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Come
to
me
.
.
.
Come
to
me
,
warm
arms
of
my
lass
.
For
me
.
.
.
For
me
,
the
warm
arms
of
my
lass
.
”
The
singer
stopped
,
reached
out
a
bandaged
arm
and
closed
the
eyelids
of
the
man
on
the
litter
.
Halleck
drew
a
final
soft
chord
from
the
baliset
,
thinking
:
Now
we
are
seventy
-
three
.
*
*
*
Family
life
of
the
Royal
Creche
is
difficult
for
many
people
to
understand
,
but
I
shall
try
to
give
you
a
capsule
view
of
it
.
My
father
had
only
one
real
friend
,
I
think
.
That
was
Count
Hasimir
Fenring
,
the
genetic
-
eunuch
and
one
of
the
deadliest
fighters
in
the
Imperium
.
The
Count
,
a
dapper
and
ugly
little
man
,
brought
a
new
slave
-
concubine
to
my
father
one
day
and
I
was
dispatched
by
my
mother
to
spy
on
the
proceedings
.
All
of
us
spied
on
my
father
as
a
matter
of
self
-
protection
.
One
of
the
slave
-
concubines
permitted
my
father
under
the
Bene
Gesserit
-
Guild
agreement
could
not
,
of
course
,
bear
a
Royal
Successor
,
but
the
intrigues
were
constant
and
oppressive
in
their
similarity
.
We
became
adept
,
my
mother
and
sisters
and
I
,
at
avoiding
subtle
instruments
of
death
.
It
may
seem
a
dreadful
thing
to
say
,
but
I
’
m
not
at
all
sure
my
father
was
innocent
in
all
these
attempts
.
A
Royal
Family
is
not
like
other
families
.
Here
was
a
new
slave
concubine
,
then
,
red
-
haired
like
my
father
,
willowy
and
graceful
.
She
had
a
dancer
’
s
muscles
,
and
her
training
obviously
had
included
neuro
-
enticement
.
My
father
looked
at
her
for
a
long
time
as
she
postured
unclothed
before
him
.
Finally
he
said
:
“
She
is
too
beautiful
.
We
will
save
her
as
a
gift
.
”
You
have
no
idea
how
much
consternation
this
restraint
created
in
the
Royal
Creche
.
Subtlety
and
self
-
control
were
,
after
all
,
the
most
deadly
threats
to
us
all
.
