Dune

Hawat bowed, obeyed. That drunken fool of an Idaho! he thought. He studied Jessica’s face, wondering how he could save this situation.

“It’s long past time to clear the air between us,” Jessica said.

“What troubles my Lady?” He sat down, placed hands on knees.

“Don’t play coy with me!” she snapped. “If Yueh didn’t tell you why I summoned you, then one of your spies in my household did. Shall we be at least that honest with each other?”

“As you wish, my Lady.”

“First, you will answer me one question,” she said. “Are you now a Harkonnen agent?”

Hawat surged half out of his chair, his face dark with fury, demanding: “You dare insult me so?”

“Sit down,” she said. “You insulted me so.”

Slowly, he sank back into the chair.

And Jessica, reading the signs of this face that she knew so well, allowed herself a deep breath. It isn’t Hawat.

“Now I know you remain loyal to my Duke,” she said. “I’m prepared, therefore, to forgive your affront to me.”

“Is there something to forgive?”

Jessica scowled, wondering: Shall I play my trump? Shall I tell him of the Duke’s daughter I’ve carried within me these few weeks? No…Leto himself doesn’t know. This would only complicate his life, divert him in a time when he must concentrate on our survival. There is yet time to use this.

“A Truthsayer would solve this,” she said, “but we have no Truthsayer qualified by the High Board.”

“As you say. We’ve no Truthsayer.”

“Is there a traitor among us?” she asked. “I’ve studied our people with great care. Who could it be? Not Gurney. Certainly not Duncan. Their lieutenants are not strategically enough placed to consider. It’s not you, Thufir. It cannot be Paul. I know it’s not me. Dr. Yueh, then? Shall I call him in and put him to the test?”

“You know that’s an empty gesture,” Hawat said. “He’s conditioned by the High College. That I know for certain.”

“Not to mention that his wife was a Bene Gesserit slain by the Harkonnens,” Jessica said.

“So that’s what happened to her,” Hawat said.

“Haven’t you heard the hate in his voice when he speaks the Harkonnen name?”

“You know I don’t have the ear,” Hawat said.

“What brought this base suspicion on me?” she asked.

Hawat frowned. “My Lady puts her servant in an impossible position. My first loyalty is to the Duke.”

“I’m prepared to forgive much because of that loyalty,” she said.

“And again I must ask: Is there something to forgive?”

“Stalemate?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“Let us discuss something else for a minute, then,” she said. “Duncan Idaho, the admirable fighting man whose abilities at guarding and surveillance are so esteemed. Tonight, he overindulged in something called spice beer. I hear reports that others among our people have been stupefied by this concoction. Is that true?”

“You have your reports, my Lady.”

“So I do. Don’t you see this drinking as a symptom, Thufir?”

“My Lady speaks riddles.”

“Apply your Mentat abilities to it!” she snapped. “What’s the problem with Duncan and the others? I can tell you in four words—they have no home.”

He jabbed a finger at the floor. “Arrakis, that’s their home.”

“Arrakis is an unknown! Caladan was their home, but we’ve uprooted them. They have no home. And they fear the Duke’s failing them.”

He stiffened. “Such talk from one of the men would be cause for—”

“Oh, stop that, Thufir. Is it defeatist or treacherous for a doctor to diagnose a disease correctly? My only intention is to cure the disease.”

“The Duke gives me charge over such matters.”

“But you understand I have a certain natural concern over the progress of this disease,” she said. “And perhaps you’ll grant I have certain abilities along these lines.”

Will I have to shock him severely? she wondered. He needs shaking up—something to break him from routine.

“There could be many interpretations for your concern,” Hawat said. He shrugged.

“Then you’ve already convicted me?”

“Of course not, my Lady. But I cannot afford to take any chances, the situation being what it is.”

“A threat to my son got past you right here in this house,” she said. “Who took that chance?”

His face darkened. “I offered my resignation to the Duke.”

“Did you offer your resignation to me…or to Paul?”

Now he was openly angry, betraying it in quickness of breathing, in dilation of nostrils, a steady stare. She saw a pulse beating at his temple.

“I’m the Duke’s man,” he said, biting off the words.

“There is no traitor,” she said. “The threat’s something else. Perhaps it has to do with the lasguns. Perhaps they’ll risk secreting a few lasguns with timing mechanisms aimed at house shields. Perhaps they’ll….”