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“
I
remember
a
time
in
the
arena
several
years
ago
,
”
the
Baron
said
.
“
It
seemed
there
that
day
a
slave
had
been
set
to
kill
you
.
Is
that
truly
how
it
was
?
”
“
It
’
s
been
so
long
ago
,
Uncle
.
After
all
,
I
—
”
“
No
evasions
,
please
,
”
the
Baron
said
,
and
the
tightness
of
his
voice
exposed
the
rein
on
his
anger
.
Feyd
-
Rautha
looked
at
his
uncle
,
thinking
:
He
knows
,
else
he
wouldn
’
t
ask
.
“
It
was
a
sham
,
Uncle
.
I
arranged
it
to
discredit
your
slavemaster
.
”
“
Very
clever
,
”
the
Baron
said
.
“
Brave
,
too
.
That
slave
-
gladiator
almost
took
you
,
didn
’
t
he
?
”
“
Yes
.
”
“
If
you
had
finesse
and
subtlety
to
match
such
courage
,
you
’
d
be
truly
formidable
.
”
The
Baron
shook
his
head
from
side
to
side
.
And
as
he
had
done
many
times
since
that
terrible
day
on
Arrakis
,
he
found
himself
regretting
the
loss
of
Piter
,
the
Mentat
.
There
’
d
been
a
man
of
delicate
,
devilish
subtlety
.
It
hadn
’
t
saved
him
,
though
.
Again
,
the
Baron
shook
his
head
.
Fate
was
sometimes
inscrutable
.
Feyd
-
Rautha
glanced
around
the
bedchamber
,
studying
the
signs
of
the
struggle
,
wondering
how
his
uncle
had
overcome
the
slave
they
’
d
prepared
so
carefully
.
