They always look for genitalia, Leto thought. Perhaps I should have something made, a gross protuberance to shock them. He choked back the small burst of amusement which threatened to erupt from his throat. Another emotion amplified. Thank you, Hwi. Thank you, Ixians.

Idaho shook his head. “But you…”

“There are strong elements to a marriage other than sex,” Leto said. “Will we have children of our flesh? No. But the effects of this union will be profound.”

“I listened while you were talking to Moneo,” Idaho said. “I thought it must be some kind of joke, a…”

“Careful, Duncan!”

“Do you love her?”

“More deeply than any man ever loved a woman.”

“Well, what about her? Does she…”

“She feels… a compelling compassion, a need to share with me, to give whatever she can give. It is her nature.”

Idaho suppressed a feeling of revulsion.

“Moneo’s right. They’ll believe the Tleilaxu stories.”

“That is one of the profound effects.”

“And you still want me to… to mate with Siona!”

“You know my wishes. I leave the choice to you.”

“Who’s that Nayla woman?”

“You’ve met Nayla! Good.”

“She and Siona act like sisters. That big hunk! What’s going on there, Leto?”

“What would you want to go on? And what does it matter?”

“I’ve never met such a brute! She reminds me of Beast Rabban. You’d never know she was female if she didn’t…”

“You have met her before,” Leto said. “You knew her as Friend.”

Idaho stared at him in quick silence, the silence of a burrowing creature who senses the hawk.

“Then you trust her,” Idaho said.

“Trust? What is trust?”

The moment arrives, Leto thought. He could see it shaping in Idaho’s thoughts.

“Trust is what goes with a pledge of loyalty,” Idaho said.

“Such as the trust between you and me?” Leto asked.

A bitter smile touched Idaho’s lips. “So that’s what you’re doing with Hwi Noree. A marriage, a pledge…”

“Hwi and I already have trust for each other.”

“Do you trust me, Leto?”

“If I cannot trust Duncan Idaho, I cannot trust anyone.”

“And if I can’t trust you?”

“Then I pity you.”

Idaho took this as almost a physical shock. His eyes were wide with unspoken demands. He wanted to trust. He wanted the magic which would never come again.

Idaho indicated his thoughts were taking off in an odd tangent then.

“Can they hear us out in the anteroom?” he asked.

“No.” But my Journals hear!

“Moneo was furious. Anyone could see it. But he went away like a docile lamb.”

“Moneo is an aristocrat. He is married to duty, to responsibilities. When he is reminded of these things, his anger vanishes.”

“So that’s how you control him,” Idaho said.

“He controls himself,” Leto said, remembering how Moneo had glanced up from the note-taking, not for reassurances, but to prompt his sense of duty.

“No,” Idaho said, “he doesn’t control himself. You do it.”

“Moneo has locked himself into his past. I did not do that.”