Dune (60 page)

“Yes, isn’t it?” the Baron said.

They came into the Baron’s apartments through the reception salon to the
bedchamber. Subtle signs of a struggle greeted them here — a suspensor lamp
displaced, a bedcushion on the floor, a soother-?reel spilled open across a
bedstand.
“It was a clever plan,” the Baron said. He kept his body shield tuned to
maximum, stopped, facing his nephew. “But not clever enough. Tell me, Feyd, why
didn’t you strike me down yourself? You’ve had opportunity enough.”

Feyd-?Rautha found a suspensor chair, accomplished a mental shrug as he sat
down in it without being asked.

I must be bold now, he thought.

“You taught me that my own hands must remain clean,” he said.

“Ah, yes,” the Baron said. “When you face the Emperor, you must be able to
say truthfully that you did not do the deed. The witch at the Emperor’s elbow
will hear your words and know their truth or falsehood. Yes. I warned you about
that.”

“Why haven’t you ever bought a Bene Gesserit, Uncle?” Feyd-?Rautha asked.
“With a Truthsayer at your side –”

“You know my tastes!” the Baron snapped.

Feyd-?Rautha studied his uncle, said: “Still, one would be valuable for –”

“I trust them not!” the Baron snarled. “And stop trying to change the
subject!”

Feyd-?Rautha spoke mildly; “As you wish, Uncle.”

“I remember a time in the arena several years ago,” the Baron said. “It
seemed there that day a slave had been set to kill you. Is that truly how it
was?”

“It’s been so long ago, Uncle. After all, I –”

“No evasions, please,” the Baron said, and the tightness of his voice
exposed the rein on his anger.

Feyd-?Rautha looked at his uncle, thinking: He knows, else he wouldn’t ask.

“It was a sham, Uncle. I arranged it to discredit your slavemaster.”

“Very clever,” the Baron said. “Brave, too. That slave-?gladiator almost took
you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“If you had finesse and subtlety to match such courage, you’d be truly
formidable.” The Baron shook his head from side to side. And as he had done many
times since that terrible day on Arrakis, he found himself regretting the loss
of Piter, the Mentat. There’d been a man of delicate, devilish subtlety. It
hadn’t saved him, though. Again, the Baron shook his head. Fate was sometimes
inscrutable.

Feyd-?Rautha glanced around the bedchamber, studying the signs of the
struggle, wondering how his uncle had overcome the slave they’d prepared so
carefully.

“How did I best him?” the Baron asked. “Ah-?h-?h, now, Feyd — let me keep
some weapons to preserve me in my old age. It’s better we use this time to
strike a bargain.”

Feyd-?Rautha stared at him. A bargain! He means to keep me as his heir for
certain, then. Else why bargain. One bargains with equals or near equals!

“What bargain, Uncle?” And Feyd-?Rautha felt proud that his voice remained
calm and reasonable, betraying none of the elation that filled him.

The Baron, too, noted the control. He nodded. “You’re good material, Feyd. I
don’t waste good material. You persist, however, in refusing to learn my true
value to you. You are obstinate. You do not see why I should be preserved as
someone of the utmost value to you. This . . . ” He gestured at the evidence of
the struggle in the bedchamber. “This was foolishness. I do not reward
foolishness.”

Get to the point, you old fool! Feyd-?Rautha thought.

“You think of me as an old fool,” the Baron said. “I must dissuade you of
that.”

“You speak of a bargain.”

“Ah, the impatience of youth,” the Baron said. “Well, this is the substance
of it, then: You will cease these foolish attempts on my life. And I, when you
are ready for it, will step aside in your favor. I will retire to an advisory
position, leaving you in the seat of power.“

”Retire, Uncle?“

”You still think me the fool,“ the Baron said, ”and this but confirms it,
eh? You think I’m begging you! Step cautiously, Feyd. This old fool saw through
the shielded needle you’d planted in that slave boy’s thigh. Right where I’d put
my hand on it, eh? The smallest pressure and — snick! A poison needle in the
old fool’s palm! Ah-?h-?h, Feyd . . . “

The Baron shook his head, thinking: It would’ve worked, too, if Hawat hadn’t
warned me. Well, let the lad believe I saw the plot on my own. In a way, I did.
I was the one who saved Hawat from the wreckage of Arrakis. And this lad needs
greater respect for my prowess.

