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the horrible thought into words。 And if she did love this baby against all dictates then that was even more reason to do what she was about to do。
Eliminate the temptation。
Was she feeling love for the child； or just pity？ She didn't want to share these thoughts with any of her Sisters。 She felt shame for experiencing them； but not for what she was about to do。
Move quickly。 Get it over with！
The future demanded that Mohiam do this。 If she did not act on the prescient warning； whole planets would die。 This new child would be a daughter with an immense destiny； and to ensure that destiny； the other had to be sacrificed。
But still Mohiam hesitated； as if a great maternal weight restrained her； trying to hold back whatever vision had driven her。
She stroked the child's throat。 Skin warm。。。breathing slow and regular。 In the shadows Mohiam couldn't see the misshapen facial bones and sloping shoulder。 The skin was pale。。。the baby seemed so weak。 She stirred and whimpered。
Mohiam felt her daughter's breath hot against her hand。 Clenching her fist； the Reverend Mother worked hard to control herself and whispered； 〃I must not fear。 Fear is the mind…killer。 。 。〃 But she was shaking。
Out of the corner of her eye she saw another eye； glowing purple to pierce the darkness of the nursery room。 She positioned her body between the eye and the child； with her back to the watchers。 She looked into the future； not at what she was doing。 Even a Reverend Mother sometimes had a conscience。。。。
Mohiam did what the dream had manded her to do； holding a small pillow over the child's face until sound and movement stopped。
Finished； still shaking； she arranged the bedding around the little body； then positioned the dead child's head on the pillow and covered her tiny arms and deformed shoulder with a blanket。 Suddenly she felt very； very old。 Ancient beyond her years。
It is done。 Mohiam rested the palm of her right hand on her swollen belly。 Now you must not fail us； daughter。
One who rules assumes irrevocable responsibility for the ruled。 You are a husbandman。 This demands； at times； a selfless act of love which may be amusing only to those you rule。
…DUKE PAULUS ATREIDES
In the Plaza de Toros； up in the spectacular box seats reserved for House Atreides； Leto chose a green…cushioned chair beside Rhombur and Kailea。 The Lady Helena Atreides； who had no fondness for such public displays； was late arriving。 For the occasion Kailea Vernius wore silks and ribbons； colorful veils； and a lush； flowing gown that Atreides seamstresses had made specially for her。 Leto thought she was breathtaking。
The gloomy skies did not threaten rain； but the temperature remained cool and the air damp。 Even from up here he could smell the dust and old blood in the bullring； the packed bodies of the populace； the stone of the pillars and benches。
In a grand pronouncement carried by the news crier network all over Caladan； Duke Paulus Atreides had dedicated this bullfight to the exiled children of House Vernius。 He would fight in their honor； symbolizing their struggle against the illegal takeover of Ix and the blood price that had been placed on their parents； Earl Dominic and Lady Shando。
Beside Leto； Rhombur leaned forward eagerly； his square chin on his hands as he gazed down at the packed sand of the bullring。 His blond hair had been bed and cut； but somehow it still looked mussed。 With tremendous anticipation and some concern for the safety of the Old Duke； they waited for the paseo； the introductory parade that would precede the fight itself。
Colorful banners hung in the humid air； along with Atreides hawk pennants over the royal box。 In this case； however； the leader of House Atreides was not in his prime seat； he was out in the arena； as performer rather than spectator。
All around them； the Plaza de Toros was filled with the humming； chattering sounds of thousands of spectators。 People waved and cheered。 A local band played balisets； bone flutes； and brassy wind instruments energetic music that heightened the mood of excitement。
Leto looked around the guarded stands； listening to the music and the happy noises of the crowd。 He wondered what could be taking his mother so long。 Soon； people would notice her absence。
Finally； with a flurry of female attendants； the Lady Helena arrived； moving through the throng。 She walked smoothly； head held high； though her face carried shadows。 The ladies…in…waiting left her at the doorway to the ducal box and returned to their assigned seats in the lower level。
Without speaking a word to her son or even looking at his guests； Helena settled herself in the tall carved chair beside the empty post where the Duke sat on those occasions when he watched the matadors。 She had gone to the chapel an hour beforehand to mune with her God。 Traditionally； the matador was supposed to spend time in religious contemplation before his fight； but Duke Paulus was more concerned with testing his equipment and exercising。
〃I had to pray for your father to be saved from his stupidity；〃 she murmured； looking at Leto。 〃I had to pray for all of us。 Someone has to。〃
Smiling tentatively at his mother； Leto said； 〃I'm sure he appreciates it。〃
She shook her head； sighed； and looked down into the arena as a loud fanfare of trumpets played； sounds that blasted and overlapped in resonating echoes from speakers encircling the Plaza de Toros。
Stableboys jogged around the ring in unaccustomed finery； waving bright flags and pennants as they rushed across the packed sand。 Moments later； in a grand entrance that he performed so exquisitely； Duke Paulus Atreides rode out； sitting high on a groomed white stallion。 Green plumes rose from the animal's headdress； while ribbons trailed from the horse's mane to flow back around the rider's arms and hands。
Today； the Duke wore a dashing black…and…magenta costume with sequins； a brilliant emerald sash； and a matador's traditional hat； marked with tiny Atreides crests to indicate the number of bulls he had killed。 Ballooning sleeves and pantaloons concealed the apparatus of his protective body…shield。 A brilliant purple cape draped over his shoulders。
Leto scanned the figures below； trying to pick out the face of the stableboy Duncan Idaho； who had so boldly positioned himself working for the Duke。 He should have been part of the paseo； but Leto didn't see him。
The white stallion snorted and cantered around in a circle as Paulus raised his gloved hand to greet his subjects。 Then he stopped in front of the ducal box and bowed deeply to his wife； who sat rigid in her chair。 As expected； she waved a blood…red flower and blew him a kiss。 The people shouted and cheered as they imagined fairy tales of romance between their Duke and his Lady。
Rhombur hunched forward on his plush but unfortable seat； smiling at Leto。 〃I've never seen anything like this。 I； uh； can't wait。〃
INSIDE THE STABLES； behind force…field bars； the chosen Salusan bull issued a muffled bellow and charged against the wall。 Wood splintered。 The reinforced iron supports screeched。
Duncan scrambled backward； terrified。 The creature's multifaceted eyes burned a coppery red； as if