"Hear me!" he said. "What you fear is not what you fear."
Leto liked the sound of that. Sufficiently portentous for any Oracle. Anteac and Luyseyal stared up at him, dutiful supplicants. Behind them, an acolyte cleared her throat.
That one will be identified and reprimanded later, Leto thought.
Anteac had now had sufficient time to ruminate on Leto's words. She said: "An obscure truth is not the truth."
"But I have directed your attention correctly," Leto said.
"Are you telling us not to fear the machine?" Luyseyal asked.
"You have the power of reason.," he said. "Why come begging to me?"
"But we do not have your powers," Anteac said.
"You complain then that you do not sense the gossamer waves of Time. You do not sense my continuum. And you fear a mere machine!"
"Then you will not answer us," Anteac said.
"Do not make the mistake of thinking me ignorant about your Sisterhood's ways," he said. "You are alive. Your senses are exquisitely tuned. I do not stop this, nor should you."
"But the lxians play with automation!" Anteac protested.
"Discrete pieces, finite bits linked one to another," he agreed. "Once set in motion, what is to stop it?"
Luyseyal discarded all pretense of Bene Gesserit self-control, a fine comment on her recognition of Leto's powers. Her voice almost screeched: "Do you know what the lxians boast? That their machine will predict your actions!"
"Why should I fear that? The closer they come to me, the more they must be my allies. They cannot conquer me, but I can conquer them."
Anteac made to speak but stopped when Luyseyal touched her arm.
"Are you already allied with Ix?" Luyseyal asked. "We hear that you conferred overlong with their new Ambassador, this Hwi Noree."
"I have no allies," he said. "Only servants, students and enemies."
"And you do not fear the lxians' machine?" Anteac insisted.
"Is automation synonymous with conscious intelligence?" he asked.
Anteac's eyes went wide and filmy as she withdrew into her memories. Leto found himself caught by fascination with what she must be encountering there within her own internal mob.
We share some of those memories, he thought.
Leto felt then the seductive attraction of community with Reverend Mothers. It would be so familiar, so supportive... and so deadly. Anteac was trying to lure him once more.
She spoke: "The machine cannot anticipate every problem of importance to humans. It is the difference between serial bits and an unbroken continuum. We have the one; machines are confined to the other."
"You still have the power of reason," he said.
"Share!" Luyseyal said. It was a command to Anteac and it revealed with sharp abruptness who really dominated this pair-the younger over the older.
Exquisite, Leto thought.
"Intelligence adapts," Anteac said.
Parsimonious with her words, too, Leto thought, hiding his amusement.
"Intelligence creates," Leto said. "That means you must deal with responses never before imagined. You must confront the new."
"Such as the possibility of the Ixian Machine," Anteac said. It was not a question.
"Isn't it interesting," Leto asked, "that being a superb Reverend Mother is not enough?"
His acute senses detected the sudden fearful tightening in both of the women. Truthsayers, indeed!
"You are right to fear me," he said. Raising his voice, he demanded: "How do you know you're even alive?"
As Moneo had done so many times, they heard in his voice the deadly consequences of failure to answer him correctly. It fascinated Leto that both women glanced at Moneo before either responded.
"I am the mirror of myself," Luyseyal said, a pat Bene Gesserit answer which Leto found offensive.
"I don't need pre-set tools to deal with my human problems." Anteac said. "Your question is sophomoric`."
"Hah, hah!" Leto laughed. "How would you like to quit the Bene Gesserit and join me'?"
He could see her consider and then reject the invitation, but she did not hide her amusement.
Leto looked at the puzzled Luyseyal. "If it falls outside your yardsticks, then you are engaged with intelligence, not with automation," he said. And he thought: That Luyseyal will ill newer again dominate old Anteac.
Luyseyal was angry now and not bothering to conceal it. She said: "The lxians are rumored to have provided you with machines that simulate human thinking. If you have such a low opinion of them, why..."
"She should not be let out of the Chapter House without a guardian," Leto said, addressing Anteac. "Is she afraid to address her own memories?"
Luyseyal paled, but remained silent.
Leto studied her coldly. "Our ancestors' long unconscious relationship with machines has taught us something, don't you think?"
Luyseyal merely glared at him, not ready yet to risk death through open defiance of the God Emperor.
"Would you say we at least know the attraction of machines'?" Leto asked.
Luyseyal nodded.
"A well-maintained machine can be more reliable than a human servant," Leto said. "We can trust machines not to indulge in emotional distractions."