Feyd-?Rautha remained silent, struggling, with himself. Is he being truthful?
Does he really mean to retire? Why not? I’m sure to succeed him one day if I
move carefully. He can’t live forever. Perhaps it was foolish to try hurrying
the process.

”You speak of a bargain,“ Feyd-?Rautha said. ”What pledge do we give to bind
it?“

”How can we trust each other, eh?“ the Baron asked. ”Well, Feyd, as for you:
I’m setting Thufir Hawat to watch over you. I trust Hawat’s Mentat capabilities
in this. Do you understand me? And as for me, you’ll have to take me on faith.
But I can’t live forever, can I, Feyd? And perhaps you should begin to suspect
now that there’re things I know which you should know.“

”I give you my pledge and what do you give me?“ Feyd-?Rautha asked.

”I let you go on living,“ the Baron said.

Again, Feyd-?Rautha studied his uncle. He sets Hawat over me! What would he
say if I told him Hawat planned the trick with the gladiator that cost him his
slavemaster? He’d likely say I was lying in the attempt to discredit Hawat. No,
the good Thufir is a Mentat and has anticipated this moment.

”Well, what do you say?“ the Baron asked.

”What can I say? I accept, of course.“

And Feyd-?Rautha thought: Hawat! He plays both ends against the middle . . .
is that it? Has he moved to my uncle’s camp because I didn’t counsel with him
over the slave boy attempt?

”You haven’t said anything about my setting Hawat to watch you,“ the Baron
said.

Feyd-?Rautha betrayed anger by a flaring of nostrils. The name of Hawat had
been a danger signal in the Harkonnen family for so many years . . . and now it
had a new meaning: still dangerous.

”Hawat’s a dangerous toy,“ Feyd-?Rautha said.

”Toy! Don’t be stupid. I know what I have in Hawat and how to control it.
Hawat has deep emotions, Feyd. The man without emotions is the one to fear. But
deep emotions . . . ah, now, those can be bent to your needs.“

”Uncle, I don’t understand you.“

”Yes, that’s plain enough.“

Only a flicker of eyelids betrayed the passage of resentment through Feyd-
Rautha.

”And you do not understand Hawat,“ the Baron said.

Nor do you! Feyd-?Rautha thought.

”Who does Hawat blame for his present circumstances?“ the Baron asked. ”Me?
Certainly. But he was an Atreides tool and bested me for years until the
Imperium took a hand. That’s how he sees it. His hate for me is a casual thing
now. He believes he can best me any time. Believing this, he is bested. For I
direct his attention where I want it — against the Imperium.“

Tensions of a new understanding drew tight lines across Feyd-?Rautha’s
forehead, thinned his mouth. ”Against the Emperor?”
Let my dear nephew try the taste of that, the Baron thought. Let him say to
himself: “The Emperor Feyd-?Rautha Harkonnen!” Let him ask himself how much
that’s worth. Surely it must be worth the life of one old uncle who could make
that dream come to pass!

Slowly, Feyd-?Rautha wet his lips with his tongue. Could it be true what the
old fool was saying? There was more here than there seemed to be.

“And what has Hawat to do with this?” Feyd-?Rautha asked.

“He thinks he uses us to wreak his revenge upon the Emperor.”

“And when that’s accomplished?”

“He does not think beyond his revenge. Hawat’s a man who must serve others,
and doesn’t even know this about himself.”

“I’ve learned much from Hawat,” Feyd-?Rautha agreed, and felt the truth of
the words as he spoke them. “But the more I learn, the more I feel we should
dispose of him . . . and soon.”

“You don’t like the idea of his watching you?”

“Hawat watches everybody.”

“And he may put you on a throne. Hawat is subtle. He is dangerous, devious.
But I’ll not yet withhold the antidote from him. A sword is dangerous, too,
Feyd. We have the scabbard for this one, though. The poison’s in him. When we
withdraw the antidote, death will sheathe him.”

“In a way, it’s like the arena,” Feyd-?Rautha said. “Feints within feints
within feints. You watch to see which way the gladiator leans, which way he
looks, how he holds his knife.”

He nodded to himself, seeing that these words pleased his uncle, but
thinking: Yes! Like the arena! And the cutting edge is the mind!

“Now you see how you need me,” the Baron said. “I’m yet of use, Feyd.”

A sword to be wielded until he’s too blunt for use, Feyd-?Rautha thought.

“Yes, Uncle, ”he said.

“And now,” the Baron said, “we will go down to the slave quarters, we two.
And I will watch while you, with your own hands, kill all the women in the
pleasure wing.”

