God Emperor of Dune dc-4

by Frank Herbert

  Moneo leaned close to Idaho's ear. "You are disturbing the Lord Leto," he said.

  "But..."

  "Have you not considered how much easier it is to control a walking population?" Moneo asked.

  Idaho jerked around to stare into Moneo's eyes with sudden comprehension.

  Leto took the opportunity to begin issuing orders. "Moneo, see that there is no sign of the attack left here, not one spot of blood or a torn rag of clothing-nothing."

  "Yes, Lord."

  Idaho turned at the sound of people pressing close around them, saw that all of the survivors, even the wounded wearing emergency bandages, had come up to listen.

  "All of you," Leto said, addressing the throng around the cart. "Not a word of this. Let the Tleilaxu worry." He looked at Idaho.

  "Duncan, how did those Face Dancers get into a region where only my Museum Fremen should roam free?"

  Idaho glanced involuntarily at Moneo.

  "Lord, it is my fault," Moneo said. "I was the one who arranged for the Fremen to present their petition here. I even reassured Duncan Idaho about them."

  "I recall your mentioning the petition," Leto said.

  "I thought it might amuse you, Lord."

  "Petitions do not amuse me, they annoy me. I am especially annoyed by petitions from people whose one purpose in my scheme of things is to preserve the ancient forms."

  "Lord, it was just that you have spoken so many times about the boredom of these peregrinations into..."

  "But I am not here to ease the boredom of others!"

  "Lord?"

  "The Museum Fremen understand nothing about the old ways. They are only good at going through the motions. This naturally bores them and their petitions always seek to introduce changes. That's what annoys me. I will not permit changes. Now, where did you learn of the supposed petition?"

  "From the Fremen themselves," Moneo said. "A dele..." He broke off, scowling.

  "Were the members of the delegation known to you'.'"

  "Of course, Lord. Otherwise I'd..."

  "They're dead," Idaho said.

  Moneo looked at him, uncomprehending.

  "The people you knew were killed and replaced by Face Dancer mimics," Idaho said.

  "I have been remiss," Leto said. "I should've taught all of you how to detect Face Dancers. It will be corrected now that they grow foolishly bold."

  "Why are they so bold?" Idaho asked.

  "Perhaps to distract us from something else," Moneo said.

  Leto smiled at Moneo. Under the stress of personal threat, the majordomo's mind worked well. He had failed his Lord by mistaking Face Dancer mimics for known Fremen. Now, Moneo felt that his continued service might depend upon those abilities for which the God Emperor had originally chosen him. "And now we have time to prepare ourselves," Leto said. "Distract us from what?" Idaho demanded.

  "From another plot in which they participate," Leto said. "They think I will punish them severely for this, but the Tleilaxu core remains safe because of you, Duncan."

  "They didn't intend to fail here," Idaho said.

  "But it was a contingency for which they were prepared," Moneo said.

  "They believe I will not destroy them because they hold the original cells of my Duncan Idaho," Leto said. "Do you understand, Duncan?"

  "Are they right?" Idaho demanded.

  "They approach being wrong," Leto said. He returned his attention to Moneo. "No sign of this event must go with us to Onn. Fresh uniforms, new guards to replace the dead and wounded... everything just as it was."

  "There are dead among your courtiers, Lord," Moneo said. "Replace them!"

  Moneo bowed. "Yes, Lord."

  "And send for a new canopy to my cart!"

  "As my Lord commands."

  Leto backed his cart a few paces away, turned it and headed for the bridge, calling back to Idaho. "Duncan, you will accompany me."

  Slowly at first, reluctance heavy in every movement, Idaho left Moneo and the others, then, increasing his pace, came up beside the cart's open bubble and walked there while staring in at Leto.

  "What troubles you, Duncan?" Leto asked.

  "Do you really think of me as your Duncan?"

  "Of course, just as you think of me as your Leto."

  "Why didn't you know this attack was coming?"

  "Through my vaunted prescience''"

  "Yes!"

  "The Face Dancers have not attracted my attention for a long time," Leto said.