Luyseyal found her voice. "Does this mean you intend to remove the Butlerian prohibition against abominable machines?"
"I swear to you," Leto said, speaking in his icy voice of disdain, "that if you display further such stupidity, I will have you publicly executed. I am not your Oracle!"
Luyseyal opened her mouth and closed it without speaking.
Anteac touched her companion's arm, sending a quick tremor through Luyseyal's body. Anteac spoke softly in a exquisite demonstration of Voice: "Our God Emperor will never openly defy the proscriptions of the Butlerian Jihad."
Leto smiled at her, a gentle commendation. It was such a pleasure to see a professional performing at her best.
"That should be obvious to any conscious intelligence," he said. "There are limits of my own choosing, places where I will not interfere."
He could see both women absorbing the multi-pronged thrust of his words, weighing the possible meanings and intents. Was the God Emperor distracting them, focusing their attention on the lxians while he maneuvered elsewhere? Was he telling the Bene Gesserit that the time had come to choose sides against the lxians? Was it possible his words had no more than their surface motivations? Whatever his reasons, they could not be ignored. He was undoubtedly the most devious creature the universe had ever spawned.Leto scowled at Luyseyal, knowing he could only add to their confusion. "I point out to you, Marcus Claire Luyseyal, a lesson from past over-machined societies which you appear not to have learned. The devices themselves condition the users to employ each other the way they employ machines."
He turned his attention to Moneo. "Moneo?"
"I see him, Lord."
Moneo craned his neck to peer over the Bene Gesserit entourage. Duncan Idaho had entered the far portal, and strode across the open floor of the chamber toward Leto. Moneo did not relax his wariness, his distrust of the Bene Gesserit, but he recognized the nature of Leto's lecture. He is testing, always testing.
Anteac cleared her throat. "Lord, what of our reward?"
"You are brave," Leto said. "No doubt that's why you were chosen for this Embassy. Very well, for the next decade I will continue your spice allotment at its present level. As for the rest, I will ignore what you really intended with the spice essence. Am I not generous?"
"Most generous, Lord," Anteac said, and there was not the slightest hint of bitterness in her voice.
Duncan Idaho brushed past the women then and stopped beside Moneo to peer up at Leto. "M'Lord, there's..." He broke off and glanced at the two Reverend Mothers.
"Speak openly," Leto commanded.
"Yes, m'Lord." There was reluctance in him, but he obeyed.
"We were attacked at the southeast edge of the City, a distraction I believe because there now are reports of more violence in the City and in the Forbidden Forest-many scattered raiding parties."
"They are hunting my wolves," Leto said. "In the forest and in the City, they are hunting my wolves."
Idaho's brows contracted into a puzzled frown. "Wolves in the City, m'Lord?"
"Predators," Leto said. "Wolves-to me there is no essential difference."
Moneo gasped.
Leto smiled at him, thinking how beautiful it was to observe a moment of realization-a veil pulled away from the eyes, the mind opened.
"I have brought a large force of guards to protect this place," Idaho said. "They are posted through the..."
"I knew you would," Leto said. "Now pay close attention while I tell you where to send the rest of your forces."
As the Reverend Mothers watched in awe, Leto laid out for Idaho the exact points for ambushes, detailing the size of each force and even some of the specific personnel, the timing, the necessary weapons, the precise deployments at each place. Idaho's capacious memory catalogued each instruction. He was too caught up in the recital to question it until Leto fell silent, but a look of puzzled fear came over Idaho then.
For Leto, it was as though he peered directly into Idaho's most essential awareness to read the thoughts there. l was a trusted soldier of the original Lord Leto, Idaho was thinking. That Leto, the grandfather of this one,.saved me and took me into his household like a sun. But even though that Leto still has some kind of existence in this one... this is not him.
"M'Lord, why do you need me?" Idaho asked.
"For your strength and loyalty."
Idaho shook his head. "But..."
"You obey," Leto said, and he noted the way these words were being absorbed by the Reverend Mothers. Truth, only truth, for they are Truthsayers.
"Because I owe a debt to the Atreides," Idaho said.
"That is where we place our trust," Leto said. "And Duncan?"
"M'Lord?" Idaho's voice said he had found ground where he could stand.
"Leave at least one survivor at each place," Leto said. "Otherwise, our efforts are wasted."
Idaho nodded once, curtly, and left, striding back across the hall the way he had come. And Leto thought it would take an extremely sensitive eye indeed to see that it was a different Idaho leaving, far different from the one who had entered.
