”Indeed not. I merely point out to you that someone is attacking us through
the basic arrangement of our lives. It’s clever, diabolical. I propose to negate
this attack by so ordering our lives that there’ll be no chinks for such barbs
to enter.“

”You accuse me of whispering baseless suspicions?“

”Baseless, yes.“

”You’d meet this with your own whispers?“

”Your life is compounded of whispers, not mine, Thufir.“

”Then you question my abilities?“

She sighed. ”Thufir, I want you to examine your own emotional involvement in
this. The natural human’s an animal without logic. Your projections of logic
onto all affairs is unnatural, but suffered to continue for its usefulness.
You’re the embodiment of logic–a Mentat. Yet, your problem solutions are
concepts that, in a very real sense, are projected outside yourself, there to be
studied and rolled around, examined from all sides.“

”You think now to teach me my trade?“ he asked, and he did not try to hide
the disdain in his voice.

”Anything outside yourself, this you can see and apply your logic to it,“
she said. ”But it’s a human trait that when we encounter personal problems,
those things most deeply personal are the most difficult to bring out for our
logic to scan. We tend to flounder around, blaming everything but the actual,
deep-?seated thing that’s really chewing on us.“

”You’re deliberately attempting to undermine my faith in my abilities as a
Mentat,“ he rasped. ”Were I to find one of our people attempting thus to
sabotage any other weapon in our arsenal, I should not hesitate to denounce and
destroy him.“

”The finest Mentats have a healthy respect for the error factor in their
computations,“ she said.

”I’ve never said otherwise!“

”Then apply yourself to these symptoms we’ve both seen: drunkenness among
the men, quarrels–they gossip and exchange wild rumors about Arrakis; they
ignore the most simple–“

”Idleness, no more,“ he said. ”Don’t try to divert my attention by trying to
make a simple matter appear mysterious.“

She stared at him, thinking of the Duke’s men rubbing their woes together in
the barracks until you could almost smell the charge there, like burnt
insulation. They’re becoming like the men of the pre-?Guild legend, she thought:
Like the men of the lost star-?searcher, Ampoliros–sick at their guns–forever
seeking, forever prepared and forever unready.

”Why have you never made full use of my abilities in your service to the
Duke?“ she asked. ”Do you fear a rival for your position?“

He glared at her, the old eyes blazing. ”I know some of the training they
give you Bene Gesserit . . . “ He broke off, scowling.

”Go ahead, say it,“ she said. ”Bene Gesserit witches.“

”I know something of the real training they give you,“ he said. ”I’ve seen
it come out in Paul. I’m not fooled by what your schools tell the public: you
exist only to serve.“

The shock must be severe and he’s almost ready for it, she thought.

”You listen respectfully to me in Council,“ she said, ”yet you seldom heed
my advice. Why?“

”I don’t trust your Bene Gesserit motives,“ he said. ”You may think you can
look through a man; you may think you can make a man do exactly what you–”
“You poor fool, Thufir!” she raged.