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Kynes suddenly realized he might have overstepped his bounds； and he balked a little。 Here he was in the grandest throne room on a million worlds； having an actual conversation with Emperor Elrood IX。 The other members of the Court stared at him； some with displeasure； some with horror； some with wicked glee as if they anticipated a severe punishment momentarily。
But soon Kynes found himself thinking of the sweeping landscape of scoured sands； majestic dunes； and monstrous sandworms visions he'd only seen in filmbooks。 Forgetting his minor lapse in tact； he caught his breath and waited for the details of his assignment。
〃It is vitally important to the future of the Imperium that we understand the secret of melange。 To date； no one has spent the time or effort to unravel its mysteries。 People think of Arrakis as an unending source of riches； and they don't care about the mechanics or the details。 Shallow thinking。〃 He paused。 〃This is the challenge you will face； Pardot Kynes。 We install you as our official Imperial Planetologist to Arrakis。〃
As Elrood made this pronouncement； he looked down at the weathered； middle…aged man and assessed him privately。 He saw immediately that Kynes was not a plex man： His emotions and alliances lay wide…open on his face。 Court advisors had indicated that Pardot Kynes was a man utterly without political ambitions or obligations。 His only true interest lay in his work and in understanding the natural order of the universe。 He had a childlike fascination for alien places and harsh environments。 He would do the job with boundless enthusiasm； and would provide honest answers。
Elrood had spent too much of his political life surrounded by simpering sycophants； brainless yes…men who said what they thought he wanted to hear。 But this rugged man filled with social awkwardness was not like that。
Now it was even more important that they understand the facts behind the spice； in order to improve the efficiency of operations； vital operations。 After seven years of inept governorship by Abulurd Harkonnen； and the recent accidents and mistakes made by the overambitious Baron Vladimir Harkonnen； the Emperor was concerned about a bottleneck in spice production and distribution。 The spice must flow。
The Spacing Guild needed vast amounts of melange to fill the enclosed chambers of their mutated Navigators。 He himself； and all the upper classes in the Empire； needed daily （and increasing） doses of melange to maintain their vitality and to extend their lives。 The Bene Gesserit Sisterhood needed it in their training to create more Reverend Mothers。 Mentats needed it for mental focus。
But though he disagreed with many of Baron Harkonnen's recent harsh management activities； Elrood could not simply take Arrakis for himself。 After decades of political manipulations； House Harkonnen had been placed in charge after the ouster of House Richese。
For a thousand years now； the governorship of Arrakis had been an Imperial boon； granted to a chosen family that would wring the riches out of the sands for a term not to exceed a century。 Each time the fief changed hands； a firestorm of pleas and requests for favors bombarded the Palace。 Landsraad support came with many strings attached； and some of those strings felt like nooses to Elrood。
Though he was Emperor； his position of power rested in a careful and uneasy balance of alliances with numerous forces； including the Great and Minor Houses of the Landsraad； the Spacing Guild； and the all…enpassing mercial bines such as CHOAM。 Other forces were even more difficult to deal with； forces that preferred to remain behind the scenes。
I need to disrupt the balance； Elrood thought。 This business of Arrakis has gone on too long。
The Emperor leaned forward； seeing that Kynes was fairly bursting with joy and enthusiasm。 He actually wanted to go to the desert world all the better！ 〃Find out everything you can about Arrakis and send me regular reports； Planetologist。 House Harkonnen will be instructed to give you all the support and cooperation you need。〃 Though they certainly won't like an Imperial Observer snooping around。
Newly installed in the planetary governorship； Baron Harkonnen was wrapped around the Emperor's fingertip； for now。 〃We will provide the items necessary for your journey。 pile your lists and give them to my Chamberlain。 Once you reach Arrakis； the Harkonnens will be instructed to give you whatever else you require。〃
〃My needs are few；〃 Kynes said。 〃All I require are my eyes and my mind。〃
〃Yes； but see if you can make the Baron offer a few more amenities than that。〃 Elrood smiled again； then dismissed the Planetologist。 The Emperor noticed a pronounced spring in Kynes's step as he was led out of the Imperial audience chamber。
Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a human mind。
…Chief mandment resulting from the Butlerian Jihad； found in the Orange Catholic Bible
Suffering is the great teacher of men；〃 the chorus of old actors said as they stood on the stage； their voices in perfect unison。 Though the performers were simple villagers from the town below Castle Caladan； they had rehearsed well for the annual performance of the official House Play。 Their costumes were colorful； if not entirely authentic。 The props the facade of Agamemnon's palace； the flagstoned courtyard showed a realism based only on enthusiasm and a few filmbook snapshots of ancient Greece。
The long play by Aeschylus had already gone on for some time； and the gathered audience in the theatre was warm and the air was close。 Glowglobes lit the stage and rows of seating； but the torches and braziers around the performers added aromatic smoke to the building。
Though the background noises were loud enough； the Old Duke's snores threatened to carry all the way forward to the performers。
〃Father； wake up！〃 Leto Atreides whispered； nudging Duke Paulus in the ribs。 〃The play isn't even half…over。〃
