“In case something dreadful should happen to me?” Leto asked.

“Lord!” Anteac protested. “We do not…”

“You dissect me with words when you would prefer sharper instruments,” Leto said. “Hypocrisy offends me.”

“We protest, Lord,” Anteac said.

“Indeed you do. I hear you.”

Luyseyal crept a few millimetres closer to the ledge, bringing a sharp stare from Moneo, who glanced up at Leto then. Moneo’s expression demanded action, but Leto ignored him, curious now about Luyseyal’s intentions. The sense of menace was centred in the red-haired one.

What is she? Leto wondered. Could she be a Face Dancer, after all?

No. None of the telltale signs were there. No. Luyseyal presented an elaborately relaxed appearance, not even a little twist of her features to test the God Emperor’s powers of observation.

“Will you now tell us about your physical changes, Lord?” Anteac asked.

Diversion! Leto thought.

“My brain grows enormous,” he said. “Most of the human skull has dissolved away. There are no severe limits to the growth of my cortex and its attendant nervous system.”

Moneo darted a startled glance at Leto. Why was the God Emperor giving away such vital information? These two would trade it.

But both women were obviously fascinated by this revelation, hesitating in whatever plan they had evolved.

“Does your brain have a centre?” Luyseyal asked.

“I am the centre,” Leto said.

“A location?” Anteac asked. She gestured vaguely at him. Luyseyal glided a few millimetres closer to the ledge.

“What value do you place on the things I reveal to you?” Leto asked.

The two women betrayed no change of expression, which was betrayal enough by itself. A smile flitted across Leto’s lips.

“The marketplace has captured you,” he said. “Even the Bene Gesserit has been infected by the suk mentality.”

“We do not deserve that accusation,” Anteac said.

“But you do. The suk mentality dominates my Empire. The uses of the market have only been sharpened and amplified by the demands of our times. We have all become traders.”

“Even you, Lord?” Luyseyal asked.

“You tempt my wrath,” he said. “You’re a specialist in that, aren’t you?”

“Lord?” Luyseyal’s voice was calm, but overly controlled.

“Specialists are not to be trusted,” Leto said. “Specialists are masters of exclusion, experts in the narrow.”

“We hope to be architects of a better future,” Anteac said.

“Better than what?” Leto asked.

Luyseyal eased herself a fractional pace closer to Leto.

“We hope to set our standards by your judgment, Lord,” Anteac said.

“But you would be architects. Would you build higher walls? Never forget, Sisters, that I know you. You are efficient purveyors of blinders.”

“Life continues, Lord,” Anteac said.

“Indeed! And so does the universe.”

Luyseyal eased herself a bit closer, ignoring the fixity of Moneo’s attention.

Leto smelled it then and almost laughed aloud.

Spice essence!

They had brought some spice essence. They knew the old stories about sandworms and spice essence, of course. Luyseyal carried it. She thought of it as a specific poison for sandworms. That was obvious. Bene Gesserit records and the Oral History agreed on this. The essence shattered the worm, precipitating its dissolution and resulting (eventually) in sandtrout which would produce more sandworms—etcetera, etcetera, etcetera…