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tall, like a walking tree. He wore a black reflective-weave suit that shimmered like oily shadows around his lanky frame. Dark hair combed back from a prominent widow’s peak surmounted a thick and heavy brow, on which was tattooed the sinuous shape of a horned cobra, the symbol of House Hoskanner. Valdemar’s nose jutted from his face, and the lantern jaw seemed designed for extra power when he wished to clamp his teeth together. Keeping his gaze focused on the foot of the Grand Emperor’s throne, Valdemar delivered a perfect, formal bow. Never once did he glance at the Linkam party.
    Six Hoskanner bodyguards, the same number as Jesse was allowed, wore imposing studded uniforms. Their faces were blunt and blocky, almost subhuman, all of them also bearing the horned-cobra tattoo, but on their left cheeks. Tuek sneered at them, then turned back when the Grand Emperor summoned both noblemen. Dutifully, the pair marched along opposite paths toward the towering pedestal that held the high throne.
    “Nobleman Jesse Linkam, you have filed a complaint on behalf of the Nobles’ Council regarding the Hoskanner monopoly on spice production. We normally ask aristocratic families to settle their disputes without Imperial intervention. You have more straightforward means at your disposal—personal combat between champions, mutual arbitration, even kanly. None of these is deemed satisfactory?”
    “No, Sire,” both Jesse and Valdemar said in unison, as if they had choreographed their response.
    The Grand Emperor’s fleshy face descended into a scowl. He turned toward Jesse, his tiny eyes set deep within pale folds of fat. “Nobleman Hoskanner has offered a compromise, and I suggest that you accept it.”
    “I will entertain any proposal, so long as it is fair and just.” Jesse glanced over at Valdemar, who avoided looking at him.
    “House Hoskanner has met our spice requirements for eighteen years,” the Emperor said. “We see no reason to change this profitable enterprise simply because other families indulge in a fit of pique. We must be convinced that any change is to our advantage.
    “Nobleman Hoskanner is justifiably proud of his accomplishments. To prove a point, he is willing to surrender his monopoly on Duneworld for a period of two years. House Linkam—and Linkam alone—will assume control of spice harvesting. If, at the end of the probationary period, Linkam has produced more than Hoskanner did in the previous two-year period, we will award spice operations to his household, in perpetuity. You may then distribute contractual shares to the Nobles’ Council as you deem fit.”
    “A contest, Majesty?”
    The Grand Emperor did not like to be interrupted. “Nobleman Hoskanner has shown great generosity in making this offer, and he demonstrates an implicit confidence in his own abilities. If you can do better, then the monopoly is yours. Do you accept these terms as a reasonable resolution to your dispute?”
    Jesse saw from the barely contained smile lurking on Valdemar’s face that this was exactly what his rival wanted, but he could see no way out. “Am I to be allowed access to the Hoskanner production figures so we can determine at what levels we must produce?”
    Hoskanner stepped forward. “Sire, my crews did not have a challenge or a target. We did our best and provided the required quota to the Imperial coffers. Providing Nobleman Linkam with an exact target would give him an unfair advantage.”
    “Agreed,” the Grand Emperor said with a darting glance toward Valdemar. Jesse was convinced they had arranged this beforehand.
    The Linkam patriarch did not give up easily, however. “But Hoskanner has had years to set up his infrastructure, train his crews, buy his equipment. My people would be starting from scratch. Before I go to Duneworld and begin the two years, I must be allowed an acceptable ramp-up time. Will House Hoskanner leave some of their specialized equipment for us to use?”
    Valdemar