"There have been many changes, Duncan," Leto said. "One thing, though, does not change. I am still Atreides."
"They said your body is..."
"Yes, that has changed."
"The damned Tleilaxu! They tried to make me kill someone I... well, he looked like you. I suddenly remembered who I was and there was this... Could that have been a Muad'Dib ghola?"
"A Face Dancer mimic, I assure you."
"He looked and talked so much like... Are you sure?"
"An actor, no more. Did he survive?"
"Of course! That's how they wakened my memories. They explained the whole damned thing. Is it true?"
"It's true, Duncan. I detest it, but I permit it for the pleasure of your company."
The potential victims always survive, Leto thought. At least for the Duncans I see. There have been slips, the fake Paul slain and the Duncans wasted. But there are always more cells carefully preserved from the original.
"What about your body?" Idaho demanded.
Muad'Dib could be retired now; Leto resumed his usual voice. "I accepted the sandtrout as my skin. They have been changing me ever since."
"Why?"
"I will explain that in due course."
"The Tleilaxu said you look like a sandworm."
"What did my Fish Speakers say?"
"They said you're God. 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."
Leto heard the dry swallowing in Idaho's throat, then: "I see why the darkness. You're giving me time to adjust."
"You always were quick, Duncan."
Except when you were slow.
"How long have you been changing?"
"More than thirty-five hundred years."
"Then what the Tleilaxu told me is true."
"They seldom dare to lie anymore."
"That's a long time."
"Very long."
"The Tleilaxu have... copied me many times?"
"Many.'
It's time you asked how many, Duncan,
"How many of me?"
"I will let you see the records for yourself."
And so it starts, Leto thought.
This exchange always appeared to satisfy the Duncans, but there was no escaping the nature of the question:
"How many of me?"
The Duncans made no distinctions of the flesh even though no mutual memories passed between gholas of the same stock.
"I remember my death," Idaho said. "Harkonnen blades, lots of them trying to get at you and Jessica."
Leto restored the Muad'Dib voice for momentary play: "I was there, Duncan."
"I'm a replacement, is that right?" Idaho asked.
"That's right," Leto said.
"How did the other... me... I mean, how did he die?"
"All flesh wears out, Duncan. It's in the records."
Leto waited patiently, wondering how long it would be until the tamed history failed to satisfy this Duncan.
"What do you really look like?" Idaho asked. "What's this sandworm body the Tleilaxu described?"
"It will make sandworms of sorts someday. It's already far down the road of metamorphosis."
"What do you mean of sorts?"
"It will have more ganglia. It will be aware."
"Can't we have some light'? I'd like to see you."
Leto commanded the floodlights. Brilliant illumination filled the room. The black walls and the lighting had been arranged to focus the illumination on Leto, every visible detail revealed.
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 Atreides, Duncan, and I assure you with all the honor of that name, there were compelling reasons."
"What could possibly..."
"You will learn in time."
Idaho merely shook his head from side to side.
"It's not. a pleasant revelation," Leto said. "It requires that you learn other things first. Trust the word of an Atreides."
Over the centuries, Leto had found that this invocation of Idaho's profound loyalties to all things Atreides dampened the immediate wellspring of personal questions. Once more, the formula worked.
"So I'm to serve the Atreides again," Idaho said. "That sounds familiar. Is it?"
"In many ways, old friend."
"Old to you, maybe, but not to me. How will I serve'?"
"Didn't my Fish Speakers tell you?"
"They said I would command your elite Guard, a force chosen from among them. I don't understand that. An army of women?"
"I need a trusted companion who can command my Guard. You object?"
"Why women?"
"There are behavioral differences between the sexes which make women extremely valuable in this role."
"You're not answering my question."
"You think them inadequate?"
"Some of them looked pretty tough, but..."
"Others were, ahhh, soft with you?"
Idaho blushed.
Leto found this a charming reaction. The Duncans were among the few humans of these times who could do this. It was understandable, a product of the Duncans' early training, their sense of personal honor-very chivalrous.
"I don't see why you trust women to protect you," Idaho said. The blood slowly receded from his cheeks. He glared at Leto.
"But I have always trusted them as I trust you-with my life."
"What do we protect you from?"
"Moneo and my Fish Speakers will bring you up to date."
Idaho shifted from one foot to the other, his body swaying in a heartbeat rhythm. He stared around the small room, his eyes not focusing. With the abruptness of sudden decision, he returned his attention to Leto.
"What do I call you?"
It was the sign of acceptance for which Leto had been waiting. "Will Lord Leto do?"
