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thinking machines had the right idea.”
    â€œThey were toys compared to me,” Piter snarled. “You yourself, Baron, could outperform those machines.”
    â€œPerhaps,” the Baron said. “Ah, well. . . .” He took a deep breath, belched. “Now, Piter, outline for my nephew the salient features of our campaign against the House of Atreides. Function as a Mentat for us, if you please.”
    â€œBaron, I’ve warned you not to trust one so young with this information. My observations of—”
    â€œI’ll be the judge of this,” the Baron said. “I give you an order, Mentat. Perform one of your various functions.”
    â€œSo be it,” Piter said. He straightened, assuming an odd attitude of dignity—as though it were another mask, but this time clothing his entire body. “In a few days Standard, the entire household of the Duke Leto will embark on a Spacing Guild liner for Arrakis. The Guild will deposit them at the city of Arrakeen rather than at our city of Carthag. The Duke’s Mentat, Thufir Hawat, will have concluded rightly that Arrakeen is easier to defend.”
    â€œListen carefully, Feyd,” the Baron said. “Observe the plans within plans within plans.”
    Feyd-Rautha nodded, thinking: This is more like it. The old monster is letting me in on secret things at last. He must really mean for me to be his heir.
    â€œThere are several tangential possibilities,” Piter said. “I indicate that House Atreides will go to Arrakis. We must not, however, ignore the possibility the Duke has contracted with the Guild to remove him to a place of safety outside the System. Others in like circumstances have become renegade Houses, taking family atomics and shields and fleeing beyond the Imperium.”
    â€œThe Duke’s too proud a man for that,” the Baron said.
    â€œIt is a possibility,” Piter said. “The ultimate effect for us would be the same, however.”
    â€œNo, it would not!” the Baron growled. “I must have him dead and his line ended.”
    â€œThat’s the high probability,” Piter said. “There are certain preparations that indicate when a House is going renegade. The Duke appears to be doing none of these things.”
    â€œSo,” the Baron sighed. “Get on with it, Piter.
    â€œAt Arrakeen,” Piter said, “the Duke and his family will occupy the Residency, lately the home of Count and Lady Fenring.”
    â€œThe Ambassador to the Smugglers,” the Baron chuckled.
    â€œAmbassador to what?” Feyd-Rautha asked.
    â€œYour uncle makes a joke,” Piter said. “He calls Count Fenring Ambassador to the Smugglers, indicating the Emperor’s interest in smuggling operations on Arrakis.”
    Feyd-Rautha turned a puzzled stare on his uncle. “Why?”
    â€œDon’t be dense, Feyd,” the Baron snapped. “As long as the Guild remains effectively outside Imperial control, how could it be otherwise? How else could spies and assassins move about?”
    Feyd-Rautha’s mouth made a soundless “Oh-h-h-h.”
    â€œWe’ve arranged diversions at the Residency,” Piter said. “There’ll be an attempt on the life of the Atreides heir—an attempt which could succeed.”
    â€œPiter,” the Baron rumbled, “you indicated—”
    â€œI indicated accidents can happen,” Piter said. “And the attempt must appear valid.”
    â€œAh, but the lad has such a sweet young body,” the Baron said. “Of course, he’s potentially more dangerous than the father . . . with that witch mother training him. Accursed woman! Ah, well, please continue, Piter.”
    â€œHawat will have divined that we have an agent planted on him,” Piter said. “The obvious suspect is Dr. Yueh, who is indeed our agent. But Hawat has investigated and found that our doctor is a Suk School graduate