"Herbert, Brian & Anderson, Kevin J. - Dune - House Corrino" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert Brian & Frank)

complete.

As soon as Baron Harkonnen discovered the loss of his spice hoard and the murder of his guards, he would retaliate against Bar Es Rashid, even though those poor villagers had had nothing to do with the raid. His mouth set in a grim line, Stilgar decided to move the entire population to the safety of a distant sietch.

There, along with the captive construction workers, they would be turned into Fremen, or killed if they did not cooperate. Considering their squalid lives in Bar Es Rashid, Stilgar felt he was doing them a favor.

When Liet-Kynes returned from his meeting with the Emperor on Kaitain, he would be very pleased with what the Fremen had accomplished.

Mankind has only one science: the science of discontentment.

Ч PADISHAH EMPEROR SHADDAM IV, Decree in Response to the Actions of House Moritani

PLEASE GRANT FORGIVENESS, SIRE. I crave a boon, Sire.

For the most part, Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV found his daily duties tedious. Sitting on the Golden Lion Throne had been a thrill at first, but now as he gazed across the Imperial Audience Chamber, it seemed to him that power lured sycophantic pests like sweet frosting lured roaches. The supplicants' voices slipped into the back of his mind as he went through the motions, granting or not granting favors. I demand justice, Sire. A moment of your time, Sire.

During his years as Crown Prince, he had schemed so hard to claim the throne. Now, with the snap of a finger, Shaddam had the power to elevate a worthy commoner to noble status, to destroy worlds, or to bring Great Houses crashing down.

But even the Emperor of the Known Universe could not rule solely as he saw fit. His decisions were beset on all sides by challenges from political string-pullers. The Spacing Guild had its own interests, as did Combine Honnete Ober Avancer Mercantiles, the trading conglomerate better known as CHOAM. It was a blessing to know that the noble families bickered with each other as much as they squabbled with him. Please hear my case, Sire. Have mercy, Sire.

The Bene Gesserit had helped him cement the early years of his reign. Yet now the witchesЧincluding his own wifeЧ whispered behind his back, unraveling his Imperial tapestry, creating new patterns he could not discern.

Grant my request, 1 beg of you, Sire.

It is such a minor thing, Sire.

However, once his long-awaited Project Amal reached completionЧ the artificial spice secretly being developed on IxЧhe would change the face of the Imperium. "Amal." Such a magical sound to the word. But names were one thing, and realities quite another.

The latest reports from Ix were heartening. At last, the damned Tleilaxu claimed success with their experiments, and he was awaiting the final proof, and samples. Spice ... all of the puppet strings in the vast Imperium were made of spice. Soon I shall have my own source, and Arrakis can rot, for all I care.

Master Researcher Hidar Fen Ajidica would never dare to make baseless claims. Nonetheless, Shaddam's boyhood friend and philosophical foil, Count Hasimir Fenring, had been sent to Ix to check it out.

M.y fate is in your hands, Sire.

All hail the benevolent Emperor!

As he sat on the crystal throne, Shaddam allowed himself a mysterious smile, which made the supplicants flinch with uncertainty.

Behind him, two copper-skinned women dressed in garments of golden silkscales climbed the steps and lit the ion torches flanking his throne. The crackling flames were balls of harnessed lightning: blue and green, shot through with veins of light too bright to behold. The air carried a thunderstorm scent of ozone and the hiss of consuming flames.

After the customary pomp and ceremony, Shaddam had arrived in the throne room nearly an hour lateЧhis small way of reminding these pitiful beggars how little importance he placed on their visits. By contrast, all supplicants were required to arrive precisely on time or have their appointments canceled.

Court Chamberlain Beely Ridondo had stepped before the throne and extended his sonic staff. When he struck it against the polished stone floor, the staff sent out a ringing tone that made the Palace foundations tremble. Bald and high-browed, Ridondo called out Shaddam's interminably long name and titles, proclaiming the court to be in session. He then glided backward up the dais steps without missing a beat.

Leaning forward, his narrow face wearing a stern expression, Shaddam had begun another day on the throne. . . .

The morning progressed exactly as he feared, an endless recital of petty matters. But Shaddam forced himself to appear compassionate, a great ruler. He had already commissioned several historians to ensure that the appropriate details of his life and reign were recorded and emphasized.

During a short recess, Chamberlain Ridondo paused to go over the long list of matters on the Imperial docket. Shaddam sipped from his cup of potent spice coffee, felt the electric rush of melange. For once, the cook had