Rastanyev/Atreides Meeting - March 10, 1999

[Edward Pang <ogrek@home.com>]

Date: March 10, 1999, approximately 7:00 PM CST

Title: War of the Words: The Atreides Visit to the Rastanyevs

Place: The Rastanyev Embassy, Embassy District, Kaitain

Participants: Arn, Daisku, Iason, Ivanova, Josef

Summary: Ambassador Iason Merx visits the Rastanyev Embassy to see the ill
Regent of House Rastanyev with a stern message and a warning.

Logged by: Iason
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Courtyard -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain)(#662RLtJ)
        Solidite echoes dully underfoot as one travels across the paving of the
courtyard. The ornithopter pad is situated in the center. Quarter-circle arcs
stretch out from the yard, down the hill to the northeast and northwest,
respectively used as entrance and exit, the half-circle space between the paths
flowing with juniper as groundcover, interlaced with narrow paths.
        To the north and south stretch the stone outer walls of the embassy
proper, made more to feel like a low, traditional house, with the second floor
smaller in area than the first, dotted with rows of orderly tinted windows,
diamond-shaped. The roof slopes down into the walls themselves, concealed
gutters keeping the nearly pyramidal structure irrigating the manicured lawns.
Ringing the building's grounds is a stone wall, affording a modicum of privacy
from passersby on the street just beyond.
Players:
 Josef                                             
Objects:
 Atreides Limosine                                 
Exits:
 Front Gates <E> leads to Sheuset Square -- Embassy District (Kaitain) 
 Front Door <W> leads to Reception Room -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain)

The Atreides Limosine departs the area.

Walking up to the Atreides Limo is Lord Josef Stalinsky-Rastanyev, smoking on a
rather large cigar.

Josef takes the cigar out of his mouth and gives a formal bow to Lord Merx.

Iason's manner is cool, almost imperial in its severity. Everything, from the
slightly stony cast to his face, to the way he holds himself, speaks of a regal
antipathy. Even the polite bow is stiff, though the motion is fluid and
graceful. "Lord Rastanyev." he says softly. "An honor to be greeted by such as
yourself this evening."

Josef rises from his formal bow. "Indeed, Lord Ambassador. I wish this greeting
was under better circumstances. Your message indicated your business was
urgent?"

Everything, from the slightly stony cast to his face, to the way he holds
himself, speaks of a regal antipathy.  Even the polite bow is stiff, though the
motion is fluid and graceful. "Lord Rastanyev." he says softly. "An honor to be
greeted by such as yourself this evening."

Josef steps through the bright blue double doors, into the embassy proper.

Second Floor Hallway -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain)
        The hallway is established in a semi-circular pattern, having several
closed doorways inset along the wall. Each of the doors are made of the same
blue colored marble. A sofa of royal blue velvet sits in the center of the
area, facing outward towards the staircase. The staircase itself makes a
half-circular bend up to this landing from the Reception Room below. Across the
expanse of the Reception Room, a large blue diamond shaped window presents a
distorted, eye-level image of the outside.
Exits:
 Blue Door <S> leads to Workroom -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain) 
 Unmarked Door <N> leads to Office Area -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain) 
 Grand Staircase <E> leads to Reception Room -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain)


Josef climbs up the Grand Staircase.

"Indeed." Iason replies quietly. "It concerns the Regent of House Rastanyev and
the actions of her Posol. And her recent reply to the Duke's request for a
meeting."

Still smoking on his cigar, Josef takes a big puff and nods in understanding
to Lord Merx.

Reaching into his pocket, Iason pulls out a note on Rastanyev paper, with the
Siridar's seal. "Where is the Regent?" he asks.

Iason unfolds the letter, before handing it to Josef.

Still holding the cigar in his mouth, Josef reaches out to take the unfolded
note. He carefully looks it over, pursing his eyebrows as he reads. He grabs
his cigar with the hand not holding the note and withdraws it with a final
puff. "Interesting...probably not a way I would answer his Lord Duke. The
Regent, I believe, is in her work room. I take it you would enjoy an audience?

Iason nods once, curtly. "Immensely." he replies, in a tone as dry as Arrakis'
sands.

Josef hands the note back to Lord Merx as he places his cigar back in his
mouth. He bows slightly to Iason, and moves over to the blue door giving it a
gentle knock.

