As he strode down the hall of the Citadel, Idaho replayed the conversation, seeking out the oddities in Moneo's behavior. The terror could be recognized and even understood, but it had seemed far more than fear of death... far, far more.
The Worm can dominate him.
Idaho felt that this had slipped out of Moneo, an inadvertent betrayal. What could it mean?
More reckless than any of the others.
It galled Idaho that he should have to bear comparisons to himself-as-an-unknown. How careful had the others been?
Idaho came to his own door, put a hand on the palm-lock and hesitated. He felt like a hunted animal retreating to his den. The guards in the mess surely would have reported that
conversation to Leto by now. What would the God Emperor do? Idaho's hand moved across the lock. The door swung inward. He entered the anteroom of his apartment and sealed the door, looking at it.
Will he send his Fish Speakers for me?
Idaho glanced around the entry area. It was a conventional space-racks for clothing and shoes, a full-length mirror, a weapons cupboard. He looked at the closed door of the cupboard. Not one of the weapons behind that door offered any real threat to the God Emperor. There wasn't even a lasgun... although even lasguns were ineffectual against the Worm, according to all the accounts.
He knows I will defy him.
Idaho sighed and looked toward the arched portal which led into the sitting area. Moneo had replaced the soft furniture with heavier, stiffer pieces, some of them recognizably Fremen culled from the coffers of the Museum Fremen.
Museum Fremen!
Idaho spat and strode through the portal. Two steps into the room he stopped, shocked. The soft light from the north windows revealed Hwi Noree seated on the low sling-divan. She wore a shimmering blue gown which draped itself revealingly around her figure. Hwi looked up at his entrance.
"Thank the gods you've not been harmed," she said.
Idaho glanced back at his entry, at the palm-locked door. He returned a speculative look at Hwi. No one but a few selected guards should be able to open that door.
She smiled at his confusion. "We lxians manufactured those locks," she said.
He found himself filled with fear for her. "What are you doing here?"
"We must talk."
"About what?"
"Duncan..." She shook her head. "About us."
"They warned you," he said.
"I've been told to reject you."
"Moneo sent you!"
"Two guardswomen who overheard you in the mess-they brought me. They think you are in terrible danger."
"Is that why you're here?"
She stood, one graceful motion which reminded him of the way Leto's grandmother, Jessica, had moved-the same fluid control of muscles, every movement beautiful.
Realization came as a shock. "You're Bene Gesserit..."
"No! They were among my teachers, but I am not Bene Gesserit."
Suspicions clouded his mind. What allegiances were really at work in Leto's Empire? What does a ghola know about such things?
The changes since last I lived...
"I suppose you're still just a simple Ixian," he said.
"Please don't sneer at me, Duncan."
"What are you?"
"I am the intended bride of the God Emperor."
"And you'll serve him faithfully!"
"I will."
"Then there's nothing for us to talk about."
"Except this thing between us."
He cleared his throat. "What thing?"
"This attraction." She raised a hand as he started to speak. "I want to hurl myself into your arms, to find the love and shelter I know is there. You want it, too."
He held himself rigid. "The God Emperor forbids!"
"But I am here." She took two steps toward him, the gown rippling across her body.
"Hwi..." He tried to swallow in a dry throat. "It's best you leave."
"Prudent, but not best," she said.
"If he finds that you've been here..."
"It is not my way to leave you like this." Again, she stopped his response with a lifted hand. "I was bred and trained for just one purpose."
Her words filled him with icy caution. "What purpose?"
"To woo the God Emperor. Oh, he knows this. He would not change a thing about me."
"Nor would L"
She moved a step closer. He smelled the milky warmth of her breath.
"They made me too well," she said. "I was designed to please an Atreides. Leto says his Duncan is more an Atreides than many born to the name."
"Leto?"
"How else should I address the one I'll wed?"
Even as she spoke, Hwi leaned toward Idaho. As though a magnet had found its point of critical attraction, they moved together. Hwi pressed her cheek against his tunic, her arms around him feeling the hard muscles. Idaho rested his chin in her hair, the musk filling his senses.
"This is insane," he whispered.
"Yes."
He lifted her chin and kissed her.
She pressed herself against him.
Neither of them doubted where this must lead. She did not resist when he lifted her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom.
Only once did Idaho speak. "You're not a virgin."
"Nor are you, love."
"Love," he whispered. "Love, love, love..."
"Yes... yes!"
In the post-coital peace, Hwi put both hands behind her head and stretched, twisting on the rumpled bed. Idaho sat with his back to her looking out the window.
"Who were your other lovers?" he asked.
She lifted herself on one elbow. "I've had no other lovers." "But..." He turned and looked down at her.
"In my teens," she said, "there was a young man who needed me very much." She smiled. "Afterward, I was very ashamed. How trusting I was! I thought I had failed the people who depended on me. But they found out and they were elated. You know, I think I was being tested."
Idaho scowled. "Is that how it was with me? I needed you?" "No, Duncan." Her features were grave. "We gave joy to each other because that's how it is with love."
