Somehow, he thought of this discovery as a symptom of rot. How could they prohibit such things when most of the courtiers and the Fish Speakers either knew or suspected that the God Emperor traded with Ix for forbidden machines?
I am beginning to hate water. The sandtrout skin which impels my metamorphosis has learned the sensitivities of the worm. Moneo and many of my guards know my aversion. Only Moneo suspects the truth, that this marks an important waypoint. I can feel my ending in it, not soon as Moneo measures time, but soon enough as I endure it. Sandtrout swarmed to water in the Dune days, a problem during the early stages of our symbiosis. The enforcement of my will-power controlled the urge then, and until we reached a time of balance. Now, I must avoid water because there are no other sandtrout, only the half-dormant creatures of my skin. Without sandtrout to bring this world back to desert, Shai-Hulud will not emerge; the sandworm cannot evolve until the land is parched. I am their only hope.
—THE STOLEN JOURNALS
It was midafternoon before the Royal Entourage came down the final slope into the precincts of the Festival City. Throngs lined the streets to greet them, held back by tight lines of ursine Fish Speakers in uniforms of Atreides green, their stunclubs crossed and linked.
As the Royal party approached, a bedlam of shouts erupted from the crowd. Then the Fish Speaker guardians began to chant:
“Siaynoq! Siaynoq! Siaynoq!”
As it echoed back and forth between the high buildings, the chanted word had a strange effect on the crowd which was not initiated into the meanings of it. A wave of silence swept up the thronged avenues while the guardians continued to chant. People stared in awe at the women armed with stunclubs who guarded the Royal passage, the women who chanted while they fixed their gaze on the face of their passing Lord.
Idaho, marching with the Fish Speaker guards behind the Royal Cart, heard the chant for the first time and felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.
Moneo marched beside the cart, not looking left or right. He had once asked Leto the meaning of the word.
“I give the Fish Speakers only one ritual,” Leto had said. They had been in the God Emperor’s audience chamber beneath Onn’s central plaza at the time, with Moneo fatigued after a long day of directing the flow of dignitaries who crowded the city for Decennial festivities.
“What has the chanting of that word to do with it, Lord?”
“The ritual is called Siaynoq—the Feast of Leto. It is the adoration of my person in my presence.”
“An ancient ritual, Lord?”
“It was with the Fremen before they were Fremen. But the keys to the Festival secrets died with the old ones. Only I remember them now. I recreate the Festival in my own likeness and for my own ends.”
“Then the Museum Fremen do not use this ritual?”
“Never. It is mine and mine alone. I claim eternal right to it because I
“It is a strange word, Lord. I have never heard its like.”
“It has many meanings, Moneo. If I tell them to you, will you hold them secret?”
“My Lord commands!”
“Never share this with another nor reveal to the Fish Speakers what I tell you now.”
“I swear it, Lord.”
“Very well. Siaynoq means giving honor to one who speaks with sincerity. It signifies the remembrance of things which are spoken with sincerity.”
“But, Lord, doesn’t sincerity really mean that the speaker
“Yes, but Siaynoq also contains the idea of light as that which reveals reality. You continue to shine light on what you see.”
“Reality . . . that is a very ambiguous word, Lord.”
“Indeed! But Siaynoq also stands for fermentation because reality—or the belief that you know a reality, which is the same thing—always sets up a ferment in the universe.”
“All of that in a single word, Lord?”
“And more! Siaynoq also contains the summoning to prayer
“A great burden for one word, Lord.”
“Words can carry any burden we wish. All that’s required is agreement and a tradition upon which to build.”
“Why must I not speak of this to the Fish Speakers, Lord?”
“Because this is a word reserved for them. They resent my sharing it with a male.”
Moneo’s lips pressed into a thin line of remembrance as he marched beside the Royal Cart into the Festival City. He had heard the Fish Speakers chant the God Emperor into their presence many times since that first explanation and had even added his own meanings to the strange word.
“Siaynoq! Siaynoq! Siaynoq!”
The word had a sour sound in Moneo’s ears.
