God Emperor of Dune (Page 129)

Idaho looked at the open page and read aloud: "I have created what I intended-a powerful spiritual tension throughout my Empire. Few sense the strength of it. With what energies did I create this condition? I am not that strong. The only power

I possess is the control of individual prosperity. That is the sum of all the things I do. Then why do people seek my presence for other reasons? What could lead them to certain death in the futile attempt to reach my presence? Do they want to be saints? Do they think that thus they gain the vision of God?"

"He’s the ultimate cynic," Siona said, tears apparent in her voice.

"How did he test you?" Idaho asked.

"He showed me a… he showed me his Golden Path."

"That’s convenient…"

"It’s real enough, Duncan." She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But if it was ever a reason for our God Emperor, it is not reason for what he has become!"

Idaho inhaled deeply, then: "The Atreides come to this!"

"The Worm must go!" Siona said.

"I wonder when he’s arriving?" Idaho said.

"Garun’s little rat friend didn’t say."

"We must ask," Idaho said.

"We have no weapons," Siona said.

"Nayla has a lasgun," he said. "We have knives… rope. I saw rope in one of Garun’s storage rooms."

"Against the Worm?" she asked. "Even if we could get Nyala’s lasgun, you know it won’t touch him."

"But is his cart proof against it?" Idaho asked.

"I don’t trust Nayla," Siona said.

"Doesn’t she obey you?"

"Yes, but…

"We will proceed one step at a time," Idaho said. "Ask Nayla if she would use her lasgun against the Worm’s cart."

"And if she refuses?"

"Kill her."

Siona stood, tossing her book aside.

"How will the Worm come to Tuono?" Idaho asked. "He’s too big and heavy for an ordinary ‘thopter."

"Garun will tell us," she said. "But I think he will come as he usually travels." She looked up at the ceiling which concealed the Sareer’s perimeter Wall. "I think he will come on peregrination with his entire crew. He will come along the Royal Road and drop down to here on suspensors." She looked at Idaho. "What of Garun?"

"A strange man," Idaho said. "He wants most desperately to be a real Fremen. He knows he is not anything like what they were in my day."

"What were they like in your day, Duncan?" "They had a saying which describes it," Idaho said. "You should never be in the company of anyone with whom you would not want to die." "Did you say this to Garun?" she asked. "Yes." "And his response?" "He said I was the only such person he had ever met." "Garun may be wiser than any of us," she said. -= You think power may be the most unstable of all human achievements? Then what of the apparent exceptions to this inherent instability? Some families endure. Very powerful religious bureaucracies have been known to endure. Consider the relationship between faith and power. Are they mutually exclusive when each depends upon the other? The Bene Gesserit have been reasonably secure within the loyal walls of faith for thousands of years. But where has their power gone?

– The Stolen Journals MONEO SPOKE in a petulant tone: "Lord, I wish you had given me more time."

He stood outside the Citadel in the short shadows of noon. Leto lay directly in front of him on the Imperial Cart, its bubble hood retracted. He had been touring the environs with Hwi Noree, who occupied a newly installed seat within the bubble cover’s perimeter and just beside Leto’s face. Hwi appeared merely curious about all the bustle which was beginning to increase around them.

How calm she is, Moneo thought. He repressed an involuntary shudder at what he had learned of her from Malky. The God Emperor was right. Hwi was exactly what she appeared to be-an ultimately sweet and sensible human being. Would she really have mated with me? Moneo wondered.

Distractions drew his attention away from her. While Leto had toured Hwi around the Citadel on the suspensor-borne cart, a great troop of courtiers and Fish Speakers had been assembled here, all the courtiers in celebration finery, brilliant reds and golds dominant. The Fish Speakers wore their best dark blues, distinguished only by the different colors in the piping and hawks. A baggage caravan on suspensor sleds had been drawn up at the rear with Fish Speakers to pull it. The air was full of dust and the sounds and smells of excitement. Most of the courtiers had reacted with dismay when told their destination. Some had immediately purchased their own tents and pavilions. These had been sent on ahead with the other impediments piled now on the sand just outside Tuono’s view. The Fish Speakers in the entourage were not taking this in a festive mood. They had complained loudly when told they could not carry lasguns.

"Just a little more time, Lord," Moneo was saying. "I still don’t know how we will…"

"There’s no substitute for time in solving many problems," Leto said. "However, you can place too much reliance on it. I can accept no more delays."

"We will be three days just getting there," Moneo complained.

Leto thought about that time-the swift walk-trot-walk of a peregrination… one hundred and eighty kilometers. Yes, three days.

"I’m sure you’ve made good arrangements for the waystops," Leto said. "Plenty of hot water for the muscle cramps?"

"We’ll be comfortable enough," Moneo said, "but I don’t like leaving the Citadel in these times! And you know why!"