"Love!" he said, and it was a bitter sound.
She said: "My Uncle Malky used to say that love was a bad bargain because you get no guarantees."
"Your Uncle Malky was a wise man."
"He was stupid! Love needs no guarantees."
A smile twitched at the corners of Idaho's mouth.
She grinned up at him. "You know it's love when you want to give joy and damn the consequences."
He nodded. "I think only of the danger to you."
"We are what we are," she said.
"What will we do?"
"We'll cherish this for as long as we live."
"You sound... so final."
"I am."
"But we'll see each other every...
"Never again like this."
"Hwi!" He hurled himself across the bed and buried his face in her breast.
She stroked his hair.
His voice muffled against her, he said: "What if I've impreg...
"Shush! If there's to be a child, there will be a child."
Idaho lifted his head and looked at her. "But he'll know for sure!"
"He'll know anyway."
"You think he really knows everything?"
"Not everything, but he'll know this."
"How?"
"I will tell him."
Idaho pushed himself away from her and sat up on the bed. Anger warred with confusion in his expression.
"I must," she said.
"If he turns against you... Hwi, there are stories. You could be in terrible danger!"
"No. I have needs, too. He knows this. He will not harm either of us."
"But he..."
"He will not destroy me. He will know that if he harms you that would destroy me."
"How can you marry him?"
"Dear Duncan, have you not seen
that he needs me more than you do?"
"But he cannot... I mean, you can't possibly...
"The joy that you and I have in each other, I'll not have that with Leo. It's impossible for him. He has confessed this to me."
"Then why can't... If he loves you..."
"He has larger plans and larger needs." She reached out and took Idaho's right hand in both of hers. "I've known that since I first began to study about him. Needs larger than either of us have."
"What plans? What needs?"
"Ask him."
"Do you know?" "Yes.., "You mean you believe those stories about..." "There is honesty and goodness in him. I know it by my own responses to him. What my Ixian masters made in me was, I think, a reagent which reveals more than they wanted me to know."
"Then you believe him!" Idaho accused. He tried to pull his hand away from her.
"If you go to him, Duncan, and..."
"He'll never see me again!"
"He will."
She pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed his fingers.
"I'm a hostage," he said. "You've made me fearful... the two of you together..."
"I never thought it would be easy to serve God," she said. "I just didn't think it would be this hard."
***
Memory has a curious meaning to me, a meaning I have hoped others might share. It continually astonished me how people hide from their ancestral memories, shielding themselves behind a thick barrier of mythos. Ohhh, I do not expect them to seek the terrible immediacy of every living moment which I must experience. I can understand that they might not want to be submerged in a mush of petty ancestral details. You have reason to fear that your living moments might be taken over by others. Yet, the meaning is there within those memories. We carry all of our ancestry forward like a living wave, all of the hopes and joys and griefs, the agonies and the exultations of our past. Nothing within those memories remains completely without meaning or influence, not as long as there is a humankind somewhere. We have that bright Infinity all around us, that Golden Path of forever to which we can continually pledge our puny but inspired allegiance.
- The Stolen Journals
"I HAVE summoned yon, Moneo, because of what my guards tell me," Leto said.
They stood in the darkness of the crypt where, Moneo reminded himself, some of the God Emperor's most painful decisions originated. Moneo, too, had heard reports. He had been expecting the summons all afternoon and, when it came shortly after the evening meal, a moment of terror had engulfed him.
"Is it about... about the Duncan, Lord?"
"Of course it's about the Duncan!"
"I'm told, Lord... his behavior..."
"Terminal behavior, Moneo?"
Moneo bowed his head. "If you say it, Lord."
"How long until the Tleilaxu could supply us with another one?"
"They say they have had problems, Lord. It might be as much as two years."
"Do you know what my guards tell me, Moneo?"
Moneo held his breath. If the God Emperor had learned about this latest... No! Even the Fish Speakers were terrified by the affront. Had it been anyone but a Duncan, the women would have taken it upon themselves to eliminate him.
"Well, Moneo?"
"I am told, Lord, that he called out a levy of guards and questioned them about their origins. On what worlds were they born? What of their parentage, their childhood?"
"And the answers did not please him."
"He frightened them, Lord. He kept insisting."
"As though repetition could elicit the truth, yes."
Moneo allowed himself to hope that this might be the whole of his Lord's concern. "Why do the Duncans always do this, Lord?"
"It was their early training, the Atreides training."
"But how did that differ from..."
"The Atreides lived in the service of the people they governed. The measure of their government was found in the lives of the governed. Thus, the Duncans always want to know how the people live."
"He has spent a night in one village, Lord. He has been to some of the towns. He has seen..."
"It's all in how you interpret the results, Moneo. Evidence is nothing without judgments."
"I have observed that he judges, Lord."
"We all do, but the Duncans tend to believe that this universe is hostage to my will. And they know that you cannot do wrong in the name of right."
"Is that what he says you..."
"It is what I say, what all of the Atreides in me say. This universe will not permit it. The things you attempt will not endure if you..."