Josef knocks on the Blue Door <S>.

From Workroom -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain), a feminine voice shouts, "*A weak
voice that's dry and cracking* Come in..."

Spine stiffening, Iason's chin tilts up as he assumes the posture of a soldier
on parade.

Josef opens the door and enters. Before closing it behind him he says, "Please
wait for a moment, Lord Ambassador..."
Josef walks to the south and passes through the Blue Door.
Josef comes out from the doorway to the south.

Josef extinguishes his cigar in a near-by ash tray. "The Regent is bed-ridden,
Lord Merx. But she will see you..."
Moving to the side of the door slightly, Josef opens it again and waits for
Iason to pass through.

Iason nods once more, the motion sharp but precise. "Thank you, Lord
Rastanyev."

Workroom -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain)
        Vivid blue and gold carpet pads underfoot, muffling steps across the
broad expanse of this softly blue-lit chamber, from the diamond shaped windows
that look out over the front lawn to the east, and the back garden to the west.
Shining polished wood gleams softly from the bookcases that line each of the
walls, holding volumes and viewfilms alike. The theme is picked up again at the
long rectangular work table, surrounded by blue velvet upholstered suspensor
chairs, and again at the desk with it's single huge captain style suspensor
chair placed behind it. Tucked into another corner of the room are three more
blue velvet covered suspensor chairs, around a small, circular, marble-topped
table.
        Glowglobes rest in their stately brass sconces against the walls, a
pair of standing sconces holding two upon the worktable's top, casting their
soft glows around the room when the muted pale blue of daylight becomes marine
blue darkness of night.
Players:
 Ivanova                                           
Exits:
 Doorway <N> leads to Second Floor Hallway -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain)

Josef walks in from Second Floor Hallway through the Blue Door.
Josef follows Iason into the room. "M'Lady, Lord Ambassador Merx of House
Atreides..."

Ivanova is propped up on several pillows upon a make-shift bed that seems to
fill the whole center of the room. She stares out towards the two that enter,
dark ringlets hang under her eyes.

Stepping lightly, almost sickeningly healthy, the Earl Merx strides into the
room, his manner cool and remote. He offers only the slightest stiff-backed bow
to the bed-ridden Regent. "Regent." he greets formally.

Ivanova
A face natural paled by years spent in protection or under cover. Eyes that
burn a crisp blue. The structure of her face is shallow and long with thin lips
of an aristocrat and the muted dark rings under the eyes. Rich, jet black hair
is swept up into a loose fitting bun at the center of the back. Ringlets of
hair haphazardly trickle out to create the look of a bouquet of snakes.
She wears a deep blue dress of velvet that literally hangs from the body. The
dress clings to the arms, letting go only as it nears the wrist. Gentle folds
hug and caress the bodice before falling into smooth folds that swing with each
movement of the body hidden below. A heart-shaped top exposes the whiteness of
her body. It is interrupted from the face by a simple black ribbon tied about
the neck. Hung at the center of the ribbon is a small pendant with the symbol
of a phoenix. Its talons are tense, ready to strike as its wings spread
outwards and its eyes burn with a ruby jem.

Josef
A tall and obviously very powerful young man, with short hair of deep black.
Tiny strands of fine white hairs are just barely noticable mixed with the deep
black, making the man look somewhat older and wiser than his otherwise youthful
appearance would suggest. His build is strong and lean. He is wearing a finely
pressed white collared-shirt with a black vest and fine dark trousers. A dark
green wool long-coat of Rastanyev military fashion covers most of him, flowing
around him almost like a cape. On the long-coat's left broad lapel is the small
seal of House Minor Stalinsky, eclipsed by a larger seal of House Major
Rastanyev. He also wears a conspicuous golden ring with a black engraved
sickle, the crest of House Stalinski, which signifies his position as Head of a
Minor House. He seems to have a somewhat sinister grin on his face, buried
under a bushy moustache. You can also make out the bulge of what is (hopefully)
a cigar holder in his coat

"Earl." Ivanova offers in a low voice. A smile, weak and broken, appears upon
her face as she waves her hand towards a seat, "What can I do for you today?"

Iason's answering smile is almost an afterthought as he straightens, a cold
slash that cuts across his face. "I congratulate you on your success in
teaching my assistant the finer points of diplomacy. He seems to have graduated
the course. I see that the sickness has found its way into your household."

