“We speak of a new Abomination, Lord!” Anteac said.

“You think the Ixians can produce an artificial intelligence?” he asked. “Conscious the way you are conscious?”

“We fear it, Lord,” Anteac said.

“You would have me believe that the Butlerian Jihad survives among the Sisterhood?”

“We do not trust the unknown which can arise from imaginative technology,” Anteac said.

Luyseyal leaned toward him. “The Ixians boast that their machine will transcend time in the way that you do it, Lord.”

“And the Guild says there’s Time-chaos around the Ixians,” Leto mocked. “Are we to fear all creation, then?”

Anteac drew herself up stiffly.

“I speak truth with you two,” Leto said. “I recognize your abilities. Will you not recognize mine?”

Luyseyal gave him a curt nod. “Tleilax and Ix make alliance with the Guild and seek our full cooperation.”

“And you fear Ix the most?”

“We fear anything we do not control,” Anteac said.

“And you do not control me.”

“Without you, people would need us!” Anteac said.

“Truth at last!” Leto said. “You come to me as your Oracle and you ask me to put your fears to rest.”

Anteac’s voice was frigidly controlled. “Will Ix make a mechanical brain?”

“A brain? Of course not!”

Luyseyal appeared to relax, but Anteac remained unmoving. She was not satisfied with the Oracle.

Why is it that foolishness repeats itself with such monotonous precision? Leto wondered. His memories offered up countless scenes to match this one—caverns, priests and priestesses caught up in holy ecstasy, portentous voices delivering dangerous prophecies through the smoke of holy narcotics.

He glanced down at the iridescent vial on the ledge beside Moneo. What was the current value of that thing? Enormous. It was the essence. Concentrated wealth concentrated.

“You have already paid the Oracle,” he said. “It amuses me to give you full value.”

How alert the women became!

“Hear me!” he said. “What you fear is not what you fear.”

Leto liked the sound of that. Sufficiently portentous for any Oracle. Anteac and Luyseyal stared up at him, dutiful supplicants. Behind them, an acolyte cleared her throat.

That one will be identified and reprimanded later, Leto thought.

Anteac had now had sufficient time to ruminate on Leto’s words. She said: “An obscure truth is not the truth.”

“But I have directed your attention correctly,” Leto said.

“Are you telling us not to fear the machine?” Luyseyal asked.

“You have the power of reason,” he said. “Why come begging to me?”

“But we do not have your powers,” Anteac said.

“You complain then that you do not sense the gossamer waves of Time. You do not sense my continuum. And you fear a mere machine!”

“Then you will not answer us,” Anteac said.

“Do not make the mistake of thinking me ignorant about your Sisterhood’s ways,” he said. “You are alive. Your senses are exquisitely tuned. I do not stop this, nor should you.”

“But the Ixians play with automation!” Anteac protested.

“Discrete pieces, finite bits linked one to another,” he agreed. “Once set in motion, what is to stop it?”