Anteac said: "This comes of flogging that Ambassador."
"Exactly," Leto agreed. "Recount this carefully to your Superior, the admirable Reverend Mother Syaksa. Tell her for me that I prefer the company of predators above that of the prey." He glanced at Moneo, who drew himself to attention. "Moneo, the wolves are gone from my forest. They must be replaced by human wolves. See to it." -= The trance-state of prophecy is like no other visionary experience. It is not a retreat from the raw exposure of the senses (as are many trance-states) but an immersion in a multitude of new movements. Things moue. It is an ultimate pragmatism in the midst of Infinity, a demanding consciousness where you come at last into the unbroken awareness that the universe moves of itself, that it changes, that its rules change. that nothing remains permanent or absolute throughout all such movement, that mechanical explanations for anything can work only within precise confinements and, once the walls are broken down, the old explanations shatter and dissolve, blown away by new movements. The things you see in this trance are sobering, often shattering They demand your utmost effort to remain whole and. even so, you emerge from that state profoundly changed.
- The Stolen Journals THAT NIGHT of Audience Day, while others slept and fought and dreamed and died, Leto took his repose in the isolation of his audience chamber, only a few trusted Fish Speaker guards at the portals.
He did not sleep. His mind whirled with necessities and disappointments.
Hwi! Hwi!
He knew why Hwi Noree had been sent to him now. How well he knew!
My most secret secret is exposed.
They had discovered his secret. Hwi was the evidence of it.
He thought desperate thoughts. Could this terrible metamorphosis be reversed? Could he return to a human state?
Not possible.
Even if it were possible, the process would take him just as long as it had taken to reach this point. Where would Hwi be in more than three thousand years? Dry dust and bones in the crypt.
I could breed something like her and prepare that one for me... but that would not be my gentle Hwi.
And what of the Golden Path while he indulged in such selfish goals?
To hell with the Golden Path! Have these folly-bound idiots ever thought once of me? Not once!
But that was not true. Hwi thought of him. She shared his torture.
These were thoughts of madness and he tried to put them away while his senses reported the soft movement of the guards and the flow of water beneath his chamber.
When I made this choice, what were my expectations?
How the mob within laughed at that question! Did he not have a task to complete? Was that not the very essence of the agreement which kept the mob in check?
"You have a task to complete," they said. "You have but one purpose."
Single purpose is the mark of the fanatic and I am not a fanatic!
"You must be cynical and cruel. You cannot break the trust."
Why not?
"Who took that oath? You did. You chose this course."
Expectations!
"The expectations which history creates for one generation are often shattered in the next generation. Who knows that better than you?"
Yes... and shattered expectations can alienate whole populations. I alone am a whole population!
"Remember your oath!"
Indeed. I am the disruptive force unleashed across the centuries. I limit expectations... including my own. I dampen the pendulum.
"And then release it. Never forget that."
I am tired. Oh, how tired I am. If only I could.sleep.. really sleep. - "You're full of self-pity, too."
Why not? What am ' The ultimate loner forced to look at what might have been. Every day I look at it... and now. Hwi!
"Your original unselfish choice fills you now with selfishness."
There is danker all around. I must wear my selfishness like a.suit of armor.
"There's danger for everyone who touches you. Isn't that your very nature'?"
Danger even for Hwi. Dear, delectable, dear Hwi "Did you build high walls around you only to sit within them and indulge in self-pity'?"
The walls were built because great forces have been unleashed in my Empire.
"You unleashed them. Will you now compromise with them?"
It's Hwi's doing. These feelings have never before been this powerful in me. It's the damnable lxians.' "How interesting that they should assault you with flesh rather than with a machine."
Because they have discovered my secret.
"You know the antidote."
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.
Leto remembered the joy of it.
I sat at the organ and let the music drench me.
Only three times in all memory had there been an equal to Bach. But even Licallo was not better; as good, but not better.
Would female intellectuals be the proper choice for this night? Grandmother Jessica had been one of the best. Experience told him that someone as close to him as Jessica would not be the proper antidote for his present tensions. The search would have to venture much farther.
He imagined then describing such a safari to some awestruck visitor, a totally imaginary visitor because none would dare question him about such a holy matter.
"I course backward down the flight of ancestors, hunting along the tributaries, darting into nooks and crannies. You would not recognize many of their names. Who has ever heard of Norma Cenva? I have lived her!"
"Lived her?" his imaginary visitor asked.
