God Emperor of Dune (51 page)

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Authors: Frank Herbert

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BOOK: God Emperor of Dune
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“And there you are wrong.”
He turned away from her and set off in a sinusoidal track down the dune. He heard her slipping and stumbling as she followed. Leto stopped well into the dune shadow.
“We’ll wait out the day here,” he said. “It uses less water to travel by night.”
One of the most terrible words in any language is
Soldier
. The synonyms parade through our history: yogahnee, trooper, hussar, kareebo, cossack, deranzeef, legionnaire, sardaukar, fish speaker … I know them all. They stand there in the ranks of my memory to remind me:
Always make sure you have the army with you.
 
—THE STOLEN JOURNALS
 
 
 
 
Idaho found Moneo at last in the long underground corridor which con-nected the Citadel’s eastern and western complexes. Since daybreak two hours before, Idaho had been prowling the Citadel seeking the majordomo and there he was, far off down the corridor, talking to someone concealed in a doorway, but Moneo was recognizable even at this distance by his stance and that inevitable white uniform.
The corridor’s plastone walls were amber here fifty meters below the surface and lighted by glowstrips keyed to the daylight hours. Cool breezes were drawn into these depths by a simple arrangement of free-swinging wings which stood like gigantic robed figures on perimeter towers at the surface. Now that the sun had warmed the sands, all of the wings pointed northward for the cool air pouring into the Sareer. Idaho smelled the flinty breeze as he walked.
He knew what this corridor was supposed to represent. It
did
have some characteristics of an ancient Fremen sietch. The corridor was wide, big enough to take Leto on his cart. The arched ceiling
looked
like rock. But the twin glowstrips were discord. Idaho had never seen glowstrips before coming to the Citadel; they had been considered impractical in
his day
, requiring too much energy, too costly to maintain. Glowglobes were simpler and easily replaced. He had come to realize, however, that Leto considered few things impractical.
What Leto wants, someone provides.
The thought had an ominous feeling as Idaho marched down the corridor toward Moneo.
Small rooms lined the corridor sietch-fashion, no doors, only thin hangings of russet fabric which swayed in the breeze. Idaho knew that this area was mostly quarters for the younger Fish Speakers. He had recognized an assembly chamber with attendant rooms for weapons storage, kitchen, a dining hall, maintenance shops. He had also seen other things behind the inadequate privacy of the hangings, things which fed his rage.
Moneo turned at Idaho’s approach. The woman to whom Moneo had been talking retreated and let the hanging drop, but not before Idaho glimpsed an older face with an air of command about it. Idaho did not recognize that particular commander.
Moneo nodded as Idaho stopped two paces away.
“The guards say you’ve been looking for me,” Moneo said.
“Where is he, Moneo?”
“Where is who?”
Moneo swept his gaze up and down Idaho’s figure, noting the old-fashioned Atreides uniform, black with a red hawk at the breast, the high boots glistening with polish. There was a
ritual
look about the man.
Idaho took a shallow breath and spoke through clenched teeth: “Don’t you start that game with me!”
Moneo took his attention away from the sheathed knife at Idaho’s waist. It looked like a museum piece with its jeweled handle. Where had Idaho found it?
“If you mean the God Emperor …” Moneo said.
“Where?”
Moneo kept his voice mild. “Why are you so anxious to die?”
“They said you were with him.”
“That was earlier.”
“I’ll find him, Moneo!”
“Not right now.”
Idaho put a hand on his knife. “Do I have to use force to make you talk?”
“I would not advise that.”
“Where … is … he?”
“Since you insist, he is out in the desert with Siona.”
“With your daughter?”
“Is there another Siona?”
“What’re they doing?”
“She is being tested.”
“When will they return?”
Moneo shrugged, then: “Why this unseemly anger, Duncan?”
“What’s this test of your …”
“I don’t know. Now, why are you so upset?”
“I’m sick of this place! Fish Speakers!” He turned his head and spat.
Moneo glanced down the corridor behind Idaho, recalling the man’s approach. Knowing the Duncans, it was easy to recognize what had fed his current rage.
“Duncan,” Moneo said, “it’s perfectly normal for adolescent females as well as males to have feelings of physical attraction toward members of their own sex. Most of them will grow out of it.”
“It should be stamped out!”
“But it’s part of our heritage.”
“Stamped out! And that’s not …”
“Oh, be still. If you try to suppress it, you only increase its power.”
Idaho glared at him. “And you say you don’t know what’s going on up there with your own daughter!”
“Siona is being tested, I told you.”
“And what’s
that
supposed to mean?”
Moneo put a hand over his eyes and sighed. He lowered the hand, wondering why he put up with this foolish, dangerous,
antique
human.
“It means that she may die out there.”
Idaho was taken aback, some of his anger cooling. “How can you allow …”
“Allow? You think I have a choice?”
“Every man has a choice!”
A bitter smile flitted across Moneo’s lips. “How is it that you are so much more foolish than the other Duncans?”
“Other Duncans!” Idaho said. “How did those others die, Moneo?”
“The way we all die. They ran out of time.”
“You lie.” Idaho spoke past gritted teeth, his knuckles white on the knife handle.
Still speaking mildly, Moneo said: “Have a care. There are limits even to what I will take, especially just now.”
“This place is rotten!” Idaho said. He gestured with his free hand at the corridor behind him. “There are some things I’ll never accept!”
Moneo stared down the empty corridor without seeing. “You
must
mature, Duncan. You must.”
