“I am a creature of this desert now, father,” Leto said. “Would you speak thus to a Coriolis storm?” “You think me coward for refusing that path,” Paul said, his voice husky and trembling. “Oh, I understand you well, son. Augury and haruspication have always been their own torments. But I was never lost in the possible futures because this one is unspeakable!” “Your Jihad will be a summer picnic on Caladan by comparison,” Leto agreed.
