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Spacing Guild: one leg of the political tripod maintaining the Great Convention. The Guild was the second mental-physical training school (see Bene Gesserit) after the Butlerian Jihad. The Guild monopoly on space travel and transport and upon international banking is taken as the beginning point of the Imperial Calendar.

From his perch on the Golden Lion Throne, Emperor Elrood IX scowled down at the broad-shouldered and too-confident man who stood at the base of the royal dais, with one of his boots, still dirty probably, on the lowest step. As polished-bald as a marble banister knob, Earl Dominic Vernius still carried himself like a popular and decorated war hero, though those days were long over. Elrood doubted anyone still remembered the man’s reckless glory days.

The Imperial Chamberlain, Aken Hesban, moved swiftly to the visitor’s side, and in a brusque tone ordered Dominic to remove the offending foot. Hesban’s face was sallow, his mouth framed with long and drooping mustaches. The last rays of Kaitain’s afternoon sunlight cast streaks high on a wall, shining golden rivers through the narrow prismatic windows.

Earl Vernius of Ix removed his foot as he was instructed, but continued to stare cordially at Elrood. The Ixian crest, a purple-and-copper helix, adorned the collar of Dominic’s tunic. Though House Corrino was vastly more powerful than the ruling family of Ix, Dominic had the maddening habit of treating the Emperor as an equal, as if their past history— good and bad— allowed him to dispense with formalities. Chamberlain Hesban did not at all approve.

Decades ago Dominic had led legions of Imperial troops during the rough civil wars, and he had not truly respected his Emperor since. Elrood had gotten himself into political trouble late in his impulsive marriage to his fourth wife Habla, and several Landsraad leaders had been forced to use their House military might to enforce stability again. House Vernius of Ix had been among these allies, as had the Atreides.

Now Dominic smiled beneath an extravagant mustache, and looked on Elrood with a jaded eye. The old vulture had not earned his throne through great deeds or compassion. Dominic’s great-uncle Gaylord had once said, “If you are born to power, you must prove you deserve it through good works— or give it up. To do any less is to act without conscience.”

Standing impatiently on the checkerboard floor of polished stone squares— purportedly samples from all the worlds in the Imperium— Dominic waited for Elrood to speak. A million worlds? There couldn’t possibly be that many stones here, though I don’t want to be the one to count them.

The Chamberlain stared down at him as if his diet consisted entirely of soured milk. But Earl Vernius could play the game himself and refused to fidget, refused to inquire into the nature of his summons. He just stood still, smiling at the old man. Dominic’s expression and bright eyes implied knowledge of many more embarrassing personal secrets about the old man than Shando had actually confessed to him— but the suspicion galled Elrood, like an Elaccan bitterthorn in his side.

Something moved on the right, and in the shadows of an arched doorway Dominic saw a black-robed woman, one of those Bene Gesserit witches. He couldn’t make out her face, partially concealed as it was by an overhanging cowl. Notorious hoarders of secrets, the Bene Gesserit were always close to the centers of power, constantly watching . . . constantly manipulating.

“I won’t ask you if it’s true, Vernius,” the Emperor finally said. “My sources are unerring, and I know you have committed this terrible act. Ixian technology! Pah!” He made as if to spit from his withered lips. Dominic did not roll his eyes upward; Elrood always overestimated the effectiveness of his melodramatic gestures.

Dominic continued to smile, showing plenty of teeth. “I am unaware of committing any ‘terrible act,’ Sire. Ask your Truthsayer, if you don’t believe me.” He flicked a glance at the dark-robed Bene Gesserit woman.

Elrood huffed, and the Chamberlain huffed with him. “Damn it, your new Heighliner design will allow the Guild, with their damnable monopoly on space transport, to carry sixteen percent more in each load!”

Dominic bowed, still smiling mildly. “Actually, m’Lord, we have been able to boost the increase to eighteen percent. That’s a substantial improvement over the previous design, involving not only a new hull but a shield technology that weighs less and takes up less room. Therefore, boosted efficiency. This is the very heart of Ixian innovation, which has made House Vernius great over the centuries.”

“Your alteration reduces the number of flights the Guild must make to haul the same amount of cargo.”

“Why, naturally, Sire.” Dominic looked at the old man as if he were incredibly dense. “If you increase the capacity of each Heighliner, you decrease the number of flights required to haul the same amount of material. Simple mathematics.”

“Your redesign causes great hardship for the Imperial House, Earl Vernius,” said Aken Hesban, clutching his chain of office as if it were a handkerchief. His long mustaches looked like the tusks of a walrus.

