Dune полностью

A Guard captain brought him word as he was emerging from the cleansing room that Hwi Noree, although slightly wounded, was safe and would be brought to him as soon as the local commander thought it prudent.

Leto promoted the Guard captain to sub-bashar on the spot. She was a heavyset Nayla-type but without Nayla’s square face—features more rounded and closer to the older norms. She trembled in the warmth of her Lord’s approval and, when he told her to return and “make doubly certain” no more harm came to Hwi, she whirled and dashed from his presence.

I didn’t even ask her name, Leto thought, as he rolled himself onto the new cart in the depression of his small audience room. It took a few moments of reflection to recall the new sub-bashar’s name—Kieuemo. The promotion would have to be reaffirmed. He lodged a mental reminder to do this personally. The Fish Speakers, all of them, would have to learn immediately how much he valued Hwi Noree. Not that there could be much doubt after tonight.

He made his prescient scan then and dispatched messengers to his rampaging Fish Speakers. By then the damage had been done—corpses all over Onn, some Face Dancers and some only-suspected Face Dancers.

And many have seen me kill, he thought.

While he waited for Hwi’s arrival, he reviewed what had just happened. This had not been a typical Tleilaxu attack, but the previous attack on the road to Onn fitted into a new pattern, all of it pointing at a single mind with lethal purpose.

I could have died out there, he thought.

That began to explain why he had not anticipated this attack, but there was a deeper reason. Leto could see that reason rising into his awareness, a summation of all the clues. What human knew the God Emperor best? What human possessed a secret place from which to conspire?

Malky!

Leto summoned a guard and told her to ask if the Reverend Mother Anteac had yet left Arrakis. The guard returned in a moment to report.

“Anteac is still in her quarters. The Commander of the Fish Speaker Guard there says they have not come under attack.”

“Send word to Anteac,” Leto said. “Ask if she now understands why I put her delegation in quarters at a distance from me. Then tell her that while she is on Ix she must locate Malky. She is to report that location to our local garrison on Ix.”

“Malky, the former Ixian Ambassador?”

“The same. He is not to remain alive and free. You will inform our garrison commander on Ix that she is to make close liaison with Anteac, providing every necessary assistance. Malky is to be brought here to me or executed, whichever our commander finds necessary.”

The guard-messenger nodded, shadows lurching across her features where she stood in the ring of light around Leto’s face. She did not ask for a repetition of the orders. Each of his close guards had been trained as a human-recorder. They could repeat Leto’s words exactly, even the intonations, and would never forget what they had heard him say.

When the messenger had gone, Leto sent a private signal of inquiry and, within seconds, had a response from Nayla. The Ixian device within his cart reproduced a nonidentifiable version of her voice, a flatly metallic recital for his ears alone.

Yes, Siona was at the Citadel. No, Siona had not contacted her rebel companions. “No, she does not yet know that I am here observing her.” The attack on the Embassy? That had been by a splinter group called “The Tleilaxu-Contact Element.”

Leto allowed himself a mental sigh. Rebels always gave their groups such pretentious labels.

“Any survivors?” he asked.

“No known survivors.”

Leto found it amusing that, while the metallic voice provided no emotional tones, his memory supplied them.

“You will make contact with Siona,” he said. “Reveal that you are a Fish Speaker. Tell her you did not reveal this earlier because you knew she would not trust you and because you feared exposure since you are quite alone among Fish Speakers in your allegiance to Siona. Reaffirm your oath to her. Tell her that you swear by all that you hold holy to obey Siona in anything. If she commands it, you will do it. All of this is truth, as you well know.”

“Yes, Lord.”

Memory supplied the fanatic emphasis in Nayla’s response. She would obey.

“If possible, provide opportunities for Siona and Duncan Idaho to be alone together,” he said.

“Yes, Lord.”

Let propinquity take its usual course, he thought.