Part 18 (2/2)
Dr. Yueh moved swiftly and professionally among the injured, using an eye for triage to sort those who could not be helped from those who could. He worked first on Archduke Ecaz, applying a self-constricting tourniquet to the stump of his arm.
The severed limb on the floor had been mangled and broken in the melee. After regarding it for a moment, Yueh spoke quietly to Leto, ”It is too damaged to reattach. The Tleilaxu may have a way to regrow this flesh, but I do not know how.” He gestured to where Rhombur stood, battered and scuffed. ”As I did with the Prince of House Vernius, I may be able to develop a prosthetic arm for the Archduke. I possess that sort of skill.”
”We can discuss it later,” Leto said, wiping blood from his forehead.
Potent painkillers made Archduke Armand groggy and distant, but anger penetrated his fog. He looked at his daughter's blood-soaked body, fixated on her chalky, pale skin. As though his head moved on poorly oiled hinges, he glared at Whitmore Bludd, who was ashen and shaking. ”You were supposed to protect her.” His words cut the elegant Swordmaster more deeply than any disk.
Bludd's lips drew together. ”I failed,” he spoke in hollow disbelief. ”I am a Swordmaster... and I failed. I would have sacrificed myself for Ilesa. Rivvy knew his duty.”
Duncan stumbled over to the sprawled corpse of Rivvy Dinari, who lay on the floor like a butchered whale. The cutter discs remained embedded deeply in his wide chest. ”He died a proud death, the heroic end of a true Swordmaster.”
Bludd simply stared in disbelief at his thin rapier, then cast it aside in disgust, with a clatter. ”Help me carry his body away, Duncan. It seems to be all I am good for.”
COLD AND EFFICIENT, refusing to be paralyzed by grief, Duke Leto ordered a total lockdown of the Cala City s.p.a.ceport. He offered curt apologies as he announced that no s.h.i.+ps would be allowed to depart until a full investigation had been completed. Thufir Hawat, with the deep gash in his back sutured and bandaged, paid special attention to anyone who seemed overly upset and angered by the delay, as well as those who showed too much maudlin sympathy. These were all subjected to additional questioning.
As a small glint of good news, all of the fourteen killed had belonged to either House Atreides or House Ecaz, servants, retainers, guests. After the first wash of fear had subsided, many of the n.o.ble wedding guests had expressed their outrage, either directed at House Moritani for involving them in a blood feud or at House Atreides for inviting them into a dangerous situation. Since the ruffled n.o.blemen had suffered only minimal damages compared to Atreides and Ecaz, however, their bl.u.s.ter would fade and no further interfamily quarrels would erupt because of it.
Duke Leto, however, would not forget so quickly.
Gurney Halleck and Thufir Hawat scoured every brick of Castle Caladan, searching for secondary a.s.sa.s.sination devices. Even in such an elaborate plot, the murderous Viscount might not have put all his eggs in one basket. Such a plan, layer upon layer upon layer, could have been in the works for months.
Prince Rhombur vowed to help. He was like a juggernaut, never leaving Leto's side, though his Ixian bureaucratic advisers insisted that he, Tessia, and the boy Bronso withdraw to the safety of their private frigate and remain there behind blast s.h.i.+elds. Much to his annoyance, the technocrats pointed out that twice now Rhombur had nearly been killed in an a.s.sa.s.sination attempt against Duke Leto Atreides. This time, his cyborg body had only been scratched and slightly damaged - but if he had been mere flesh and blood, Rhombur might not have survived.
When the Ixian advisers continued to nag him, actually threatening to disrupt his rule once they returned home, Rhombur finally whirled and, without controlling his strength, struck out at one of the yammering men, Bolig Avati, knocking him across the room. Indignant, the cyborg Prince announced in a booming voice, ”Tessia, Bronso, and I will remain here in Castle Caladan, beside my friend Leto Atreides.”
His fellow technocrats helped Avati up, looking at Rhombur in astonishment and fear. In a group, they scuttled back to the Vernius frigate and did not bother him further.
DURING THE MEMORIAL service for his daughter Ilesa, the Archduke could only stand there one-armed, his mind muddied with painkillers, tears streaming down his face. He seemed to need the release of grieving, but his fuzzy state denied him the full catharsis. Nevertheless, Armand Ecaz did understand the tragedy that had befallen him, and that was enough.
Leto stood by the other man's side out on the high cliffs, where the local priest - his hand bandaged from a slight injury in the ma.s.sacre - delivered a eulogy, in sharp contrast to the more joyous sermon he had been meant to give. Ilesa's preserved body would be taken back to Ecaz, where she would lie in state for a suitable mourning period before interment in a mausoleum beside her sister Sanya and uncle Theo.
”Moritani has done this to me too many times,” Armand said to Leto, his voice cold and hollow. ”I survived my grief before, but this time I do not know if I can.”
