Leto held anger in check, staring at the man. Thoughts raced through his mind. It had taken bravery to challenge him in his own ducal castle, especially since they now had Bewt's signature over a contract of allegiance. The action had taken, also, a knowledge of personal power. Water was, indeed, power here. If water facilities were mined, for instance, ready to be destroyed at a signal . . . The man looked capable of such a thing. Destruction of water facilities might well destroy Arrakis. That could well have been the club this Bewt held over the Harkonnens.
"My Lord, the Duke, and I have other plans for our conservatory," Jessica said. She smiled at Leto. "We intend to keep it, certainly, but only to hold it in trust for the people of Arrakis. It is our dream that someday the climate of Arrakis may be changed sufficiently to grow such plants anywhere in the open."
Bless her! Leto thought. Let our water-shipper chew on that .
"Your interest in water and weather control is obvious," the Duke said. "I'd advise you to diversify your holdings. One day, water will not be a precious commodity on Arrakis."
And he thought: Hawat must redouble his efforts at infiltrating this Bewt's organization. And we must start on stand-by water facilities at once. No man is going to hold a club over my head!
Bewt nodded, the smile still on his face. "A commendable dream, my Lord." He withdrew a pace.
Leto's attention was caught by the expression on Kynes' face. The man was staring at Jessica. He appeared transfigured - like a man in love . . . or caught in a religious trance.
Kynes' thoughts were overwhelmed at last by the words of prophecy: "And they shall share your most precious dream . "He spoke directly to Jessica: "Do you bring the shortening of the way?"
"Ah, Dr. Kynes," the water-shipper said. "You've come in from tramping around with your mobs of Fremen. How gracious of you."
Kynes passed an unreadable glance across Bewt, said: "It is said in the desert that possession of water in great amount can inflict a man with fatal carelessness."
"They have many strange sayings in the desert," Bewt said, but his voice betrayed uneasiness.
Jessica crossed to Leto, slipped her hand under his arm to gain a moment in which to calm herself. Kynes had said: " . . . the shortening of the way." In the old tongue, the phrase translated as "Kwisatz Haderach." The planetologist's odd question seemed to have gone unnoticed by the others, and now Kynes was bending over one of the consort women, listening to a low-voiced coquetry.
Kwisatz Haderach , Jessica thought. Did our Missionaria Protectiva plant that legend here, too? The thought fanned her secret hope for Paul. He could be the Kwisatz Haderach. He could be .
The Guild Bank representative had fallen into conversation with the water-shipper, and Bewt's voice lifted above the renewed hum of conversations: "Many people have sought to change Arrakis."
The Duke saw how the words seemed to pierce Kynes, jerking the planetologist upright and away from the flirting woman.
Into the sudden silence, a house trooper in uniform of a footman cleared his throat behind Leto, said: "Dinner is served, my Lord."
The Duke directed a questioning glance down at Jessica.
"The custom here is for host and hostess to follow their guests to table," She said, and smiled; "Shall we change that one, too, my Lord?"
He spoke coldly: "That seems a goodly custom. We shall let it stand for now."
The illusion that I suspect her of treachery must be maintained , he thought. He glanced at the guests filing past them. Who among you believes this lie?
Jessica, sensing his remoteness, wondered at it as she had done frequently the past week. He acts like a man struggling with himself, she thought. Is it because I moved so swiftly setting up this dinner party? Yet, he knows how important it is that we begin to mix our officers and men with the locals on a social plane. We are father and mother surrogate to them all. Nothing impresses that fact more firmly than this sort of social sharing .
Leto, watching the guests file past, recalled what Thufir Hawat had said when informed of the affair: "Sire! I forbid it! "
A grim smile touched the Duke's mouth. What a scene that had been. And when the Duke had remained adamant about attending the dinner, Hawat had shaken his head. "I have bad feelings about this, my Lord," he'd said. "Things move too swiftly on Arrakis. That's not like the Harkonnens. Not like them at all."
Paul passed his father escorting a young woman half a head taller than himself. He shot a sour glance at his father, nodded at something the young woman said.
"Her father manufactures stillsuits," Jessica said. "I'm told that only a fool would be caught in the deep desert wearing one of the man's suits."
"Who's the man with the scarred face ahead of Paul?" the Duke asked. "I don't place him."
"A late addition to the list," she whispered. "Gurney arranged the invitation. Smuggler."
"Gurney arranged?"
"At my request. It was cleared with Hawat, although I thought Hawat was a little stiff about it. The smuggler's called Tuek, Esmar Tuek. He's a power among his kind. They all know him here. He's dined at many of the houses."
"Why is he here?"
"Everyone here will ask that question," she said. "Tuek will sow doubt and suspicion just by his presence. He'll also serve notice that you're prepared to back up your orders against graft - by enforcement from the smugglers' end as well. This was the point Hawat appeared to like."
"I'm not sure I like it." He nodded to a passing couple, saw only a few of their guests remained to precede them. "Why didn't you invite some Fremen?"