you.”
“Much better than a torture chamber,” Fenring said.
12
The human body and the human soul require different types of nourishment. Let us partake of a feast in all things.
It was supposed to be an intimate banquet for Paul and the Fenrings, with Chani, Irulan, and the two girls, but for the Emperor Muad’Dib nothing was permitted to be informal.
Alia knew that the places had been chosen with care. Paul and Chani would sit beside one another at the head of the table, with Alia next to her brother on his right side, then little Marie, and farther down the table would be Count Fenring and his Lady, far enough away from Paul, should the Fenrings make any attempt against him. On the left side, Irulan would sit closest to the head of the table, across from Alia and Marie; then Stilgar, and finally Korba where the two Fremen could watch the Count and Lady.
The room had been swept for chemical explosives such as the bomb that had detonated beneath Muad’Dib’s throne, metal objects, weapons of any kind, automated tools of assassination. Grim Fremen stood guard in the kitchen, monitoring the preparation of every dish. Poison-sniffers hovered over the banquet table. All utensils were smooth and dull, minimizing their potential use as weapons.
Ever since Bludd’s hunter-seeker attack, Stilgar had insisted that Paul and his party wear shields when in the presence of visitors, even at meals, though it always made the process of dining somewhat awkward.
Korba felt that Paul’s own prescient skills, though erratic, could enhance even the most extravagant security preparations. During the planning stages he had insisted, “Muad’Dib, if there is danger, your predictive powers could give us warning.”
Paul had cut the man off. “Where Count Fenring is concerned, Korba, little is clear to me, ever.”
Although Fedaykin guards were stationed in the hall, Stilgar could not allow himself to merely be a fellow dinner guest; instead, he vowed to serve as Paul’s personal bodyguard. Ever suspicious of the Count, Stilgar had personally scanned Marie’s clothes and paid close attention to every item Fenring and his Bene Gesserit wife brought into the banquet chamber, but he found no weapons, no poisons, nothing unusual.
The dinner party met in the former dining hall of the old Arrakeen Residency. This was a historically significant room, where Alia’s brother and parents had broken bread when they first arrived on Arrakis — before Harkonnen treachery had changed everything. There had been no straight-line progression in her brother’s life from then to now, nor in Alia’s. As servants put the finishing touches on the table and the chefs were hard at work, Alia stood near her chair, waiting for her eminent brother to enter.
After Marie’s parents had arrived on Arrakis, the girl’s style of play had altered subtly as they improvised more games, making Alia wonder if her friend was somehow subdued or intimidated by them. “Are you afraid they’ll take you back to Tleilax?” Alia had asked in a whisper.
“I will never go back to the Tleilaxu.” Marie sounded as if she was stating a fact, rather than making a defiant pronouncement.
At the appointed time, Paul and Chani entered the dining hall and took their seats at the head of the table. Forsaking formality, they wore clean yet simple desert clothes. Visible under his cape Paul had also chosen to wear a black tunic emblazoned with the red Atreides hawk crest, no doubt for the Count’s benefit. Paul’s shield mechanism was apparent, as was Chani’s, but not activated.
Hasimir and Margot Fenring strolled into the banquet hall arm in arm: the not-quite-misshapen man and the beautiful Bene Gesserit seductress who clearly adored him. Alia wondered how far the Sisterhood’s breeding program had missed its mark in Hasimir Fenring, how close a counterpart he was to her brother’s abilities. She sensed great danger in the man. On the other hand, she had to agree with Paul: he could be a formidable ally.
Lady Margot looked like perfection in a gown made of gray and black elfsilk; at her pale, smooth throat she wore a long strand of large muted-lavender diamonds whose color seemed enhanced by the sleek dress. So thorough were the security precautions, Stilgar had scanned the strand itself to make sure it was made of breakable thread, rather than shigawire or some other cord that could be used as a garrote.
Little Marie walked slightly ahead of her parents, excruciatingly well-mannered but barely able to contain her energy. An impish grin touched her lips.
For the occasion Alia had decided to wear her favored black aba robe, which gave her the paradoxical appearance of both child and Fremen matron. In stark contrast, Margot Fenring had taken great care to dress Marie as a perfect daughter in a fine little gown made of expensive fabrics, whale-fur, and lace. Her golden hair was bound up in a mist of tiny jewels. Alia hardly recognized her companion.
Fenring placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward, his chin on his interlocked hands, as he looked past the two girls to where Paul sat. “Hmm, Sire, I have a gift for you before we begin. I could have presented it earlier, but I was waiting for… aahh… the correct time.” He stroked his clean-shaven chin, looked awkwardly across the table. “Your man Korba has it.”
Korba was taken aback because he had not expected this. When Paul looked at him, the Fedaykin clapped his hands and gave hushed orders to one of the guards, who dashed out of the room.
Alia leaned over to Marie. “What is it? What did they bring?”
The girl glanced at her. “Something interesting.”
Finally, two men bustled in from the hall carrying a wrapped package. “I hope you’ve kept it safe,” Lady Margot said.
Korba seemed insulted. “It was placed in my care.” He set the object in front of Paul and unwrapped folds of black cloth to reveal a jewel-handled knife. The edge seemed to radiate light.
Paul scowled. “You brought me a dagger? What sort of message is this?”
“It is a historically significant weapon, Sire. You may recall that this is the same blade carried by Emperor Shaddam, which he gave to your father Duke Leto after the success of his Trial by Forfeiture, but Leto eventually returned it to him.” After a pause, he added, “It is also the knife Shaddam offered to Feyd-Rautha for his duel with you.”
Paul frowned down at the offering. “Is there a deeper message I should read into this?”
Fenring wrinkled his forehead. “You are well aware of a certain, aahh, friction in my relationship with Shaddam. In an attempt to lure me back to his side, he sent me this blade as a gift, hoping I would return to Salusa Secundus and be his companion.”
“And you are giving it to me instead?”
Count Fenring smiled. “That is my answer to His Fallen Majesty, Shaddam Corrino IV.”
Paul passed the weapon to Chani. She examined it, placed it on the table between them.
Marie fidgeted in her place, and Lady Margot caught her eye, gave her a sharp look. Alia searched for any hidden code in the gesture, but it seemed to be no more than the scolding of an impatient mother.
The first course was brought in, accompanied by an intriguing savory aroma. “Hmmm, smells wonderful.” Fenring picked up one of the cubes of meat. “What is it?”
“Broiled pit snake in a piquant sauce,” Chani answered, letting the Count draw his own subtle meanings.
The guests each had a large goblet of water flavored with bits of cidrit rind. Imported olives were accompanied by a salad of chopped lettuce and portygul wedges in rosewater. Alia knew that the Fenrings fully recognized the largesse of moisture that Paul was showing, though Lady Margot hardly took a sip of her water.
“When House Atreides took possession of Arrakis,” Paul mused, “my father hosted a banquet to present himself to important personages of the city, and — I am certain — to sniff out potential enemies.” He glanced down at the jewel-handled knife beside his plate. “Are you my enemy, Count Fenring?”
“I don’t believe so, Sire.”
“You are aware that I have truthsense?”