  "I presume that is changed now?"

  "Not to any great degree."

  "Why not'?"

  "Because Moneo was correct. I will not let myself be distracted."

  "Could they really have killed you there?"

  "A distinct possibility. You know, Duncan, few understand what a disaster my end will be."

  "What're the Tleilaxu plotting?"

  "A snare, I think. A lovely snare. They have sent me a signal, Duncan."

  "What signal?"

  "There is a new escalation in the desperate motives which drive some of my subjects."

  They left the bridge and began the climb to Leto's viewpoint. Idaho walked in a fermenting silence.

  At the top, Leto lifted his gaze over the far cliffs and looked at the barrens of the Sareer.

  The lamentations of those in his entourage who had lost loved ones continued at the attack scene beyond the bridge. With his acute hearing, Leto could separate Moneo's voice warning them that the time of mourning was necessarily short. They had other loved ones at the Citadel and they well knew the God Emperor's wrath.

  Their tears will be gone and smiles will be pasted on their faces by the time we reach Onn, Leto thought. They think l spurn them! What does that really matter? This is a flickering nuisance among the short-lived and the short- thoughted.

  The view of the desert soothed him. He could not see the river in its canyon from this point without turning completely around and looking toward the Festival City. The Duncan remained mercifully silent beside the cart. Turning his gaze slightly to the left, Leto could see an edge of the Forbidden Forest. Against that glimpse of verdant landscape, his memory suddenly compressed the Sareer into a tiny, weak remnant of the planet-wide desert which once had been so mighty that all men feared it, even the wild Fremen who had roamed it.

  It is the river, Leto thought. If I turn, I will.see the thing that I have done.

  The man-made chasm through which the Idaho River tumbled was only an extension of the Gap which Paul Muad'Dib had blasted through the towering Shield Wall for the passage of his worm mounted legions. Where water flowed now, Muad'Dib had led his Fremen out of a Coriolis storm's dust into history... and into this.

  Leto heard Moneo's familiar footsteps, the sounds of the majordomo laboring up to the viewpoint. Moneo came up to stand beside Idaho and paused a moment to catch his breath.

  "How long until we can go on?" Idaho asked.

  Moneo waved him to silence and addressed Leto. "Lord, we have had a message from Onn. The Bene Gesserit send word that the Tleilaxu will attack before you reach the bridge."

  Idaho snorted. "Aren't they a little late?"

  "It is not their fault," Moneo said. "The captain of the Fish Speaker Guard would not believe them."

  Other members of Leto's entourage began trickling onto the viewpoint level. Some of them appeared drugged, still in shock. The Fish Speakers moved briskly among them, commanding a show of good spirits.

  "Remove the Guard from the Bene Gesserit Embassy." Leto said. "Send them a message. Tell them that their audience will still be the last one, but they are not to fear this. Tell them that the last will be first. They will know the allusion."

  "What about the Tleilaxu?" Idaho asked.

  Leto kept his attention on Moneo. "Yes, the Tleilaxu. We will send them a signal."

  "Yes, Lord?"

  "When I order it, and not until then, you will have the Tleilaxu Ambassador publicly flogged and expelled."

  "Lord!"

&
nbsp; "You disagree?"

  "If we are to keep this secret" Moneo glanced over his shoulder "how will you explain the flogging?"

  "We will not explain."

  "We will give no reason at all?"

  "No reason."

  "But, Lord, the rumors and the stories that will..."

  "I am reacting, Moneo! Let them sense the underground part of me which does things without my knowing because it has not the wherewithal of knowing."

  "This will cause great fear, Lord."

  A gruff burst of laughter escaped Idaho. He stepped between Moneo and the cart. "He does a kindness to this Ambassador! There've been rulers who would've killed the fool over a slow fire."

  Moneo tried to speak to Leto around Idaho's shoulder. "But. Lord, this action will confirm for the Tleilaxu that you were attacked."

  "They already know that," Leto said. "But they will not talk about it."

  "And when none of the attackers return..." Idaho said.