Duncan and Bludd arranged a private Swordmaster's pyre for Dinari. He would not be going back to Ecaz. By tradition, a Swordmaster found his final resting place wherever he fell. Though this gathering was meant to be a private matter, Duncan did allow Paul to stand at his side; Gurney Halleck and Thufir Hawat were also there. Gurney promised to compose a sonnet to commemorate the heroic last deeds of the ”fattest, nimblest man” he had ever known.
Whitmore Bludd seemed broken by his failure, ashamed (and offended) by the fact that he had walked away without a scratch.
FOR DAYS, THE entire planet of Caladan remained off-limits to visitors, even to locals who had been offworld at the time of the tragic affair. Leto brusquely turned away two arriving Heighliners and sent messages to CHOAM representatives, refusing to let them offload the s.h.i.+ps in their holds or take aboard any cargo or pa.s.sengers. Caladan was locked down until further notice; no travel in or out. The Duke gave no explanation, despite the persistent inquiries and demands of the Guild.
Soon, the wedding guests began to show signs of unrest. Several lords sent pet.i.tions to Castle Caladan, but Leto turned them all away, claiming that he could not be disturbed during his time of grieving.
For the first day, Jessica allowed him to wrestle with his own sorrow, anger, and dismay. He had become hardened but not heartless, and it was his way to insist on covering his hurt. Finally, though, the ache in her chest drove her to him. She could not bear to leave her beloved alone.
Jessica met him in their shared bedchamber. Before the wedding, she had moved her possessions out in preparation for Ilesa's residence. As the Duke's concubine, she would customarily keep her own private rooms in a separate section of the castle, though still a place of honor befitting her position.
Now, Jessica sat beside Leto, without words. Even though her clothes, private keepsakes, and furniture had been moved out to make way for the new bride, she felt at home just to be near Leto. She watched him wrestle with his grief, then compose himself, trying to hide it behind a stony mask.
She finally said, ”Leto, at first I was angry with you for asking me to spend so much time with Ilesa, but now I'm glad I got to know her. We developed a mutual respect, and I'm certain she would have been a worthy Lady for House Atreides.”
Leto walled himself off from Jessica and pretended to be indifferent. ”I barely knew her myself. Yes, she would have been my wife, but it was only a political arrangement.” His coldness did not convince her. ”I am angrier for my friend Armand. The loss of his arm is of little consequence compared to the loss of his daughter, and his Swordmaster.”
Jessica rose to go, seeing that he still wanted to be left alone. ”No matter what else happens, Leto, I will stand by you.”
He finally looked at her with his gray eyes. ”I know, Jessica. I've always known that.”
FINALLY, AFTER FOUR stark and uncomfortable days, Leto met with Duncan, Thufir, and Gurney in the Atreides war room. The atmosphere in the chamber roiled with murderous anger, with Duncan the most overtly incensed of all. ”House Moritani has declared a War of a.s.sa.s.sins before, but that form of conflict has specific rules, which the Viscount has broken - again. again. No innocents should have been killed.” No innocents should have been killed.”
Thufir replied, ”Even Shaddam cannot ignore this.”
”We have no connections with House Moritani,” Leto argued. ”How could they possibly have arranged and implemented such a plot here in our own home? Someone must have planted spies among our household servants or down in the village.”
”Prad Vidal supplied those flowerpots,” Gurney said. ”Archduke Armand left him in charge on Ecaz during his absence.”
Duncan said, ”If he is the traitor, my Lord, he could be entrenching himself well.”
”Moritani is the force behind this attack,” Leto said with a growl. ”If Duke Vidal played a role, it's bound to be only a minor one.”
”It is likely neither one of them expected the Archduke to survive,” Thufir said. ”By blocking all communication from Caladan, no one else knows what has really happened here.”
Looking weak and tired, Armand Ecaz came to stand in the doorway with all the dignity he could manage. His stump was cleanly bandaged, and he wore a simple Ecazi robe. His face was drawn and his eyes were red, but his gaze seemed clear and angry. The medics said he'd been refusing further painkillers.
”It is time for me to go home, Leto. I must bury my daughter, strengthen my household - and make my war plans against Grumman. That Moritani animal wasn't targeting House Atreides. He saw this wedding as an easy way to get to me and my family. You were merely in the way.” He stood straighter, as if a formidable demeanor would push away the mental and physical pain. ”I no longer have anything to lose, so I accept the Moritani challenge. The Viscount has opened the floodgates for a bloodbath the Imperium will never forget.”
I prefer bad news to no information whatsoever. Silence is like starvation.
-BARON VLADIMIR HARKONNEN
Even though the grimy air of Harko City made the Baron cough, he still felt invigorated. For all its flaws and odors, he much preferred his own planet to hot and dusty Arrakis, gaudy Kaitain, or bleak Grumman. This was home. home.
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