In the chair of his private box； Paulus stirred and straightened； brushing imaginary crumbs from his broad chest。 Shadows played across the creased； narrow face and the voluminous salt…and…pepper beard。 He wore a black Atreides uniform with a red hawk crest on the left breast。 〃It's all just talking and standing anyway； lad。〃 He blinked toward the stage； where the old men still hadn't moved much。 〃And we've seen it every year。〃
〃That is not the point； Paulus； dear。 People are watching。〃 It was Leto's mother； sitting on the other side of the Duke。 The dark…skinned Lady Helena； dressed in her fine gown； took seriously the ponderous words of the Greek chorus。 〃Pay attention to the context。 It's your family history； after all。 Not mine。〃 Leto looked from one parent to the other； knowing that the family history of his mother's House Richese carried just as much grandeur and loss as that of Atreides。 Richese had sunk from a highly profitable 〃golden age〃 to its current economic weakness。
House Atreides claimed to trace its roots more than twelve thousand years； back to the ancient sons of Atreus on Old Terra。 Now the family embraced its long history； despite the numerous tragic and dishonorable incidents it contained。 The Dukes had made an annual tradition of performing the classic tragedy of Agamemnon； the most famous son of Atreus and one of the generals who had conquered Troy。
With black…black hair and a narrow face； Leto Atreides strongly resembled his mother； though he had his father's aquiline nose and hawkish profile。 The young man watched； dressed in unfortable finery； vaguely aware of the off…world background of the story。 The author of the ancient play had counted on his audience understanding the esoteric references。 General Agamemnon had been a great military mander in one of human history's legendary wars； long before the creation of thinking machines that had enslaved mankind； long before the Butlerian Jihad had freed humanity。
For the first time in his fourteen years； Leto felt the weight of legends on his shoulders； he sensed a connection with the faces and personalities of his star…crossed family's past。 One day he would succeed his father； and would bee a part of Atreides history as well。 Events were chipping away at his childhood； transforming him into a man。 He saw it clearly。
〃The unenvied fortune is best；〃 the old men chimed together to say their lines。 〃Preferable to sacking cities； better than following the mands of others。〃
Before sailing to Troy； Agamemnon had sacrificed his own daughter to guarantee favorable winds from the gods。 His distraught wife； Clytemnestra； had spent the ten years of her husband's absence plotting revenge。 Now； after the final battle of the Trojan War； a chain of signal fires had been lit along the coast； sending back home word of the victory。
〃All of the action occurs offstage；〃 Paulus muttered； though he had never been much of a reader or literary critic。 He lived life for the moment； squeezing every drop of experience and acplishment。 He preferred spending time with his son； or his soldiers。 〃Everybody just stands in front of the sets； waiting for Agamemnon to arrive。〃
Paulus abhorred inaction； always telling his son that even the wrong decision was better than no decision at all。 In the play； Leto thought the Old Duke sympathized most with the great general； a man after his own heart。
The chorus of old men droned on； Clytemnestra stepped out of the palace to deliver a speech； and the chorus continued again。 A herald； pretending to have disembarked from a ship； came onto the stage； kissed the ground； and recited a long soliloquy。
〃Agamemnon； glorious king！ How you deserve our joyous wele； for annihilating Troy and the Trojan homeland。 Our enemy's shrines lie in ruins； nevermore forting their gods； and their soils are barren。〃
Warfare and mayhem it made Leto think of his father's younger days； when he had charged out to fight battles for the Emperor； crushing a bloody rebellion on Ecaz； adventuring with his friend Dominic； who was now the Earl of House Vernius on Ix。 In private times with Leto； the Old Duke often talked about those days with great fondness。
In the shadows of their box； Paulus heaved a too…loud sigh； not concealing his boredom。 Lady Helena shot him a daggered glare； then returned her attention to the play； reconstructing her face to form a more placid smile in case anyone should look at her。 Leto gave his father a crooked and sympathetic grin； and Paulus winked back at him。 The Duke and his wife played their parts and fit their own fortable roles。
Finally； on the stage below； the victorious Agamemnon arrived in a chariot； acpanied by his spoils…of…war mistress； the half…insane prophetess Cassandra。 Meanwhile； Clytemnestra made preparations for her hated husband's appearance； feigning devotion and love。
Old Paulus started to loosen the collar of his uniform； but Helena reached over quickly to pull his hand away。 Her smile didn't waver。
Seeing this ritual his parents often went through； Leto smiled to himself。 His mother constantly struggled to maintain what she called 〃a sense of decorum；〃 while the old man behaved with far less formality。 Though his father had taught him much about statecraft and leadership； Lady Helena had taught her son protocol and religious studies。
A daughter of Richese； Lady Helena Atreides had been born into a House Major that had lost most of its power and prestige through failed economic petitions and political intrigues。 After being ousted from the planetary governorship of Arrakis； Helena's family had salvaged some of its respectability through an arranged marital alliance with the Atreides； several of her sisters had been married off to other Houses。
Despite their obvious differences； the Old Duke had once told Leto he had truly loved Helena in the first years of their union。 Over time； that had eroded； and he'd dabbled with many mistresses； possibly producing illegitimate children； though Leto was his sole official heir。 As decades passed； an enmity built up between husband and wife； causing a deep rift。 Now their marriage was strictly political。
〃I married for politics in the first place； lad；〃 he had said。 〃Never should have tried to make it otherwise。 At our station； marriage is a tool。 Don't muck everything up by try