This was what his grandmother and the Sisterhood sought! He knew it. His awareness flowed on a new, higher level. He felt the past carried in his cells, in his memories, in the archetypes which haunted his assumptions, in the myths which hemmed him, in his languages and their prehistoric detritus. It was all of the shapes out of his human and nonhuman past, all of the lives which he now commanded, all integrated in him at last. And he felt himself as a thing caught up in the ebb and flow of nucleotides. Against the backdrop of infinity he was a protozoan creature in which birth and death were virtually simultaneous, but he was both infinite and protozoan, a creature of molecular memories.
We humans are a form of colony organism! he thought.
They wanted his cooperation. Promising cooperation had won him another reprieve from Namri's knife. By summoning to cooperation, they sought to recognize a healer.
And he thought: But I'll not bring them social order in the way they expect it!
A grimace contorted Leto's mouth. He knew he'd not be as unconsciously malevolent as was his father - despotism at one terminal and slavery at the other - but this universe might pray for those "good old days."
His father-within spoke to him then, cautiously probing, unable to demand attention but pleading for audience.
And Leto answered: "No. We will give them complexities to occupy their minds. There are many modes of flight from danger. How will they know I'm dangerous unless they experience me for thousands of years? Yes, father-within, we'll give them question marks."
Chapter Twenty-Three
There is no guilt or innocence in you. All of that is past. Guilt belabors the dead and I am not the Iron Hammer. You multitude of the dead are merely people who have done certain things, and the memory of those things illuminates my path. -Leto II to His Memory-Lives, After Harq al-Ada
"It moves of itself!" Farad'n said, and his voice was barely a whisper.
He stood above the Lady Jessica's bed, a brace of guards close behind him. The Lady Jessica had propped herself up in the bed. She was clad in a parasilk gown of shimmering white with a matching band around her copper hair. Farad'n had come bursting in upon her moments before. He wore the grey leotard and his face was sweaty with excitement and the exertions of his dash through the palace corridors.
"What time is it?" Jessica asked.
"Time?" Farad'n appeared puzzled.
One of the guards spoke up: "It is the third hour past midnight, My Lady." The guard glanced fearfully at Farad'n. The young prince had come dashing through the night-lighted corridors, picking up startled guards in his wake.
"But it moves," Farad'n said. He held out his left hand, then his right. "I saw my own hands shrink into chubby fists, and I remembered! They were my hands when I was an infant. I remembered being an infant, but it was... a clearer memory. I was reorganizing my old memories!"
"Very good," Jessica said. His excitement was infectious. "And what happened when your hands became old?"
"My... mind was... sluggish," he said. "I felt an ache in my back. Right here." He touched a place over his left kidney.
"You've learned a most important lesson," Jessica said. "Do you know what that lesson is?"
He dropped his hands to his sides, stared at her. Then: "My mind controls my reality." His eyes glittered, and he repeated it, louder this time: "My mind controls my reality!"
"That is the beginning of prana-bindu balance," Jessica said. "It is only the beginning, though."
"What do I do next?" he asked.
"My Lady," the guard who had answered her question ventured now to interrupt. "The hour," he said.
Aren't their spy posts manned at this hour? Jessica wondered. She said: "Begone. We have work to do."
"But My Lady," the guard said, and he looked fearfully from Farad'n to Jessica and back.
"You think I'm going to seduce him?" Jessica asked.
The man stiffened.
Farad'n laughed, a joyous outburst. He waved a hand in dismissal. "You heard her. Begone."
The guards looked at each other, but they obeyed.
Farad'n sat on the edge of her bed. "What next?" He shook his head. "I wanted to believe you, yet I did not believe. Then... it was as though my mind melted. I was tired. My mind gave up its fighting against you. It happened. Just like that!" He snapped his fingers.
"It was not me that your mind fought against," Jessica said.
"Of course not," he admitted. "I was fighting against myself, all the nonsense I've learned. What next now?"
Jessica smiled. "I confess I didn't expect you to succeed this rapidly. It's been only eight days and..."
"I was patient," he said, grinning.
"And you've begun to learn patience, too," she said.
"Begun?"
"You've just crept over the lip of this learning," she said. "Now you're truly an infant. Before... you were only a potential, not even born."
The corners of his mouth drew down.
"Don't be so gloomy," she said. "You've done it. That's important. How many can say they were born anew?"
"What comes next?" he insisted.
"You will practice this thing you've learned," she said. "I want you able to do this at will, easily. Later you'll fill a new place in your awareness which this has opened. It will be filled by the ability to test any reality against your own demands."
"Is that all I do now... practice the -"
"No. Now you can begin the muscle training. Tell me, can you move the little toe on your left foot without moving any other muscle of your body?"