"Of course- Why else would one keep one's ancestors around'' You think a man designed the first Guild ship:' Your history books told you it was Aurelius Venport? They lied. It was his mistress, Norma. She gave him the design, along with five children. He thought his ego would take no less. In the end. the knowledge that he had not really fulfilled his own image, that was what destroyed him."
"You have lived him, too?"
"Naturally. And I have traversed the far wanderings of the Fremen. Through my father's line and the others, I have gone right back to the House of Atreus."
"Such an illustrious line!"
"With its fair share of fools."
Distraction is what I need, he thought.
Would it be a tour through sexual dalliances and exploits, then'?
"You have no idea what internal orgies are available to me! I am the ultimate voyeur-participant(s) and observer(s). Ignorance and misunderstandings about sexuality have caused so much distress. How abysmally narrow we have been-how miserly."
Leto knew he could not make that choice, not this night, not with Hwi out there in his City.
Would he choose a review of warfare, then'?
"Which Napoleon was the greater coward?" he asked his imaginary visitor. "I will not reveal it, but I know. Oh, yes, I know."
Where can I go." With all of the past open to me, where can I go'
The brothels, the atrocities, the tyrants, the acrobats, nudists, surgeons, male whores, musicians, magicians, ungenciers, priests, artisans, priestesses...
"Are you aware," he asked his imaginary visitor that the hula preserves an ancient sign language which once belonged only to males? You've never heard of the hula'' Of course. Who dances it anymore? Dancers have preserved many things, though. The translations have been lost, but I know them.
"One whole night I was a series of caliphs moving eastward and westward with Islam-a traverse of centuries. I will not bore you with the details. Be gone now, visitor'"
How seductive it is, he thought, this call of the siren which would have me live only in the past.
And how useless that past now, thanks to the damnable lxians How boring the past when Hwi is here. She would come to me right now if I summoned her. But I cannot call for her... not now... not tonight.
The past continued to beckon.
I could make a pilgrimage into my past. It does not have to be a safari. I could go alone. Pilgrimage purifies. Safaris make me into a tourist. That's the difference. I could go alone into my inner world.
And never return.
Leto felt the inevitability of it, that the dream-state would eventually trap him. create a special dream-state throughout my Empire. Within this dream, new myths form, new directions appear and new movements. New... new... new... The things emerge a from my own dreams, out of my myths. Who more.susceptible to them than l? The hunter is caught in his own net.
Leto knew then that he had encountered a condition for which no antidote existed-past. present or future. His great body trembled and shivered in the gloom of his audience chamber.
At the portal, one Fish Speaker guard whispered to another: "Is God troubled?"
And her companion replied: "The sins of this universe would trouble anyone."
Leto heard them and wept silently. -= When I set out to lead humankind along my Golden Path. I promised them a lesson their bones would remember. I know a profound pattern which humans deny with their words even while their actions affirm it. They say they seek security and quiet, the condition they call peace. Even as they speak. they create the seeds of turmoil and violence. If they find their quiet security. they squirm in it. How boring they find it. Look at them now. Look at what they do while I record these words. Hah! I give them enduring eons of enforced tranquility which plods on and on despite their every effort to escape into chaos. Believe me, the memory of Leto's Peace shall abide with them forever. They will seek their quiet security thereafter only with extreme caution and steadfast preparation.
- The Stolen Journals MUCH AGAINST his will, Idaho found himself at dawn with Siona beside him being taken to "a safe place" in an Imperial ornithopter It raced eastward toward the golden arc of sunlight which lifted over a landscape carved into rectangular green plantations.
The 'thopter was a big one, large enough to carry a small squad of Fish Speakers with their two guests. The pilot captain of the squad, a brawny women with a face Idaho could believe had never smiled, had given her name as Inmeir. She sat in the pilot's seat directly ahead of Idaho, two muscular Fish Speaker guards on either side of her. Five more guards sat behind Idaho and Siona.
"God has ordered me to take you away from the City," Inmeir had said, coming up to him in the command post beneath the central plaza. "It is for your own safety. We will return by tomorrow morning for Siaynoq."
Idaho, fatigued by a night of alarms, had sensed the futility of arguing against the orders of "God Himself." Inmeir appeared quite capable of trundling him off under one of her thick arms. She had led him from the command post into a chilly night canopied with stars like stone edged facets of shattered brilliants. It was only when they reached the 'thopter and Idaho recognized Siona waiting there that he had begun to question the purpose of this outing.
