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owd would be equally pleased by its ferocity。 He looked forward to the fight。
Heavy gates opened with a grinding of suspensor hinges； and the Salusan bull charged out； shaking its massive； multiple…horned head in the dazzling light。 Its faceted eyes glittered with feral rage。 The scales on the mutated creature's back reflected iridescent colors from its black hide。
Duke Paulus whistled and waved his cape。 〃Over here； stupid！〃 The spectators laughed。
Turning toward him； the bull lowered its head with a loud bubbling snort。 Leto noticed that his father hadn't yet switched on his protective shield。 Instead； Paulus snapped and fluttered his colorful cape； trying to draw the wrath of the beast。 The Salusan bull pawed and snorted on the sandy arena floor； then charged。 Leto wanted to cry out； to warn his father。 Had the man simply forgotten to switch on his protection？ How could he possibly survive without a shield？
But the bull thundered past； and Paulus swept his cape gracefully to one side； letting the creature strike the diversionary target。 Its hooked horns shredded the bottom of the fabric into ragged frays。 While it was ing about； the Old Duke turned his back to the bull； exposed and overconfident。 He bowed mockingly toward the crowd before he stood straight then calmly； patiently； flicked on his personal shield。
The bull attacked again； and now the Duke used his poniard to toy with it； pricking through its thick； scaled hide before slashing a stinging yet minor wound along its flank。 The creature's faceted eyes saw multiple images of its colorfully garbed tormentor。
It charged again。
Moving too fast to penetrate the shield； Leto thought。 But if the bull tires and slows； he could be even more dangerous 。。。。
As the fight continued； Leto saw how his father was playing this up for all the spectacle he could muster； tantalizing the audience to amuse them。 Old Paulus could have killed the Salusan bull at any time； yet he drew out the moment； savored it。
From the reactions of the spectators； Leto knew this would be an event talked about for years。 The rice farmers and fishermen led such dreary； hardworking lives。 But this celebration would fix a proud image of their Duke forever in their minds。 Look what Old Paulus was doing； they would say； despite his age！
Eventually the bull became exhausted； its eyes reddened with blood； its snorts heavy and tired as it spilled its life fluid onto the powdery surface of the arena。 Duke Paulus himself now chose to end the fight。 He had dragged the sport along for nearly an hour。 Though dripping with sweat； he somehow maintained his regal appearance and did not allow his manner to show weariness； or his fine clothes to be disheveled。
Up in the stands； Lady Helena continued to wave her pennants； smiling fixedly down at the spectacle。
By now； the Salusan bull was like a maddened machine； a rampaging monster that had few vulnerable spots in its black…scaled armor。 As the beast ran at him again； its gait staggering； its gleaming horns pointed like spears； Duke Paulus feinted to the left； then returned as the bull surged past。
Then Paulus swung sideways； tossed his flapping cape to the dust； and gripped the shaft of his vara lance in both hands。 He threw all of his strength into a powerful side thrust。 Flawlessly performed； magnificently executed。 The blade of the lance drove home through a chink in the Salusan bull's armored hide； sliding through an intersection of bone and skull； skewering straight through to impale both of the creature's separated brains the most difficult； most sophisticated way to kill it。
The bull ground to a halt； wheezing； groaning and suddenly dead。 Its carcass slumped like a crashing spaceship onto the ground。
Planting his foot on the horned head of the bull； Duke Paulus heaved against his lance； pulled the bloodied blade out； and dropped it onto the ash…covered ground。 Next he drew his sword and； raising it high； twirled it in a triumphant gesture。
As one； the people in the stands surged to their feet； screaming； howling； and cheering。 They waved their banners； snatched bouquets from flowerpots； and tossed the blossoms onto the arena floor。 They sang out Paulus's name over and over。
Reveling in the adoration； the Atreides patriarch smiled and turned about； opening his coat so that the spectators could see his blood…spattered； sweat…drenched form。 He was the hero now； he had no need to show off his finery。
After the throbbing cheers had died down； many minutes later； the Duke raised his sword again and struck downward； hacking repeatedly until he had severed the head of the bull。 Finally； he plunged the bloody sword into the soft ground of the plaza and used both hands to grasp the horns of the bull and lift its head high。
〃Leto！〃 he shouted over his shoulder； his voice booming into the acoustics of the Plaza de Toros。 〃Leto； my son； e out here！〃
Leto； still in the shadows of the archway； hesitated a moment； then marched forth。 He held his head high as he crossed the hoof…trampled dirt to stand at his father's side。 The crowd cheered with renewed enthusiasm。
Old Duke Paulus turned and presented his son with the bloodied head of his kill。 〃I give you Leto Atreides！〃 he announced to the audience while pointing at his son。 〃Your future Duke！〃
The crowd continued to applaud and shout hurrahs。 Leto grasped one of the bull's horns； he and his father stood together holding the defeated beast's head high； the trophy oozing thick red drops onto the sand。
As Leto heard the people echo his name； he felt deep stirrings within； and wondered for the first time if this was truly what it felt like to be a leader of men。
N'kee： Slow…acting poison that builds up in the adrenal glands； one of the most insidious toxins permitted under the accords of Guild Peace and the restrictions of the Great Convention。 （See War of Assassins。）
…The Assassins' Handbook
Mmmm； the Emperor will never die； you know； Shaddam。〃 A small man with oversize dark eyes and a weasel face； Hasimir Fenring； sat opposite the shield…ball console from his visitor； Crown Prince Shaddam。 〃At least not while you're young enough to enjoy the throne。〃
With a sharp； darting gaze Fenring watched the black shield…ball e to rest on a low…scoring point。 pleting his turn at the game； the heir to the Imperium clearly wasn't happy about the result。 They had been close panions for most of their lives； and Fenring knew exactly how to distract him at the right moment。
From the game room of Fenring's luxurious penthouse； Shaddam could see the lights of his father's Imperial Palace glittering on the gentle hillside a kilometer away。 With Fenring's aid he had disposed of his older brother Fafnir years and years ago； and still the Golden Lion Throne seemed no closer。
Shaddam went over to the balcony and drew a long； deep breath。
He was a strong…featured man in his mid…thirties； with a firm chin and aquiline nose； his reddish hair was cut short and oiled and styled into a perfect helmet。 In an odd way； he looked similar to the century…old busts of his father sculpted during the early decades of Elrood's reign。
It was early evening； and two of Kaitain's four