itself in trembling hands, delayed reactions, nervous laughter… and violent obedience to the necessity. One woman dropped her flagon, looked the other way as her male companion recovered it.
Kynes, though, caught her attention most sharply. The planetologist hesitated, then emptied his flagon into a container beneath his jacket. He smiled at Jessica as he caught her watching him, raised the empty flagon to her in a silent toast. He appeared completely unembarrassed by his action.
Halleck’s music still wafted over the room, but it had come out of its minor key, lilting and lively now as though he were trying to lift the mood.
“Let the dinner commence,” the Duke said, and sank into his chair.
He’s angry and uncertain, Jessica thought. The loss of that factory crawler hit him more deeply than it should have. It must be something more than that loss. He acts like a desperate man. She lifted her fork, hoping in the motion to hide her own sudden bitterness. Why not? He is desperate.
Slowly at first, then with increasing animation, the dinner got under way. The stillsuit manufacturer complimented Jessica on her chef and wine.
“We brought both from Caladan,” she said.
“Superb!” he said, tasting the chukka. “Simply superb! And not a hint of melange in it. One gets so tired of the spice in everything.”
The Guild Bank representative looked across at Kynes. “I understand, Doctor Kynes, that another factory crawler has been lost to a worm.”
“News travels fast,” the Duke said.
“Then it’s true?” the banker asked, shifting his attention to Leto.
“Of course, it’s true!” the Duke snapped. “The blasted carry-all disappeared. It shouldn’t be possible for anything that big to disappear!”
“When the worm came, there was nothing to recover the crawler,” Kynes said.
“It should not be possible!” the Duke repeated.
“No one saw the carryall leave?” the banker asked.
“Spotters customarily keep their eyes on the sand,” Kynes said. “They’re primarily interested in wormsign. A carryall’s complement usually is four men—two pilots and two journeymen attachers. If one—or even two of this crew were in the pay of the Duke’s foes—”
“Ah-h-h, I see,” the banker said. “And you, as Judge of the Change, do you challenge this?”
“I shall have to consider my position carefully,” Kynes said, “and I certainly will not discuss it at table.” And he thought: That pale skeleton of a man! He knows this is the kind of infraction I was instructed to ignore.
The banker smiled, returned his attention to his food.
Jessica sat remembering a lecture from her Bene Gesserit school days. The subject had been espionage and counter-espionage. A plump, happy-faced Reverend Mother had been the lecturer, her jolly voice contrasting weirdly with the subject matter.
A thing to note about any espionage and/or counter-espionage school is the similar basic reaction pattern of all its graduates. Any enclosed discipline sets its stamp, its pattern, upon its students. That pattern is susceptible to analysis and prediction.
Now, motivational patterns are going to be similar among all espionage agents. That is to say: there will be certain types of motivation that are similar despite differing schools or opposed aims. You will study first how to separate this element for your analysis—in the beginning, through interrogation patterns that betray the inner orientation of the interrogators; secondly, by close observation of language-thought orientation of those under analysis. You will find it fairly simple to determine the root languages of your subjects, of course, both through voice inflection and speech pattern.
Now, sitting at table with her son and her Duke and their guests, hearing that Guild Bank representative, Jessica felt a chill of realization: the man was a Harkonnen agent. He had the Giedi Prime speech pattern—subtly masked, but exposed to her trained awareness as though he had announced himself.
Does this mean the Guild itself has taken sides against House Atreides? she asked herself. The thought shocked her, and she masked her emotion by calling for a new dish, all the while listening for the man to betray his purpose. He will shift the conversation next to something seemingly innocent, but with ominous overtones, she told herself. It’s his pattern.
The banker swallowed, took a sip of wine, smiled at something said to him by the woman on his right. He seemed to listen for a moment to a man down the table who was explaining to the Duke that native Arrakeen plants had no thorns.
“I enjoy watching the flights of birds on Arrakis,” the banker said, directing his words at Jessica. “All of our birds, of course, are carrion-eaters, and many exist without