Idaho’s hand tensed on the knife. “What does
that
mean?”
“These are sensitive times. Anything unsettling to him,
anything
… must be prevented.”
Idaho held himself on the edge of violence, his anger restrained only by something puzzling in Moneo’s manner. Words had been spoken, though, which could not be ignored.
“I’m not some damned immature child you can …”
“Duncan!” It was the loudest sound Idaho had ever heard from the mild-mannered Moneo. Surprise stayed Idaho’s hand while Moneo continued: “If the demands of your flesh are for maturity, but something holds you in adolescence, quite nasty behavior develops. Let go.”
“Are … you … accusing … me … of …”
“No!” Moneo gestured at the corridor. “Oh, I know what you must’ve seen back there, but it …”
“Two women in a passionate kiss! You think that’s not …”
“It’s not important. Youth explores its potential in many ways.”
Idaho balanced himself on the edge of an explosion, rocking forward on his toes. “I’m glad to learn about you, Moneo.”
“Yes, well, I’ve learned about you,
several
times.”
Moneo watched the effect of these words as they twisted through Idaho, tangling him. The gholas could never avoid a fascination with
the others
who had preceded them.
Idaho spoke in a hoarse whisper: “What have you learned?”
“You have taught me valuable things,” Moneo said. “All of us try to evolve, but if something blocks us, we can transfer our potential into pain—seeking it or giving it. Adolescents are particularly vulnerable.”
Idaho leaned close to Moneo. “I’m talking about sex!”
“Of course you are.”
“Are you accusing me of adolescent …”
“That’s right.”
“I should cut your …”
“Oh, shut up!”
Moneo’s response did not have the training nuances of Bene Gesserit Voice control, but it had a lifetime of command behind it. Something in Idaho could only obey.
“I’m sorry,” Moneo said. “But I’m distracted by the fact that my only daughter …” He broke off and shrugged.
Idaho inhaled two deep breaths. “You’re crazy, all of you! You say your daughter may be dying and yet you …”
“You fool!” Moneo snapped. “Have you any idea how your petty concerns appear to me! Your stupid questions and your selfish …” He broke off, shaking his head.
“I make allowances because you have personal problems,” Idaho said. “But if you …”
“Allowances?
You
make allowances?” Moneo took a trembling breath. It was too much!
Idaho spoke stiffly: “I can forgive you for …”
“You! You prattle about sex and forgiving and pain and … you think you and Hwi Noree …”
“Leave her out of this!”
“Oh, yes. Leave her out. Leave out
that
pain! You share sex with her and you
never
think about parting. Tell me, fool, how do you give of yourself in the face of
that?
”
Abashed, Idaho inhaled deeply. He had not suspected such passion smoldering in the quiet Moneo, but this attack, this could not be …
“You think I’m cruel?” Moneo demanded. “I make you think about things you’d rather avoid. Hah! Crueler things have been done to the Lord Leto for no better reason than the cruelty!”
“You defend him? You …”
“I know him best!”
“He uses you!”
“To what ends?”
“You tell me!”
“He’s our best hope to perpetuate …”
“Perverts don’t perpetuate!”
Moneo spoke in a soothing tone, but his words shook Idaho. “I will tell you this only once. Homosexuals have been among the best warriors in our history, the berserkers of last resort. They were among our best priests and priestesses. Celibacy was no accident in religions. It is also no accident that adolescents make the best soldiers.”
“That’s perversion!”
“Quite right. Military commanders have known about the perverted displacement of sex into pain for thousands upon thousands of centuries.”
“Is
that
what the Great Lord Leto’s doing?”
Still mild, Moneo said: “Violence requires that you inflict pain and suffer it. How much more manageable a military force driven to this by its deepest urgings.”
“He’s made a monster out of you, too!”
“You suggested that he uses me,” Moneo said. “I permit this because I know that the price he pays is much greater than what he demands of me.”
“Even your daughter?”
“
He
holds back nothing. Why should I? Ohhh, I think you understand this about the Atreides. The Duncans are always good at
that.
”
“The Duncans! Damn you, I won’t be …”
“You just haven’t the guts to pay the price he’s asking,” Moneo said.
In one blurred motion, Idaho whipped his knife from its sheath and lunged at Moneo. As fast as he moved, Moneo moved faster—sidestepping, tripping Idaho and propelling him face-down onto the floor. Idaho scrambled forward, rolled and started to leap to his feet, then hesitated, realizing that he had actually tried to attack an Atreides. Moneo was Atreides. Shock held Idaho immobile.
Moneo stood unmoving, looking down at him. There was an odd look of sadness on the majordomo’s face.
“If you’re going to kill me, Duncan, you’d best do it in the back by stealth,” Moneo said. “You might succeed that way.”
Idaho levered himself to one knee, put a foot flat on the floor, but remained there still clutching his knife. Moneo had moved so quickly and with such grace—so … so casually! Idaho cleared his throat. “How did you …”
“He has been breeding us for a long time, Duncan, strengthening many things in us. He has bred us for speed, for intelligence, for self-restraint, for sensitivity. You’re … you’re just an older model.”
Do you know what guerrillas often say? They claim that their rebellions are invulnerable to economic warfare because they have no economy, that they are parasitic on those they would overthrow. The fools merely fail to assess the coin in which they must inevitably pay. The pattern is inexorable in its degenerative failures. You see it repeated in the systems of slavery, of welfare states, of caste-ridden religions, of socializing bureaucracies—in any system which creates and maintains dependencies. Too long a parasite and you cannot exist without a host.
—THE STOLEN JOURNALS

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