Dune полностью

“Yes, Lord!”

“Do you walk the Golden Path?”

“Yes, Lord!”

The vibration of the women’s shouts sent shock waves through Idaho, stunning him.

“Do we share?” Leto asked.

“Yes, Lord!”

As the women responded, Leto popped his wafer into his mouth. Each mother below the ledge took a bite from her wafer and offered the rest to her child. The massed Fish Speakers behind the whiteclad women lowered their arms and ate their wafers.

“Duncan, eat your wafer,” Leto said.

Idaho slipped the thing into his mouth. His ghola body had not been conditioned to the spice but memory spoke to his senses. The wafer tasted faintly bitter with a soft undertone of melange. The taste swept old memories through Idaho’s awareness—meals in sietch, banquets at the Atreides Residency . . . the way spice flavors permeated everything in the old days.

As he swallowed the wafer, Idaho grew conscious of the stillness in the hall, a breath-held quiet into which came a loud click from Leto’s cart. Idaho turned and sought the source of the sound. Leto had opened a compartment in the bed of his cart and was removing a crystal box from it. The box glowed with a blue-gray inner light. Leto placed the box on the bed of his cart, opened the glowing lid and removed a crysknife. Idaho recognized the blade immediately—the hawk engraved on the handle’s butt, the green jewels at the hilt.

The crysknife of Paul Muad’Dib!

Idaho found himself deeply moved at the sight of this blade. He stared at it as though the image in his eyes might reproduce the original owner.

Leto lifted the blade and held it high, revealing the elegant curve and milky iridescence.

“The talisman of our lives,” Leto said.

The women remained silent, raptly attentive.

“The knife of Muad’Dib,” Leto said. “The tooth of Shai-Hulud. Will Shai-Hulud come again?”

The response was a subdued murmur made deeply powerful by contrast with the previous shouting.

“Yes, Lord.”

Idaho returned his attention to the enraptured faces of the Fish Speakers.

“Who is Shai-Hulud?” Leto asked.

Again, that deep murmur: “You, Lord.”

Idaho nodded to himself. Here was undeniable evidence that Leto had tapped into a monstrous reservoir of power never before unleashed in quite this way. Leto had said it but the words were a meaningless noise compared to the thing seen and felt in this great hall. Leto’s words came back to Idaho, though, as if they had waited for this moment to cloak themselves in their true meaning. Idaho recalled that they had been in the crypt, that dank and shadowy place which Leto seemed to find so attractive but which Idaho found so repellent—the dust of centuries there and the odors of ancient decay.

“I have been forming this human society, shaping it for more than three thousand years, opening a door out of adolescence for the entire species,” Leto had said.

“Nothing you say explains a female army!” Idaho had protested.

“Rape is foreign to women, Duncan. You ask for a sex-rooted behavioral difference? There’s one.”

“Stop changing the subject!”

“I do not change it. Rape was always the pay-off in male military conquest. Males did not have to abandon any of their adolescent fantasies while engaging in rape.”

Idaho recalled the glowering anger which had come over him at this thrust.

“My houris tame the males,” Leto said. “It is domestication, a thing that females know from eons of necessity.”

Idaho stared wordlessly at Leto’s cowled face.

“To tame,” Leto said. “To fit into some orderly survival pattern. Women learned it at the hands of men; now men learn it at the hands of women.”

“But you said . . .”

“My houris often submit to a form of rape at first only to convert this into a deep and binding mutual dependence.”

“Dammit! You’re . . .”

“Binding, Duncan! Binding.”

“I don’t feel bound to . . .”

“Education takes time. You are the ancient norm against which the new can be measured.”

Leto’s words momentarily flushed Idaho of all emotion except a deep sense of loss.

“My houris teach maturation,” Leto said. “They know that they must supervise the maturation of males. Through this they find their own maturation. Eventually, houris merge into wives and mothers and we wean the violent drives away from their adolescent fixations.”

“I’ll have to see it to believe it!”

“You will see it at the Great Sharing.”

As he stood beside Leto in the hall of Siaynoq, Idaho admitted to himself that he had seen something of enormous power, something which might create the kind of human universe Leto’s words projected.

Leto was restoring the crysknife to its box, returning the box to its compartment in the bed of the Royal Cart. The women watched in silence, even the small children quiet—everyone subdued by the force which could be felt in this great hall.