-The Stolen Journals
MUCH AGAINST his will, Idaho found himself at dawn with Siona beside him being taken to “a safe place” in an Imperial ornithopter It raced eastward toward the golden arc of sunlight which lifted over a landscape carved into rectangular green plantations.
The ‘thopter was a big one, large enough to carry a small squad of Fish Speakers with their two guests. The pilot captain of the squad, a brawny women with a face Idaho could believe had never smiled, had given her name as Inmeir. She sat in
the pilot’s seat directly ahead of Idaho, two muscular Fish Speaker guards on either side of her. Five more guards sat behind Idaho and Siona.
“God has ordered me to take you away from the City,” Inmeir had said, coming up to him in the command post beneath the central plaza. “It is for your own safety. We will return by tomorrow morning for Siaynoq.”
Idaho, fatigued by a night of alarms, had sensed the futility of arguing against the orders of “God Himself.” Inmeir appeared quite capable of trundling him off under one of her thick arms. She had led him from the command post into a chilly night canopied with stars like stone edged facets of shattered brilliants. It was only when they reached the ‘thopter and Idaho recognized Siona waiting there that he had begun to question the purpose of this outing.
During the night, Idaho had come to realize that not all of the violence in Onn had originated with the organized rebels. When he had inquired after Siona, Moneo had sent word that “my daughter is safely out of the way,” adding at the end of the message: “I commend her to your care.”
In the ‘thopter, Siona had not responded to Idaho’s questions. Even now, she sat in sullen silence beside him. She reminded him of himself in those first bitter days when he had vowed vengeance against the Harkonnens. He wondered at her bitterness. What drove her’?
Without knowing why, Idaho found himself comparing Siona with Hwi Noree. It had not been easy to encounter Hwi, but he had managed it in spite of the importunate demands of Fish Speakers that he attend to duties elsewhere.
Gentle, that was the word for Hwi. She acted from a core of unchanging gentleness which was, in its own way, a thing of enormous power. He found this intensely attractive.
I must see more of her.
For now, though, he had to contend with the sullen silence of Siona seated beside him. Well. . . silence could be met with silence.
Idaho peered down at the passing landscape. Here and there he could see the clustered lights of villages winking out as the sunlight approached. The desert of the Sareer lay far behind and this was land that, by its appearance, might never have been parched.
Some things do not change very much, he thought. They are merely taken from one place and reformed in another place.
This landscape reminded him of Caladan’s lush gardens and made him wonder what had become of the verdant planet where the Atreides had lived for so many generations before coming to Dune. He could identify narrow roads, market roads with a scattered traffic of vehicles drawn by six-legged animals which he guessed were thorses. Moneo had said that thorses tailored to the needs of such a landscape were the main work beasts not only here but throughout the Empire.
“A population which walks is easier to control.”
Moneo’s words rang in Idaho’s memory as he peered downward. Pastureland appeared ahead of the ‘thopter, softly rolling green hills cut into irregular patterns by black stone walls. Idaho recognized sheep and several kinds of large cattle. The ‘thopter passed over a narrow valley still in gloom and with only a hint of the water coursing down its depths. A single light and a blue plume of smoke lifting out of the valley’s shadows spoke of human occupation.
Siona suddenly stirred and tapped their pilot on the shoulder. pointing off to the right ahead of them.
“Isn’t that Goygoa over there’?” Siona asked.
“Yes.” Inmeir spoke without turning, her voice clipped and touched by some emotion which Idaho could not identify.