"Lord?" It was only a whisper.
"They tempt me first with evil, then with good. Each temptation is fashioned with exquisite attention to my susceptibilities. Tell me, Moneo, if I choose the good, does that make me good?"
"Of course it does, Lord."
"Perhaps you will never lose the habit of judgment," Leto said.
Moneo looked away from him once more and stared at the chasm's edge. Leto rolled his body to look where Moneo looked. Dwarf pines had been cultured along the lip of the canyon. There were hanging dewdrops on the damp needles, each of them sending a promise of pain to Leto. He longed to close the cart's cover, but there was an immediacy in those jewels which attracted his memories even while they repelled his body. The opposed synchrony threatened to fill him with turmoil.
"I just don't like going around on foot," Moneo said.
"It was the Fremen war," Leto said.
Moneo sighed. "The others will be ready in a few minutes. Hwi was breakfasting when I came out."
Leto did not respond. His thoughts were lost in memories of night-the one just past and the millennial others which crowded his pasts-clouds and stars, the rains and the open blackness pocked with glittering flakes from a shredded cosmos, a universe of nights, extravagant with them as he had been with his heartbeats.
Moneo suddenly demanded: "Where are your guards?"
"I sent them to eat."
"I don't like them leaving you unguarded!"
The crystal sound of Moneo's voice rang in Leto's memories, speaking things not cast in words. Moneo feared a universe where there was no God Emperor. He would rather die than see such a universe.
"What will happen today?" Moneo demanded.
It was a question directed not to the God Emperor but to the prophet. ` A seed blown on the wind could be tomorrow's willow tree," Leto said.
"You know our future! Why won't you share it?" Moneo was close to hysteria... refusing anything his immediate senses did not report.
Leto turned to glare at the majordomo, a gaze so obviously filled with pent-up emotions that Moneo recoiled from it.
"Take charge of your own existence, Moneo!"
Moneo took a deep, trembling breath. "Lord, I meant no offense. I sought only...
"Look upward, Moneo!"
Involuntarily, Moneo obeyed, peering into the cloudless sky where morning light was increasing. "What is it, Lord?"
"There's no reassuring ceiling over you, Moneo. Only an open sky full of changes. Welcome it. Every sense you possess is an instrument for reacting to change. Does that tell you nothing?"
"Lord, I only came out to enquire when you would be ready to proceed."
"Moneo, I beg you to be truthful with me."
"I am truthful, Lord!"
"But if you live in bad faith, lies will appear to you like the truth."
"Lord, if I lie... then I do not know it."
"That has the ring of truth. But I know what you dread and will not speak."
Moneo began to tremble. The God Emperor was in the most terrible of moods, a deep threat in every word.
"You dread the imperialism of consciousness," Leto said, "and you are right to fear it. Send Hwi out here immediately!"
Moneo whirled and fled back into the guest house. It was as though his entrance stirred up an insect colony. Within seconds, Fish Speakers emerged and spread around the Royal Cart. Courtiers peered from the guest house windows or came out and stood under deep eaves, afraid to approach him. In contrast to this excitement, Hwi emerged presently from the wide central doorway and strode out of the shadows, moving slowly toward Leto, her chin up, her gaze seeking his face.
Leto felt himself becoming calm as he looked at her. She wore a golden gown he had not seen before. It had been piped with silver and jade at the neck and the cuffs of its long sleeves. The hem, almost dragging on the ground, had heavy green braid to outline deep red crenellations.
Hwi smiled as she stopped in front of him.
"Good morning, love." She spoke softly. "What have you done to get poor Moneo so upset?"
Soothed by her presence and her voice, he smiled. "I did what I always hope to do. I produced an effect."
"You certainly did. He told the Fish Speakers you were in an angry and terrifying mood. Are you terrifying, Love?"
"Only to those who refuse to live by their own strengths."
"Ahhh, yes." She pirouetted for him then, displaying her new gown. "Do you like it? Your Fish Speakers gave it to me. They decorated it themselves."
"My love," he said, a warning note in his voice, "decoration! That is how you prepare the sacrifice."
She came up to the edge of the cart and leaned on it just below his face, a mock solemn expression on her lips. "Will they sacrifice me, then?"
"Some of them would like to."
"But you will not permit it."
"Our fates are joined," he said.
"Then I shall not fear." She reached up and touched one of his silver-skinned hands, but jerked away as his fingers began to tremble.
"Forgive me, Love. I forget that we are joined in soul and not in flesh," she said.
The sandtrout skin still shuddered from Hwi's touch. "Moisture in the air makes me overly sensitive," he said. Slowly, the shuddering subsided.
"I refuse to regret what cannot be," she whispered.
"Be strong, Hwi, for your soul is mine."
She turned at a sound from the guest house. "Moneo returns," she said. "Please, Love, do not frighten him."
"Is Moneo your friend, too?"