"The suk ... felt it best I be..." Ivanova pauses, picking her words carefully
as a deep frown darkens her face, "... resting." Her hands almost
subconsciously fold across her lap.

You say, "Then I will take up only a little of your time. My business, Lady
Regent, concerns your Posol, his actions, your House's reputation as a result
of his actions, and your reply to my Duke."

Closing her eyes, Ivanova remains silent for a moment. She lets out the
smallest sigh, a tinge of a whine in her voice as she speaks, "Go on." without
opening her eyes until the very last syllable has cleared her lips.

Iason speaks softly, yet firmly. "Have you reviewed the minutes of the last
meeting of the Landsraad High Council? Do you know what your Posol, your proxy,
has done at that meeting? What he did, what he said, what he, as House
Rastanyev, has driven you into?"

Parting her lips slowly, Ivanova licks her lips and studies Iason. A thin
eyebrow raises as she answers, "I have read the minutes... as are public
record."

Iason's voice rises a bit in volume, if not tone. "Do you admit that his
actions were improper and violated the spirit as well as the letter of the
Forms? That he, on several occasions, interrupted the Head as he spoke,
disobeyed the Head's directives, personally attacked the Head's actions in a
travesty of a defense of the Forms of the Great Convention, and showed an
incredible display of disrespect before his most Sublime Majesty the Padishah
Emperor himself?"
Iason lets his eyes fade a bit from the here and now, his tone changing to a
neutral , reporting one as he quotes softly, "It is unfortunate that Rastanyev
chose less than a suitable representation for this event. I believe that the
vote called by the High Council ws in part due to the behavior of that
representative and not due to the circumstance of the House.'
You say, "Those are the Padishah Emperor's own words, Lady Rastanyev."

"You ask me to pass judgement on something you seem to obviously made a
decision on already." Ivanova seems to attempt to match your tone and volume
with her own. Her eyes close again, the muscles at her neck twitch slightly,
her hands close upon the sheets that lay near her stomach, "The actions are
done... you have chosen your judgement of these actions. Thus... it appears
that such is a closed discussion."

Josef raises a brow as Iason quotes his most Sublime Majesty.

Iason's eyes return to the here and now as he replies to the Regent. "What I
feel, Lady Rastanyev, is unimportant. What others see, on the other hand, is.
For you, your House, and the Landsraad, which has now shown itself to bicker
over the actions of a member of the High Council, a position which is supposed
to be above such matters. What the Emperor witnessed was nothing less than an
opening for his intervention. And what my Duke witnessed was nothing short of
an attack of his person by someone below him, a man who made a mockery of the
Landsraad and the Great Convention by cheapening it with an attack to a man
whose life is devoted to its maintenance. We do not object to your House's
placement on the seat. What we object to is the person whose bottom sat in the
seat and defied the dictates of the Head of the Council repeatedly, before
daring to break the Forms and the Faufreluches by attacking him in return!"
"What I feel, Lady Rastanyev, is unimportant.  What others see, on the other
hand, is. For you, your House, and the Landsraad, which has now shown itself to
bicker over the actions of a member of the High Council, a position which is
supposed to be  above such matters.  What the Emperor witnessed was nothing
less than an opening for his intervention.  And what my Duke witnessed was
nothing short of an attack of his person by someone below him, a man who made a
mockery of the Landsraad and the Great Convention by cheapening it with an
attack to a man whose life is devoted to its maintenance.  We do not object to
your House's placement on the seat. What we object to is the person whose
bottom sat in the seat and defied the dictates of the Head of the Council
repeatedly, before daring to break the Forms and the Faufreluches by attacking
him in return!"

"And thus the Duke has sent you to attack me?" Ivanova's voice lowers with each
breath, ending finally with a slight sucking of her teeth, "I had hoped for
better from the honorable Atreides." She begins to lift the sheets off of
herself and begins to slip off the side of the bed.

