Paul paused, recalled the words with sharp clarity. “The first responsibility of a Duke is the safety of his people.”
“And you know that I must come down here to protect you, no matter how dangerous these cliffs are or how foolish this climb is.” Duncan continued to hold the rope out to him. “I have no choice in this. My life is in your hands.”
Paul realized what the Swordmaster was implying. “I’m putting your life at unnecessary risk.”
“It’s not as if I like dangling on a rough cliff. I can think of other things I’d prefer to do.” He dug his boot heel into a crack, pressing hard to stabilize himself. “Preparing yourself to face risk is one thing, young Master. Recklessness is a different matter entirely. With the politics and intrigue in the Imperium, you need not seek out danger. It will find you of its own accord.”
Anchored to the narrow ledge, Paul contemplated. He had climbed out here to work out his own frustrations, his emotional turmoil, but he had not given thought to how his actions would send ripples throughout his friends, his family, his trainers. If he slipped and fell, just like those other intrepid climbers who no doubt considered themselves equally talented, then his death would cause irreparable damage to Duke Leto … just as the death of young Victor had. Duncan would be broken and disgraced forever for failing to protect his ward. And if Paul fell and injured himself, Duncan would risk his own life to retrieve him.
The first responsibility of a Duke is the safety of his people.
Duncan was one of his people. Paul had to think like the next Duke of Caladan.
He recalled the most recent thought experiment Thufir Hawat had given him, the set of impossible choices that left Paul with so many lives and deaths on his conscience. “I will not let you down, Duncan.”
He reached out to grab the safety line. The Swordmaster looked greatly relieved. Duncan cinched a rope around his waist and followed Paul, climbing alongside and finding his own handholds. Together, they chose a route along stable rock, heading toward the top of the headland cliff above.
Nearby, Paul heard piercing bird calls, a whistle and a chirp, and suddenly, a large white bird took wing from a ledge directly above him, flapped away from the cliff, and wheeled back to swoop close. It shrieked and scolded in an attempt to drive them away. One of its wings brushed him, but he flattened his chest against the cliff, holding on. Paul identified it as one of the male spreybirds that nested in the cliffs.
The bird flew away from the cliff, then circled back, shrieking. It came at Paul like a missile, and he braced himself.
Duncan somehow kept his balance, tossed a rock, and the bird careened away, squawking, then flew above them to disappear into a sheltered overhang.
Panting, Paul tried to see where the bird had gone. “My mother says there’s a nest up there.”
After making sure his position was stable, Paul strained to look around the rock. He saw two birds poke their large heads out, one white and the other gray. Yes, a nest. Though he changed the line of his climb to avoid the nesting area, the spreybirds continued to watch the intruders warily, ready to attack.
Glancing at him, Duncan said, “Remember when we talked about the Imperium, the Landsraad, and politics? You said you were overwhelmed by it all. It is not unlike climbing. One handhold after another. Find stable points. Maintain your balance.” He paused. “And keep climbing.”
Paul found a wide enough ledge to catch his breath, and Duncan joined him. The Swordmaster seemed to have no more words for this situation, but Paul did. “There are times when the most important focus in the entire universe is what is right in front of you.” He reached down and gave his friend a hand, helping Duncan join him. “What we have at our fingertips.”
They were not far from the top now, but Paul decided just to rest there for a while, where the risk was under more control, and by extension, his life. He was glad to have Duncan’s company. Each of them had proven themselves today.
The best leaders assemble information and take actions that lead to political stability. The worst leaders dissemble information and generate chaos.
—A lesson from Imperial history
With Lady Margot settling into her usual lavish guest quarters in the Imperial Palace, Count Hasimir Fenring donned a fur-lined cape appropriate to his office and strode off to see the Padishah Emperor. He was ready to announce his success against the pirates on Arrakis. Shaddam would rejoice, and Fenring could continue the deeper investigation.
Margot had already gone to see Reverend Mother Mohiam and other important Bene Gesserit Sisters at court, which served Fenring’s purposes as well. His wife had her own set of schemes, as the Count had his, and none of their machinations worked against each other. The two had worked out the diversion to keep the Emperor’s Truthsayer away when Fenring delivered his report, falsely naming the culprit as Rulla Tuek.
He had dispatched messages ahead to inform Shaddam of the importance of the information he carried, and his friend would see him without any prior appointment. Fenring had conducted Imperial business and made unannounced visits for years.
An aide showed him to a tastefully appointed waiting chamber, and he saw that he wasn’t alone. The Sardaukar colonel bashar, Jopati Kolona, sat rigidly on a chair, military cap in his hands and a sheaf of papers and a thin shigawire spool at his side. The officer rose and greeted Fenring with a formal half handshake. He was taken aback to see the Sardaukar officer there ahead of him.
Kolona responded to his curious expression. “It seems we both have business with the Emperor, sir.”
“So it seems, hmmmm.” Fenring sat in the other ornately padded seat, glanced at the report and spool the colonel bashar held. Even if it were classified, Shaddam would eventually show the information to him. He placed his own small parcel on a side table, unconcerned if the trusted Sardaukar saw the information. The awkward silence stretched out.
An attractive female retainer came in and offered tea to Fenring. Kolona already had a cup at his side, but declined to drink from it. The Count accepted the tea, but also left the cup untouched. Though the officer was accustomed to maintaining a blank face, he seemed troubled, and did not try to make polite conversation. Kolona did not look happy.
“Hmmmm.” Fenring made the sound under his voice, and caught himself.
Presently, Chamberlain Ridondo entered. He looked paler than usual, and his high forehead glistened with perspiration. From this, Fenring inferred that the Emperor was not in the best of moods.
Though his own report about Rulla Tuek was a clever red herring, which would keep Shaddam from interfering with the real investigation on Arrakis, Fenring knew the news would cheer and excite his friend. He wondered what the Sardaukar officer’s mission had been.
The chamberlain looked at Fenring, surprised to see him. “Apologies, Count Fenring. The Emperor asked me to summon Colonel Bashar Kolona. I don’t believe he was expecting you? I will inform him that you are here.”
“And that I am waiting,” Fenring said.
“And waiting. Yes.”
The Sardaukar rose to his feet, unfolding himself like a weapon about to be launched, and tucked the report against his side and clutched the spool in one hand. Before Kolona could follow the tall, dour chamberlain, though, brisk footsteps came down the hall.