Paul of Dune

“You look troubled, my friend,” Armand said. “Did you not sleep well last night? Are your quarters not comfortable?”

Leto smiled. “Your hospitality is exemplary, Armand.” It was the discussion far into the night that kept me awake, and Jessica’s deep hurt long afterward.

Sitting on the edge of the bed in her quarters, a private room down the hall from his own, Leto had looked at her beautiful oval face, remembering when the Bene Gesserit first brought her to him as a young woman. His growing love for Jessica had been the wedge that drove Kailea from him. Out of jealousy, Kailea had tried to kill Leto but had instead caused the death of their innocent son, and brutally crippled Prince Rhombur Vernius. Now, Leto swore to himself that he wouldn’t allow Ilesa to become a similar wedge between himself and Jessica.

“It is business and politics,” he had said, wishing he didn’t sound so defensive. He could have spent hours listing the advantages of such an alliance, but no such explanations would ever touch Jessica’s heart. He assured her that he didn’t love Ilesa — didn’t even know her.

Jessica simply sat there with a cold expression. “I understand completely, my Duke, and I am confident you will make the appropriate decision. I am just your concubine, with no say in the matter.”

“Dammit, Jessica, you can speak openly with me!”

“Yes, my Lord.” She said nothing else.

He let the silence draw out, but he was no match for a Bene Gesserit. “I am sorry. Truly, I am.” Though her stony mask was impenetrable, she looked so lovely to him.

“I expect nothing else from you, Leto. Your father raised you never to marry for love, only for political advantage. After all, the lack of love in his marriage to Lady Helena is reflected in your own lack of love toward your exiled mother. I have seen the Old Duke’s portrait. I know what he said and what he taught you. How could you not believe as he did?”

“You must hate him.”

“Does one hate the tide for washing away the sand? Does one hate a storm for bringing lightning?”

Leto wondered if Jessica wished she could have seen the Old Duke when he was alive, just to give him a piece of her mind.

“I will take care of you and Paul,” Leto insisted. “You will always be part of Castle Caladan. You will always be with me.”

“I trust my Duke’s promises.” Jessica turned away quickly.

Bidding her good night, Leto had taken his leave, but he had remained awake for a long time afterward….

The servants brought trays of “light refreshments”: a dripping comb of silver honey, roasted tree-crabs in butter on skewers, z-nuts that were startlingly sour. Leto ate while listening to breakdowns of the prime exports of Ecaz, the most profitable forest products. Armand spoke of spending huge amounts of time and money on pharmaceutical research, testing, and processing. Suk medical chemists and biopharmacists in Elaccan jungle camps constantly discovered new leaves, lichens, berries, roots, fungi.

Most important, the Archduke laid out his absolute trade embargo against Viscount Hundro Moritani of Grumman. He passed Leto a proclamation that stated: “There shall be no export of any useful item to House Moritani.”

Armand pointed to the official document. “If you are to marry Ilesa, you must agree to this condition, Leto. I cannot bend this rule. Not so much as a leaf from a tree or a berry from a bush. That monster shall not have a gram of comfort from this world.”

At one time, Leto had tried to negotiate an end to the simmering feud between Ecaz and Moritani, and the Emperor had even stationed Sardaukar watchdogs on Grumman for two years. But as soon as the Imperial soldiers pulled out, Viscount Moritani struck again, publicly executing both Armand’s brother and his daughter Sany, opening the floodgates of a full-scale war.

“Will there never be an end to it?” Leto asked.

“I recently had to reprimand Duke Prad Vidal because he attempted to make a black-market cargo shipment against my express orders. Once caught, Vidal simply offered to pay me half the profits, expecting to be forgiven, but I spat in his face. I literally spat in his face!” Armand blinked at Leto, as though surprised at himself. “He submitted a formal apology for his actions, and seemed to expect one from me in return. My administrators claim we are losing profits because of the embargo, but what is mere money? I hate the Moritanis.”

In a quiet voice, Leto said, “I have heard that the Viscount’s son suffers from a terrible disease, and that a cure is available here on Ecaz. If you showed compassion by providing medicine, would that not be a way to resolve your conflict peacefully?”

Armand said acidly, “How could I save his pathetic son, when he murdered my daughter? By denying Moritani the medicine, I’ll make that madman feel some of the pain he has inflicted on my House. This dispute will not end without a complete extermination of one family or the other.”

The Archduke lifted a small crystalline vial that stood near his place on the table. “This is the rare medicine the Viscount so desperately needs. Esoit-poay requires months to extract, refine, and process. Yes, I could provide this to Moritani. I could save his son.”

Armand clenched the tiny bottle in his hand, then hurled it to the stone tiled floor, smashing the vial to glinting shards. “I would rather let the cure dry on the ground than have it touch the lips of that vile Grumman spawn.” He lowered. “Imagine if you were given a chance to provide comfort or save the Baron Harkonnen’s young nephew. Would you do it?”

Leto sighed heavily. “I doubt it. The Harkonnens were involved in the death of my father, and quite probably were part of the scheme that cost the life of my firstborn son. No, I’d throttle Feyd-Rautha with my bare hands rather than save him.”

“Then you understand my position better than most people.”

Leto nodded. “I agree to the terms.”

The rest of the negotiations went smoothly, and soon it was time for Leto to return home with Paul and Jessica and begin the preparations. The wedding would take place at Castle Caladan in two months.

7

Former friends make the most bloodthirsty enemies. Who is in a better position to know how to inflict the greatest pain?

—from The Wisdom of Muad’Dib by the PRINCESS IRULAN

Centuries of exploitation by the Harkonnens had wrung nearly every resource out of Giedi Prime. Even the Baron recognized that. The Moritani home planet of Grumman, however, was in far worse shape.

House Moritani had abused the landscape for generations until it was little more than the husk of a once- fertile world, mined out and barely capable of sustaining even the hardiest crops. The natives could extract very little more from the planet, and House Moritani was hungry for a new fief. The Viscount had already petitioned the Emperor several times, specifically mentioning Ecaz as a possibility, but his requests had been turned down.

No wonder the man is always in a foul mood, the Baron thought as he gazed across the patchy steppes. Even the breezes through the dry remnants of vegetation sounded like a death rattle.

Dressed entirely in black, the large Baron stood impatiently outside a series of linked insulated yurts and stable-sized tents. Through the fluttering tent flaps he saw high wooden stall doors, and men in leathers. He heard specially bred horses neighing and kicking in their stalls, and handlers trying to calm them.

After his arrival from Giedi Prime, a rugged open vehicle had brought him and his Mentat, Piter de Vries, directly from the spaceport.

A thick-armed driver with shaggy hair and a long mustache had said that Viscount Moritani would meet them there, but failed to say when. Now, the Harkonnen leader pulled his collar up around his neck. The air seemed laden with grit and dust, worse even than Arrakis. Vladimir Harkonnen was not accustomed to waiting.