They were in the airy room of golden stone atop the Citadel’s south tower, Leto’s third full day back from the Decennial Festival in Onn. An open portal beside him looked out over the harsh noonday of the Sareer. The wind made a deep humming sound through the opening. It stirred up dust and sand which made Moneo squint. Leto seemed not to notice the irritation. He stared out across the Sareer where the air was alive with heat movements. The distant flow of dunes suggested a mobility in the landscape which only his eyes observed.

Moneo stood immersed in the sour odours of his own fear, knowing that the wind conveyed the message of these odours to Leto’s senses. The arrangements for the wedding, the upset among the Fish Speakers—everything was paradox. It reminded Moneo of something the God Emperor had said in the first days of their association.

“Paradox is a pointer telling you to look beyond it. If paradoxes bother you, that betrays your deep desire for absolutes. The relativist treats a paradox merely as interesting, perhaps amusing or even, dreadful thought, educational.”

“You do not respond,” Leto said. He turned from his examination of the Sareer and focused the weight of his attention on Moneo.

Moneo could only shrug. How near is the Worm? he wondered. Moneo had noticed that the return to the Citadel from Onn sometimes aroused the Worm. No sign of that awful shift in the God Emperor’s presence had yet betrayed itself, but Moneo sensed it. Could the Worm come without warning?

“Accelerate arrangements for the wedding,” Leto said. “Make it as soon as possible.”

“Before you test Siona?”

Leto was silent for a moment, then: “No. What will you do about the Duncan?”

“What would you have me do, