Holding a wicked-looking dagger in his left hand and a shorter kidney-stabber in his right, Duncan Idaho lunged at Leto.

Scrambling backward into the banquet hall, Leto spun to cover his vulnerable spots with a shimmering half shield. The Swordmaster’s reflexes had already slowed, adjusting the blade’s speed so that the tip could slide through the dampening barrier.

Leto surprised Duncan by making an unorthodox move. He threw himself directly toward his younger opponent. This increased the relative speed of Duncan’s knife with respect to Leto’s shield, and the blade skittered off the buzzing protective wall.

Leto brought up his short sword, but the young Swordmaster sprang out of the way, leaped atop the banquet table, and ran backward with catlike grace.

The faceted eyes of the stuffed Salusan bull’s-head and the matador portrait of the red-garbed Duke Paulus seemed to watch the duel with interest.

“Those candlesticks were a wedding gift to my parents,” Leto said with a laugh. “If you break them, I’ll take the cost out of your hide.”

“You won’t be able to touch my hide, Leto.” Duncan performed a blatantly insulting backflip on the table.

While the Swordmaster was still in midair, Leto swept his dagger arm sideways, knocking down one of the long candlesticks himself and rolling it under Duncan’s feet. The Swordmaster lost his balance, sprawling on his backside. Jumping up onto the table, Leto ran forward, short sword in hand, ready to conclude this practice duel. It would be his first victory.

But Duncan was no longer there.

The Swordmaster kept rolling and flung himself off the far edge of the table, then scuttled crablike beneath the heavy furniture and sprang up behind Leto. The Duke backed off, facing his opponent, both of them grinning.

Duncan jabbed with his knives, dancing on the fringe of the half shield’s protection, but Leto deftly parried with short sword and dagger. “You’re distracted, Duke Atreides. You miss your woman too much.”

Indeed, I do. But I will never allow it to show. Their blades struck, skittered, scraping edge against edge. Not even to you, Duncan.

Leto feinted with the short sword, then brought up his fist, moving his bare hand through the shield and grabbing Duncan’s loose green tunic just to prove that he could touch his opponent. Surprised, the Swordmaster yanked free by slashing at Leto’s eyes with the kidney-stabber, coming close to touching, but not too close. Duncan sprang down onto a dining chair, tottering the heavy seat but maintaining his balance as he stood on tiptoes.

Through the doorway to the banquet hall, a servant entered with a tray of refreshments, her face open and innocent. Offhandedly, Leto gestured for her to leave them alone, and Duncan chose that moment to dive toward him. He did not use knives this time, instead crashing shield against shield to knock Leto to the tabletop. It was all the servant could do to scuttle back out of the banquet hall without dropping her tray.

“Never heed distractions, Leto.” Duncan caught his breath and backed off. “Your enemies will concoct diversions to make you focus your attention where it does not belong. Then they will strike.”

Panting, Leto lay back, felt the sweat trickling through his dark hair. “Enough! You’ve bested me again.” He switched off his half shield, and the Swordmaster proudly sheathed his two blades, then helped the Duke to his feet.

“Of course I’ve bested you,” Duncan said. “But you tricked me a few times. Very interesting tactics. You’re learning, sir.”

“Some of us can’t afford to spend eight years on Ginaz. And my offer still stands to bring your companion Hiih Resser to Caladan. If he fights with half your skill, he would be a welcome addition to the Guard at House Atreides.”

Duncan looked troubled. “I have heard only a little from him since his return to House Moritani. I was afraid the Grummans might kill him when he got home, but he seems to have survived. I think he’s now even part of the Viscount’s personal guard.”

Leto wiped sweat from his brow. “Obviously, he’s stronger and smarter than he was before. I just hope he isn’t corrupted.”

“It’s not easy to corrupt a Swordmaster, Leto.”

Thufir Hawat stood at the doorway to the banquet hall, observing. Now that the training session was over, the Mentat stepped forward and gave a slight bow, his sinewy form making distorted reflections on the blue-obsidian walls. “I concur with your Swordmaster, my Duke, that you are becoming a better fighter. However, I would like to add my insight on tactics by reminding you that distractions and diversions can work both ways.”

Leto sat heavily on one of the dining chairs while Duncan set the toppled, undamaged candlestick upright on the table. “What do you mean, Thufir?”

“I am your Security Commander, my Duke. My primary concerns are to keep you alive and to protect House Atreides. I failed you when I did not prevent the skyclipper explosion, just as I failed your father in the bullring.”

Leto turned to look at the stuffed head of the monstrous, multihorned creature that had killed the Old Duke. “I already know what you’re going to say, Thufir. You do not want me to join the fighting on Ix. You’d rather I did something safe instead.”

“I want you to take the role of a Duke, my Lord.”

“I absolutely concur,” Duncan said. “Rhombur must be physically present in the heat of battle so that the people can see him, but you need to face the Landsraad. Personally, I think that might be an even tougher fight.”

Glowering, Leto looked at his two military advisors. “My father was on the front lines of the Ecazi Revolt, and so was Dominic Vernius.”

“Those were different times, my Duke. And Paulus Atreides did not always heed advice.” Hawat glanced meaningfully up at the monstrous Salusan bull’s-head. “You must make this a victory in your own manner.”

Leto raised his short sword over one shoulder, holding the hilt loosely as if he held a dagger, and hurled it. The blade spun in the air.

The Mentat’s hooded eyes widened, and Duncan gasped as the blade plunged into the bull’s black, scaly throat. The sword had skewered the beast and stuck there, quivering.

“You are right, Thufir. I am more interested in results than in grandstanding.” Pleased with himself, Leto turned back to his advisors. “We must make certain all the Imperium learns the Atreides lesson of Beakkal. No warning. No mercy. No ambiguity. I am not a man to be trifled with.”