“Then you must return to Otorio and spend more time,” Shaddam said. “Then you can fully appreciate the legacy of House Corrino.”
Against his instincts, Leto found himself playing the game, while also making it clear that he was not merely a sycophant. “Thank you for all you have done for me, Sire. House Atreides is much stronger because of your generosity.”
Shaddam pretended to brush the gratitude aside. “It has been years since that business of attacking a Tleilaxu ship inside a Heighliner, and the Trial of Forfeiture.”
“A trial I won.”
“You were exonerated, that is true. Honestly, I never believed the accusations for a moment. Such treachery is not the way of House Atreides. Since then, I am pleased you have ruled in a reasonable and undramatic fashion.”
Count Fenring stepped up and gave the Duke a cool nod of respect. He and Leto also had a history. “You’ve kept a low profile since those incidents, hmmm? Except for that recent messiness in the War of Assassins between Ecaz and Grumman. Hmmm-ahh. Such troubles may have diminished your standing in the Landsraad.” He sounded critical. “You do have so much potential, Duke Leto. I, ahhhhh, have had my eye on you.”
Though other nobles were waiting, Leto felt he had to mention the suspicious man with the transmitter he had seen in the alley. He turned to the Emperor. “Sire, I observed something troubling. It may or may not be important.”
Shaddam was already looking toward the gaggle of impatient visitors, and Fenring smoothly extracted Leto from the Imperial presence. “If you have a boon to request of the Emperor, now is not the time. I can advise you in—”
Leto shook his head. “It is not a favor I wish to ask, simply a matter of concern. You and I have both faced treachery and assassination attempts, Count Fenring. One cannot be too careful.” He described what he had seen.
Fenring snapped his fingers at a Sardaukar officer who stood stock-still nearby. “Colonel Bashar, hear what Duke Atreides has to say. It may warrant investigation.”
The officer’s gaze was as intense as if he were peeling away Leto’s skin, layer by layer, while he listened. The Sardaukar paused, pondered. “You would have no reason to lie or issue a false alarm, Duke Leto Atreides. I will investigate.” With a curt nod, he marched off.
Satisfied that the Sardaukar would be thorough, Leto relaxed and surveyed the crowded gathering. The penthouse reception room was an obstacle course of solido-hologram exhibits in which soft-voiced docents described each historic item on display: a robe worn by Hassik II, a braided whip used by Ilnod during his two-week reign, a jeweled tiara from Shaddam’s first wife, Lady Anirul. Leto had known Anirul all too well, as the woman who had summoned Jessica to Kaitain during the last months of her pregnancy with Paul.
Jessica had received so much artful Sisterhood training that Leto couldn’t begin to guess all the skills she possessed. He just knew he loved her, and he believed she loved him as well. They had been together for almost twenty years, and she understood her own role as bound concubine rather than wife. It was not Leto’s choice but the Imperium’s.
“She was a Bene Gesserit, and she served the order well,” said a woman’s voice next to him. “Lady Anirul, I mean.”
He turned to see an old woman in nondescript black robes. Leto frowned. “I see the Emperor brought his Truthsayer with him.”
“At an event like this, the air is thick enough with lies to suffocate anyone.” Reverend Mother Mohiam gave him a strange look, as if her bright eyes walled off a library of secret knowledge about him.
Leto had little fondness for the old witch. He remembered when she had presented young Jessica to him, insisting that the Duke accept her as his concubine. He resented Mohiam for that, although Jessica had indeed melted his heart. He did not trust the Bene Gesserit and their schemes.
“And how is Jessica?” she pressed, as if reading his mind. The old Bene Gesserit crone could infer thoughts from the slightest flickers of expression on his face, a skill that Jessica shared.
“She is well and content on Caladan.”
“Of course she did not wish to come to Otorio. A concubine knows her place, and a Sister understands these things. We chose well when we assigned her to you.” Mohiam sniffed, her thoughts quickly shifting. “And your son?” Her voice oozed venom, which put Leto on guard.
“My son.” He paused, and then emphasized, “My heir is excelling in every way. Soon, I will introduce him to important Imperial functions.”
“Such as this one,” Mohiam said.
“Such as this one. The Emperor invited me to come back. Perhaps I will bring Paul to review the museum’s contents.”
Her eyes bored into him. “He will soon be of marriageable age. The Sisterhood can be of service.”
He stiffened and spoke cautiously. “I do not need to involve the Bene Gesserit in my family matters.”
Her thin smile was as warm as a polar ice cap. “But for a noble house, all family matters are relevant to the Imperium.”
Leto gave her a hard look, as the background noise of the reception swirled around him. “My father taught me that the first responsibility of a Duke is the safety of his people. I am first and foremost the Duke of Caladan.”
Spotting the familiar face of Archduke Ecaz in the crowd, he seized a reason to leave the rigid Reverend Mother. He made his excuses and walked toward the Archduke, annoyed by Mohiam’s meddling in his affairs.
Armand Ecaz stood with four other nobles, deep in conversation around a vitrine that displayed a gold-handled Imperial knife, purported to be a blade carried by Faykan Butler at the Battle of Corrin. The provenance of the object was highly suspect, but Shaddam made it the centerpiece of the exhibit, nevertheless.
Leto paused when he heard the low voices of the huddled guests.
“… Noble Commonwealth.”
A bearlike man with a thick mustache scoffed. “People have talked about breaking up the Imperium for centuries. It will never happen.”
“Why, Atikk? You don’t think your holdings would thrive better under independent rule? Or do you like having tithes and taxes siphoned off for ridiculous expenditures like this grand museum?” The guests leaned closer to one another.
Armand Ecaz said, “This museum shows off what the Corrinos have accomplished in ten thousand years.” He glanced at the various displays. “Not much.”
The first man, Lord Atikk, muttered, “No one can break up the Imperium. It is just an idea to keep bored gossips talking.”
One of the cautious nobles spotted Leto, and the others immediately ceased their conversation. Armand’s expression lit up. “Leto Atreides! Old friend!”
The Archduke introduced Leto to his companions, who appeared uncomfortable and awkward. Leto kept his expression unreadable as he processed what he had overheard. Rumors about the Noble Commonwealth movement seemed unlikely, especially here in a gigantic museum that showcased ten millennia of the Imperium.
Leto said without a smile, “I’m here to bask in the glory of the Padishah Emperor.”
Atikk grunted, as if sizing him up. “Oh? Not to widen the black market for your Caladan drug?”
One of the other nobles gasped in surprise. Leto frowned. “Caladan drug?” Atikk flushed and turned away.