The Emperor sat alone in one of his private banquet halls, mercifully without his wife. He smiled with anticipation as the lavish six-course meal was brought in for him. At the moment he wanted no troubles, no politics, not even old war stories from Supreme Bashar Garon. Just a private, luxurious celebration. The briefing about Korona, and the detailed holo-images of the explosion, had been enough to give him quite an appetite.

The first serving tray was a scrolled silver platter carried by a pair of nubile young women. Fanfare blared, announcing the three skewers of lightly seasoned slig cubes, cooked to perfection, that graced the tray. The serving girls removed one skewer at a time, plucked off each cube of meat, and took turns placing the morsels onto Shaddam’s Imperial tongue. The savory meat was as tender as moist cheese, with sensuous flavors that snapped his taste buds awake.

Sardaukar marksmen held weapons ready, prepared to react instantly if one of the women attempted to use a blunted skewer as an assassination device.

A golden-skinned young man in a creamy white toga poured a goblet of rich claret. Shaddam sipped the wine in between bites as the two girls awaited his pleasure, holding more cubes of meat. He drew a deep breath, smelling the carefully chosen scents that wafted around the servants. Decadent. This was what it meant to be Emperor. He sighed and gestured for the next dish.

The second course consisted of succulent broiled crustaceans, many-legged but eyeless creatures that were found only in underground springs on Bela Tegeuse. The sauce was butter, salt, and garlic, nothing more, but it tasted delicious. Two wenches used tiny platinum forks to pry out the crustaceans’ sweet, white flesh and feed it to the Emperor.

Before the next dish could be brought, however, Count Hasimir Fenring stormed into the banquet hall, elbowing aside the guards as if impervious to their weapons.

Shaddam wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Ah, Hasimir! When did you return from your travels? You’ve been gone a long time.”

Fenring could barely keep the strangled quality from his voice. “You destroyed Korona, hmmm? How could you do such a thing without consulting me first?”

“The Landsraad members can complain all they want, but we caught the Richesians red-handed.”

Shaddam had never seen his friend so angry. He switched to the private code they had developed as boys, so the servants could not eavesdrop. “Calm yourself, or would you prefer that I never summon you to Kaitain again? As we’ve discussed, we needed to improve the market advantage of amal by eliminating melange. This got rid of another major stockpile.”

Fenring moved forward with a prowling gait, grabbed a chair beside the Emperor’s, and sat himself down. “But you used atomics, Shaddam. Not only did you attack a Great House, but you used forbidden atomics!” He brought his hand down on the table surface with a loud smack.

Shaddam gestured with his fingers, and the serving girls whisked away the Tegeusan crustaceans. Too late, a serving boy hurried in with a flagon of golden mead, but Shaddam waved him away and signaled for the third course.

The Emperor decided not to raise his voice. “The Great Convention forbids the use of atomics only against people, Hasimir. I used atomics to destroy a man-made structure, a laboratory moon where Richese had stored an illegal spice hoard. I was fully within my rights.”

“But hundreds of people died, maybe thousands.”

Shaddam shrugged. “They were given notice. If they chose not to evacuate in time, how can I be held responsible? You just don’t like me to take actions without your advice, Hasimir.” Fenring simmered, but the Emperor smiled maddeningly. “Ah look, here comes the next course.” Two strong men walked in carrying a thin stone slab on which slumped an Imperial peacock roasted in herbs, its browned skin still crackling from the heat.

Servants rushed forward with a clean plate, silverware, and a crystal goblet for Count Fenring.

“Did you at least get a legal opinion before the attack, hmmm? To make certain your interpretation would stand up in Landsraad Court?”

“It seems obvious enough to me. Supreme Bashar Garon took holoimages of the whole scene on Korona. The evidence is incontrovertible.”

With an exaggerated sigh of forced patience, Fenring said, “Would you like me to obtain an opinion, Sire? Shall I consult with your lawtechs and Mentats?”

“Oh, I suppose— go ahead.” With gusto, Shaddam dug into the first slices of juicy peacock meat, licking his lips after swallowing. “Try some, Hasimir.”

The Count picked at the roast bird on his silver plate, but didn’t taste anything.

“You worry too much. Besides, I am the Emperor, and can do as I please.”

Fenring looked at him with large eyes. “You are the Emperor because of support from the Landsraad, CHOAM, the Spacing Guild, the Bene Gesserit, and other powerful forces, hmmm-ah? Should they all grow displeased, you would be stripped of everything.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Shaddam said, then lowered his voice. “Now that I am the only male Corrino.”

“But there are plenty of eligible noblemen who would love to marry your daughters and continue the dynasty!” Fenring pounded the table again. “Let me find a way to salvage this, Shaddam. I think you will need to appear before the Landsraad, hm-m-m, in two days time. They will be in an uproar. You must state your reasons, and we’ll pull together all the support we can manage. Otherwise, mark my words, there will be a revolt.”

“Yes, yes.” Shaddam concentrated on his food, then snapped his fingers. “Will you stay for the next course, Hasimir? It’s seared boar steaks from Canidar. Just arrived by Heighliner this morning, fresh.”

Fenring pushed his plate away and stood up. “You have given me much work to do. I must begin immediately.”