at her unknown ancestry—a renegade House, perhaps? Some black-barred royalty? She looked more regal than the Emperor’s own blood.
Under the pressure of his stare, she turned half away, exposing her profile. And he realized there was no single and precise thing that brought her beauty to focus. The face was oval under a cap of hair the color of polished bronze. Her eyes were set wide, as green and clear as the morning skies of Caladan. The nose was small, the mouth wide and generous. Her figure was good but scant: tall and with its curves gone to slimness.
He remembered that the lay sisters at the school had called her skinny, so his buyers had told him. But that description oversimplified. She had brought a regal beauty back into the Atreides line. He was glad that Paul favored her.
“Where’s Paul?” he asked.
“Someplace around the house taking his lessons with Yueh.”
“Probably in the south wing,” he said. “I thought I heard Yueh’s voice, but I couldn’t take time to look.” He glanced down at her, hesitating. “I came here only to hang the key of Caladan Castle in the dining hall.”
She caught her breath, stopped the impulse to reach out to him. Hanging the key—there was finality in that action. But this was not the time or place for comforting. “I saw our banner over the house as we came in,” she said.
He glanced at the painting of his father. “Where were you going to hang that?”
“Somewhere in here.”
“No.” The word rang flat and final, telling her she could use trickery to persuade, but open argument was useless. Still, she had to try, even if the gesture served only to remind herself that she would not trick him.
“My Lord,” she said, “if you’d only….”
“The answer remains no. I indulge you shamefully in most things, not in this. I’ve just come from the dining hall where there are—”
“My Lord! Please.”
“The choice is between your digestion and my ancestral dignity, my dear,” he said. “They will hang in the dining hall.”
She sighed. “Yes, my Lord.”
“You may resume your custom of dining in your rooms whenever possible. I shall expect you at your proper position only on formal occasions.”
“Thank you, my Lord.”
“And don’t go all cold and formal on me! Be thankful that I never married you, my dear. Then it’d be your duty to join me at table for every meal.”
She held her face immobile, nodded.
“Hawat already has our own poison snooper over the dining table,” he said. “There’s a portable in your room.”
“You anticipated this … disagreement,” she said.
“My dear, I think also of your comfort. I’ve engaged servants. They’re locals, but Hawat has cleared them—they’re Fremen all. They’ll do until our own people can be released from their other duties.”
“Can anyone from this place be truly safe?”
“Anyone who hates Harkonnens. You may even want to keep the head housekeeper: the Shadout Mapes.”
“Shadout,” Jessica said. “A Fremen title?”
“I’m told it means ‘well-dipper,’ a meaning with rather important overtones here. She may not strike you as a servant type, although Hawat speaks highly of her on the basis of Duncan’s report. They’re convinced she wants to serve—specifically that she wants to serve you.”
“Me?”
“The Fremen have learned that you’re Bene Gesserit,” he said. “There are legends here about the Bene Gesserit.”
The Missionaria Protectiva, Jessica thought. No place escapes them.
“Does this mean Duncan was successful?” she asked. “Will the Fremen be our allies?”
“There’s nothing definite,” he said. “They wish to observe us for a while, Duncan believes. They did, however, promise to stop raiding our outlying villages during a truce period. That’s a more important gain than it might seem. Hawat tells me the Fremen were a deep thorn in the Harkonnen side, that the extent of their ravages was a carefully guarded secret. It wouldn’t have helped for the Emperor to learn the ineffectiveness of the Harkonnen military.”
“A Fremen housekeeper,” Jessica mused, returning to the subject of the Shadout Mapes. “She’ll have the all-blue eyes.”
“Don’t let the appearance of these people deceive you,” he said. “There’s a deep strength and healthy vitality in them. I think they’ll be everything we need.”
“It’s a dangerous gamble,” she said.
“Let’s not go into that again,” he said.
She forced a smile. “We are committed, no doubt of that.” She went through the quick regimen of calmness—the two deep breaths, the ritual thought, then: “When I assign rooms, is there anything special I should reserve for you?”
“You must teach me someday how you do that,” he said, “the way you