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Leto was restoring the crysknife to its box, returning the box to its compartment in the bed of the Royal Cart. The women watched in silence, even the small children quiet--everyone subdued by the force which could be felt in this great hall.
Idaho looked down at the children, knowing from Leto's explanation that these children would be rewarded with positions of power--male or female, each in a puissant niche. The male children would be female-dominated throughout their lives, making (in Leto's words) "an easy transition from adolescence into breeding males."
Fish Speakers and their progeny lived lives "possessed of a certain excitement not available to most others."
What will happen to Irti's children? Idaho wondered. Did my predecessor stand here and watch his whiteclad wife share in Leto's ritual?
What does Leto offer me here?
With that female army, an ambitious commander could take over Leto's Empire. Or could he? No ... not while Leto lived. Leto said the women were not militarily aggressive "by nature."
He said: "I do not foster that in them. They know a cyclical pattern with a Royal Festival every ten years, a changing of the Guard, a blessing for the new generation, a silent thought for fallen sisters and loved ones gone forever. Siaynoq after Siaynoq marches onward in predictable measure. The change itself becomes non-change."
Idaho lifted his gaze from the women in white and their children. He looked across the mass of silent faces, telling himself that this was only a small core of that enormous female force which spread its feminine web across the Empire. He could believe Leto's words:
"The power does not weaken. It grows stronger every decade."
To what end? Idaho asked himself.
He glanced at Leto who was lifting his hands in benediction over the hall of his houris.
"We will move among you now," Leto said.
The women below the ledge opened a path, pressing backward. The path opened deeper into the throng like a fissure spreading through the earth after some tremendous natural upheaval.
"Duncan, you will precede me," Leto said.
Idaho swallowed in a dry throat. He put a palm on the lip of the ledge and dropped down into the open space, moving out into the fissure because he knew only that could end this trial.
A quick glance backward showed him Leto's cart drifting majestically down on its suspensors.
Idaho turned and quickened his pace.
The women narrowed the path through their ranks. It was done in an odd stillness, with fixity of attention--first on Idaho and then on that gross pre-worm body riding behind Idaho on the Ixian cart.
As Idaho marched stoically ahead, women reached from all sides to touch him, to touch Leto, or merely to touch the Royal Cart. Idaho felt the restrained passion in their touch and knew the deepest fear in his experience.
The problem of leadership is inevitably: Who will play God?
--MUAD'DIB,
FROM THE ORAL HISTORY
wi Noree followed a young Fish Speaker guide down a wide ramp Hwhich spiraled into the depths of Onn. The summons from the Lord Leto had come in late evening of the Festival's third day, interrupting a development which had taxed her ability to maintain emotional balance.
Her first assistant, Othwi Yake, was not a pleasant man--a sandy-haired creature with a long, narrow face and eyes which never looked long at anything and never ever looked directly into the eyes of someone he addressed. Yake had presented her with a single sheet of memerase paper containing what he described as "a summation of recently reported violence in the Festival City."
Standing close to the desk at which she was seated, he had stared down somewhere to her left and said: "Fish Speakers are slaughtering Face Dancers throughout the City." He did not appear particularly moved by this.
"Why?" she demanded.
"It is said that the Bene Tleilax made an attempt on the God Emperor's life."
A thrill of fear shot through her. She sat back and glanced around the ambassadorial office--a round room with a single half-circle desk which concealed the controls for many Ixian devices beneath its highly polished surface. The room was a darkly important-appearing place with brown wood panels covering instruments which shielded it from spying. There were no windows.
Trying not to show her upset, Hwi looked up at Yake. "And the Lord Leto is ..."
"The attempt on his life appears to have been totally without effect. But it might explain that flogging."
"Then you think there was such an attempt?"
"Yes."
The Fish Speaker from the Lord Leto entered at that moment, hard on the announcement of her presence in the outer office. She was followed by a Bene Gesserit crone, a person she introduced as "The Reverend Mother Anteac." Anteac stared intently at Yake while the Fish Speaker, a young woman with smooth, almost childlike features, delivered her message:
"He told me to remind you: 'Return quickly if I summon you.' He summons you."
Yake began fidgeting as the Fish Speaker spoke. He darted his attention all around the room as though looking for something which was not there. Hwi paused only to pull a dark blue robe over her gown, instructing Yake to remain in the office until she returned.
In orange evening light outside the Embassy, on a street oddly empty of other traffic, Anteac looked at the Fish Speaker and said simply: "Yes." Anteac left them then and the Fish Speaker had brought Hwi through empty streets to a tall, windowless building whose depths contained this down-plunging spiral ramp.
The tight curves of the ramp made Hwi dizzy. Brilliant tiny white glowglobes drifted in the central well, illuminating a purple-green vine with elephantine leaves. The vine was suspended on shimmering golden wires.
The soft black surface of the ramp swallowed the sounds of their feet, making Hwi extremely conscious of the faint abrasive swishing caused by the movements of her robe.
"Where are you taking me?" Hwi asked.
"To the Lord Leto."
"I know, but where is he?"
"In his private room."
"It's awfully far down."
"Yes, the Lord often prefers the depths."
"It makes me dizzy walking around and around like this."
"It helps if you do not look at the vine."
"What is that plant?"
"It is called a Tunyon Vine and is supposed to have absolutely no smell."
"I've never heard of it. Where does it come from?"
"Only the Lord Leto knows."
They walked on in silence, Hwi trying to understand her own feelings. The God Emperor filled her with sadness. She could sense the man in him, the man who might have been. Why had such a man chosen this course for his life? Did anyone know? Did Moneo know?
Perhaps Duncan Idaho knew.
Her thoughts gravitated to Idaho--such a physically attractive man. So intense! She could feel herself drawn to him. If only Leto had the body and appearance of Idaho. Moneo, though--that was another matter. She looked at the back of her Fish Speaker escort.
"Can you tell me about Moneo?" Hwi asked.
The Fish Speaker glanced back over her shoulder, an odd expression in her pale blue eyes--apprehension or some bizarre form of awe.
"Is something wrong?" Hwi asked.
The Fish Speaker returned her attention to the downward spiral of the ramp.
"The Lord said you would ask about Moneo," she said.
"Then tell me about him."
"What is there to say? He is the Lord's closest confidant."
"Closer even than Duncan Idaho?"
"Oh, yes. Moneo is an Atreides."
"Moneo came to me yesterday," Hwi said. "He said I should know something about the God Emperor. Moneo said the God Emperor is capable of doing anything, anything at all if it is thought to be instructive."
"Many believe this," the Fish Speaker said.
"You do not believe it?"
Hwi asked the question as the ramp rounded a final turn and opened into a small anteroom with a
n arched entrance only a few steps away.
"The Lord Leto will receive you immediately," the Fish Speaker said. She turned back up the ramp then without speaking of her own belief.
Hwi stepped through the arch and found herself in a low-ceilinged room. It was much smaller than the audience chamber. The air felt crisp and dry. Pale yellow light came from a concealed source at the upper corners. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the lowered illumination, noting carpets and soft cushions scattered around a low mound of ... She put a hand to her mouth as the mound moved, realizing then that it was the Lord Leto on his cart, but the cart lay in a sunken area. She knew immediately why the room provided this feature. It made him less imposing to human guests, less overpowering by his physical elevation. Nothing could be done, however, about his length and the inescapable mass of his body except to keep them in shadows, throwing most of the light onto his face and hands.
