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“Make no device in the likeness of the mind!”
From his own traverse through a similar evolution, Moneo knew with precision the delicate nature of Siona’s present fortunes.
Leto reflected. Was there need for Moneo to know this peculiar thing about his daughter? Siona could fade from the prescient view at times. The Golden Path remained, but Siona faded. Yet . . . she was not prescient. She was a unique phenomenon . . . and if she survived . . . Leto decided he would not cloud Moneo’s efficiency with unnecessary information.
“When you return, tell your Sisters that I will restore the outward view. Such a landscape as this one turns you inward in search for whatever freedom your spirits can find within. Most humans are not strong enough to find freedom within.”
am the only spectacle remaining in the Empire.”
hydraulic despotism.
It is worth noting that the aging process can be called a disease for which melange is the specific treatment, although not a cure.
“Tell us if we threaten you that we may desist.” And: “Tell us of your grand plan that we may help.”
Who owns this river passage? This verdant valley? This peninsula? This planet? None of us.
“There is a story about how Your hoard is defended, Lord. That Arrakis itself would be destroyed if anyone tried to steal Your melange. Is it true?” “Yes. And that would shatter the Empire. Nothing would survive—not Guild or Sisterhood, not Ix or Tleilaxu, not even the Fish Speakers.”
The Duncans always think it odd that I choose women for combat forces, but my Fish Speakers are a temporary army in every sense. While they can be violent and vicious, women are profoundly different from men in their dedication to battle. The cradle of genesis ultimately predisposes them to behavior more protective of life. They have proved to be the best keepers of the Golden Path. I reinforce this in my design for their training. They are set aside for a time from ordinary routines. I give them special sharings which they can look back upon with pleasure for the rest of their lives. They
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Here is a strikibg passage. It makes me think of the Spartans or the unique Theban army of brothers. In either of those cases, there was at least an element of homosexuality.
The presence of a Duncan pleases the Paul Atreides in me.
Why do you call them Fish Speakers?” “An old conceit. The first priestesses spoke to fish in their dreams. They learned valuable things that way.” “How do you know?” “I am those women . . . and everything that came before and after them.”
Idaho swept his gaze along the faceted silvery-gray body, noted the beginnings of a sandworm’s ribbed sections, the sinuous flexings . . . the small protuberances which had once been feet and legs, one of them somewhat shorter than the other. He brought his attention back to the well-defined arms and hands and finally lifted his attention to the cowled face with its pink skin almost lost in the immensity, a ridiculous extrusion on such a body. “Well, Duncan,” Leto said. “You were warned.” Idaho gestured mutely toward the pre-worm body. Leto asked it for him: “Why?” Idaho nodded. “I’m still
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“You’ve taken something away from us,” he said. “I can feel it. Those women . . . Moneo . . .” Us against you, Leto thought. The Duncans always choose the human side. Idaho returned his attention to Leto’s face. “What have you given us in exchange?” “Throughout the Empire, Leto’s Peace!”
“What secret?” “That I am vulnerable.”
“That you’re not God?” “Not in that ultimate sense.”
am pregnant with my Empire. I’ll die giving birth to it.”
Leto closed his eyes. Such words always distressed him. He knew it was love to which he was most vulnerable.
“Tell the Reverend Mothers that by tonight the Empire will be rid of its God Emperor. We will strike him today before he reaches Onn. We cannot fail.”
“An Idaho Face Dancer?” Luyseyal whispered.
“Religion always leads to rhetorical despotism,” Leto said. “Before the Bene Gesserit, the Jesuits were the best at it.” “Jesuits, Lord?” “Surely you’ve met them in your histories?” “I’m not certain, Lord. When were they?” “No matter. You learn enough about rhetorical despotism from a study of the Bene Gesserit. Of course, they do not begin by deluding themselves with it.” The Reverend Mothers are in for a bad time, Moneo told himself.
“Everything desert again, Lord?” “Watercourses will fill with sand. Crops will be choked and killed. Trees will be covered by great moving dunes. The sand-death will spread until . . . until a subtle signal is heard in the barren lands.”
“I am immune to lasguns,” Leto lied. “When we get time, I will demonstrate.”
By just standing there in front of him, Hwi cried out to his lost humanity. It was too much for him and he moaned in despair:
“Why do your masters torture me?” “Lord?” “By sending you!” “I would not hurt you, Lord.” “Just by existing you hurt me!” “I did not know.” Tears fell unrestrained from her eyes. “They never told me what they were really doing.”