"But, Lord! You do no wrong!" -"Poor Moneo. You cannot see that I have created a vehicle of injustice."
Moneo could not speak. He realized that he had been diverted by a seeming return to mildness in the God Emperor. But now, Moneo sensed changes moving in that great body, and at this proximity...Moneo glanced around the crypt's central chamber, reminding himself of the many deaths which had occurred here and which were enshrined here.
Is it my time?
Leto spoke in a musing tone. "You cannot succeed by taking hostages. That is a form of enslavement. One kind of human cannot own another kind of human. This universe will not permit it."
The words lay there, simmering in Moneo's awareness, a terrifying contrast to the rumblings of transformation which he sensed in his Lord.
The Worm comes!
Again, Moneo glanced around the crypt chamber. This place was far worse than the aerie! Sanctuary was too remote.
"Well, Moneo, do you have any response?" Leto asked.
Moneo ventured a whisper: "The Lord's words enlighten me."
"Enlighten? You are not enlightened!"
Moneo spoke out of desperation. "But I serve my Lord!"
"You claim service to God?"
"Yes, Lord."
"Who created your religion, Moneo?"
"You did, Lord."
"That's a sensible answer."
"Thank you, Lord."
"Don't thank me! Tell me what religious institutions perpetuate!"
Moneo backed away four steps.
"Stand where you are!" Leto ordered.
Trembling all through his body, Moneo shook his head dumbly. At last, he had encountered the question without answer. Failure to answer would precipitate his death. He waited for it, head bowed.
"Then I will tell you, poor servant," Leto said.
Moneo dared to hope. He lifted his gaze to the God Emperor's face, noting that the eyes were not glazed... and the hands were not trembling. Perhaps the Worm did not come.
"Religious institutions perpetuate a mortal master-servant relationship," Leto said. "They create an arena which attracts prideful human power-seekers with all of their nearsighted prejudices!"
Moneo could only nod. Was that a trembling in the God Emperor's hands? Was the terrible face withdrawing slightly into its cowl?
"The secret revelations of infamy, that is what the Duncans ask after," Leto said. "The Duncans have too much compassion for their fellows and too sharp a limit on fellowship."
Moneo had studied holos of Dune's ancient sandworms, the gigantic mouths full of crysknife teeth around consuming fire. He noted the tumescence of the latent rings on Leto's tubular surface. Were they more prominent? Would a new mouth open below that cowled face?
"The Duncans know in their hearts," Leto said, "that I have deliberately ignored the admonition of Mohammed and Moses. Even you know it, Moneo!"
It was an accusation. Moneo started to nod, then shook his head from side to side. He wondered if he dared renew his retreat. Moneo knew from experience that lectures in this tenor did not long continue without the coming of the Worm.
"What might that admonition be?" Leto asked. There was a mocking lightness in his voice.
Moneo allowed himself a faint shrug.
Abruptly, Leto's voice filled the chamber with a rumbling baritone, an ancient voice which spoke across the centuries: "You are servants unto God, n
ot servants unto servants!"
Moneo wrung his hands and cried out: "I serve you, Lord!"
"Moneo, Moneo," Leto said, his voice low and resonant, "a million wrongs cannot give rise to one right. The right is known because it endures."
Moneo could only stand in trembling silence.
"I had intended Hwi to mate with you, Moneo," Leto said. "Now, it is too late."
The words took a moment penetrating Moneo's consciousness. He felt that their meaning was out of any known context. Hwi? Who was Hwi? Oh, yes-the God Emperor's Ixian bride-to-be. Mate... with me?
Moneo shook his head.
Leto spoke with infinite sadness: "You, too, shall pass away.
Will all your works be as dust forgotten?"
Without any warning, even as he spoke, Leto's body convulsed in a thrashing roll which heaved him from the cart. The speed of it, the monstrous violence, threw him within centimeters of Moneo, who screamed and fled across the crypt.
"Moneo!"
Leto's call stopped the majordomo at the entrance to the lift "The test, Moneo! I will test Siona tomorrow!"
***
The realization of what I am occurs in the timeless awareness which does not stimulate nor delude. I create a field without self or center, a field where even death becomes only analogy. I desire no results. I merely permit this field which has no goals nor desires, no perfections nor even visions of achievements. In that field, omnipresent primal awareness is all. It is the light which pours through the windows of my universe.
- The Stolen Journals
THE SUN came up, sending its harsh glare across the dunes. Leto felt the sand beneath him as a soft caress. Only his human ears, hearing the abrasive rasp of his heavy body, reported otherwise. It was a sensory conflict which he had learned to accept.
He heard Siona walking behind him, a lightness in her tread, a gentle spilling of sand as she climbed to his level atop a dune.
The longer I endure, the more vulnerable I become, he thought.
This thought often occurred to him these days when he went into his desert. He peered upward. The sky was cloudless with a blue density which the old days of Dune had never seen.
What was a desert without a cloudless sky? Too bad it could not have Dune's silvery hue.
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