"But, my Lady . . . "
"If necessary, I will call the Duke," she said. "I hope it will not be necessary. I would not want to disturb him with this."
"Yes, my Lady."
Jessica thrust the empty cup into Mapes' hands, met the questioning stare of the blue-within-blue eyes. "You may return to bed, Mapes."
"You're sure you'll not need me?"
Jessica smiled grimly. "I'm sure."
"Perhaps this could wait until tomorrow," Yueh said. "I could give you a sedative and . . . "
"You will return to your quarters and leave me to handle this my way," she said. She patted his arm to take the sting out of her command. "This is the only way."
Abruptly, head high, she turned and stalked off through the house to her rooms. Cold walls . . . passages . . . a familiar door . . . She jerked the door open, strode in, and slammed it behind her. Jessica stood there glaring at the shield-blanked windows of her sitting room. Hawat! Could he be the one the Harkonnens bought? We shall see.
Jessica crossed to the deep, old-fashioned armchair with an embroidered cover of schlag skin, moved the chair into position to command the door. She was suddenly very conscious of the crysknife in its sheath on her leg. She removed the sheath and strapped it to her arm, tested the drop of it. Once more, she glanced around the room, placing everything precisely in her mind against any emergency: the chaise near the corner, the straight chairs along the wall, the two low tables, her stand-mounted zither beside the door to her bedroom.
Pale rose light glowed from the suspensor lamps. She dimmed them, sat down in the armchair, patting the upholstery, appreciating the chair's regal heaviness for this occasion.
Now, let him come, she thought. We shall see what we shall see. And she prepared herself in the Bene Gesserit fashion for the wait, accumulating patience, saving her strength.
Sooner than she had expected, a rap sounded at the door and Hawat entered at her command.
She watched him without moving from the chair, seeing the crackling sense of drug-induced energy in his movements, seeing the fatigue beneath. Hawat's rheumy old eyes glittered. His leathery skin appeared faintly yellow in the room's light, and there was a wide, wet stain on the sleeve of his knife arm.
She smelled blood there.
Jessica gestured to one of the straight-backed chairs, said: "Bring that chair and sit facing me."
Hawat bowed, obeyed. That drunken fool of an Idaho! he thought. He studied Jessica's face, wondering how he could save this situation.
"It's long past time to clear the air between us," Jessica said.
"What troubles my Lady?" He sat down, placed hands on knees.
"Don't play coy with me!" she snapped. "If Yueh didn't tell you why I summoned you, then one of your spies in my household did. Shall we be at least that honest with each other?"
"As you wish, my Lady."
"First, you will answer me one question," she said. "Are you now a Harkonnen agent?"
Hawat surged half out of his chair, his face dark with fury, demanding: "You dare insult me so?"
"Sit down," she said. "You insulted me so."
Slowly, he sank back into the chair.
And Jessica, reading the signs of this face that she knew so well, allowed herself a deep breath. It isn't Hawat.
"Now I know you remain loyal to my Duke," she said. "I'm prepared, therefore, to forgive your affront to me."
"Is there something to forgive?"
Jessica scowled, wondering: Shall I play my trump? Shall I tell him of the Duke's daughter I've carried within me these few weeks? No . . . Leto himself doesn't know. This would only complicate his life, divert him in a time when he must concentrate on our survival. There is yet time to use this.
"A Truthsayer would solve this," she said, "but we have no Truthsayer qualified by the High Board."
"As you say. We've no Truthsayer."
"Is there a traitor among us?" she asked. "I've studied our people with great care. Who could it be? Not Gurney. Certainly not Duncan. Their lieutenants are not strategically enough placed to consider. It's not you, Thufir. It cannot be Paul. I know it's not me. Dr. Yueh, then? Shall I call him in and put him to the test?"
"You know that's an empty gesture," Hawat said. "He's conditioned by the High College. That I know for certain."
"Not to mention that his wife was a Bene Gesserit slain by the Harkonnens,"
Jessica said.
"So that's what happened to her," Hawat said.
"Haven't you heard the hate in his voice when he speaks the Harkonnen name?"
"You know I don't have the ear," Hawat said.
"What brought this base suspicion on me?" she asked.
Hawat frowned. "My Lady puts her servant in an impossible position. My first loyalty is to the Duke."
