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

He'll wear the title well , the Duke thought, and realized with a sudden chill that this was another death thought.
Paul saw his father in the doorway, avoided his eyes. He looked around at the clusterings of guests, the jeweled hands clutching drinks (and the unobtrusive inspections with tiny remote-cast snoopers). Seeing all the chattering faces, Paul was suddenly repelled by them. They were cheap masks locked on festering thoughts—voices gabbling to drown out the loud silence in every breast.
I'm in a sour mood , he thought, and wondered what Gurney would say to that.
He knew his mood's source. He hadn't wanted to attend this function, but his father had been firm. "You have a place—a position to uphold. You're old enough to do this. You're almost a man."
Paul saw his father emerge from the doorway, inspect the room, then cross to the group around the Lady Jessica.
As Leto approached Jessica's group, the water-shipper was asking: "Is it true the Duke will put in weather control?"
From behind the man, the Duke said: "We haven't gone that far in our thinking, sir."
The man turned, exposing a bland round face, darkly tanned. "Ah-h, the Duke," he said. "We missed you."
Leto glanced at Jessica. "A thing needed doing." He returned his attention to the water-shipper, explained what he had ordered for the laving basins, adding: "As far as I'm concerned, the old custom ends now."
"Is this a ducal order, m'Lord?" the man asked.
"I leave that to your own . . . ah . . . conscience," the Duke said. He turned, noting Kynes come up to the group.
One of the women said: "I think it's a very generous gesture—giving water to the—" Someone shushed her.
The Duke looked at Kynes, noting that the planetologist wore an old-style dark brown uniform with epaulets of the Imperial Civil Servant and a tiny gold teardrop of rank at his collar.
The water-shipper asked in an angry voice: "Does the Duke imply criticism of our custom?"
"This custom has been changed," Leto said. He nodded to Kynes, marked the frown on Jessica's face, thought: A frown does not become her, but it'll increase rumors of friction between us .
"With the Duke's permission," the water-shipper said, "I'd like to inquire further about customs."
Leto heard the sudden oily tone in the man's voice, noted the watchful silence in this group, the way heads were beginning to turn toward them around the room.
"Isn't it almost time for dinner?" Jessica asked.
"But our guest has some questions," Leto said. And he looked at the water-shipper, seeing a round-faced man with large eyes and thick lips, recalling Hawat's memorandum: ". . . and this water-shipper is a man to watch—Lingar Bewt, remember the name. The Harkonnens used him but never fully controlled him ."
"Water customs are so interesting," Bewt said, and there was a smile on his face. "I'm curious what you intend about the conservatory attached to this house. Do you intend to continue flaunting it in the people's faces . . . m'Lord?"
Leto held anger in check, staring at the man. Thoughts raced through his mind. It had taken bravery to challenge him in his own ducal castle, especially since they now had Bewt's signature over a contract of allegiance. The action had taken, also, a knowledge of personal power. Water was, indeed, power here. If water facilities were mined, for instance, ready to be destroyed at a signal . . . The man looked capable of such a thing. Destruction of water facilities might well destroy Arrakis. That could well have been the club this Bewt held over the Harkonnens.
"My Lord, the Duke, and I have other plans for our conservatory," Jessica said. She smiled at Leto. "We intend to keep it, certainly, but only to hold it in trust for the people of Arrakis. It is our dream that someday the climate of Arrakis may be changed sufficiently to grow such plants anywhere in the open."
Bless her! Leto thought. Let our water-shipper chew on that .
"Your interest in water and weather control is obvious," the Duke said. "I'd advise you to diversify your holdings. One day, water will not be a precious commodity on Arrakis."
And he thought: Hawat must redouble his efforts at infiltrating this Bewt's organization. And we must start on stand-by water facilities at once. No man is going to hold a club over my head!
Bewt nodded, the smile still on his face. "A commendable dream, my Lord." He withdrew a pace.
Leto's attention was caught by the expression on Kynes' face. The man was staring at Jessica. He appeared transfigured—like a man in love . . . or caught in a religious trance.
Kynes' thoughts were overwhelmed at last by the words of prophecy: "And they shall share your most precious dream . "He spoke directly to Jessica: "Do you bring the shortening of the way?"
"Ah, Dr. Kynes," the water-shipper said. "You've come in from tramping around with your mobs of Fremen. How gracious of you."
Kynes passed an unreadable glance across Bewt, said: "It is said in the desert that possession of water in great amount can inflict a man with fatal carelessness."
"They have many strange sayings in the desert," Bewt said, but his voice betrayed uneasiness.
Jessica crossed to Leto, slipped her hand under his arm to gain a moment in which to calm herself. Kynes had said: " . . . the shortening of the way." In the old tongue, the phrase translated as "Kwisatz Haderach." The planetologist's odd question seemed to have gone unnoticed by the others, and now Kynes was bending over one of the consort women, listening to a low-voiced coquetry.