employed.
Siona will have to be warned, Moneo thought. If the young fool will listen to me!
She was far more of a rebel than he had been. Far more. Leto had tamed his Moneo, sensitized him to the Golden Path and the rightful duties for which he had been bred, but methods used on a Moneo would not work with Siona. In his observation of this, Moneo had learned things about his own training which he had never before suspected.
'I don't see any identifiable landmarks,' Idaho was saying.
'Right over there,' Leto said, pointing. 'Where the forest ends. That was the way to Splintered Rock.'
Moneo shut out their voices. It was ultimate fascination with the God Emperor which finally brought me to heel. Leto never ceased to surprise and amaze. He could not be reliably predicted. Moneo glanced at the God Emperor's profile. What has he become?
As part of his early duties, Moneo had studied the Citadel's private records, the historical accounts of Leto's transformation. But symbiosis with sandtrout remained a mystery which even Leto's own words could not dispel. If the accounts were to be believed, the sandtrout skin made his body almost invulnerable to time and violence. The great body's ribbed core could even absorb lasgun bursts!
First the sandtrout, then the worm-all part of the great cycle which had produced melange. That cycle lay within the God Emperor... marking time.
'Let us proceed,' Leto said.
Moneo realized that he had missed something. He came out of his reverie and looked at a smiling Duncan Idaho.
'We used to call that woolgathering,' Leto said.
'I'm sorry, Lord,' Moneo said. 'I was...'
'You were woolgathering, but it's all right.'
His mood's improved, Moneo thought. I can thank the Duncan for that, I think.
Leto adjusted his position on the cart, closed part of the bubble cover and left only his head free. The cart crunched over small rocks on the roadbed as Leto activated it.
Idaho took up position at Moneo's shoulder and trotted along beside him.
'There are floater bulbs under that cart, but he uses the wheels,' Idaho said. 'Why is that?'
'It pleases the Lord Leto to use wheels instead of antigravity.'
'What makes the thing go? How does he steer it?'
'Have you asked him?'
'I haven't had the opportunity.'
'The Royal Cart is of Ixian manufacture.'
'What does that mean?'
'It is said that the Lord Leto activates his cart and steers it just by thinking in a particular way.'
'Don't you know?'
'Questions such as this do not please him.'
Even to his intimates, Moneo thought, The God Emperor remains a mystery.
'Moneo!' Leto called.
'You had better return to your guards,' Moneo said, gesturing for Idaho to fall back.
'I'd rather be out in front with them,' Idaho said.
'The Lord Leto does not want that! Now go back.'
Moneo hurried to place himself close beside Leto's face, noting that Idaho was falling back through the courtiers to the rear ring of guards.
Leto looked down at Moneo. 'I thought you handled that very well, Moneo.'
'Thank you, Lord.'
'Do you know why the Duncan wants to be out in front?'
'Certainly, Lord. It's where your Guard should be.'
'And this one senses danger.'
'I don't understand you, Lord. I cannot understand why you do these things.'
'That's true, Moneo.' -= The female sense of sharing originated as familial sharing-care of the young, the gathering and preparation of food, sharing joys, love and sorrows. Funeral lamentation originated with women. Religion began as a female monopoly, wrested from them only after its social power became too dominant. Women were the first medical researchers and Practitioners. There has never been any clear balance between the sexes because power goes with certain roles as it certainly goes with knowledge.
- The Stolen Journals FOR THE Reverend Mother Tertius Eileen Anteac, this had been a disastrous morning. She had arrived on Arrakis with her fellow Truthsayer, Marcus Claire Luyseyal, both of them coming down with their official party less than three hours ago aboard the first shuttle from the Guild heighliner hanging in stationary orbit. First, they had been assigned rooms at the absolute edge of the Festival City's Embassy Quarter. The rooms were small and not quite clean.
'Any farther out and we'd be camping in the slums,' Luyseyal had said.
Next they had been denied communications facilities. All of the screens remained blank no matter how many switches were toggled and palm-dials turned.
Anteac had addressed herself sharply to the heavyset officer commanding the Fish Speaker escort, a glowering woman with low brows and the muscles of a manual laborer.
'I wish to complain to your commander!'
'No complaints allowed at Festival Time,' the amazon had rasped.
Anteac had glared at the officer, a look which in Anteac's old and seamed face had been known to make even her fellow Reverend Mothers hesitate.
The amazon had merely smiled and said: 'I have a message. I am to tell you that your audience with the God Emperor has been moved to the last position.'
Most of the Bene Gesserit party had heard this and even the lowliest attendant-postulate had recognized the significance. All of the spice allotments would be fixed or (The Gods protect us!) even gone by that time.
'We were to have been third,' Anteac had said, her voice remarkably mild in the circumstances.
'It is the God Emperor's command!'
Anteac knew that tone in a Fish Speaker. To defy it risked violence.
A morning of disasters and now this!
Anteac occupied a low stool against one wall of a tiny, almost empty room near the center of their inadequate quarters. Beside her there was a low pallet, no more than you would assign to an acolyte! The walls were a pale, scabrous green and there was but one aging glowglobe so defective it could not be tuned out of the yellow. The room gave signs of having been a storage chamber. It smelled musty. Dents and scratches marred the black plastic of the floor.
Smoothing her black aba robe across her knees, Anteac leaned close to the postulate messenger who knelt, head bowed, directly in front of the Reverend Mother. The messenger was a doe-eyed blonde creature with the perspiration of fear and excitement on her face and neck. She wore a dusty tan robe with the dirt of the streets along its hem.
'You are certain, absolutely certain?' Anteac spoke softly to soothe the poor girl, who still trembled with the gravity of her message.
'Yes, Reverend Mother.' She kept her gaze lowered.
'Go through it once more,' Anteac said, and she thought:
I'm sparring for time. I heard her correctly.
The messenger lifted her gaze to Anteac and looked directly into the totally blue eyes as all the postulates and acolytes were taught to do.
'As I was commanded, I made contact with the lxians at their Embassy and presented your greetings. I then inquired if they had any messages for me to bring back.'
'Yes, yes, girl! I know. Get to the heart of it.'