“Uncle!”

“There will be other women, Feyd. But I have said that you do not make a
mistake casually with me.”

Feyd-?Rautha’s face darkened. “Uncle, you –”

“You will accept your punishment and learn something from it,” the Baron
said.

Feyd-?Rautha met the gloating stare in his uncle’s eyes. And I must remember
this night, he thought. And remembering it, I must remember other nights.

“You will not refuse,” the Baron said.

What could you do if I refused, old man? Feyd-?Rautha asked himself. But he
knew there might be some other punishment, perhaps a more subtle one, a more
brutal lever to bend him.

“I know you, Feyd,” the Baron said. “You will not refuse.”

All right, Feyd-?Rautha thought. I need you now. I see that. The bargain’s
made. But I’ll not always need you. And . . . someday . . .

= = = = = =

Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that
makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic.
-from “The Sayings of Muad’Dib” by the Princess Irulan

I’ve sat across from many rulers of Great Houses, but never seen a more
gross and dangerous pig than this one, Thufir Hawat told himself.

“You may speak plainly with me, Hawat,” the Baron rumbled. He leaned back in
his suspensor chair, the eyes in their folds of fat boring into Hawat.
The old Mentat looked down at the table between him and the Baron Vladimir
Harkonnen, noting the opulence of its grain. Even this was a factor to consider
in assessing the Baron, as were the red walls of this private conference room
and the faint sweet herb scent that hung on the air, masking a deeper musk.

“You didn’t have me send that warning to Rabban as an idle whim,” the Baron
said.

Hawat’s leathery old face remained impassive, betraying none of the loathing
he felt. “I suspect many things, my Lord,” he said.

“Yes. Well, I wish to know how Arrakis figures in your suspicions about
Salusa Secundus. It is not enough that you say to me the Emperor is in a ferment
about some association between Arrakis and his mysterious prison planet. Now, I
rushed the warning out to Rabban only because the courier had to leave on that
Heighliner. You said there could be no delay. Well and good. But now I will have
an explanation.”

He babbles too much, Hawat thought. He’s not like Leto who could tell me a
thing with the lift of an eyebrow or the wave of a hand. Nor like the Old Duke
who could express an entire sentence in the way he accented a single word. This
is a clod! Destroying him will be a service to mankind.

“You will not leave here until I’ve had a full and complete explanation,”
the Baron said.

“You speak too casually of Salusa Secundus,” Hawat said.

“It’s a penal colony,” the Baron said. “The worst riff-?raff in the galaxy
are sent to Salusa Secundus. What else do we need to know?”

“That conditions on the prison planet are more oppressive than anywhere
else,” Hawat said. “You hear that the mortality rate among new prisoners is
higher than sixty per cent. You hear that the Emperor practices every form of
oppression there. You hear all this and do not ask questions?”

“The Emperor doesn’t permit the Great Houses to inspect his prison,” the
Baron growled. “But he hasn’t seen into my dungeons, either.”

“And curiosity about Salusa Secundus is . . . ah . . . ” Hawat put a bony
finger to his lips. “. . . discouraged.”

“So he’s not proud of some of the things he must do there!”

Hawat allowed the faintest of smiles to touch his dark lips. His eyes
glinted in the glowtube light as he stared at the Baron. “And you’ve never
wondered where the Emperor gets his Sardaukar?”

The Baron pursed his fat lips. This gave his features the look of a pouting
baby, and his voice carried a tone of petulance as he said: “Why . . . he
recruits . . . that is to say, there are the levies and he enlists from –”

“Faaa!” Hawat snapped. “The stories you hear about the exploits of the
Sardaukar, they’re not rumors, are they? Those are first-?hand accounts from the
limited number of survivors who’ve fought against the Sardaukar, eh?”

“The Sardaukar are excellent fighting men, no doubt of it,” the Baron said.
“But I think my own legions –”

“A pack of holiday excursionists by comparison!” Hawat snarled. “You think I
don’t know why the Emperor turned against House Atreides?”

“This is not a realm open to your speculation,” the Baron warned.

Is it possible that even he doesn’t know what motivated the Emperor in this?
Hawat asked himself.

“Any area is open to my speculation if it does what you’ve hired me to do,”
Hawat said. “I am a Mentat. You do not withhold information or computation lines
from a Mentat.”

For a long minute, the Baron stared at him, then: “Say what you must say.
Mentat.”