God Emporer of Dune by Frank Herbert

“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!” Under this avalanche of meanings, Idaho again shook his head from side to side. “In the wrong hands,” Leto said, “monolithic centralized power is a dangerous and volatile instrument.” “And your hands are the right ones?” “I’m not certain about my hands, but I will tell you, Duncan, I’m certain about the hands of those who’ve gone before me. I know them.” Idaho turned his back on Leto. What a fascinating, ultimately human gesture, Leto thought. Rejection coupled to acceptance of his vulnerability. Leto spoke to Idaho’s back. “You object quite rightly that I use people without their full knowledge and consent.” Idaho turned his profile to Leto, then turned his head to look up at the cowled face, cocking his head forward a bit to peer into the all-blue eyes. He is studying me, Leto thought, but he has only the face to measure me by. The Atreides had taught their people to know the subtle signals of face and body, and Idaho was good at it, but the realization could be seen coming over him: he was beyond his depth here. Idaho cleared his throat. “What’s the worst thing you would ask of me?” How like a Duncan! Leto thought. This one was a classic. Idaho would give his loyalty to an Atreides, to the guardian of his oath, but he sent a signal that he would not go beyond the personal limits of his own morality. “You will be asked to guard me by whatever means necessary, and you will be asked to guard my secret.” “What secret?” “That I am vulnerable.” “That you’re not God?” “Not in that ultimate sense.”

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