"Yes... m'Lord." Idaho stared directly into Leto's Fremen blue eyes. "Is it true what your Fish Speakers say-you have... memories of..."
"We're all here, Duncan." Leto spoke it in the voice of his paternal grandfather, then:
"Even the women are here, Duncan." It was the voice of Jessica, Leto's paternal grandmother.
"You knew them well," Leto said. "And they know you."
Idaho inhaled a slow, trembling breath. "That will take a little getting used to."
"My own initial reaction exactly," Leto said.
An explosion of laughter shook Idaho, and Leto thought it more than the weak jest deserved, but he remained silent.
Presently, Idaho said: "Your Fish Speakers were supposed to put me in a good mood, weren't they'?"
"Did they succeed?"
Idaho studied Leto's face, recognizing the distinctive Atreides features.
"You Atreides always did know me too well," Idaho said.
"That's better," Leto said. "You're beginning to accept that I'm not just one Atreides. I'm all of them."
"Paul said that once."
"So I did!" As much as the original personality could be conveyed by tone and accent, it was Muad'Dib speaking.
Idaho gulped, looked away at the room's door.
"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 hu
man side.
Idaho returned his attention to Leto's face. "What have you given us in exchange?"
"Throughout the Empire, Leto's Peace!"
"And I can see that everyone's delightfully happy! That's why you need a personal guard."
Leto smiled. "My peace is actually enforced tranquility. Humans have a long history of reacting against tranquility."
"So you give us the Fish Speakers."
"And a hierarchy you can identify without any mistakes."
"A female army," Idaho muttered.
"The ultimate male-enticing force," Leto said. "Sex always was a way of subduing the aggressive male."
"Is that what they do?"
"They prevent or ameliorate excesses which could lead to more painful violence."
"And you let them believe you're a god. I don't think I like this."
"The curse of holiness is as offensive to me as it is to you!"
Idaho frowned. It was not the response he had expected.
"What kind of game are you playing, Lord Leto?"
"A very old one but with new rules."
"Your rules!"
"Would you rather I turned it all back to CHOAM and Landsraad and the Great Houses?"
"The Tleilaxu say there is no more Landsraad. You don't allow any real self-rule."
"Well then, I could step aside for the Bene Gesserit. Or maybe the Ixians or the Tleilaxu? Would you like me to find another Baron Harkonnen to assume power over the Empire'." Say the word, Duncan, and I'll abdicate!"
Under this avalanche of meanings, Idaho again shook his head from side to side.
"In the wrong hands," Leto said, "monolithic centralized power is a dangerous and volatile instrument."
"And your hands are the right ones?"
"I'm not certain about my hands, but I will tell you, Duncan, I'm certain about the hands of those who've gone before me. I know them."
Idaho turned his back on Leto.
What a fascinating, ultimately human gesture, Leto thought. Rejection coupled to acceptance of his vulnerability.
Leto spoke to Idaho's back.
"You object quite rightly that I use people without their full knowledge and consent."
Idaho turned his profile to Leto, then turned his head to look up at the cowled face, cocking his head forward a bit to peer into the all-blue eyes.
He is studying me, Leto thought, but he has only the face to measure me by.
The Atreides had taught their people to know the subtle signals of face and body, and Idaho was good at it, but the realization could be seen coming over him: he was beyond his depth here.
Idaho cleared his throat. "What's the worst thing you would ask of me?"
How like a Duncan! Leto thought. This one was a classic. Idaho would give his loyalty to an Atreides, to the guardian of his oath, but he sent a signal that he would not go beyond the personal limits of his own morality.
"You will be asked to guard me by whatever means necessary, and you will be asked to guard my secret."
"What secret?"
"That I am vulnerable."
"That you're not God?"
"Not in that ultimate sense."
"Your Fish Speakers talk about rebels."
"They exist."
"Why?"
"They are young and I have not convinced them that my way is better. It's very difficult convincing the young of anything. They're born knowing so much."
"I never before heard an Atreides sneer at the young that way."
"Perhaps it's because I'm so much older-old compounded by old. And my task gets more difficult with each passing generation."
"What is your task?"
"You will come to understand it as we go along."
"What happens if I fail you? Do your women eliminate me?"
"I try not to burden the Fish Speakers with guilt."
"But you would burden me?"
"If you accept it."
"If I find that you're worse than the Harkonnens, I'll turn against you."
How like a Duncan. They measure all evil against the Harkonnens. How little they know of evil.
Leto said: "The Baron ate whole planets, Duncan. What could be worse than that?"
"Eating the Empire."
"I am pregnant with my Empire. I'll die giving birth to it."
"If I could believe that..."
"Will you command my Guard?"
"Why me'?"
