Paul turned to regard the ugly bull’s head mounted on the wall. Even though the beast now hung as a trophy, first it had killed the Old Duke.…
Paul was the presumed heir of House Atreides, but everything in the Landsraad had changed after Otorio, Houses thrown into turmoil, succession lines forever changed. That constant question mark was like a barbed hook in his gut. Paul had dealt with the thread of uncertainty all his life, even though he loved, trusted, and revered his father. And now he himself was being offered up in marriage.
And rejected.
Jessica had taught him how to clear his thoughts and see a situation logically rather than through the fog of emotions. Paul had not objected to the young woman whom his father and Thufir Hawat had decided was the best political match for him.
Now that Duke Verdun had terminated the betrothal possibility, however, Leto would consider other candidates. Thufir had already delivered a new list, as he had reported before the Atreides troops launched that morning. Soon, it would begin all over again. Leto would study the names, weigh their family advantages and disadvantages.
Paul was committed to doing whatever House Atreides needed. He understood his duty as the Duke’s son, and if necessary, he would find a way to be a good husband to his noble wife. Still, he wanted to have some input in the matter. This would be his life, his future.
Frustrated, he left the dining hall, knowing everything could change in an instant. Questions and uncertainties burned like coals in his stomach. Could he not even look at the names suggested, see some background on the women, one of whom was destined to be his duchess?
On impulse, he went to his father’s study. No guards or household staff were in the area when he entered the private office. Inside, bound books were interspersed with curios on the shelves: a polished coral cluster presented to Leto by a fisherman, various rare and colorful shells, an ancient scrap of parchment sandwiched between two layers of plaz from the Muadh Archvicar. A cabinet contained categorized records of ongoing matters, trade contracts, reserve estimates, and reports from his ministers.
On the Duke’s polished desk was a file marked with Thufir Hawat’s personal sign, containing the dossier of marriage prospects that the Atreides Mentat had compiled.
Paul hesitated. These were the names. Thufir had made no secret about it when he reported to the Duke on the military landing field. Didn’t Paul have the right to read about these young women?
His mother had always advocated for him. His father might just inform Paul of his decision, but the young man hoped he would consult with him first.…
Being here now would be considered a breach of trust … but Paul needed to know. He deserved to know. Didn’t he?
He opened the folder and skimmed down the names and summaries, knowing that any one of them would change his life dramatically. The women ranged from a girl of eleven to a widow more than twice Paul’s age. Sheet after sheet delineated names, physical descriptions, traits, family summaries, and a cross-connected web of advantages and disadvantages for House Atreides.
It was the Duke’s final decision to make, to do what was best for House Atreides. Paul kept reminding himself of that. But still, he wanted to look, hoping he might find the dream girl in there.…
Paul studied each listing, portraits and holo-images, realizing that appearances were a small factor in the discussion and determination of the best political alliance. But what about him? Paul wanted to know the character of these candidates, their personalities, temperaments, interests, habits. Were these potential wives studious or vapid, good-humored or moody? And what would they think of him? Would he and his betrothed have anything in common at all?
Paul turned the pages, one after another, trying to be objective. One of these names would bind House Atreides in an alliance and shift their fortunes and political clout. Which young woman would be the best suited to him?
“Many of those remaining names would be acceptable choices, Paul,” said his mother, startling him. Though his senses were always alert, thanks to Thufir’s careful training, he had not heard her stealthy approach. She stepped inside the study, smiling at him. “I did not expect to find you here.”
Embarrassed, he tried to cover the papers, but she had already seen and drawn her own conclusions. He saw that she held a folder as well—one that looked identical to the file on Leto’s desk. He noted a flush in her cheeks, a tiny hesitancy. Apparently, she hadn’t expected to find anyone here.
“What is that report?” he asked.
She responded with only the slightest pause, a hint of boldness designed to disarm him. “Oh, I reviewed Thufir’s dossier and made some slight modifications to the initial sorting.” She stepped forward, set the new folder on the desk, and took the old file from Paul’s hand. “Come with me.” She turned, expecting him to follow.
Paul sensed something unusual and followed his instincts. Opening the new folder, he reviewed the pages, all of which appeared to be in Thufir Hawat’s handwriting. But there were fewer pages, and entire sections were missing. He also saw minor variations, details in a loop of a letter, a flourish of punctuation.
Jessica had imitated the Mentat’s writing—masterfully—but Paul saw the differences.
“Why do you deliver this now, when my father is away, rather than giving it to him directly?” Paul studied her and instantly understood the answer. “You made changes that you don’t want him to know about. Why?”
As a concubine offered to Leto by the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood, Jessica was in a situation similar to Paul’s. She was his father’s true partner, and yet the security of her position was entirely based on faith, not Imperial law.
Jessica was the Duke’s lady, as well as her own woman. She had taken it upon herself to give Paul deep training in Bene Gesserit skills to enhance his abilities, perhaps more than his father was aware of.
“I had to make some … adjustments,” his mother continued. “It is a matter between your father and myself, and it concerns the welfare of House Atreides.” Her smile was disarming. “I know you, my son, and I want you to be happy. And if there’s to be an argument over this, I will stand up for you.”
Paul could see he had put her off balance, and concluded that her reasons might very well involve the Bene Gesserit.
Frowning, he followed Jessica out of the study. He had learned enough from the dossier to determine at least one important thing: None of the candidates were the young woman he kept dreaming about.
His future was being decided by Thufir’s suggestions, his mother’s intervention, and his father’s ultimate intentions. He wished someone would ask for his own opinion on the matter.
There is law and there is vengeance. I embody both.
—DUKE LETO ATREIDES, address to Caladan War Council
As the men in his squad ran with swords raised, Gurney’s lips drew back in a predatory grimace as he remembered how much he enjoyed this. He was in his element. A good day of mayhem made his blood sing. His life under the Harkonnens and years of serving Duke Leto Atreides had prepared him for moments like this.
Although he felt naked without his body shield, the kindjal in one hand and rapier in the other gave him all the protection he would likely need. And if those weapons failed him, he always had his bare hands.