Hawat's sapho-stained lips were pulled into a prim, straight line with tiny wrinkles radiating into them. They maintained their wrinkled stiffness as he said: "My Lord, I don't quite know how to broach this."
"We've suffered many a scar for each other, Thufir," the Duke said. "You know you can broach any subject with me."
Hawat continued to stare at him, thinking: This is how I like him best. This is the man of honor who deserves every bit of my loyalty and service. Why must I hurt him?
"Well?" Leto demanded.
Hawat shrugged. "It's a scrap of a note. We took it from a Harkonnen courier. The note was intended for an agent named Pardee. We've good reason to believe Pardee was top man in the Harkonnen underground here. The note--it's a thing that could have great consequence or no consequence. It's susceptible to various interpretations."
"What's the delicate content of this note?"
"Scrap of a note, my Lord. Incomplete. It was on minimic film with the usual destruction capsule attached. We stopped the acid action just short of full erasure, leaving only a fragment. The fragment, however, is extremely suggestive."
"Yes?"
Hawat rubbed at his lips. "It says: ' . . . eto will never suspect, and when the blow falls on him from a beloved hand, its source alone should be enough to destroy him.' The note was under the Baron's own seal and I've authenticated the seal."
"Your suspicion is obvious," the Duke said and his voice was suddenly cold.
"I'd sooner cut off my arms than hurt you," Hawat said. "My Lord, what if .
. ."
"The Lady Jessica," Leto said, and he felt anger consuming him. "Couldn't you wring the facts out of this Pardee?"
"Unfortunately, Pardee no longer was among the living when we intercepted the courier. The courier, I'm certain, did not know what he carried."
"I see."
Leto shook his head, thinking: What a slimy piece of business. There can't be anything in it. I know my woman.
"My Lord, if--"
"No!" the Duke barked. "There's a mistake here that--"
"We cannot ignore it, my Lord."
"She's been with me for sixteen years! There've been countless opportunities for--You yourself investigated the school and the woman!"
Hawat spoke bitterly: "Things have been known to escape me."
"It's impossible, I tell you! The Harkonnens want to destroy the Atreides line--meaning Paul, too. They've already tried once. Could a woman conspire against her own son?"
"Perhaps she doesn't conspire against her son. And yesterday's attempt could've been a clever sham."
"It couldn't have been a sham."
"Sire, she isn't supposed to know her parentage, but what if she does know?
What if she were an orphan, say, orphaned by an Atreides?"
"She'd have moved long before now. Poison in my drink . . . a stiletto at night. Who has had better opportunity?"
"The Harkonnens mean to destroy you, my Lord. Their intent is not just to kill. There's a range of fine distinctions in kanly. This could be a work of art among vendettas."
The Duke's shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes, looking old and tired. It cannot be, he thought. The woman has opened her heart to me.
"What better way to destroy me than to sow suspicion of the woman I love?"
he asked.
"An interpretation I've considered," Hawat said. "Still . . . "
The Duke opened his eyes, stared at Hawat, thinking: Let him be suspicious.
Suspicion is his trade, not mine. Perhaps if I appear to believe this, that will make another man careless.
"What do you suggest?" the Duke whispered.
"For now, constant surveillance, my Lord. She should be watched at all times. I will see it's done unobtrusively. Idaho would be the ideal choice for the job. Perhaps in a week or so we can bring him back. There's a young man
we've been training in Idaho's troop who might be ideal to send to the Fremen as a replacement. He's gifted in diplomacy."
"Don't jeopardize our foothold with the Fremen."
"Of course not, Sire."
"And what about Paul?"
