Leto heard the Bene Gesserit delegation then. They chanted as they approached, a heavy sound all a-jostle with vowels.

Moneo preceded them with a guard detail which took up position on Leto’s ledge. Moneo stood on the chamber floor just below Leto’s face, glanced at Leto, turned to the open hall.

The women entered in a double file, ten of them led by two Reverend Mothers in traditional black robes.

“That is Anteac on the left, Luyseyal on the right,” Moneo said.

The names recalled for Leto the earlier words about the Reverend Mothers brought in by Moneo, agitated and distrustful. Moneo did not like the witches.

“They’re both Truthsayers,” Moneo had said. “Anteac is much older than Luyseyal, but the latter is reputed to be the best Truthsayer the Bene Gesserit have. You may note that Anteac has a scar on her forehead whose origin we have been unable to discover. Luyseyal has red hair and appears remarkably young for one of her reputation.”

As he watched the Reverend Mothers approach with their entourage, Leto felt the quick surge of his memories. The women wore their hoods forward, shrouding their faces. The attendants and acolytes walked at a respectful distance behind… it was all of a piece. Some patterns did not change. These women might have been entering a real sietch with real Fremen here to honour them.

Their heads know what their bodies deny, he thought.

Leto’s penetrating vision saw the subservient caution in their eyes, but they strode up the long chamber like people confident of their religious power.

It pleased Leto to think that the Bene Gesserit possessed only such powers as he permitted. The reason for this indulgence was clear to him. Of all the people in his Empire, Reverend Mothers were most like him—limited to the memories of only their female ancestors and the collateral female identities of their inheritance ritual—still, each of them did exist as somewhat of an integrated mob.

The Reverend Mothers came to a stop at the required ten paces from Leto’s ledge. The entourage spread out on each side.

It amused Leto to greet such delegations in the voice and persona of his grandmother, Jessica. The Bene Gesserit had come to expect this and he did not disappoint them.

“Welcome, Sisters,” he said. The voice was a smooth contralto, definitely Jessica’s controlled feminine tones with just a hint of mockery—a voice recorded and often studied in the Sisterhood’s Chapter House.

As he spoke, Leto sensed menace. Reverend Mothers were never pleased when he greeted them this way, but the reaction here carried different undertones. Moneo, too, sensed it. He raised a finger and the guards moved closer to Leto.

Anteac spoke first: “Lord, we watched that display in the plaza this morning. What do you gain by such antics?”

So that’s the tone we wish to set, he thought.

Speaking in his own voice, he said: “You are temporarily in my good graces. Would you change that?”

“Lord,” Anteac said, “we are shocked that you could thus punish an Ambassador. We do not understand what you gain by this.”