“Well, I suppose I can understand the shortsighted reason for your concern, Sire,” Dominic said, not deigning to look at the stuffed-shirt Chamberlain. Imperial tax was based on the number of flights rather than on the amount of cargo, and the Heighliner redesign therefore resulted in a substantial reduction in income for House Corrino.

Dominic spread his broad scarred hands, looking eminently reasonable. “But how can you request that we blatantly hold back progress? Ix has in no way countermanded the strictures of the Great Revolt. We have the full support of the Spacing Guild and the Landsraad.”

“You did this knowing it would incur my wrath?” Elrood leaned forward on the massive throne, looking even more the vulture.

“Come now, Sire!” Dominic laughed, belittling the Emperor’s concerns. “Personal feelings can have no place in the march of progress.”

Elrood raised himself off the chair, standing in his billowy robes of state that hung like awnings over his skeletal body. “I can’t renegotiate with the Guild for a tax based on metric tonnage, Vernius. You know that!”

“And I can’t change the simple laws of economics and commerce.” He shook his gleaming head, then shrugged. “It’s just business, Elrood.”

The Court functionaries stopped with a gasp, listening to the candor and familiarity Dominic Vernius used with the Emperor. “Watch yourself,” the Chamberlain warned.

But Dominic ignored him and continued. “This design modification affects many people, most of them positively. We are only concerned about progress, and about doing the best possible job for our client, the Spacing Guild. The cost of one new Heighliner is more than most planetary systems make in a Standard Year.”

Elrood stared him down. “Perhaps it is time for my administrators and licensors to inspect your manufacturing facilities.” His voice carried a threatening tone. “I have reports that Ixian scientists may be developing secret, illegal thinking machines in violation of the Jihad. Yes, I have also heard complaints of repression against your suboid working class. Haven’t we, Aken?”

“There have been no such rumors.” Dominic chuckled, though a bit uncertainly. “No evidence whatsoever.”

“Alas, they were anonymous reports and therefore no records have been kept.” The Emperor tapped his long-nailed fingertips together as a real smile crossed his face. “Yes, I believe the best thing would be an unannounced inspection of Ix— before you can send a warning and arrange for anything to be hidden.”

“The inner workings of Ix are off-limits to you, according to a long-established Imperium–Landsraad pact.” Dominic was riled now, but he tried to maintain his composure.

“I made no such agreement.” Elrood looked down at his fingernails. “And I’ve been Emperor for a long, long time.”

“I have the power to make and break agreements. You don’t seem to realize that I am the Padishah Emperor, and I can do as I please.”

“The Landsraad will have something to say about that, Roody.” Instantly Dominic regretted using the nickname and wished he could take it back. But it was too late.

Flushing with rage, the Emperor leaped to his feet and pointed an accusing, shaking finger at Dominic. “How dare you!” The Sardaukar guards snapped to attention, shifting their weapons.

“If you insist on an Imperial inspection,” Dominic said with a contemptuous, dismissive gesture, “I will resist it and file a formal complaint in Landsraad court. You have no case, and you know it.” He bowed and backed away. “I’m extremely busy, Sire. If you will excuse me, I must take my leave.”

Elrood glared at him, stabbed by the pet name Dominic had used. Roody. Both men knew that particular personal nickname had been used only by a former concubine of Elrood’s, the beautiful Shando . . . who was now Lady Vernius.

After the Ecazi Rebellion, Emperor Elrood had decorated brave young Dominic and granted him an expansion of his fief to include other worlds in the Alkaurops system. At Elrood’s invitation, the young Earl Vernius had spent much time at court, a war hero to be seen as a decoration at Imperial banquets and state functions. Hearty Dominic had been very popular, a welcome guest, a proud and humorous companion in the dining hall.

But it was there that Dominic had met Shando, one of the Emperor’s many concubines. At the time, Elrood had been married to no one; his fourth and last wife Habla had died five years earlier, and he already had two male heirs (though his eldest, Fafnir, would be poisoned later that year). The Emperor continued to keep a retinue of beautiful women, though primarily to maintain appearances, since he rarely took Shando or any of his other concubines to bed.

Dangerously, Dominic and Shando had fallen in love, but had kept their relationship secret for many months. It was clear that Elrood had lost interest in her after five years, and when she asked to be freed from service and to leave the Imperial Court, Elrood— though perplexed— had complied. He thought fondly of her, and saw no reason to deny her a simple request.

The other concubines had thought Shando foolish to give up such riches and pampering, but she’d had enough of the lavish life and instead wanted a real marriage and children. Elrood, of course, would never take her as his wife.