Iason's tone is cool, cutting through the bluster that he sees. He pulls a
letter out of his pocket. "Attack? No. What he has sent me to do is express his
concern over the future of your House in the High Council. Because you see, the
Houses Major are not amused at the antics of your Posol. And he, were your
Posol of a higher station, would be called out to duel over the insults that
have been dealt by your House to him via your proxy. You did not wish to so
degrade the Landsraad High Council, I would believe, based on your past
actions. I must also ask this; were you ill when this note was composed? My
Duke found your support of someone who so blatantly breaks the Great
Convention's word and that of the faufreluches which support our current
system... dissapointing, if support is what it is."
You say, "You insulted our honor, you insulted our integrity, and have, to all
appearances, declared yourselves above the Great Convention which is the
foundation of our stable society."
Iason shifts to a more reasonable tone. "If this impression is incorrect, then
I would be the first to apologize. However, this is how the other Houses Major
and the Landsraad members see your recent actions. As I recall, it also caused
a flap at the Moritani Masquerade.... surely you have noticed that the other
Houses are not all so friendly as they once were?

Ivanova's voice lowers with each breath, ending finally with a slight sucking
of her teeth, "I had hoped for better from the honorable Atreides." She begins
to lift the sheets off of herself and begins to slip off the side of the bed."

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Ivanova begins to stand. She is
clothed in a simple nightgown that reaches to the floor. With measured steps,
each bringing on a paling of her face and a muscle twitching at her cheek until
she is standing before you. She pulls a thin breath and begins to speak, "My
brother...." She closes her eyes and gulps lightly, clenching her fists about
her midsection before beginning again, "To accuse House Rastanyev of such
illness towards the Landsraad is to defile my late and beloved Brother. Does
your Duke judge this and your actions that have done this so... lightly?" She
relaxes slightly, letting her shoulders sag ever so slightly, another smile
forcing its way onto her face, "As for the warmth of other Houses... it is
quite... pleasing to find that Atreides cares so deeply. Yet the problem is
mine and unless you come as a delegate from the Atreides to warm such feelings
between merely our two houses, it is Rastanyev's and thus... MY problem."

Iason's voice is soft. "You do realize how close several Houses are to
declaring a state of Kanly upon you, do you not? Were the Duke a lesser man,
you would have been served notice by now, the insult to him personally and now
to his House has been so great."
You say, "These are the actions of your POSOL which have led you to this
brink."
Iason inclines his head. "Think upon that - it is the actions of your Posol
which have caused so much grief, creating a cancer which is eating away at your
House's strength as surely as this illness seems to be taking your own. He
personally insulted a cousin of the Padishah Emperor; the Duke's title is due
to a relation of blood."

"And my pains have been any less?" Ivanova's voice nearly drowns in its own
breath. She shivers slightly, clenching her fists as she continues, her lids
closing one again. Her voice peaking at several intervals like a crecenda in an
orchastra, "The _actions_ of my Posol... be they right _or_ wrong are... done.
And thus, the actions are _my_ actions." She ends, her eyes opening, a burning
in them as she lashes out, "And this illness is NONE of your concern."

Josef perses his brow in a state of mild disbelief as his Regent refuses an
invitation to end this.
Josef moves closer to the Regent. "Lord Ambassador...obviously you are in
search of something. My Lady Regent is correct...the actions are done. What
does House Atreides desire now?"

Iason adds, "For the survival of your House, whose probability I could
calculate with some difficulty, I would suggest taking action to make amends,
and to remove the source of the infection which is even now destroying any
hopes you have of maintaining your current position, much less increasing it.
And are you so willing to take your House down with you? You are responsible
for the lives of millions, Regent. There is a forking in the road of the paths
that you can take - one leads into darkness. The other, towards survival. The
cost, my Lady, is a modicum of pride, and a redressing of the basic problem...
such as avoiding making a further shambles of the Landsraad. Consider the
damage that this one Posol has done. Consider what may happen should he turn
his attacks on the Emperor. And consider the support you would receive after
what that Posol has done. With power comes responsibilites which burden those
of rank; it is the price they pay for the privilege of rulership. Do not abuse
that privilege or the welfare of the pyons who will die should the Sardaukar
descend upon you. Remember that the Landsraad is here to stand united in our
system of government, between the mercantile Guild and the powerful Imperium.
We are to support one another, not allow ourselves to be divided by one man.
Please redress that; we would hate to see your downfall at the hands of another
House. Or to the Emperor... please think of your pyons. We do.
Iason's voice is almost a whisper, a level monotone that still manages to
express concern via the inflections and pitching of his voice. "As for your
health, my Lady, it is of a personal concern to myself and my Duke. Especially
if it claims you as it has taken Lord Melchiorre Moritani; you yourself have
said that House Rastanyev could not take the deaths of two leaders in so short
a time.
You say, "I beg you, think of those who depend on you for their survival. Do
not let pride or blind idealism override the pragmatism which the leaders of
the Landsraad must obey."

