Paul's coffee service, the fluted alloy of silver and jasmium that he had inherited from Jamis, rested on a low table to her right. She stared at it, thinking of how many hands had touched that metal. Chani had served Paul from it within the month.
Jessica imagined herself leaving the rigors of Arrakis for the life of power and security she could know as mother of a royal consort. She glanced at the thick hangings that obscured the rock of this cavern cell, thinking of how she had come here—riding amidst a host of worms, the palanquins and pack platforms piled high with necessities for the coming campaign.
A sudden longing to see her grandson, the child whose likeness carried so much of the grandfather's features—so like Leto, swept through her. Jessica placed her palms against her cheeks, began the ritual breathing that stilled emotion and clarified the mind, then bent forward from the waist in the devotional exercise that prepared the body for the mind's demands.
Paul's choice of this Cave of Birds as his command post could not be questioned, she knew. It was ideal. And to the north lay Wind Pass opening onto a protected village in a cliff-walled sink. It was a key village, home of artisans and technicians, maintenance center for an entire Harkonnen defensive sector.
A cough sounded outside the chamber hangings. Jessica straightened, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. "Enter," she said.
Draperies were flung aside and Gurney Halleck bounded into the room. She had only time for a glimpse of his face with its odd grimace, then he was behind her, lifting her to her feet with one brawny arm beneath her chin.
"Gurney, you fool, what are you doing?" she demanded.
Then she felt the touch of the knife tip against her back. Chill awareness spread out from that knife tip. She knew in that instant that Gurney meant to kill her.
"You thought you had escaped, eh, witch?" Gurney snarled.
Before she could turn the question over in her mind or try to answer, the curtains parted and Paul entered.
"Here he is, Moth—" Paul broke off, taking in the tensions of the scene.
"You will stand where you are, m'Lord," Gurney said.
"What... " Paul shook his head.
Jessica started to speak, felt the arm tighten against her throat.
"You will speak only when I permit it, witch," Gurney said. "I want only one thing from you for your son to hear it, and I am prepared to send this knife into your heart by reflex at the first sign of a counter against me. Your voice will remain in a monotone. Certain muscles you will not tense or move. You will act with the most extreme caution to gain yourself a few more seconds of life. And I assure you, these are all you have."
Paul took a step forward. "Gurney, man, what is—"
"Stop right where you are!" Gurney snapped. "One more step and she's dead."
Paul's hand slipped to his knife hilt. He spoke in a deadly quiet: "You had best explain yourself, Gurney."
"I swore an oath to slay the betrayer of your father," Gurney said. "Do you think I can forget the man who rescued me from a Harkonnen slave pit, gave me freedom, life, and honor... gave me friendship, a thing I prized above all else? I have his betrayer under my knife. No one can stop me from—"
"You couldn't be more wrong, Gurney," Paul said.
And Jessica thought: