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Book Three: The Prophet
Onlythedrugkeptthetremblingoutofhisvoice.
TheBaronscannedthefacesaroundhim,seeingthelooksoffranticquietinthem.HereturnedhisattentiontoNefud,andspokeinasilkentone:
“Howlonghaveyoubeenmyguardcaptain,Nefud?”
Nefudswallowed.“SinceArrakis,myLord.Almosttwoyears.”
“Andhaveyoualwaysanticipateddangerstomyperson?”
“Suchhasbeenmyonlydesire,myLord.”
“ThenwhereisFeyd-Rautha?”theBaronroared.
Nefudrecoiled.“M’Lord?”
“YoudonotconsiderFeyd-Rauthaadangertomyperson?”Again,thevoicewassilken.
Nefudwethislipswithhistongue.Someofthesemutadullnesslefthiseyes.
“Feyd-Rautha’sintheslavequarters,myLord.”
“Withthewomenagain,eh?”TheBarontrembledwiththeeffortofsuppressinganger.
“Sire,itcouldbehe’s—”
“Silence!”
TheBaronadvancedanotherstepintotheantechamber,notinghowthemenmovedback,clearingasubtlespacearoundNefud,dissociatingthemselvesfromtheobjectofwrath.
“DidInotcommandyoutoknowpreciselywherethena-Baronwasatalltimes?”theBaronasked.Hemovedastepcloser.“DidInotsaytoyouthatyouweretoknowpreciselywhatthena-Baronwassayingatalltimes—andtowhom?”Anotherstep.“DidInotsaytoyouthatyouweretotellmewheneverhewentintothequartersoftheslavewomen?”
Nefudswallowed.Perspirationstoodoutonhisforehead.
TheBaronheldhisvoiceflat,almostdevoidofemphasis:“DidInotsaythesethingstoyou?”
Nefudnodded.