At your aside, Ivanova's face seems to harden. A stone statue that has set in
before you. Her hand lowers from its clutched position by her stomach and her
body stretches into a straightening position. A new fire burns in them as she
answers in a flat tone, "I am in no danger of death Earl..." her eyes turn
lightly towards Josef, "... though I'm sure some would be more than happy to
welcome it." Then with a return to the Earl, "You concerns have been noted
and..." her head nods towards the paper in your hand, "... you know mine." She
keeps her eyes towards the paper, "Take care not to make that mistake again and
all will be fine."

Iason silently folds the paper. "My Duke wishes a reply to his question. The
Landsraad's fate does hang in the balance; I must have an answer. How stand you
on the Landsraad?

Raising her eyebrows slightly, a shocked expression passes over Ivanova's face.
The mere release of energy seems to send a slight shiver down her body before
she answers, "Rastanyev stands as my brother stood... as my father stood before
that. Our history is long and though humble, well known. I would never soil
their memories with any other thought."

You say, "Then may I ask a question?"

Ivanova tilts her head slightly to one side as if that were enough to give
permission to go ahead and ask.

Iason nods once. "If you stand as your brother, a supporter of the Landsraad
whose presence is missed by many, did... then why do you allow someone to soil
their memory by acting in a way which mocks all they stood for? That is my
Duke's question.

Drawing a long breath, Ivanova lets out a sigh, "The Posol has acted. It does
not matter now the choice or the reason. The act is done." She lifts one hand
lightly running it along her forehead as if to whip some sweat there, "I can
offer nothing else to your Duke but an apology. And would have sooner if the
opportunity had arisen. As it has not, we have each had to act in our own
accordance." She looks towards you, a blankness to her face, "And thus... you
are his choice as the Posol was mine. Though we send others to do our task, it
is our responsibilities and thus, if your Duke wishes, those actions that
night.... " Another pause and intake of breath, "... those actions, were my
actions."

Iason injects a more sympathetic tone. "The question now is what will you do
about his actions? Will you let it continue? That concerns my Duke more than
anything else; he is honorable enough to let slights on his personal honor be
left alone, as long as the Landsraad and your House do not have to suffer
through its continuance."
Iason wears an air if quiet dignity like a cloak, his expression bland if
politely concerned, for all his less noble breeding looking like a high priest
or the Duke himself, rather than a mere ambassador.

"My actions will be made clear to your Duke...." Ivanova raises her voice as if
announcing the fact to the world, "... and to the whole Landsraad soon. Or much
more than Rastanyev will fail."

"My Duke requests a clearer than that. As does the Landsraad." Iason says in a
firm way, sounding for all the world like a priest taking Confession; he brooks
no unclear answers.

"The Landsraad will have its answer." Ivanova lets out with the last breath of
strength she musters. She turns her back towards you and makes her slow
procession towards her place in the bed. She pauses before the moment of
reaching down towards the bed again, turning her head to one side to speak,
"They will all have their answer soon enough."

Iason sallies forth once more. "Then I wish you a speedy recovery, for both
your House and yourself. But please... think about my Duke's concerns. We do
not wish more damage to the Landsraad than there is, especially given your
position and the threats which are already too many. Remember who your friends
are; and do not insult them. You have too few as it is, to keep your fortunes
high. Too many speak of you in whispers. Your House lives and dies by its image
as much as its actions; and neither has been complimentary. I state fact, as my
Mentat trainers did to me, once. Not threats, like some Houses, not innuendos,
as others, but the facts. And concerns, as a firm supporter of other Houses'
right to survival, as guaranteed by the Great Convention.
Iason offers a slightly lower bow than before, though his manner is painfully
formal - he almost creaks.

Ivanova says, "I shall remember my friends..." Ivanova speaks lightly and then
slips into the bed as she says under her breath, "... and my enemies." Her body
seems to almost sink into the bed, as if all the strength is gone. Her eyes
close and she dismisses, "If there is nothing else... I grow weary.""

Iason is silent, holding the bow.

There is silence from Ivanova. Her lids already close over her eyes and the
pattern of her breath seems to slow to a steady pace. A relaxing of facial
muscles leaves her face in an almost pleasant smile.

