"How long have you been my guard captain, Nefud?"
Nefud swallowed. "Since Arrakis, my Lord. Almost two years."
"And have you always anticipated dangers to my person?"
"Such has been my only desire, my Lord."
"Then where is Feyd-Rautha?" the Baron roared.
Nefud recoiled. "M'Lord?"
"You do not consider Feyd-Rautha a danger to my person?" Again, the voice was silken.
Nefud wet his lips with his tongue. Some of the semuta dullness left his eyes. "Feyd-Rautha's in the slave quarters, my Lord."
"With the women again, eh?" The Baron trembled with the effort of suppressing anger.
"Sire, it could be he's --"
"Silence!"
The Baron advanced another step into the antechamber, noting how the men moved back, clearing a subtle space around Nefud, dissociating themselves from the object of wrath.
"Did I not command you to know precisely where the na-Baron was at all times?" the Baron asked. He moved a step closer. "Did I not say to you that you were to know precisely what the na-Baron was saying at all times -- and to whom?" Another step. "Did I not say to you that you were to tell me whenever he went into the quarters of the slave women?"
Nefud swallowed. Perspiration stood out on his forehead.
The Baron held his voice flat, almost devoid of emphasis: "Did I not say these things to you?"
Nefud nodded.
"And did I not say to that you were to check all slave boys sent to me and that you were to do this yourself . . . personally?"
Again, Nefud nodded.
"Did you, perchance, not see the blemish on the thigh of the one sent me this evening?" the Baron asked. "Is it possible you --"
"Uncle."
The Baron whirled, stared at Feyd-Rautha standing in the doorway. The presence of his nephew here, now -- the look of hurry that the young man could not quite conceal -- all revealed much. Feyd-Rautha had his own spy system focused on the Baron.
"There is a body in my chambers that I wish removed," the Baron said, and he kept his hand at the projectile weapon beneath his robes, thankful that his shield was the best.
Feyd-Rautha glanced at two guardsmen against the right wall, nodded. The two detached themselves, scurried out the door and down the hall toward the Baron's apartments.
Those two, eh? the Baron thought. Ah, this young monster has much to learn yet about conspiracy!
"I presume you left matters peaceful in the slave quarters, Feyd," the Baron said.
"I've been playing cheops with the slavemaster," Feyd-Rautha said, and he thought: What has gone wrong? The boy we sent to my uncle has obviously been killed. But he was perfect for the job. Even Hawat couldn't have made a better choice. The boy was perfect!
"Playing pyramid chess," the Baron said. "How nice. Did you win?"
"I . . . ah, yes, Uncle." And Feyd-Rautha strove to contain his disquiet.
The Baron snapped his fingers. "Nefud, you wish to be restored to my good graces?"
"Sire, what have I done?" Nefud quavered.
"That's unimportant now," the Baron said. "Feyd has beaten the slavemaster at cheops. Did you hear that?"
"Yes . . . Sire."
"I wish you to take three men and go to the slavemaster," the Baron said.
"Garrote the slavemaster. Bring his body to me when you've finished that I may see it was done properly. We cannot have such inept chess players in our employ."
Feyd-Rautha went pale, took a step forward. "But, Uncle, I --"
"Later, Feyd," the Baron said, and waved a hand. "Later."
The two guards who had gone to the Baron's quarters for the slave boy's body staggered past the antechamber door with their load sagging between them, arms trailing. The Baron watched until they were out of sight.
Nefud stepped up beside the Baron. "You wish me to kill the slavemaster, now, my Lord?"
"Now," the Baron said. "And when you've finished, add those two who just passed to your list. I don't like the way they carried that body. One should do such things neatly. I'll wish to see their carcasses, too."
Nefud said, "My Lord, is it anything that I've --"
