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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 moons hung low in the sky beyond the gigantic Imperial building。 Illuminated gliders rode the calm skies of dusk； chased by flocks of songbirds。 Sometimes； Shaddam just needed to get away from the sprawling Palace。
〃A hundred and thirty…six years as Padishah Emperor；〃 Fenring continued in his nasal voice。 〃And old Elrood's father ruled for more than a century himself。 Think about it； hmm…m…m…ah？ Your father took the throne when he was only nineteen； and you're almost twice that age。〃 The narrow…faced man looked with huge eyes at his friend。 〃Doesn't that bother you？〃
Shaddam didn't respond； stared at the skyline； knowing he should return to the game。。。but he and his friend had bigger games to play。
After his long years of close association Fenring knew that the Imperial heir could not deal with plex problems when other amusements distracted him。 Very well； then； I will end this diversion。
〃My turn；〃 he said。 Fenring lifted a rod on his side of the shimmering shield globe and dipped it through the shield to engage a spinning interior disk。 This in turn caused a black ball in the center of the globe to levitate into the air。 With expert timing； Fenring withdrew the rod； and the ball dropped into the center of an oval receptacle bearing the highest mark。
〃Damn you； Hasimir； another perfect game for you；〃 Shaddam said； returning from the balcony。 〃When I'm Emperor； though； will you be wise enough to lose to me？〃
Fenring's oversize eyes were alert and feral。 A genetic…eunuch； incapable of fathering children because of his congenital deformities； he was still one of the deadliest fighters in the Imperium； so single…mindedly ferocious that he was more than a match for any Sardaukar。
〃When you're Emperor？〃 Fenring and the Crown Prince held so many deadly secrets between them that neither could imagine keeping knowledge from the other。 〃Shaddam； are you listening to what I'm telling you； hmmm？〃 He gave an annoyed sigh。 〃You're thirty…four years old； sitting on your hands and waiting for your life to begin your birthright。 Elrood could last another three decades； at least。 He's a tough old Burseg； and the way he gulps spice beer； he might outlive both of us。〃
〃So why even talk about it？〃 Shaddam toyed with the shield…ball controls； clearly wanting to play another round。 〃I've got what I need here。〃
〃You'd rather play games until you're an old man？ I thought you had better things in store for you； hm…m…m…m…ah？ The destiny of your Corrino blood。〃
〃Ah； yes。 And if I don't achieve my destiny；〃 Shaddam said in a bitter tone； 〃where does that leave you？〃
〃I'll do fine； thank you。〃 Fenring's mother had been trained as a Bene Gesserit before entering Imperial service as lady…in…waiting to Elrood's fourth wife； she had raised him well； preparing him for great things。
But Hasimir Fenring was disgusted with his friend。 At one time； in his late teens； Shaddam had been much more ambitious to claim the Imperial throne； even to the point of encouraging Fenring to poison the Emperor's eldest son； Fafnir； who had been forty…six and eagerly awaiting the crown himself。
Now Fafnir was dead for fifteen years； and still the old vulture showed no signs of ever dying。 At the very least； Elrood should abdicate with good grace。 Meanwhile； Shaddam had lost his drive； and instead occupied his time enjoying the pleasures of his station。 Being Crown Prince posed few hardships in life。 But Fenring wanted much more for his friend； and for himself。
Shaddam glowered at the other man。 The Crown Prince's mother； Habla； had cast him aside as an infant her only child by Elrood and let her lady…in…waiting； Chaola Fenring； serve as wet nurse。 From boyhood； Shaddam and Hasimir had talked about what they would do when he ascended to the Golden Lion Throne。 Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV。
But for Shaddam such conversations no longer held their childhood magic。 Too many years of reality had settled in； too much waiting to no purpose。 His grip on hope and his enthusiasm for the job had faded