From "Manual of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan



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Herbert Frank. Dune - royallib.ru

Great Mother! He's drunk! Jessica thought.
Idaho 's dark, round face was drawn into a frown. His hair, curling like the fur of a black goat, was plastered with dirt. A jagged rent in his tunic exposed an expanse of the dress shirt he had worn at the dinner party earlier.
Jessica crossed to him.
One of the guards nodded to her without releasing his hold on Idaho . "We didn't know what to do with him, my Lady. He was creating a disturbance out front, refusing to come inside. We were afraid locals might come along and see him. That wouldn't do at all. Give us a bad name here."
"Where has he been?" Jessica asked.
"He escorted one of the young ladies home from the dinner, my Lady. Hawat's orders."
"Which young lady?"
"One of the escort wenches. You understand, my Lady?" He glanced at Mapes, lowered his voice. "They're always calling on Idaho for special surveillance of the ladies."
And Jessica thought: So they are. But why is he drunk?
She frowned, turned to Mapes. "Mapes, bring a stimulant. I'd suggest caffeine. Perhaps there's some of the spice coffee left."
Mapes shrugged, headed for the kitchen. Her unlaced desert boots slap-slapped against the stone floor.
Idaho swung his unsteady head around to peer at an angle toward Jessica. "Killed more'n three hunner' men f'r the Duke," he muttered. "Whadduh wanna know is why'm mere? Can't live unner th' groun' here. Can't live onna groun' here. Wha' kinna place is 'iss, huh?"
A sound from the side hall entry caught Jessica's attention. She turned, saw Yueh crossing to them, his medical kit swinging in his left hand. He was fully dressed, looked pale, exhausted. The diamond tattoo stood out sharply on his forehead.
"Th' good docker!" Idaho shouted. "Whad're you, Doc? Splint 'n' pill man?" He turned blearily toward Jessica. "Makin' uh damn fool uh m'self, huh?"
Jessica frowned, remained silent, wondering: Why would Idaho get drunk? Was he drugged?
"Too much spice beer," Idaho said, attempting to straighten.
Mapes returned with a steaming cup in her hands, stopped uncertainly behind Yueh. She looked at Jessica, who shook her head.
Yueh put his kit on the floor, nodded greeting to Jessica, said: "Spice beer, eh?"
"Bes' damn stuff ever tas'ed," Idaho said. He tried to pull himself to attention. "My sword was firs' blooded on Grumman! Killed a Harkon . . . Harkon . . . killed 'im f'r th' Duke."
Yueh turned, looked at the cup in Mapes' hand.
"What is that?"
"Caffeine," Jessica said.
Yueh took the cup, held it toward Idaho . "Drink this, lad."
"Don't wan' any more f drink."
"Drink it, I say!"
Idaho 's head wobbled toward Yueh, and he stumbled one step ahead, dragging the guards with him. "I'm almighdy fed up with pleasin' th' 'Mperial Universe, Doc. Jus' once, we're gonna do th' thing my way."
"After you drink this," Yueh said. "It's just caffeine."
" 'Sprolly like all res' uh this place! Damn' sun 'stoo brighd. Nothin' has uh righd color. Ever'thing's wrong or . . . "
"Well, it's nighttime now," Yueh said. He spoke reasonably. "Drink this like a good lad. It'll make you feel better."
"Don' wanna feel bedder!"
"We can't argue with him all night," Jessica said. And she thought: This calls for shock treatment .
"There's no reason for you to stay, my Lady," Yueh said. "I can take care of this."
Jessica shook her head. She stepped forward, slapped Idaho sharply across the cheek.
He stumbled back with his guards, glaring at her.
"This is no way to act in your Duke's home," she said. She snatched the cup from Yueh's hands, spilling part of it, thrust the cup toward Idaho . "Now drink this! That's an order!"
Idaho jerked himself upright, scowling down at her. He spoke slowly, with careful and precise enunciation: "I do not take orders from a damn' Harkonnen spy."
Yueh stiffened, whirled to face Jessica.
Her face had gone pale, but she was nodding. It all became clear to her—the broken stems of meaning she had seen in words and actions around her these past few days could now be translated. She found herself in the grip of anger almost too great to contain. It took the most profound of her Bene Gesserit training to quiet her pulse and smooth her breathing. Even then she could feel the blaze flickering.

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