Idaho was a moment understanding her words. Fists still clenched at his sides, he turned and looked at her. Siona sat on the edge of her cot, a book in her lap. She took his attention as agreement.
“Some believe,” she read, “that you must compromise integrity with a certain amount of dirty work before you can put genius to work. They say the compromise begins when you come out of the
She looked up at Idaho. “The God Emperor—his own words.”
Slowly, Idaho relaxed his fists. He knew he needed this distraction. And it interested him that Siona had emerged from her silence.
“What is that book?” he asked.
Briefly, she told him how she and her companions had stolen the Citadel charts and the copies of Leto’s journals.
“Of course you knew about that,” she said. “My father has made it plain that spies betrayed our raid.”
He saw the tears latent in her eyes. “Nine of you killed by the wolves?”
She nodded.
“You’re a lousy Commander!” he said.
She bristled but before she could speak, he asked: “Who translated them for you?”
“This is from Ix. They say the Guild found the Key.”
“We already knew our God Emperor indulged in expedience,” Idaho said. “Is that all he has to say?”
“Read it for yourself.” She rummaged in her pack beside the cot and came up with the first volume of the translation, which she tossed across to his cot. As Idaho returned to the cot, she demanded: “What do you mean I’m a lousy Commander?”
“Wasting nine of your friends that way.”
“You fool!” She shook her head. “You obviously never saw those wolves!”
He picked up the book and found it heavy, realizing then that it had been printed on crystal paper. “You should have armed yourselves against the wolves,” he said, opening the volume.
“What arms? Any arms we could get would’ve been useless!”
“Lasguns?” he asked, turning a page.
“Touch a lasgun on Arrakis and the Worm knows it!”
He turned another page. “Your friends got lasguns eventually.”
“And look what it got them!”
Idaho read a line, then: “Poisons were available.”
She swallowed convulsively.
Idaho looked at her. “You did poison the wolves after all, didn’t you?”
Her voice was almost a whisper: “Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you do that in advance?” he asked.
“We . . . didn’t . . . know . . . we . . . could.”
“But you didn’t test it,” Idaho said. He turned back to the open volume. “A lousy Commander.”
“He’s so devious!” Siona said.
Idaho read a passage in the volume before returning his attention to Siona. “That hardly describes him. Have you read all of this?”
“Every word! Some of them several times.”
Idaho looked at the open page and read aloud: “I have created what I intended—a powerful spiritual tension throughout my Empire. Few sense the strength of it. With what energies did I create this condition? I am not that strong. The only power I possess is the control of individual prosperity. That is the sum of all the things I do. Then why do people seek my presence for other reasons? What could lead them to certain death in the futile attempt to reach my presence? Do they want to be saints? Do they think that
“He’s the ultimate cynic,” Siona said, tears apparent in her voice.
“How did he test you?” Idaho asked.
“He showed me a . . . he showed me his Golden Path.”
“That’s convenient . . .”
“It’s real enough, Duncan.” She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But if it was
Idaho inhaled deeply, then: “The Atreides come to this!”
“The Worm must go!” Siona said.
“I wonder when he’s arriving?” Idaho said.
“Garun’s little rat friend didn’t say.”
“We must ask,” Idaho said.
“We have no weapons,” Siona said.
“Nayla has a lasgun,” he said. “We have knives . . . rope. I saw rope in one of Garun’s storage rooms.”
“Against the Worm?” she asked. “Even if we could get Nayla’s lasgun, you know it won’t touch him.”
“But is his cart proof against it?” Idaho asked.
“I don’t trust Nayla,” Siona said.
“Doesn’t she obey you?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“We will proceed one step at a time,” Idaho said. “Ask Nayla if she would use her lasgun against the Worm’s cart.”
“And if she refuses?”
“Kill her.”
Siona stood, tossing her book aside.
“How will the Worm come to Tuono?” Idaho asked. “He’s too big and heavy for an ordinary ’thopter.”
“Garun will tell us,” she said. “But I think he will come as he usually travels.” She looked up at the ceiling which concealed the Sareer’s perimeter Wall. “I think he will come on peregrination with his entire crew. He will come along the Royal Road and drop down to here on suspensors.” She looked at Idaho. “What of Garun?”
“A strange man,” Idaho said. “He wants most desperately to be a real Fremen. He knows he is not anything like what they were in my day.”
“What were they like in your day, Duncan?”
“They had a saying which describes it,” Idaho said.