Iason finally rises after the Regent drops off. Other matters have been left
unsaid, though the primary one has been addressed. And perhaps other meanings
will become clear in time. He turns towards the Lord Rastanyev, and inclines
his head towards the door.

Josef nods as he makes a small bow and moves to the door.

Second Floor Hallway -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain)
Players:
 Josef                                             
Exits:
 Blue Door <S> leads to Workroom -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain) 
 Unmarked Door <N> leads to Office Area -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain) 
 Grand Staircase <E> leads to Reception Room -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain)

Josef closes the door behind him.
Shuffling through his coat pockets, Josef pulls out a fine cigar case.
Extracting a cigar, he puts the case back in his pocket.

A Rastanyev servant comes up the stairs and informs Lord Josef of something.

Iason nods once, as he tucks the letter away. "What do you think will happen?"
Iason asks, as he falls into step beside you, only lagging a bit behind - his
position and station may allow him this, though it is unusual for the usually
self-effacing Ambassador to act so.. imperially.

Josef says, "It appears that we have more Atreides guests, Lord Merx..."
Josef makes a motion to the servant, who then heads back downstairs.

From below, Arn steps through the bright blue double doors from the courtyard.

Josef turns to Iason. "Lord Ambassador...I do not know what will happen.
Despite my displeasure with the way M'lady acts concerning other houses, I do
not believe she would let damage come to the Landsraad.

Josef continues downstairs to greet new guests.
Josef descends the Grand Staircase.

Reception Room -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain)
Players:
 Arn                                   Josef                                 
 Iason                                
Exits:
 Grand Staircase <W> leads to Second Floor Hallway -- Rastanyev Embassy
(Kaitain) 
 Front Door <E> leads to Courtyard -- Rastanyev Embassy (Kaitain)

Iason's keen eyes glance around, his stride speaking volumes about his mood -
he NEVER acts his rank, as a minor noble.

Arn is standing at attention a precise ten steps in from the Embassy front door
- a shadow blending in with the dark blue solidite courtyard hinted behind him
outside, apart from a green belt running from shoulder to hip, supporting a
ceremonial sabre hanging at the ready. Three steps to either side of him two
guards in Atreides livery complete the "V" formation. The trio has a look of
determined grimness to them. Arn actually frowns, and the blotches of faintly
irritated skin in his pale face stand out like blushes of wrath.

As Josef and Iason stride down the stairs Arn lets out a crisp "Hut!" which
makes the honor escort draw their blades and raise hilts to their foreheads in
salute.

Josef looks perplexed by the presence of Atreides guardsmen. He lights his
cigar, and takes a puff before taking it out of his mouth. "Sirrah
Celestine...what is the meaning of this, might I so inquire?"

Iason's head nods once, a gesture to the guards to stand down as he turns to
Josef. "We shall see what occurs, then." he replies.

Arn says, "Sir! I am here to perform escort service to the good Earl Merx, sir,
in the light of the increasing violations of civilized behaviour, good order
and Form which we have experienced in the Imperial Capital lately." Behind him
the guards sheath their blades and retreats a couple of steps.

Josef takes a puff on his cigar and withdraws it from his mouth. "I was not
aware of such 'violations' that would require such security...Has there been an
incident?"

Iason turns and inclines his head. "There have been. On the Duke's person. You
yourself witnessed the aftermath. Besides that, I have pressing business at the
CHOAM directorship meeting. I am told that I require a certain image."

Josef chuckles slightly. "I see..."

Arn says, "If you permit, sir, I have a personal errand to perform."

Iason nods once to Arn.
You say, "LEt us make for the meeting."
Iason turns and bows again to Josef. "I thank you for your hospitality.

Daisku walks in from upstairs studying a pad of paper and walks obliviously
through room avoiding people and furniture

Arn takes a precise step forward, drawing his glinting, meticulously polished
sabre and with excruciatingly slowness raises it to the salute. He, and the
Atreides guards, are looking straight at the Earl Merx and ignore the
Rastanyev.

Josef returns the bow to the Lord Ambassador. "Of course, sir."

Iason straightens, then walks into the middle of his escort.

Arn sheaths his sabre and swivels on his heel to take the rear guard.

Daisku climbs the Grand Staircase.

Iason starts out.

-------------------------
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