And I must continue tolerating them, Leto thought. The Ixians operated in the terra incognita of creative invention which had been outlawed by the Butlerian Jihad. They made their devices in the image of the mind—the very thing which had ignited the Jihad’s destruction and slaughter. That was what they did on Ix and Leto could only let them continue.
Nunepi was a nasty piece of business who had left his traces in the attack along the Royal Road.
“But they do not hear. Therefore you have no ears, neither here nor hear.”
It amused Leto to greet such delegations in the voice and persona of his grandmother, Jessica. The Bene Gesserit had come to expect this and he did not disappoint them.
The women stood immobile. They heard him. Of all his people, Reverend Mothers were best equipped to understand his hidden message.
He was undoubtedly the most devious creature the universe had ever spawned.
Leto’s great body trembled through its entire length at this thought. He well knew the antidote which had always worked before: lose himself for a time in his own past. Not even the Bene Gesserit Sisters could take such safaris, striking inward along the axis of memories—back, back to the very limits of cellular awareness, or stopping by a wayside to revel in a sophisticated sensory delight. Once, after the death of a particularly superb Duncan, he had toured great musical performances preserved in his memories. Mozart had tired him quickly. Pretentious! But Bach . . . ahhh, Bach.
“But they are. Women make common cause based on their sex, a cause which transcends class and caste. That is why I let my women hold the reins.”
If only Leto had the body and appearance of Idaho.
“The religion of the Reverend Mothers, yes. Once they designed specific religions for specific societies. They called it engineering. How does that strike you?” “Callous.” “Indeed. The results fit the mistake. Even after all the grand attempts at ecumenism there were countless gods, minor deities and would-be prophets throughout the Empire.” “You changed that, Lord.” “Somewhat. But gods die hard, Hwi. My monotheism dominates, but the original pantheon remains; it has gone underground in various disguises.”
“It was. When it came time to consecrate my sister’s water, I performed a miracle. The voices of all the Atreides spoke from Ghani’s urn. Thus, my Fremen discovered that I was their Supreme Deity.”
“I wonder that you do not fear the judgment of a true Supreme Deity,” she said.
“This is the horror which my father could not face and which he tried to prevent: the infinite division and subdivision of a blind identity.”
“You will know all of me soon enough, Hwi. I promise it. Just remember that sun worship among our primitive ancestors was not far off the mark.”
“What in all the seven hells are you really doing?” “I preserve life while setting the stage for the next cycle.”
But Leto now identified a thing lurking within Nyshae’s expression. Pride in her Lord! For the first time, she had seen the God Emperor kill. The seeds of a terrible dependency had been planted. If disaster threatens, my Lord will come. That was how it appeared in her eyes. She would no longer act with complete independence, taking her power from the God Emperor and being personally responsible for the use of that power. There was something possessive in her expression. A terrible death-machine waited in the wings, available at her summons. Leto did not like what he saw, but the damage had
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Replaced. It was a euphemism with a certain nicety. Errant Fish Speakers were isolated and reserved until Leto found a problem which required Death Commandos. They would die gladly, of course, believing that thus they expiated their sin. And even the rumor that such berserkers had been dispatched could quiet a trouble spot.
How gentle and open her quiet acceptance, he thought. The aching pulse within him had to be calmed. In itself, it was a danger to him and to the Golden Path. Those clever Ixians! Malky had seen how the all-powerful were forced to contend with a constant siren song—the will to self-delight.
“Emotions.” Moneo’s mouth formed the word without speaking it. “They have come over me just when I thought them gone forever,” Leto said. “How sweet these last few sips of humanity are.” “With Hwi? But you surely cannot . . .” “Memories of emotions are never enough, Moneo.” “Are you telling me that you are indulging yourself in a . . .” “Indulgence? Certainly not! But the tripod upon which Eternity swings is composed of flesh and thought and emotion. I felt that I had been reduced to flesh and thought.”
“Is there some frontier?” Idaho asked. “Is there some frontier where I could go and never again be a part of this?”
This is why I teach about tyranny in the best possible way—by example.
“Oh . . . I see.” For once, Leto realized, Moneo did see. Moneo had gone through his own cold-turkey time.
Yet, he knew himself to be the master of this place. And the planet was the master of him.
“How is it a god can do evil things?” Idaho asked.