  "Do you understand, Moneo?" Leto asked. "When we march into Onn apparently unscathed, the Tleilaxu will believe they have suffered utter failure."

  Moneo glanced around at the Fish Speakers and courtiers listening spellbound to this conversation. Seldom had any of them heard such a revealing exchange between the God Emperor and his most immediate aides.

  "When will my Lord signal punishment of the Ambassador?" Moneo asked.

  "During the audience."

  Leto heard 'thopters coming, saw the glint of sunlight on their wings and rotors and, when he focused intently, made out the fresh canopy for his cart slung beneath one of them.

  "Have this damaged canopy returned to the Citadel and restored," Leto said, still peering at the approaching 'thopters. "If questions are asked, tell the artisans to say that it's just routine, another canopy scratched by blown sand."

  Moneo sighed. "Yes, Lord. It will be done as you say."

  "Come, Moneo, cheer up," Leto said. "Walk beside me as we continue." Turning to Idaho, Leto said, "Take some of the guards and scout ahead."

  "Do you think there'll be another attack'?" Idaho asked.

  "No, but it'll give the guards something to do. And get a fresh uniform. I don't want you wearing something that has been contaminated by the dirty Tleilaxu-"

  Idaho moved off in obedience.

  Leto signaled Moneo to come closer, closer. When Moneo was bending into the cart, face less than a meter from Leto's, Leto pitched his voice low and said:

  "There is a special lesson here for you, Moneo."

  "Lord, I know I should have suspected the Face..."

  "Not the Face Dancers! It is a lesson for your daughter."

  "Siona? What could she..."

  "Tell her this: In a fragile way, she is like that force within me which acts without knowing. Because of her, I remember what it was to be human... and to love."

  Moneo stared at Leto without comprehension.

  "Simply give her the message," Leto said. "You needn't try to understand it. Merely tell her my words."

  Moneo withdrew. "As my Lord commands."

  Leto closed the bubble canopy, making a single unit of the entire cover for the approaching crews on the 'thopters to replace.

  Moneo turned and glanced around at the people waiting on the flat area of the viewpoint. He noted then a thing he had not observed earlier, a thing revealed by the disarray which some of the people had not yet repaired. Some of the courtiers had fitted themselves with delicate devices to assist their hearing. They had been eavesdropping. And such devices could only come from Ix.

  I will warn the Duncan and the Guard, Moneo thought.

  Somehow, he thought of this discovery as a symptom of rot. How could they prohibit such things when most of the courtiers and the Fish Speakers either knew or suspected that the God Emperor traded with Ix for forbidden machines.

  ***

  I am beginning to hate water. The sandtrout skin which impels my metamorphosis has learned the sensitivities of the worm. Moneo and many of my guards know my aversion, Only Moneo suspects the truth, that this marks an important waypoint. I can feel my ending in it, not soon as Moneo measures time, but soon enough as I endure it. Sandtrout swarmed to water in the Dune days, a problem during the early stages of our symbiosis. The enforcement of my will power controlled the urge then, and until we reached a time of balance. Now, I must avoid water because there are no other sandtrout, only the half dormant creatures of my skin. Without sandtrout to bring this world back to desert, Shai-Hulud will not emerge; the sandworm cannot evolve until the land is parched. I am their only hope.

  - The Stolen Journals

  IT WAS midafternoon before the Royal Entourage came down the final slope into the precincts of the Festival City. Throngs lined the streets to greet them, held back by tight lines of ursine Fish Speakers in uniforms of Atreides green, their stunclubs crossed and linked.

  As the Royal party approached, a bedlam of shouts erupted from the crowd. Then the Fish Speaker guardians began to chant:

  "Siaynoq! Siaynoq! Siaynoq!"

  As it echoed back and forth between the high buildings, the chanted word had a strange effect on the crowd which was not initiated into the meanings of it. A wave of silence swept up the thronged avenues while the guardians continued to chant. People stared in awe at the women armed with stunclubs who guarded the Royal passage, the women who chanted while they fixed their gaze on the face of their passing Lord.

  Idaho, marching with the Fish Speaker guards behind the Royal Cart, heard the chant for the first time and felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.