During the night, Idaho had come to realize that not all of the violence in Onn had originated with the organized rebels. When he had inquired after Siona, Moneo had sent word that "my daughter is safely out of the way," adding at the end of the message: "I commend her to your care."
In the 'thopter, Siona had not responded to Idaho's questions. Even now, she sat in sullen silence beside him. She reminded him of himself in those first bitter days when he had vowed vengeance against the Harkonnens. He wondered at her bitterness. What drove her'?
Without knowing why, Idaho found himself comparing Siona with Hwi Noree. It had not been easy to encounter Hwi, but he had managed it in spite of the importunate demands of Fish Speakers that he attend to duties elsewhere.
Gentle, that was the word for Hwi. She acted from a core of unchanging gentleness which was, in its own way, a thing of enormous power. He found this intensely attractive.
I must see more of her.
For now, though, he had to contend with the sullen silence of Siona seated beside him. Well... silence could be met with silence.
Idaho peered down at the passing landscape. Here and there he could see the clustered lights of villages winking out as the sunlight approached. The desert of the Sareer lay far behind and this was land that, by its appearance, might never have been parched.
Some things do not change very much, he thought. They are merely taken from one place and reformed in another place.
This landscape reminded him of Caladan's lush gardens and made him wonder what had become of the verdant planet where the Atreides had lived for so many generations before coming to Dune. He could identify narrow roads, market roads with a scattered traffic of vehicles drawn by six-legged animals which he guessed were thorses. Moneo had said that thorses tailored to the needs of such a landscape were the main work beasts not only here but throughout the Empire.
"A population which walks is easier to control."
Moneo's words rang in Idaho's memory as he peered downward. Pastureland appeared ahead of the 'thopter, softly rolling green hills cut into irregular patterns by black stone walls. Idaho recognized sheep and several kinds of large cattle. The 'thopter passed over a narrow valley still in gloom and with only a hint of the water coursing down its depths. A single light and a blue plume of smoke lifting out of the valley's shadows spoke of human occupation.
Siona suddenly stirred and tapped their pilot on the shoulder. pointing off to the right ahead of them.
"Isn't that Goygoa over there'?" Siona asked.
"Yes." Inmeir spoke without turning, her voice clipped and touched by some emotion which Idaho could not identify.
"Is that not a safe place'?" Siona asked.
"It is safe."
Siona looked at Idaho. "Order her to take us to Goygoa."
Without knowing why he complied, Idaho said: "Take us to that place."
Inmeir turned then and her features, which Idaho had thought a square block of non-emotion during the night, revealed the clear evidence of some deep feeling. Her mouth was drawn down into a scowl. A nerve twitched at the corner of her right eye.
"Not Goygoa, Commander," Inmeir said. "There are better..."
"Did the God Emperor tell you to take us to a specific place?" Siona demanded.
Inmeir glared her anger at this interruption, but did not look directly at Siona. "No, but He..."
"Then take us to this Goygoa," Idaho said.
Inmeir jerked her attention back to the 'thopter's controls and Idaho was thrown against Siona as the craft banked sharply and flew toward a round pocket nestled in the green hills.
Idaho peered over Inmeir's shoulder to took at their destination. At the very center of the pocket lay a village built of the same black stones as the surrounding fences. Idaho saw orchards on some of the slopes above the village, terraced gardens rising in steps toward a small saddle where hawks could be seen gliding on the day's first updrafts.
Looking at Siona, Idaho asked: "What is this Goygoa?"
"You will see."
Inmeir set the 'thopter into a shallow glide which brought them to a gentle landing on a flat stretch of grass at the edge of the village. One of the Fish Speakers opened the door on the village side. Idaho's nostrils were immediately assaulted by a heady mixture of aromas-crushed grass, animal droppings, the acridity of cooking fires. He slipped out of the 'thopter and looked up a village street where people were emerging from their houses to stare at the visitors. Idaho saw an older woman in a long green dress bend over and whisper something to a child who immediately turned and went dashing away up the street.
"Do you like this place?" Siona asked. She dropped down beside him.
"It appears pleasant."
Siona looked at Inmeir as the pilot and the other Fish Speakers joined them on the grass. "When do we go back to Orin?"
"You do not go back," Inmeir said. "My orders are to take you to the Citadel. The Commander goes back."
"I see." Siona nodded. "When will we leave?"
"At dawn tomorrow. I will see the village leader about quarters." Inmeir strode off into the village.
"Goygoa," Idaho said. "That's a strange name. I wonder what this place was in the Dune days?"