"You... really don't know? Golarion must be... very far away.

Arrakis is the only known planet in the universe where the Spice Melange is produced. The Spice prolongs the life of the people who use it, and if assumed in big enough doses, gives limited prescience to some people. It is how the Spacing Guild navigators are able to safely fold the space between star systems. It is the most precious substance known to man, by far.

The Emperor took away Arrakis from the Harkonnen, who had held it for decades, and gave it to the Atreides. It was a trap. My Duke knew it was a trap, the Harkonnen knew it was a trap, everyone did. My Duke thought he could escape it, having seen it in advance, but he couldn't foresee the scale of the attack, the Harkonnens must have burned decades of profits just for the transportation costs.

And don't worry, the Emperor has already intervened! He... sent the Sardaukars. His personal militia. To kill us all!"

He also thinks Golarion is very far away!

He has never heard of the Spice Melange. Or the Spacing Guild. Oh! They use it as a material component for Interplanetary Teleport. So it is a real spell!!

"I am utterly lacking in context – the Atreides could not refuse? How was it a trap? If the Emperor wanted to be rid of the Atreides, couldn't he just...order them executed? Since he's the Emperor and all."

He hopes none of that was potentially offensive.

"I mean, not really. If the emperor gives your House a different fief, you do what you're told. It was a trap because Arrakis is incredibly profitable, and why would the Harkonnen leave it without a fight if not to attack us when we have just moved in and still unprepared with no stable power base?

Oh, and if you don't know anything about Houses you may have missed it but, those were Sardaukars wearing the Harkonnen uniforms. The Emperor cannot be seen helping the demise of a Great House. Which means that if we survive this... things are going to get interesting.

The Emperor can't just execute people willy nilly, he would have all the Houses revolting against him. Uh, to state the obvious, the three main powers that keep each other in check are the Landsraad - the organization of Noble Houses, the Emperor, and the Spacing Guild - who have the monopoly on interplanetary transportation."

So the Emperor can give someone your land, except you can fight them to prevent them from taking it? How does this make any sense.

"I did not know they were wearing Harkonnen uniforms."

What is even the point of having an Emperor if he can't execute people willy nilly?????? Isn't that the definition of being an Emperor??????

Ah, so only the Spacing Guild knows Interplanetary Teleport. And why Duncan was so interested in the prospect of permanent portals.

Also, he realizes belatedly – the Spice Melange gives prescience?????? Prophecy works here??????

"How does consuming the Spice Melange allow one to prophesy?"

"It's not a prophecy really? It's just... being able to see some seconds in the future, allowing the Navigators to... uh, avoid obstacles I guess?

I'm not a scientist, really!"

Oh. He thought they were talking about long-range prophecy. He doesn't actually know whether short-range prophecy still works on Golarion – now that he thinks back on it, all of the examples given were of long-range god prophecies.

"The spell that lets me speak your language will expire in thirty minutes." He isn't going to suggest a plan of action given this information because he's not sure whether he's allowed to do that.

"That's inconvenient! And you said you can't use it again, right?

I haven't asked, by the way, but what do you use to... uh be able to use your 'spells' again? Spice? Electricity? The blood of your dead enemies?"

"Yes, I have no more uses of the spell remaining.

I need to sleep for eight hours uninterrupted. I have a limited number of spells per day, regardless of the amount I sleep. I need my spellbook to prepare spells." He hopes Duncan or Liet realize that they need to come up with some way of communicating before Tongues expires or Conrad will have to delicately – and he is not known for delicacy – suggest that they do so.

"And I guess you can't sleep while on the sandworm?"

Oh, he totally can! Wizards with sleeping issues do not last long.

"The sleep has to be uninterrupted for eight hours, but we have to make several stops to change sandworms."

"That's inconvenient. Let's hope we'll be able to catch some sleep when we're at the sietch then. Until then, do you have more questions? Things you think we should talk about before you magically* lose to ability to talk?"

*this translates as "whimsically" more than "magically"

Okay, this is probably a good opportunity to speak up now.

"We should figure out some way to communicate once the spell expires. I won't be able to cast the spell until tomorrow, and only after I've prepared my spells using my spellbook."

"Do you know the standard battle signs?"

"No, but I can learn. My spell only covers spoken languages – sign language and written languages aren't covered."

Duncan teaches him the standard sign language and - after some internal deliberation on whether to do it or not - also the Atreides dialect of it, although only the part that all soldiers get taught, not the inner ring's own cant.

How many signs are there? Conrad successfully completed Chelish public wizard school Infernal class, but there is a limit.

I mean, the full sign language has 20 thousand something words. Officers are required to know at least the most common 1200, privates can get by with approximately 100, and 20 or so will probably be enough until tomorrow comes.

Ferrer will be able to learn them in no time, Duncan has faith in him!

"Any further questions before the Kit Fox gets your tongue?"

Well, a lot, but none that are immediately relevant. He feels tempted to ask about his current status given the...events...and what sorts of entitlements and responsibilities he would have as a Prospective Retainer Of House Atreides, but he thinks he doesn't want to open that topic right now.

"No pressing questions."

Then they'll ride on towards the sunset, in peaceful silence.

"Duncan??? I thought you lost!"

"I'm pretty hard to kill, you know? Plus this gentleman here" - pointing at Ferrer - "decided to use some magic to heal me and save my ass.

Oh, and apparently he can't speak our language again until he sleeps eight hours, but I've taught him the basic sign language."