  Moneo marched beside the cart, not looking left or right. He had once asked Leto the meaning of the word.

  "I give the Fish Speakers only one ritual," Leto had said. They had been in the God Emperor's audience chamber beneath Onn's central plaza at the time, with Moneo fatigued after a long day of directing the flow of dignitaries who crowded the city for Decennial festivities.

  "What has the chanting of that word to do with it, Lord?"

  "The ritual is called Siaynoq-the Feast of Leto. It is the adoration of my person in my presence."

  "An ancient ritual, Lord?"

  "It was with the Fremen before they were Fremen. But the keys to the Festival secrets died with the old ones. Only I remember them now. I recreate the Festival in my own likeness and for my own ends."

  "Then the Museum Fremen do not use this ritual?"

  "Never. It is mine and mine alone. I claim eternal right to it because I am that ritual."

  "It is a strange word, Lord. I have never heard its like."

  "It has many meanings, Moneo. If I tell them to you, will you hold them secret?"

  "My Lord commands!"

  "Never share this with another nor reveal to the Fish Speakers what I tell you now."

  "I swear it, Lord."

  "Very well. Siaynoq means giving honor to one who speaks with sincerity. It signifies the remembrance of things which are spoken with sincerity."

  "But, Lord, doesn't sincerity really mean that the speaker believes... has faith in what is said?"

  "Yes, but Siaynoq also contains the idea of light as that which reveals reality. You continue to shine light on what you see."

  "Reality... that is a very ambiguous word, Lord."

  "Indeed! But Siaynoq also stands for fermentation because reality-or the belief that you know a reality, which is the same thing-always sets up a ferment in the universe."

  "All of that in a single word, Lord?"

  "And more! Siaynoq also contains the summoning to prayer and the name of the Recording Angel, Sihaya, who interrogates the newly dead."

  "A great burden for one word, Lord."

  "Words can carry any burden we wish. All that's required is agreement and a tradition upon which to build."

  "Why must I not speak of this to the Fish Speakers, Lord?"

  "Because this is a word reserved for them. They resent my sharing it with a male."

  Moneo's lips pr
essed into a thin line of remembrance as he marched beside the Royal Cart into the Festival City. He had heard the Fish Speakers chant the God Emperor into their presence many times since that first explanation and had even added his own meanings to the strange word.

  It means mystery and prestige. It means power. It invokes a license to act in the name of God.

  "Siaynoq! Siaynoq! Siaynoq!"

  The word had a sour sound in Moneo's ears.

  They were well into the city, almost to the central plaza. Afternoon sunlight came down the Royal Road behind the procession to illuminate the way. It gave brilliance to the citizenry's colorful costumes. It shone on the upturned faces of the Fish Speakers lining the way.

  Marching beside the cart with the guards, Idaho put down a first alarm as the chant continued. He asked one of the Fish Speakers beside him about it.

  "It is not a word for men," she said. "But sometimes the Lord shares Siaynoq with a Duncan."

  A Duncan! He had asked Leto about it earlier and disliked the mysterious evasions.

  "You will learn about it soon enough."

  Idaho relegated the chant to the background while he looked around him with a tourist's curiosity. In preparation for his duties as Guard Commander, Idaho had inquired after the history of Onn, finding that he shared Leto's wry amusement in the fact that it was the Idaho River flowing nearby.

  They had been in one of the large open rooms of the Citadel at the time, an airy place full of morning light and with wide tables upon which Fish Speaker archivists had spread charts of the Sareer and of Onn. Leto had wheeled his cart onto a ramp which allowed him to look down on the charts. Idaho stood across a chart-littered table from him studying the plan of the Festival City.

  "Peculiar design for a city," Idaho mused.

  "It has one primary purpose-public viewing of the God Emperor."

  Idaho looked up at the segmented body on the cart, brought his gaze to the cowled face. He wondered if he would ever find it easy to look on that bizarre figure.

  "But that's only once every ten years," Idaho said.

  "At the Great Sharing, yes."

  "And you just close it down between times?"