As soon as she was freed from Imperial service, Dominic Vernius married her, and they had completed their vows with minimal pomp and ceremony, but airtight legality.

Upon hearing that someone else wanted her, Elrood’s male pride suddenly made him change his mind— but it was too late. He had resented Dominic ever since, feeling like a cuckold, paranoid about what bedroom secrets Shando might be sharing with her husband.

The Bene Gesserit witch who hovered near the throne faded deeper into the shadows behind a speckled column of Canidar granite. Dominic couldn’t tell if the cowled woman was pleased or annoyed with the events.

Forcing himself not to waver, not to hurry, Dominic strode confidently past a pair of Sardaukar guards and entered the outer hallway. At a signal from Elrood, they could execute him instantly.

The Corrinos were known for rash behavior. On more than one occasion they’d had to make up for their hasty and ill-advised reactions, using their vast family wealth for payoffs. Killing the head of House Vernius during an Imperial audience might just be one of those rash acts— if it weren’t for the involvement of the Spacing Guild. The Guild had favored Ix with increased attention and benefits— and had adopted the new Heighliner design— and not even the Emperor and his brutal Sardaukar could oppose the Guild.

This was an ironic circumstance, considering the military might of House Corrino, for the Guild had no fighting forces, no armaments of its own. But without the Guild and their Navigators to see a safe path across folded space, there would be no space travel, no interplanetary banking— and no empire for Elrood to rule. On a moment’s notice, the Guild could withhold its favors, stranding armies and putting an end to military campaigns. Of what use would the Sardaukar be if they were planet-bound on Kaitain?

Finally reaching the main exit gate of the Imperial Palace, passing under the Salusan lava arch, Dominic waited while three guards ran him through a security scan.

Dominic had very little respect for the old Emperor. He had tried to hide his contempt for the pathetic ruler of a million worlds, but he’d made a dire mistake by allowing himself to think of him as a mere man, a former lover of his wife’s. Elrood, snubbed, could annihilate an entire planet in a fit of pique. The Emperor was the vindictive sort. All Corrinos were.

I have my contacts, Elrood thought as he watched his adversary depart. I can bribe some of the workers who are building components for those improved Heighliners— though that may be difficult, since suboids are said to be mindless. Failing that, Dominic, I can find other people you’ve pushed aside and taken for granted. Your mistake will be in overlooking them.

In his mind’s eye Elrood envisioned the lovely Shando, and recalled their most intimate moments together, decades ago. Purple merh-silk sheets, the sprawling bed, incense burners, and mirrored glowglobes. As Emperor, he could have any woman he wanted— and he had chosen Shando.

For two years she had been his favorite concubine, even when his wife Habla had been alive. Small-boned and petite, she had a fragile porcelain-doll appearance, which she had cultivated during her years on Kaitain; but Elrood also knew she had a commonsense strength and resiliency deep inside her. They had enjoyed doing multilingual word puzzles together. Shando had whispered “Roody” in his ear when he had invited her to the Imperial bedchamber; and she had cried it loudly during climactic moments of passion.

Being a commoner, however, Shando simply wasn’t suitable for him to marry. It had not even been an option. The heads of royal Houses rarely wed their concubines, and an Emperor never did. Dashing young Dominic, with his wiles and flattery, had gotten Shando to talk herself free, to trick Elrood, and then had spirited her away to Ix, where he had married her in secret. The astonishment in the Landsraad came later, and despite the scandal the two had remained married these many years.

And the Landsraad, despite Elrood’s petition to them, had refused to do anything about it. After all, Dominic had married the girl and the Emperor never had any intention of doing so. Everything according to law. Despite his petty jealousies, Elrood couldn’t claim Shando had been adulterous, not by any legal standard.

But Dominic Vernius knew her intimate nickname for him. What else had Shando told her husband? It ate at him like a Poritrin fester.

On the screen of a wrist-strap security monitor, he watched Dominic at the main gate, as pale security beams washed over him— from a scanner that was another sophisticated Ixian machine.

He could send a signal, and the probes would obliterate the other man’s mind, leave him a vegetable. An unexpected power surge . . . a most terrible accident . . . How ironic if Elrood were to use an Ixian scanner to kill the Earl of Ix.

Oh, how he wanted to do it! But not now. The time wasn’t right, and there could be embarrassing questions, maybe even an investigation. Such vengeance required subtlety and planning. In that way, the surprise and ultimate victory would be so much more satisfying.

Standing beside the blocky throne, Chamberlain Aken Hesban didn’t ask why his Emperor was smiling.