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Archivists' note:
Because of intervening events, the discovery of this private record is now little more than a footnote to history, interesting because it contains one of the earliest references to the God Emperor's secret journals. For those wishing to explore further into this account, reference may be made to Archive Records, subheadings: Chenoeh, Holy Sister Quintinius Violet: Chenoeh Report, The, and Melange Rejection, Medical Aspects of. (Footnote: Sister Quintinius Violet Chenoeh died in the fists third year of her Sisterhood, the cause being ascribed to melange incompatibility during her attempt to achieve the.status of Reverend Mother.) Our ancestor, Assur-nasir-apli, who was known as the cruelest of the cruel, seized the throne by slaying his own father and starting the reign of the sword. His conquests included the Ururnia Lake region. which led him to Commagene and Khabur. His son received tribute from the Shuites, from Tyre, Sidon, Gebel and even from Jehu, son of Omri whose very name struck terror into thousands. The conquests which began with Assur-nasirapli carried arms into Media and later into Israel, Damascus, Edom. Arpad, Babylon and Umlias. Does anyone remember these names and places now? I have given you enough clues: Try to name the planet.
- The Stolen Journals THF AIR was stagnant deep within the carved cut of the Royal Road leading down to the flat approach to the bridge across the Idaho River. The road turned to the right out of the manmade immensity of rock and earth. Moneo, walking beside the Royal Cart, saw the paved ribbon leading across a narrow ridgetop to the lacery of plasteel which was the bridge almost a kilometer distant.
The river, still deep in a chasm, turned inward toward him on the right and then ran straight through multi-stage cascades toward the far side of the Forbidden Forest where the confining walls dropped down almost to the level of the water. There at the outskirts of Onn lay the orchards and gardens which helped to feed the city.
Moneo, looking at the distant stretch of river visible from where he walked, saw that the canyon top was bathed in light, while the water still flowed in shadows broken only by the faint silvery shimmering of the cascades.
Straight ahead of him, the road to the bridge was brilliant in sunlight, the dark shadows of erosion gullies on both sides set off like arrows to indicate the correct path. The rising sun already had made the roadway hot. The air trembled above it, a warning of the day to come.
We'll be safely into the City before the worst of the heat, Moneo thought.
He trotted along in the weary patience which always overcame him at this point, his gaze fixed forward in expectation of the petitioning Museum Fremen. They would come up out of one of the erosion gullies, he knew. Somewhere on this side of the bridge. That was the agreement he had made with them. No way to stop them now. And the God Emperor still showed signs of the Worm.
Leto heard the Fremen before any of his party either saw or heard them.
"Listen!" he called.
Moneo came to full alert.
Leto rolled his body on the cart, arched the front upward cent of the bubble shield and peered ahead.
Moneo knew this kind of thing well. The God Emperor's senses, so much more acute than any of those around him, had detected a disturbance ahead. The Fremen were beginning to move up to the road. Moneo let himself fall back one pace and moved out to the limit of his dutiful position. He heard it himself then.
There was the sound of gravel spilling.
The first Fremen appeared, coming up out of gullies on both sides of the road no more than a hundred meters ahead of the Royal party.
Duncan Idaho dashed forward and slowed himself to a trot beside Moneo.
"Are those the Fremen?" Idaho asked.
"Yes." Moneo spoke with his attention on the God Emperor, who had lowered his bulk back onto the cart.
The Museum Fremen assembled on the road, dropped their outer robes to reveal inner robes of red and purple. Moneo gaped. The Fremen were togged out as pilgrims with some kind of black garment under the colorful robes. The ones in the foreground waved rolls of paper as the entire group began singing and dancing toward the royal entourage.
"A petition, Lord," the leaders cried. "Hear our petition!"
"Duncan!" Leto cried. "Clear them out!"
Fish Speakers surged forward through the courtiers as their Lord shouted. Idaho waved them forward and began running toward the approaching mob. The guards formed a phalanx, Idaho at the apex.
Leto slammed closed the bubble cover of his cart, increased its speed and called out in an amplified roar: "Clear away! Clear away!"
The Museum Fremen, seeing the guards run forward, the cart picking up speed as Leto shouted, made as though to open a path up the center of the road. Moneo, forced to run to keep up with the cart, his attention momentarily on the running footsteps of the courtiers behind him, saw the first unexpected change of program by the Fremen.
As one person, the chanting throng threw off the pilgrim cloaks to reveal black uniforms identical to those worn by Idaho.
What are they doing? Moneo wondered.
Even while he was asking himself this question, Moneo saw the flesh of the approaching faces melt away in Face Dancer mockery, every face resolving into a likeness of Duncan Idaho.
"Face Dancers!" someone screamed.
Leto, too, had been distracted by the confusion of events, the sounds of many feet running on the road, the barked orders as Fish Speakers formed their phalanx. He had applied more speed to his cart, closing the distance between himself and the guards, beginning then to ring a warning bell and sound the cart's distortion klaxon. White noise blared across the scene, disorienting even some of the Fish Speakers who were conditioned to it.
At that instant, the petitioners discarded their pilgrim cloaks and began the transformation maneuver, their faces flickering into likenesses of Duncan Idaho. Leto heard the scream: "Face Dancers!" He identified its source, a consort clerk in Royal Accounting.