"You're the best."
"Dangerous work, I'd imagine. Is that how my predecessors died, doing your dangerous work?"
"Some of them."
"I wish I had the memories of those others!"
"You couldn't have and still be the original."
"I want to learn about them, though."
"You will."
"So the Atreides still need a sharp knife?"
"We have jobs that only a Duncan Idaho can do."
"You say... we..." Idaho swallowed, looked at the door, then at Leto's face.
Leto spoke to him as Muad'Dib would have, but still in the Leto-voice.
"When we climbed to Sietch Tabr for the last time together, you had my loyalty then and I had yours. Nothing of that has really changed."
"That was your father."
"That was me!" Paul Muad'Dib's voice of command coming from Leto's bulk always shocked the gholas.
Idaho whispered: "All of you... in that one... body..." He broke off.
Leto remained silent. This was the decision moment.
Presently, Idaho permitted himself that devil-may-care grin for which he had been so well known. "Then I will speak to the first Leto and to Paul, the ones who know me best. Use me well, for I did love you."
Leto closed his eyes. Such words always distressed him. He knew it was love to which he was most vulnerable.
Moneo, who had been listening, came to the rescue. He entered and said: "Lord, shall I take Duncan Idaho to the guards he will command?"
"Yes." The one word was all that Leto could manage.
Moneo took Idaho's arm and led him away.
Good Moneo, Leto thought. So good. He knows me so well, but l despair of his ever understanding me.
***
I know the evil of my ancestors because I am those people. The balance is delicate in the extreme. I know that few of you who read my words have ever thought about your ancestors this way. It has not occurred to you that your ancestors were survivors and that the survival itself sometimes involved savage decisions, a kind of wanton brutality which civilized humankind works very hard to suppress. What price will you pay for that suppression? Will you accept your own extinction?
- The Stolen Journals
AS HE dressed for his first morning of Fish Speaker command, Idaho tried to shake off a nightmare. It had awakened him twice and both times he had gone out on the balcony to stare up at the stars, the dream still roaring in his head.
Women... weaponless women in black armor... rushing at him with the hoarse, mindless shouting of a mob... waving hands moist with red blood... and as they swarmed over him, their mouths opened to display terrible fangs!
In that moment, he awoke.
Morning light did little to dispel the effects of the nightmare.
They had provided him with a room in the north tower. The balcony looked out over a vista of dunes to a distant cliff with what appeared to be a mud-but village at its base.
Idaho buttoned his tunic as he stared at the scene.
Why does Leto choose only women for his army?
Several comely Fish Speakers had offered to spend the night with their new commander, but Idaho had rejected them.
It was not like the Atreides to use sex as a persuader!
He looked down at his clothing: a black uniform with golden piping, a red hawk at the left breast. That, at least, was familiar. No insignia of rank.
"They know your face," Moneo had said.
Strange little man, Moneo.
This thought brought Idaho up short. Reflectio
n told him that Moneo was not little. Very controlled, yes, but no shorter than I am. Moneo appeared drawn into himself, though... collected.
Idaho glanced around his room-sybaritic in its attention to comfort-soft cushions, appliances concealed behind panels of brown polished wood. The bath was an ornate display of pastel blue tiles with a combination bath and shower in which at least six people could bathe at the same time. The whole place invited self-indulgence. These were quarters where you could let your senses indulge in remembered pleasures.
"Clever," Idaho whispered.
A gentle tapping on his door was followed by a female voice saying: "Commander? Moneo is here."
Idaho glanced out at the sunburnt colors on the distant cliff.
"Commander?" The voice was a bit louder.
"Come in," Idaho called.
Moneo entered, closing the door behind him. He wore tunic and trousers of chalk-white which forced the eyes to concentrate on his face. Moneo glanced once around the room.
"So this is where they put you. Those damned women! I suppose they thought they were being kind, but they ought to know better."
"How do you know what I like?" Idaho demanded. Even as he asked it, he realized it was a foolish question.
I'm not the first Duncan Idaho that Moneo has seen.
Moneo merely smiled and shrugged.
"I did not mean to offend you, Commander. Will you keep these quarters, then?"
"I like the view."
"But not the furnishings." It was a statement.
"Those can be changed," Idaho said.
"I will see to it."
"I suppose you're here to explain my duties."
"As much as I can. I know how strange everything must appear to you at first. This civilization is profoundly different from the one you knew."
"I can see that. How did my... predecessor die?"
Moneo shrugged. It appeared to be his standard gesture, but there was nothing self-effacing about it.
"He was not fast enough to escape the consequences of a decision he had made," Moneo said.
"Be specific."
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