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can say to Leto, something more you could try."
"Vermilion hells, Kailea! I've tried fifty different times and fifty different
ways, and he always turns me down. It's already driven a wedge between us.
Because of you, I may have lost my best friend."
The glow of sunshine on her skin looked like distant firelight. "What does mere
friendship matter, when we're talking about the future of House Vernius -- the
Great House of our forefathers? Think about the important things, Rhombur."
His expression turned to stone. "You've turned this into a problem, when it
never had to be. You alone, Kailea. If you couldn't accept the limitations,
why did you agree to become Leto's concubine at all? You two seemed so happy at
first. Why don't you apologize to him? Why not simply accept reality? Why
don't you make an effort?" Rhombur shook his head, stared at the fire-jewel
ring on his right hand. "I'm not going to question Leto's decisions. I may not
agree with his reasons, but I understand them. He is Duke Atreides, and we owe
him the respect of following his wishes."
Kailea's expression, which she had been keeping under control, changed to a
disdainful sneer. "You're not a Prince. Chiara says you're not even a man."
She lifted one foot and stomped at the baliset, but in her rage lost her balance
and dealt it only a glancing blow. The instrument skidded off the dock into the
water, where it floated behind the boat.
Swearing, Rhombur leaned out over the edge of the dock and retrieved the
baliset, as Kailea whirled and left. While drying the instrument with a towel,
he watched her climb the steep path back to the Castle, half-running and half-
walking. She stumbled, got back up, and kept going, trying to maintain her
dignity.
No wonder Leto preferred the calm, intelligent Jessica. Kailea, once so sweet
and kind, had become hard and cruel. He didn't know her anymore. He sighed. I
love her, but I don't like her.
It requires a desperate and lonely sort of courage to challenge the accepted
wisdom upon which social peace of mind rests.
-CROWN PRINCE RAPHAEL CORRINO, In Defense of Change in the Face of Tradition
THE TOWERING GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS of Corrinth, the capital city of Kaitain, rose
around Abulurd Harkonnen like a drug-induced fantasy. In his wildest dreams he
had never visualized so many soaring edifices, jeweled inlays, and polished
slabs of precious stone.
On Giedi Prime, where he'd grown up under the watchful eye of his father Dmitri,
cities were crowded, with dirty settlements erected for function and industry
rather than beauty. But here, it was quite different. Colorful chime kites
were tethered to the tall buildings, writhing on breezes in the perpetually blue
skies. Prismatic ribbons drifted across the sky and shed rainbows on the
flagstones below. Kaitain was obviously more concerned with form than
substance.
Within an hour, the sunny dazzle of perfect skies made Abulurd dizzy, causing an
ache in the back of his skull. He longed for the overcast skies of Lankiveil,
the damp breezes that cut right to the bone, and the warm embrace of Emmi.
But Abulurd had an important task to perform, an appointment at the daily
Landsraad Council meeting. It seemed a mere formality, but he was determined to
do it, for the sake of his family and his infant son, and it would change his
life forever. Abulurd longed for the days to come.
He strode along the promenade under banners of Great and Minor Houses that
flapped precisely in the gentle winds. The imposing buildings seemed even more
massive and powerful than the cliffs bounding the fjords of Lankiveil.
He had taken care to wear his grandest whale fur cloak adorned with precious
jewels and hand-worked scrimshaw amulets. Abulurd had come to Corrinth as a
legal representative of House Harkonnen to reclaim his title as subdistrict
governor of Rabban-Lankiveil. It had always been his right, but never before
had it mattered to him.
Because he walked without an escort or a retinue of sycophants, the clerks and
functionaries dismissed Abulurd as not deserving of notice. They looked out the
windows, sat on balconies, or bustled to and fro with important documents
scribed on ridulian crystal sheets. To them, he was invisible.
When seeing him off at the Lankiveil spaceport, Emmi had coached him, making him
rehearse for her. According to the rules of the Landsraad, Abulurd had the
authority to request an audience and to file his documents. The other nobles
would see his request as minor . . . trivial, even. But it meant so much to
him, and he had put it off for too long.
During the months of Emmi's pregnancy, happy again, they had reopened the main
lodge and tried to bring life and color back into their lives. Abulurd
subsidized industries, even seeded the waters with fish so that boatmen could
earn a livelihood until the Bjondax whales chose to return.
Then, five months ago, Emmi had quietly given birth to a healthy baby boy. They
named him Feyd-Rautha, partly in honor of his grandfather Onir Rautha-Rabban,
the slain burgomaster of Bifrost Eyrie. When Abulurd held the baby in his arms,
he saw quick, intelligent eyes and an insatiable curiosity, exquisite features,
and a strong voice. In his heart this was now his only son.
Together, he and Emmi had searched for the old Buddislamic monk who had been
responsible for the pregnancy. They wanted to thank her and have her bless the
healthy infant, but they could find no trace of the wizened woman in sky-blue
robes and gold embroidery.
Now, on Kaitain, Abulurd would do something to benefit his new son more than a
simple monk's blessing could ever accomplish. If it went well, little Feyd-
Rautha would have a different future, untainted by the crimes in House
Harkonnen's extended history. He would grow up to be a good man.
Standing tall, Abulurd entered the Landsraad Hall of Oratory, passing beneath a
mottled coral archwork that rose over his head like a bridge across a mountain
chasm. Upon arriving at the capital world, he had made an appointment with an
Imperial scribe to add his name to the agenda. When Abulurd refused to bribe
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