“You had every right to protect yourself when I attacked you. It pleases me that you were so capable.”
Idaho turned toward Hwi, but before he could speak, Moneo
said: “You needn’t plead for me. I think her displeasure toward me is quite adamant.” Idaho shook his head. “Does everyone here know what I’m going to say before I say it, what I’m going to feel before I feel it?” “One of your admirable qualities,” Moneo said. “You do not conceal your feelings. We=” he shrugged= “are necessarily more circumspect.” Idaho looked at Hwi. “Does he speak for you?” She put her hand in Idaho’s. “I speak for myself.” Moneo craned to peer at the clasped hands, sank back on his cushion. He sighed. “You must not.” Idaho clasped her hand more tightly, felt her equal response. “Before either of you asks,” Moneo said, “my daughter and the God Emperor have not yet returned from the testing.” Idaho sensed the effort Moneo had required to speak calmly. Hwi heard it, too. “Is it true what the Fish Speakers say?” she asked. “Siona dies if she fails?” Moneo remained silent, but his face was a rock. “Is it like the Bene Gesserit test?” Idaho asked. “Muad’Dib said the Sisterhood tests to try to find out if you are human.” Hwi’s hand began to tremble. Idaho felt it and looked at her. “Did they test you?” “No,” Hwi said, “but I heard the young ones talking about it. They said you must pass through agony without losing your sense of self.” Idaho returned his attention to Moneo, noting the start of a tic beside the majordomo’s left eye. “Moneo,” Idaho breathed, overcome by sudden realization. “He tested you!” “I do not wish to discuss tests,” Moneo said. “We are here to decide what must be done about you two.” “Isn’t that up to us?” Idaho asked. He felt Hwi’s hand in his grow slippery with perspiration. “It is up to the God Emperor,” Moneo said. “Even if Siona fails?” Idaho asked. “Especially then!” “How did he test you?” Idaho asked. “He showed me a small glimpse of what it’s like to be the God Emperor.” “And?” “I saw as much as I’m capable of seeing.”
Hwi’s hand tightened convulsively in Idaho’s.
“Then it’s true that you were a rebel once,” Idaho said.
“I began with love and prayer,” Moneo said. “I changed to anger and rebellion. I was transformed into what you see before you. I recognize my duty and I do it.”
“What did he do to you?” Idaho demanded.
“He quoted to me the prayer of my childhood: `I give my life in dedication to the greater glory of God.”‘ Moneo spoke in a musing voice.
Idaho noted Hwi’s stillness, her stare fixed on Moneo’s face. What was she thinking?
“I admitted that this had been my prayer,” Moneo said. “And the God Emperor asked me what I would give up if my life were not enough. He shouted at me: `What is your life when you hold back the greater gift?”‘
Hwi nodded, but Idaho felt only confusion.
“I could hear the truth in his voice,” Moneo said.
“Are you a Truthsayer?” Hwi asked.
“In the power of desperation, yes,” Moneo said. “But only then. I swear to you he spoke truth to me.”
“Some of the Atreides had the power of Voice,” Idaho muttered.
Moneo shook his head. “No, it was truth. He said to me: `I look at you now and if I could shed tears, I would. Consider the wish to be the act!”‘
Hwi rocked forward, almost touching the table. “He cannot cry?”
“Sandworms,” Idaho whispered.
“What?” Hwi turned toward him.
“Fremen killed sandworms with water,” Idaho said. “From the drowning they produced the spice-essence for their religious orgies.”
“But the Lord Leto is not yet a sandworm entire,” Moneo said.
Hwi rocked back onto her cushion and looked at Moneo.
Idaho pursed his lips in thought. Did Leto have the Fremen prohibition against tears, then? How awed the Fremen had always been about such a waste of moisture! Giving water to the dead.
Moneo addressed himself to Idaho: “I had hoped you could be brought to an understanding. The Lord Leto has spoken. You and Hwi must separate and never see each other again.”