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Naked!
It was Duncan! Naked! Of course! The Duncan Idaho without a uniform was not a Face Dancer.
Again, laughter shook him. Surprises on both sides. What a shock that must have been to the attackers. Obviously, they had not prepared themselves for such a response.
Leto eased his cart out onto the roadway, dropped the wheels into position and rolled down to the bridge. He crossed the bridge with a sense of deja vu, aware of the countless bridges in his memories, the crossings to view the aftermaths of battles. As he cleared the bridge, Idaho broke from the knot of guards and ran toward him, skipping and dodging the bodies. Leto stopped his cart and stared at the naked runner. The Duncan was like a Greek warrior-messenger dashing toward his commander to report the outcome of battle. The condensation of history stunned Leto's memories.
Idaho skidded to a stop beside the cart. Leto opened the bubble cover.
"Face Dancers, every damned one!" Idaho panted.
Not trying to conceal his amusement, Leto asked: "Whose idea was it to strip off your uniform?"
"Mine! But they wouldn't let me fight!"
Moneo came running up then with a group of guards. One of the Fish Speakers tossed a guard's blue cloak to Idaho, calling out: "We're trying to salvage a complete uniform from the bodies."
"I ripped mine off," Idaho explained.
"Did any of the Face Dancers escape?" Moneo asked.
"Not a one," Idaho said. "I admit your women are good fighters, but why wouldn't they let me get into ..."
"Because they have instructions to protect you," Leto said. "They always protect the most valuable ..."
"Four of them died getting me out of there!" Idaho said.
"We lost more than thirty people altogether, Lord," Moneo said. "We're still counting."
"How many Face Dancers?" Leto asked.
"It looks like there were an even fifty of them, Lord," Moneo said. He spoke softly, a stricken look on his face.
Leto began to chuckle.
"Why are you laughing?" Idaho demanded. "More than thirty of our people ..."
"But the Tleilaxu were so inept," Leto said. "Do you not realize that only about five hundred years ago they would've been far more efficient, far more dangerous. Imagine them daring that foolish masquerade! And not anticipating your brilliant response!"
"They had lasguns," Idaho said.
Leto twisted his bulky forward segments around and pointed at a hole burned in his canopy almost at the cart's midpoint. A melted and fused starburst surrounded the hole.
"They hit several other places underneath," Leto said. "Fortunately, they did not damage any suspensors or wheels."
Idaho stared at the hole in the canopy, noted that it lined up with Leto's body.
"Didn't it hit you?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," Leto said.
"Are you injured?"
"I am immune to lasguns," Leto lied. "When we get time, I will demonstrate."
"Well, I'm not immune," Idaho said. "And neither are your guards. Every one of us should have a shield belt."
"Shields are banned throughout the Empire," Leto said. "It is a capital offense to have a shield."
"The question of shields," Moneo ventured.
Idaho thought Moneo was asking for an explanation of shields and said: "The belts develop a force field which will repel any object trying to enter at a dangerous speed. They have one major drawback. If you intersect the force field with a lasgun beam, the resultant explosion rivals that of a very large fusion bomb. Attacker and attacked go together."
Moneo only stared at Idaho, who nodded.
"I see why they were banned," Idaho said. "I presume the Great Convention against atomics is still in force and working well?"
"Working even better since we searched out all of the Family atomics and removed them to a safe place," Leto said. "But we do not have time to discuss such matters here."
"We can discuss one thing," Idaho said. "Walking out here in the open is too dangerous. We should ..."
"It is the tradition and we will continue it," Leto said.
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 wher
e 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?"
