papers on it, swept his gaze
around the room and back to Paul. He felt tired, filled with the ache of not
showing his fatigue. I must use every opportunity to rest during the crossing to
Arrakis, he thought. There’ll be no rest on Arrakis.
“Not very hard,” Paul said. “Everything’s so . . . ” He shrugged.
“Yes. Well, tomorrow we leave. It’ll be good to get settled in our new home,
put all this upset behind.”
Paul nodded, suddenly overcome by memory of the Reverend Mother’s words: “ .
. . for the father, nothing.”
“Father,” Paul said, “will Arrakis be as dangerous as everyone says?”
The Duke forced himself to the casual gesture, sat down on a corner of the
table, smiled. A whole pattern of conversation welled up in his mind — the kind
of thing he might use to dispel the vapors in his men before a battle. The
pattern froze before it could be vocalized, confronted by the single thought:
This is my son.
“It’ll be dangerous,” he admitted.
“Hawat tells me we have a plan for the Fremen,” Paul said. And he wondered:
Why don’t I tell him what that old woman said? How did she seal my tongue?
The Duke noted his son’s distress, said: “As always, Hawat sees the main
chance. But there’s much more. I see also the Combine Honnete Ober Advancer
Mercantiles — the CHOAM Company. By giving me Arrakis, His Majesty is forced to
give us a CHOAM directorship . . . a subtle gain.”
“CHOAM controls the spice,” Paul said.
“And Arrakis with its spice is our avenue into CHOAM,” the Duke said.
“There’s more to CHOAM than melange.”
“Did the Reverend Mother warn you?” Paul blurted. He clenched his fists,
feeling his palms slippery with perspiration. The effort it had taken to ask
that question.
“Hawat tells me she frightened you with warnings about Arrakis,” the Duke
said. “Don’t let a woman’s fears cloud your mind. No woman wants her loved ones
endangered. The hand behind those warnings was your mother’s. Take this as a
sign of her love for us.”
“Does she know about the Fremen?”
“Yes, and about much more.”
“What?”
And the Duke thought: The truth could be worse than he imagines, but even
dangerous facts are valuable if you’ve been trained to deal with them. And
there’s one place where nothing has been spared for my son — dealing with
dangerous facts. This must be leavened, though; he is young.
“Few products escape the CHOAM touch,” the Duke said. “Logs, donkeys,
horses, cows, lumber, dung, sharks, whale fur — the most prosaic and the most
exotic . . . even our poor pundi rice from Caladan. Anything the Guild will
transport, the art forms of Ecaz, the machines of Richesse and Ix. But all fades
before melange. A handful of spice will buy a home on Tupile. It cannot be
manufactured, it must be mined on Arrakis. It is unique and it has true
geriatric properties.“
”And now we control it?“
”To a certain degree. But the important thing is to consider all the Houses
that depend on CHOAM profits. And think of the enormous proportion of those
profits dependent upon a single product — the spice. Imagine what would happen
if something should reduce spice production.“
”Whoever had stockpiled melange could make a killing,“ Paul said. ”Others
would be out in the cold.“
The Duke permitted himself a moment of grim satisfaction, looking at his son
and thinking how penetrating, how truly educated that observation had been. He
nodded. ”The Harkonnens have been stockpiling for more than twenty years.“
”They mean spice production to fail and you to be blamed.“
”They wish the Atreides name to become unpopular,“ the Duke said. ”Think of
the Landsraad Houses that look to me for a certain amount of leadership — their
unofficial spokesman. Think how they’d react if I were responsible for a serious
reduction in their income. After all, one’s own profits come first. The Great
around the room and back to Paul. He felt tired, filled with the ache of not
showing his fatigue. I must use every opportunity to rest during the crossing to
Arrakis, he thought. There’ll be no rest on Arrakis.
“Not very hard,” Paul said. “Everything’s so . . . ” He shrugged.
“Yes. Well, tomorrow we leave. It’ll be good to get settled in our new home,
put all this upset behind.”
Paul nodded, suddenly overcome by memory of the Reverend Mother’s words: “ .
. . for the father, nothing.”
“Father,” Paul said, “will Arrakis be as dangerous as everyone says?”
The Duke forced himself to the casual gesture, sat down on a corner of the
table, smiled. A whole pattern of conversation welled up in his mind — the kind
of thing he might use to dispel the vapors in his men before a battle. The
pattern froze before it could be vocalized, confronted by the single thought:
This is my son.
“It’ll be dangerous,” he admitted.
“Hawat tells me we have a plan for the Fremen,” Paul said. And he wondered:
Why don’t I tell him what that old woman said? How did she seal my tongue?
The Duke noted his son’s distress, said: “As always, Hawat sees the main
chance. But there’s much more. I see also the Combine Honnete Ober Advancer
Mercantiles — the CHOAM Company. By giving me Arrakis, His Majesty is forced to
give us a CHOAM directorship . . . a subtle gain.”
“CHOAM controls the spice,” Paul said.
“And Arrakis with its spice is our avenue into CHOAM,” the Duke said.
“There’s more to CHOAM than melange.”
“Did the Reverend Mother warn you?” Paul blurted. He clenched his fists,
feeling his palms slippery with perspiration. The effort it had taken to ask
that question.
“Hawat tells me she frightened you with warnings about Arrakis,” the Duke
said. “Don’t let a woman’s fears cloud your mind. No woman wants her loved ones
endangered. The hand behind those warnings was your mother’s. Take this as a
sign of her love for us.”
“Does she know about the Fremen?”
“Yes, and about much more.”
“What?”
And the Duke thought: The truth could be worse than he imagines, but even
dangerous facts are valuable if you’ve been trained to deal with them. And
there’s one place where nothing has been spared for my son — dealing with
dangerous facts. This must be leavened, though; he is young.
“Few products escape the CHOAM touch,” the Duke said. “Logs, donkeys,
horses, cows, lumber, dung, sharks, whale fur — the most prosaic and the most
exotic . . . even our poor pundi rice from Caladan. Anything the Guild will
transport, the art forms of Ecaz, the machines of Richesse and Ix. But all fades
before melange. A handful of spice will buy a home on Tupile. It cannot be
manufactured, it must be mined on Arrakis. It is unique and it has true
geriatric properties.“
”And now we control it?“
”To a certain degree. But the important thing is to consider all the Houses
that depend on CHOAM profits. And think of the enormous proportion of those
profits dependent upon a single product — the spice. Imagine what would happen
if something should reduce spice production.“
”Whoever had stockpiled melange could make a killing,“ Paul said. ”Others
would be out in the cold.“
The Duke permitted himself a moment of grim satisfaction, looking at his son
and thinking how penetrating, how truly educated that observation had been. He
nodded. ”The Harkonnens have been stockpiling for more than twenty years.“
”They mean spice production to fail and you to be blamed.“
”They wish the Atreides name to become unpopular,“ the Duke said. ”Think of
the Landsraad Houses that look to me for a certain amount of leadership — their
unofficial spokesman. Think how they’d react if I were responsible for a serious
reduction in their income. After all, one’s own profits come first. The Great
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