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"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 human 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!"
