pressing the key harder and harder. A look of startled awareness came over his features and his hand jerked toward the working knife at his waist. The movement came too late. A raking claw hit his chest and sent him sprawling. As he fell, the other tiger took his neck in one great-fanged bite and shook him. His spine snapped.
“Attention to detail,” the Princess said. She turned, stiffened as Tyekanik drew his knife. But he presented the blade to her, handle foremost.
“Perhaps you’d like to use my knife to attend to another detail,” he said.
“Put that back in its sheath and don’t act the fool!” she raged. “Sometimes, Tyekanik, you try me to the—”
“That was a good man out there, Princess. One of my best.”
“One of my best,” she corrected him.
He drew a deep, trembling breath, sheathed his knife. “And what of my transport pilot?”
“This will be ascribed to an accident,” she said. “You will advise him to employ the utmost caution when he brings those tigers back to us. And of course, when he has delivered our pets to Javid’s people on the transport . . .” She looked at his knife.
“Is that an order, Princess?”
“It is.”
“Shall I, then, fall on my knife, or will you take care of that, ahhh, detail? ”
She spoke with a false calm, her voice heavy: “Tyekanik, were I not absolutely convinced that you would fall on your knife at my command, you would not be standing here beside me—armed.”
He swallowed, stared at the screen. The tigers once more were feeding.
She refused to look at the scene, continued to stare at Tyekanik as she said: “You will, as well, tell our buyers not to bring us any more matched pairs of children who fit the necessary description.”
“As you command, Princess.”
“Don’t use that tone with me, Tyekanik.”
“Yes, Princess.”
Her lips drew into a straight line. Then: “How many more of those paired costumes do we have?”
“Six sets of the robes, complete with stillsuits and the sand shoes, all with the Atreides insignia worked into them.”
“Fabrics as rich as the ones on that pair?” she nodded toward the screen.
“Fit for royalty, Princess.”
“Attention to detail,” she said. “The garments will be dispatched to Arrakis as gifts for our royal cousins. They will be gifts from my son, do you understand me, Tyekanik?”
“Completely, Princess.”
“Have him inscribe a suitable note. It should say that he sends these few paltry garments as tokens of his devotion to House Atreides. Something on that order.”
“And the occasion?”
“There must be a birthday or holy day or something, Tyekanik. I leave that to you. I trust you, my friend.”
He stared at her silently.
Her face hardened. “Surely you must know that? Who else can I trust since the death of my husband?”
He shrugged, thinking how closely she emulated the spider. It would not do to get on intimate terms with her, as he now suspected his Levenbrech had done.
“And Tyekanik,” she said, “one more detail.”
“Yes, Princess.”
“My son is being trained to rule. There will come a time when he must grasp the sword in his own hands. You will know when that moment arrives. I’ll wish to be informed immediately.”
“As you command, Princess.”
She leaned back, peered knowingly at Tyekanik. “You do not approve of me, I know that. It is unimportant to me as long as you remember the lesson of the Levenbrech.”
“He was very good with animals, but disposable; yes, Princess.”
“That is not what I mean!”
“It isn’t? Then . . . I don’t understand.”
“An army,” she said, “is composed of disposable, completely replaceable parts. That is the lesson of the Levenbrech.”
“Replaceable parts,” he said. “Including the supreme command?”
“Without the supreme command there is seldom a reason for an army, Tyekanik. That is why you will immediately embrace this Mahdi religion and, at the same time, begin the campaign to convert my son.”
“At once, Princess. I presume you don’t want me to stint his education in the other martial arts at the expense of this, ahh, religion?”
She pushed herself out of the chair, strode around him, paused at the door, and spoke without looking back. “Someday you will try my patience once too often, Tyekanik.” With that, she let herself out.
Either we abandon the long-honored Theory of Relativity, or we cease to believe that we can engage in continued accurate prediction of the future. Indeed, knowing the future raises a host of questions which cannot be answered under conventional assumptions unless one first projects an Observer outside of Time and, second, nullifies all movement. If you