Kailea saw her chance during an interminable family dinner in the grand banquet hall of Castle Caladan. Looking happy, black-haired Leto sat in the ducal chair at the head of the long table while household servants delivered tureens of a spicy fish stew commonly enjoyed by the lower classes of fishermen and villagers.
Leto ate with gusto, savoring the crude dish. Perhaps it reminded him of his childhood running loose on the docks, jumping aboard fishing boats, and avoiding his studies on the leadership of a Great House. As far as Kailea was concerned, Old Duke Paulus had allowed his only heir to spend too much time with commoners and their petty concerns, and not enough time learning political nuances. It was clear to her that Duke Leto had never understood how to run his household and deal with the disparate forces of the Guild, CHOAM, the Emperor, and the Landsraad.
Beside his father, Victor sat on a thickly cushioned chair, raised so that he could eat at the same level. The dark-haired boy slurped his soup, imitating his father while Leto did his best to outdo the six-year-old in making noise. With her elegant background, it especially displeased Kailea how her son tried to copy his father’s rough edges. Someday, when the boy became the true Atreides heir and Kailea was regent, she would train him properly so that he might appreciate the obligations of his birthright. Victor would have the best of both House Atreides and House Vernius.
Around the table, the others tore hunks from loaves of bread and drank bitter Caladan ale, though Kailea knew there were plenty of fine wines in the cellar. Laughter and casual conversation drifted, but she didn’t participate and instead picked at her food. Several seats away, Gurney Halleck had brought his new baliset to the table and would entertain them during dessert. Because this man had been close to the father neither Kailea nor her brother had known, she felt pleased to have him there . . . despite the fact that Gurney had not been overly friendly toward her.
Sitting across from her, Rhombur seemed perfectly content with his concubine Tessia, and with trying to best Leto in the quantity of fish stew he could consume. In his own chair, Thufir Hawat sat deep in concentration, studying the people around the table, neglecting his meal. The Mentat’s gaze slid from face to face, and Kailea tried to avoid eye contact.
Halfway down the table sat Jessica, as if to demonstrate that they were equals in the ducal household. The nerve of that woman! Kailea wanted to strangle her. The attractive Bene Gesserit ate with measured movements, so assured in her position that she exhibited no self-consciousness. She saw Jessica pause and study Leto’s face, as if able to read every nuance of expression as easily as words imprinted on a shigawire spool.
This evening Leto had called them all to eat together, though Kailea could think of no special occasion, anniversary, or holiday he meant to celebrate. She suspected the Duke had thought up some wild and inadvisable scheme, one he’d insist upon completing no matter what advice she or anyone else gave him.
Glowglobes hovered above the table like decorations, surrounding the articulated arms of the poison snooper that drifted high above their food, like a hovering insect. The snooper was a necessary device, given the twisted politics of Landsraad feuds.
Leto finished his large bowl of stew and dabbed his mouth with an embroidered linen napkin. He leaned back in the hand-carved ducal chair with a contented sigh. Victor did the same on the high cushions of his own seat; he had finished barely a third of the stew in his small bowl. Having already decided what song to play after dinner, Gurney Halleck looked over at his nine-string baliset leaning against the wall.
Kailea watched Leto’s gray eyes, how his gaze drifted from one end of the banquet hall to the other, from the portrait of Paulus Atreides to the mounted bull’s-head, its rack of horns still stained with blood. She didn’t know what the Duke was thinking, but as she looked across the table, the witchling Jessica met her gaze with green eyes, as if she understood what Leto was about to do. Kailea turned away, frowning.
When Leto stood up, Kailea drew a deep sigh. He was about to engage in one of his interminable ducal speeches, trying to inspire them about all the good things in their lives. But if life was so good, why had both of her parents been murdered? Why did she and her brother, the heirs of a Great House, remain in exile, rather than enjoying what should have been theirs?
Two servants hurried forward to remove the soup dishes and leftover bread, but Leto waved them away so that he might speak uninterrupted. “Next week is the twentieth anniversary of the bullfight in which my father was killed.” He looked up at the matador portrait. “Consequently, I’ve been thinking of the grand entertainments Duke Paulus performed for his subjects. They loved my father for that, and I think it’s about time I created a worthy spectacle, as would be expected from a Duke of Caladan.”
Instantly, Hawat raised his guard. “What is it you intend, my Duke?”
“Nothing so dangerous as a bullfight, Thufir.” Leto grinned down at Victor, then over at Rhombur. “But I want to do something the people will talk about for a long time to come. I’m leaving soon for the Landsraad Council on Kaitain, to begin a new diplomatic mission in the Moritani-Ecazi conflict, especially now that we might be forming a much stronger alliance with Ecaz.”
He paused for a moment, appearing embarrassed. “As a grand send-off, I’m going to take our largest skyclipper on a magnificent procession across the lowlands. My people can look up and see the banners and the colorful airship— and wish their Duke well in his mission. We’ll pass above the fishing flotillas, and then inland over the pundi rice farms.”
Victor clapped his hands, while Gurney nodded in approval. “Ho! It will be a marvelous sight.”
Leaning his elbows on the table, Rhombur rested his square chin in his hands. “Uh, Leto, isn’t Duncan Idaho returning soon from Ginaz? Will you be away when he arrives? Or can we combine his homecoming with the same celebration?”
Pondering this, Leto shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything in some time. We don’t expect him for a couple of months yet.”
Gurney thumped a hand on the table. “Gods below! If he’s coming to us as a Swordmaster of Ginaz after eight long years of training, the man deserves a reception of his own, don’t you think?”
Leto laughed. “Indeed, Gurney! Plenty of time for that when I return. With you, Thufir, and Duncan bearing swords for me, I need never fear a scratch from an enemy.”
“There are other ways an enemy can strike, my Lord,” Jessica said with a low warning in her voice.
Kailea stiffened, but Leto didn’t notice. Instead he looked at the witch. “I’m fully aware of that.”
Already, wheels were turning in Kailea’s mind. At the conclusion of the meal she excused herself and went to tell Chiara what Leto planned to do.
That night Leto slept on a cot in a hangar of the Cala Municipal Spaceport, while his household staff went about making preparations for the gala event, delivering announcements and gathering supplies. Within a few days the sail-enhanced skyclipper would begin its grand and colorful procession.
Left alone in her chambers, Kailea summoned Swain Goire and seduced him, as she had done many times in the past. She made love to the guard captain with a feral passion that surprised and exhausted him. He looked so much like Leto, but was such a different man. Afterward, when he had fallen asleep beside her, she stole a tiny code-locked key from a concealed pocket in his thick leather belt, which was curled on the floor. Only rarely used, it would be some time before Goire noticed the missing key.
The following morning, she pressed the small object into Chiara’s leathery palm and squeezed the old woman’s fingers over it. “This will give you access to the Atreides armory. Move with care.”
Chiara’s ravenlike eyes sparkled, and quickly she tucked the key into secret folds of her layered garments. “I will handle the rest, my Lady.”