“Do something!” Leto said.
Yueh opened his medpack, touched monitors to the patient so he could read his biological functions. When Wellan’s thrashing slowed, Leto thought the minister had improved, but in fact, his condition was declining. Wellan’s entire body slumped, as if melting.
The doctor stood back, dark lips downturned in a frown that etched the lines deeper in his face. “He has a severe brain hemorrhage that I would not be able to relieve even with immediate surgery, I’m afraid. We are merely here to watch him die, my Lord.”
“How can you be so sure, Yueh? Don’t give up like that!”
The Suk doctor pressed his lips together. “Because no more than an hour ago, I treated an identical case in the guard quarters, and I have noted a rash of ailar overdoses in Cala City, especially in the low-town, the taverns, and boathouses. All were fatal.”
Leto couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Such deaths are commonplace?”
“Alarmingly so, Sire. And spreading farther.”
The words of Lord Atikk echoed in his mind. Your Caladan drug killed my son!
“How is this drug here in Cala City? And in my castle? How has this drug infiltrated my people?”
Yueh stepped away from the dying minister. “I am merely a doctor, my Lord. Those are answers I cannot provide.”
“Who was the other victim?” Hawat demanded. “You said you just lost another person from ailar. In the guard quarters?”
“That is why I was slow to respond here.” Yueh’s long, dark mustaches emphasized his deep frown. “Apologies, but it would not have made any difference to Minister Wellan.”
The man twitched one more time and let out a long gurgle, a death rattle. Yueh touched his hand and closed his red-stained eyes.
“Who was the victim in the guard quarters?” Hawat asked again.
The Suk doctor glanced up. “A lieutenant named Nupree. He died in the same way.”
The Caladan drug … Leto knew of only one source of the ailar. “Barra ferns are used in a Muadh ritual, growing wild in the deep northern wilderness. Minister Wellan went up there on several trips that did not make sense. By his own request, Lieutenant Nupree led security on my recent expedition to the pundi rice farmers. There is a clear connection. They all went up to the area of the Muadh village.”
Hawat’s expression was grave. “Nupree is the officer I spoke of, my Lord. Minister Wellan and Lieutenant Nupree were observed meeting several times, but I could think of no reason they would have any business together. There was no explanation.”
“Until now.” Leto looked at the shriveled remnants of the half-consumed fern. “How is this happening among my people?” He thought of the Archvicar and his deacons passing around baskets full of the shriveled plant. “I want it stopped at once.”
When you listen to the voices of power, do not heed only the loudest. Those that whisper may yield greater knowledge.
—Bene Gesserit training manual, Studies in Influence
The Silver Needle thrust above the skyline of Kaitain with liquid metal curves. The CHOAM administrative building was a prominent landmark, drawing so much attention that no one thought to look for the company’s real center of power hidden on Tupile.
After her necessary speech in the Landsraad Hall, and then the meeting with Empress Aricatha, Malina Aru had withdrawn to the Silver Needle, where she could seal herself behind plaz doors and pentashields.
No one challenged the Ur-Director when she entered the soaring complex. With the speed of a projectile, an accelerated lift took her to the pinnacle, and she emerged unruffled in the headquarters of CHOAM’s figurehead President.
Frankos stood waiting for her when the lift doors slid aside, as if he had anticipated the precise second of her arrival. “The others are here, Mother.” He bowed slightly. “They await your guidance.”
“My guidance will come after I hear their input,” she said, stepping briskly forward. “The upper-echelon Directors of CHOAM are selected for their wisdom and imagination. I am not an autocrat.”
“Of course, Mother.” Frankos gave her a knowing smile.
Her older son had an air of maturity and respectability. Dark hair salted with silver gave him a distinguished look, while his smooth, tanned face and sharp blue-gray eyes implied confident energy. His appearance matched the role he had to play. Frankos had served as CHOAM President for a decade, and he performed exactly as Malina had taught him to.
As President, he made the public appearances his mother did not want to make. Standing in front of the yellow CHOAM banner with its red-and-black circles, he would issue public announcements about company policy. He occupied offices at the apex of the Silver Needle and held the highest rank of the thousand CHOAM Directors across the Imperium.
Because Malina enhanced her health and slowed her visible aging through a steady diet of spice, the mother looked the same age as her son. Both had been crafted to exude power through training, expectations, and poise.
Frankos gestured her toward the closed onyxwood doors of the main conference room. Two monolithic guards stood motionless outside, staring down the hall.
Malina led the way. “Are Har and Kar inside? You’ve cared for them?”
“Of course, and they are content, though they will be glad to see you.” His voice took on an amused undertone. “I think Duke Verdun is intimidated by them.”
“He should be.” Warmed by the thought of seeing her pets, she approached the guards in front of the closed onyx doors. The men looked like boulders with arms and legs, but they moved nimbly to open the door for her. She entered the conference room, where several other key allied Directors sat around the mirror-polished table. As soon as the doors opened, the high-ranking men and women rose respectfully to their feet.
“Welcome, Urdir,” said old Rajiv Londine in his reedy voice. The elder lord wore intense red-and-violet colors, as if to show his verve for life.
Viscount Giandro Tull bowed as he rose. “Urdir.” In contrast to Lord Londine, he wore brown-and-charcoal formal business attire. He was a young and handsome man, only recently installed in his position after the unexpected death of his father.
Duke Fausto Verdun took a step toward her, smiling. He had long, wavy hair and a stylish Vandyke beard and mustache, artfully pointed and waxed. Four others also stood to acknowledge her arrival. It was a tight inner circle.
Malina, though, turned her attention to the bristling silver spinehounds crouched beside her daughter, Jalma, who remained seated holding their krimskell collars. Har and Kar were eager to see their mistress, but well enough trained that they waited for her to stroll toward them. Malina gently stroked the hard gray needles that comprised the animals’ fur, scratched behind the spikes in their upright ears. Such beautiful animals, created and perfected by Tleilaxu breeding and genetic manipulation. Their long and terrifying teeth could rip a human apart in seconds, but Malina was not afraid.
With one command, she could turn the spinehounds loose on everyone in this room, but she didn’t have to. That was why she had summoned these important men and women to the secret CHOAM meeting. The Noble Commonwealth movement needed them and trusted them.
After she had paid appropriate attention to her hounds, Malina finally acknowledged the rest of the attendees in the room. The seven high-echelon Directors remained standing out of respect, each wearing the colors of their Houses and the garment styles of their planets.