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Jessica
turned
away
,
faced
the
painting
of
Leto
’
s
father
.
It
had
been
done
by
the
famed
artist
,
Albe
,
during
the
Old
Duke
’
s
middle
years
.
He
was
portrayed
in
matador
costume
with
a
magenta
cape
flung
over
his
left
arm
.
The
face
looked
young
,
hardly
older
than
Leto
’
s
now
,
and
with
the
same
hawk
features
,
the
same
gray
stare
.
She
clenched
her
fists
at
her
sides
,
glared
at
the
painting
.
“
Damn
you
!
Damn
you
!
Damn
you
!
”
she
whispered
.
“
What
are
your
orders
,
Noble
Born
?
”
It
was
a
woman
’
s
voice
,
thin
and
stringy
.
Jessica
whirled
,
stared
down
at
a
knobby
,
gray
-
haired
woman
in
a
shapeless
sack
dress
of
bondsman
brown
.
The
woman
looked
as
wrinkled
and
desiccated
as
any
member
of
the
mob
that
had
greeted
them
along
the
way
from
the
landing
field
that
morning
.
Every
native
she
had
seen
on
this
planet
,
Jessica
thought
,
looked
prune
dry
and
undernourished
.
Yet
,
Leto
had
said
they
were
strong
and
vital
.
And
there
were
the
eyes
,
of
course
—
that
wash
of
deepest
,
darkest
blue
without
any
white
—
secretive
,
mysterious
.
Jessica
forced
herself
not
to
stare
.
The
woman
gave
a
stiff
-
necked
nod
,
said
:
“
I
am
called
the
Shadout
Mapes
,
Noble
Born
.
What
are
your
orders
?
”
“
You
may
refer
to
me
as
‘
my
Lady
,
’
”
Jessica
said
.
“
I
’
m
not
noble
born
.
I
’
m
the
bound
concubine
of
the
Duke
Leto
.
”
Again
that
strange
nod
,
and
the
woman
peered
upward
at
Jessica
with
a
sly
questioning
.
“
There
’
s
a
wife
,
then
?
”
“
There
is
not
,
nor
has
there
ever
been
.
I
am
the
Duke
’
s
only
.
.
.
companion
,
the
mother
of
his
heir
-
designate
.
”
Even
as
she
spoke
,
Jessica
laughed
inwardly
at
the
pride
behind
her
words
.
