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He
was
beltless
and
without
weapons
,
but
his
presence
moved
with
him
like
a
force
-
shield
bubble
that
kept
his
immediate
area
open
.
A
Fremen
lance
dropped
across
his
path
,
stopped
him
where
Paul
had
ordered
.
The
others
bunched
up
behind
,
a
montage
of
color
,
of
shuffling
and
of
staring
faces
.
Paul
swept
his
gaze
across
the
group
,
saw
women
who
hid
signs
of
weeping
,
saw
the
lackeys
who
had
come
to
enjoy
grandstand
seats
at
a
Sardaukar
victory
and
now
stood
choked
to
silence
by
defeat
.
Paul
saw
the
bird
-
bright
eyes
of
the
Reverend
Mother
Gaius
Helen
Mohiam
glaring
beneath
her
black
hood
,
and
beside
her
the
narrow
furtiveness
of
Feyd
-
Rautha
Harkonnen
.
There
’
s
a
face
time
betrayed
to
me
,
Paul
thought
.
He
looked
beyond
Feyd
-
Rautha
then
,
attracted
by
a
movement
,
seeing
there
a
narrow
,
weaselish
face
he
’
d
never
before
encountered
—
not
in
time
or
out
of
it
.
It
was
a
face
he
felt
he
should
know
and
the
feeling
carried
with
it
a
marker
of
fear
.
Why
should
I
fear
that
man
?
he
wondered
.
He
leaned
toward
his
mother
,
whispered
:
“
That
man
to
the
left
of
the
Reverend
Mother
,
the
evil
-
looking
one
—
who
is
that
?
”
Jessica
looked
,
recognizing
the
face
from
her
Duke
’
s
dossiers
.
“
Count
Fenring
,
”
she
said
.
“
The
one
who
was
here
immediately
before
us
.
A
genetic
-
eunuch
.
.
.
and
a
killer
.
”
The
Emperor
’
s
errand
boy
,
Paul
thought
.
And
the
thought
was
a
shock
crashing
across
his
consciousness
because
he
had
seen
the
Emperor
in
uncounted
associations
spread
through
the
possible
futures
—
but
never
once
had
Count
Fenring
appeared
within
those
prescient
visions
.
