The Baron Vladimir Harkonnen couldn’t have been more delighted at the way events were turning out. He might have taken deeper pleasure if the rest of the Imperium could appreciate the delicious complexities of what he had done— but of course he could never reveal those.

As an important House, as well as the current stewards of spice production on Arrakis, the Harkonnens received fine accommodations in a distant wing of the Imperial Palace. Tickets for reserved seats at the coronation and the wedding had already been delivered to their quarters.

And, of course, before all the pomp and ceremony, it would be the Baron’s sad duty to watch the terrible trial of Leto Atreides. He tapped his fingers against his leg and pursed his generous lips. Ah, the burdens of nobility.

He lounged in a plush indigo chair, cradling a crystal sphere in his lap. From the depths of the transparent ball shone holo-images of fireworks displays and light shows, previews for the spectacle that would shower Kaitain in a few days’ time. In a corner of the room a musical fireplace whispered quiet notes, making him yawn. Lately, he felt tired so often, his body weak and shaky.

“I want you to leave the planet,” the Baron told Glossu Rabban without looking up from the crystal sphere. “I don’t want you here during the trial or the coronation.”

The broad-shouldered, thick-lipped man bristled. His brown hair had been hacked short, without finesse, for the public appearance, and he wore a padded dra-leather vest that made him look even more like a barrel than usual. “Why? I did everything you asked, and our plans turned out beautifully. Why send me away now?”

“Because I don’t want you here,” the Baron said, running a hand along his widow’s peak to smooth down his thick hair. “I can’t have anyone taking a look at you and thinking you might have had something to do with poor, dear Leto’s plight. You have that . . . gloating manner about you.”

The Baron’s nephew frowned and drew a deep breath, still defiant. “But I want to be there so I can look in his eyes when he receives his sentence.”

“That is exactly why you must be gone. Can’t you understand? You’ll give something away.”

With a deep breath and a grunt, Rabban finally backed down. “May I come to the execution at least?” He sounded dangerously close to pouting.

“It depends on the timing.” The Baron stared at his ring-studded fingers and tinkled their metal against the smooth surface of the sphere in his lap in his habitual rhythm. “At the very least I’ll make sure the event is recorded for your enjoyment.”

The Baron got out of his chair with an effort and cinched the sash around his tighter-than-usual lounge robe. With a sigh he circled the elaborate room on bare feet, saw the ornate bathtub with its complicated temperature and massage controls. Since his body continued to be plagued by mysterious pains, he decided to take a long and luxurious bath— if he could find someone to serve him properly here on Kaitain.

Rabban, still displeased, stood on the threshold of the Baron’s opulent guest quarters. “What shall I do, then, Uncle?”

“Take a lighter and board the first available Heighliner. I want you to go to Arrakis and watch over the spice production there. Keep adding to our profits.” The Baron smiled at him, then waggled his fingers to shoo the nephew away. “Oh, don’t look so gloomy. Go hunt a few more Fremen if you like, just to amuse yourself. You’ve already done your part in this plot, and done it well.” He made his voice sound soothing. “But we have to be very careful. Especially now. Just pay attention to what I do and try to learn from it.”

Grabbing something to eat from a sampling tray that hovered by the archway, Rabban departed. Alone at last, the Baron began to contemplate how best to find a young, soft-skinned boy to tend him in his bath. He wanted to be completely relaxed and prepared for the following day.

Tomorrow, he would have nothing to do but observe and enjoy the event as young Leto Atreides found himself caught in more traps than he could begin to understand.

Soon there would be no more House Atreides at all.