these last night,
a village near the rimwall...
...known to be desert sympathisers.
Mercy, Governor.
We are refugees.
-We need food.
-Liar!
Spies! That's what you are!
Spies for the Fremen scum!
Fremen scum
who raid my spice warehouses!
-Who destroy royal equipment!
-No. We are poor. We have no weapons.
He was trying to dispose of this
when we caught him.
Send words to the filth of the desert!
Tell them what you witness here!
Tell them this is what awaits them!
Mahdi!
Put that away, Feyd, and come here.
I want you to see this.
The latest love letter from your brother.
Mahdil
Appears to be enjoying himself.
The moron's appetite for killing
never ceases to amaze me.
By the time he's finished,
there won't be a population left to rule.
Cheer up, lovely boy.
I merely allow him to brutalise them,
to savage them, until you arrive...
...the handsome Feyd,
to rescue them from the beast, Rabban.
They will be ripe for you, lovely boy.
Feyd, the saviour.
There will be cheering in the streets.
You can even give them
your brother's head as a gift, if you like.
And then you will squeeze,
like the grips of a vice...
...so our treasuries become fat
with the profit of spice.
No man recognises leadership...
...without the challenge of combat.
It is the way.
Call him out!
What do you see...
...Muad'dib...
...when you go away like that?
Where is it you go?
Many places, Stil.
Many roads.
Many choices.
These choices...
...are good or bad?
It's hard to know sometimes.
Either they are good choices
or bad choices.
Aren't you ever afraid, Stil?
Of storms?
Of the future.
The future, Muad'dib, just is.
They're like ghosts! Everywhere!
Need immediate evacuation!
They just keep coming!
Need immediate evacuation!
We are ready, Muad'dib.
Muad'dib, it's time. We must hurry.
He's waiting, Reverend Mother.
-Who else knows he's here?
-No one.
He made it clear on his arrival
that we should summon you and no other.
The other witches must leave.
As you wish.
This visit is as indiscreet
as it is unexpected.
Let's hope the Emperor's curiosity
isn't aroused.
The Emperor's suspicions
are easily moderated...
...by his dependence on our services.
As you are so fond of reminding us.
The navigators are concerned.
-Concerned?
-They are disturbed about the future.
There is a problem on the horizon.
What kind of problem?
They are troubled by a nexus
they can't fully explore...
...an intersection of events...
...a meeting of countless delicate decisions
beyond which lies a path...
...they cannot see.
And where is this nexus?
Planet Arrakis.
House Harkonnen controls Arrakis now.
The Atreides are dead.
It is not a matter of feuding royal houses.
We sense a higher order interfering.
A misstep could be catastrophic.
Then we understand one another.
Completely.
We'll do what we can.
I thought...
...l felt something.
The spice must flow.
The balance of power must be maintained.
Sayyadina?
I'm awake, Chani.
Has there been any word,
a courier perhaps?
No. The raids are in the Haga basin.
They won't risk communication
until they are deep across the bled.
-Forgive me, Sayyadina.
-Was there something else?
No.
It's just your skin.
My skin?
We've heard the stories
about off-worlders...
...the ones who come from water planets.
Skin so moist it's like cream.
-Muad'dib's skin is like that.
-Paul?
Muad'dib is still a boy.
I mean, he still has the glow of youth.
Yes.
I say my prayers for his safe return.
We both do, Chani.
The smugglers transport our spice tribute
to the cursed Spacing Guild.
The Emperor never knows.
But bribes are dangerous, Stil.
They have a way of getting larger.
The safe way is the slow way, Muad'dib.
Bribes keep the skies of our sietches clear.
Bribes buy us time.
Something wrong, Muad'dib?
I thought I saw someone I knew.
I'll call them in.
Tell them to hold the smugglers' departure.
No, Stil.
Let them go.
I must have been mistaken.