green-bordered cap, then took the equipment he would need to conquer the wild bull: his poniards and a long, feathered vara with nerve toxin on the lance tip. Thufir Hawat had suggested that the stablemaster slightly tranquilize the bull to deaden its rampaging impulses, but the Duke was a man who loved to face a challenge. No drug-dulled opponent for him!
Paulus clipped the activation pack onto his shield belt and powered up the field. It was only a half shield, used to guard his side; the Duke used a garishly brilliant cape called a muleta to cover his other side.
Paulus bowed first to his son, then his Mentat, and then the trainers waiting at the entrance to the arena. "Time for the show to begin." Leto watched him swirl about and, like a bird on a mating display, strut out into the open Plaza de Toros. At his appearance, cheers thundered out with a roar far louder than any Salusan bull's.
Leto stood behind the barricade, blinking into the glare of the open sun. He smiled as his father made a slow circuit of the arena, waving his cape, bowing, greeting his ecstatic people. Leto could sense the love and admiration they had for this brave man, and it warmed his heart.
Waiting there in the shadows, Leto vowed to do all he could to study his father's triumphs, so that one day he would command such respect and devotion from the people. Triumphs . . . this would be another in a long list of them for his father, Leto assured himself. But he couldn't help worrying. Too much could change in the flicker of a shield, the flash of a sharp horn, the stamp of a hoof.
Tones sounded, and an announcer's voice gave introductory details of the impending corrida de toros. With a flourish of a sequined glove, Duke Paulus gestured toward the broad reinforced doors on the opposite side of the arena.
Moving to another archway for a better view, Leto reminded himself that this would be no sham performance. His father would be battling for his very life.
Stableboys had been tending the ferocious beasts, and Stablemaster Yresk had personally selected one for the day's corrida. After inspecting the animal, the Old Duke had been satisfied, certain the crowd would be equally pleased by its ferocity. He looked forward to the fight.
Heavy gates opened with a grinding of suspensor hinges, and the Salusan bull charged out, shaking its massive, multiple-horned head in the dazzling light.
Its faceted eyes glittered with feral rage. The scales on the mutated creature's back reflected iridescent colors from its black hide.
Duke Paulus whistled and waved his cape. "Over here, stupid!" The spectators laughed.
Turning toward him, the bull lowered its head with a loud bubbling snort. Leto noticed that his father hadn't yet switched on his protective shield. Instead, Paulus snapped and fluttered his colorful cape, trying to draw the wrath of the beast. The Salusan bull pawed and snorted on the sandy arena floor, then charged. Leto wanted to cry out, to warn his father. Had the man simply forgotten to switch on his protection? How could he possibly survive without a shield?
But the bull thundered past, and Paulus swept his cape gracefully to one side, letting the creature strike the diversionary target. Its hooked horns shredded the bottom of the fabric into ragged frays. While it was coming about, the Old Duke turned his back to the bull, exposed and overconfident. He bowed mockingly toward the crowd before he stood straight -- then calmly, patiently, flicked on his personal shield.
The bull attacked again, and now the Duke used his poniard to toy with it, pricking through its thick, scaled hide before slashing a stinging yet minor wound along its flank. The creature's faceted eyes saw multiple images of its colorfully garbed tormentor.
It charged again.
Moving too fast to penetrate the shield, Leto thought. But if the bull tires and slows, he could be even more dangerous ....
As the fight continued, Leto saw how his father was playing
Paulus clipped the activation pack onto his shield belt and powered up the field. It was only a half shield, used to guard his side; the Duke used a garishly brilliant cape called a muleta to cover his other side.
Paulus bowed first to his son, then his Mentat, and then the trainers waiting at the entrance to the arena. "Time for the show to begin." Leto watched him swirl about and, like a bird on a mating display, strut out into the open Plaza de Toros. At his appearance, cheers thundered out with a roar far louder than any Salusan bull's.
Leto stood behind the barricade, blinking into the glare of the open sun. He smiled as his father made a slow circuit of the arena, waving his cape, bowing, greeting his ecstatic people. Leto could sense the love and admiration they had for this brave man, and it warmed his heart.
Waiting there in the shadows, Leto vowed to do all he could to study his father's triumphs, so that one day he would command such respect and devotion from the people. Triumphs . . . this would be another in a long list of them for his father, Leto assured himself. But he couldn't help worrying. Too much could change in the flicker of a shield, the flash of a sharp horn, the stamp of a hoof.
Tones sounded, and an announcer's voice gave introductory details of the impending corrida de toros. With a flourish of a sequined glove, Duke Paulus gestured toward the broad reinforced doors on the opposite side of the arena.
Moving to another archway for a better view, Leto reminded himself that this would be no sham performance. His father would be battling for his very life.
Stableboys had been tending the ferocious beasts, and Stablemaster Yresk had personally selected one for the day's corrida. After inspecting the animal, the Old Duke had been satisfied, certain the crowd would be equally pleased by its ferocity. He looked forward to the fight.
Heavy gates opened with a grinding of suspensor hinges, and the Salusan bull charged out, shaking its massive, multiple-horned head in the dazzling light.
Its faceted eyes glittered with feral rage. The scales on the mutated creature's back reflected iridescent colors from its black hide.
Duke Paulus whistled and waved his cape. "Over here, stupid!" The spectators laughed.
Turning toward him, the bull lowered its head with a loud bubbling snort. Leto noticed that his father hadn't yet switched on his protective shield. Instead, Paulus snapped and fluttered his colorful cape, trying to draw the wrath of the beast. The Salusan bull pawed and snorted on the sandy arena floor, then charged. Leto wanted to cry out, to warn his father. Had the man simply forgotten to switch on his protection? How could he possibly survive without a shield?
But the bull thundered past, and Paulus swept his cape gracefully to one side, letting the creature strike the diversionary target. Its hooked horns shredded the bottom of the fabric into ragged frays. While it was coming about, the Old Duke turned his back to the bull, exposed and overconfident. He bowed mockingly toward the crowd before he stood straight -- then calmly, patiently, flicked on his personal shield.
The bull attacked again, and now the Duke used his poniard to toy with it, pricking through its thick, scaled hide before slashing a stinging yet minor wound along its flank. The creature's faceted eyes saw multiple images of its colorfully garbed tormentor.
It charged again.
Moving too fast to penetrate the shield, Leto thought. But if the bull tires and slows, he could be even more dangerous ....
As the fight continued, Leto saw how his father was playing
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