that no one could intervene in time.
With his eyes closed and a serene smile on his face, the Viscount activated the touchpads.
9
A noble leader must be stern, while his heart and actions reflect fairness and justice. This holds true for an Emperor, a minor noble, or even a father.
Paul shouted to his father, trying to make contact one last time, but the incinerating flash did not come. Startled, Moritani stared down at the control panel that had just gone dim.
Duncan did not slow as he charged toward the writing desk, his sword upraised, but Hiih Resser interposed himself between Duncan and the Viscount. Instead of attacking Duncan, however, his former comrade held up his own blade in a gesture of surrender. “No need, Duncan. It’s over.”
Sardaukar collided with the Viscount, throwing him bodily to the floor and roughly dragging him away from the chair and the console. He thrashed and fought, but he was no match for the Emperor’s elite soldiers.
Resser gave up his sword, extending it hilt-first to Duncan, speaking with sadness. “Honor does not know politics, only obedience. He was my noble master, and I swore my loyalty to him. But in this I could see no way to condone his action, so I took matters into my own hands.”
“What did you do?” Duncan asked.
“I placed the atomics around the city, just as the Viscount ordered. I knew what he intended to do. But I could not allow him to trigger the warheads in the spectacular holocaust he planned. It would have been an unforgivable crime against the Emperor, the people of Grumman, and all of you, whom he has already wronged so greatly.” He took a long breath, and his agitated expression relaxed slightly. “So I disabled the linkages.”
Moritani screamed at him. “You betrayed me! You broke your blood oath!”
Resser turned to the Viscount. “No, my Lord. I swore to follow your commands, and more importantly I swore to protect you. I planted the atomics, just as you ordered. Then, by preventing you from killing yourself, all of these nobles, and the Emperor himself, I saved your life and many more. My honor is intact.”
“HEAR YE ALL,” announced the Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV in a ponderous voice. “Heed our decision and our Imperial command.”
Having moved his court back to his flagship, he sat now in his decadent jeweled robes on a portable simulacrum of the Lion Throne. His somber gaze swept the gathered nobles, the prisoners, and the observers inside the metal-walled chamber. Shaddam sounded greatly important, as though the Grumman victory was solely his doing.
Feeling out of place, Paul stood beside his father, along with Duncan, Gurney, Archduke Armand, and Prince Rhombur, still in their formal attire.
Viscount Moritani, on the other hand, wore rumpled fur-lined robes, his hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, looking both wild and cunning. The man made Paul uneasy simply to look at him. Though he was a nobleman, Hundro Moritani was carried into the Emperor’s presence by Sardaukar, restrained in a stiff-backed metal chair that contrasted sharply with the flamboyant throne on which the Emperor sat. Moritani’s arms were bound at the wrists by shigawire and his legs fastened to the chair. Putting a nobleman in restraints was unheard of, but the Sardaukar chief of security had insisted on it.
House Atreides had a legitimate blood-grudge against the Viscount, as did Archduke Ecaz, but Paul was sure that Shaddam would give his own vengeance precedence. The remnants of the renegade House Tantor? How many people had suffered from this madman’s hatred over an event that had occurred thousands of years earlier? How could anyone seek revenge after so long? Then again, the Atreides and the Harkonnens had hated each other for so many millennia that the reasons for their breach were almost lost in the distant blur of history.
Finally, looking weary yet oddly at peace, Hiih Resser stood by himself, like an island in the crowd. Shortly before the Emperor’s meeting here, in a poignant gesture Resser had asked Duncan to give him his fighting knife; Duncan had offered it to him reluctantly. “You aren’t going to do anything foolish, are you?”
The redheaded Swordmaster had hesitated for a long moment, then shook his head. “Not what you think, Duncan.” Using the sharp point, he sliced the threads of the horsehead insignia patch on his collar, cut it free, and threw it to the floor. He then excised the rank marks from his shoulders and sleeves.
Now, seeing what his Swordmaster had done, the bound Viscount Moritani spat on the floor.
Commanding the attention of all inside the royal chamber of his flagship, the Emperor extended his jeweled staff of office and struck it on the deck with a great echoing report.
“Viscount Hundro Moritani, for your crimes there can be any number of punishments. Because you have explicitly acted against House Corrino and conspired to harm Our Imperial Person, I should order your immediate execution. However, considering the cumulative consequences you must face, execution need not be the first of them.” Shaddam’s eyes glinted with anger and cruel humor. Moritani had been ordered not to speak, and threatened with a gag if he refused to obey.
“As a first and vital step, I hereby revoke all of your lands, titles, and possessions: your Grumman resources, buildings, subjects, CHOAM holdings, wealth, investments, and even your wardrobe.” He smiled. “We will provide suitable clothing for you in the Imperial Prison on Kaitain. Fifty percent of your liquidated assets shall be given to the Throne.
“The remaining half” — Shaddam spread his empty hand in a benevolent gesture — “will be split among the other wronged Houses — Ecaz, Atreides, and Vernius, in proportion to the losses they suffered at your hands.” He nodded to himself, satisfied with his munificence. But Paul noticed that his father had stiffened. Rhombur didn’t look entirely pleased either, as if he considered it an insult to reap a monetary reward for aiding his friend.
Shaddam leaned back on his throne. “As for the planet Grumman and the siridar governorship, we present it as a new holding of House Ecaz. All of its planetary wealth and natural resources are now in your control. Archduke, you may exploit this world and profit from it.”
Armand stood silent and stony. His response conveyed no joy. “Thank you, Sire.” The mined-out planet — its lands barely fertile, its population poor, unhealthy, and exhausted — was no prize. It would be more of an albatross around Armand’s neck than an asset.
“Viscount Moritani, I reserve the right to order your execution at any time. However, in the spirit of harmony in the Imperium, I propose that you be delivered forthwith to Kaitain in a prison frigate, for trial in Landsraad court. Your fellow nobles will decide your specific fate.”
The Viscount snarled bitterly, unable to restrain himself further. “I look forward to speaking in my own defense. I am sure that you and the Landsraad nobles will be most interested in what I have to say… given the proper forum. Never assume that even an Emperor knows everything that goes on in the Imperium.”
Paul studied the defiant Grumman nobleman — his mannerisms, expression, and tone of voice. He wore a cloak of madness, which made him difficult to read, but Paul detected neither bravado nor a bluff. Moritani did, indeed, have something more to say. Wheels within wheels, and another set within those.
Shaddam’s eyes narrowed, a calculating expression. “We look forward to your testimony, although perhaps certain other Great Houses might not.”
Paul looked at Duncan, recalling the encounter with Beast Rabban here on Grumman. At long last, Duke Leto actually gave a weary smile. No member of House Atreides would be disappointed if the Baron was found culpable in these heinous acts. Not only would House Moritani fall, but House Harkonnen could also be stripped. With luck, Baron Harkonnen would find himself in a cell next to Viscount Moritani.
The Emperor nodded in satisfaction. “My work here is done.” He gestured dismissively toward the furious Viscount, clapped his hands, and announced a feast to celebrate the end of the War of Assassins and the prevention of a much larger, interplanetary war.
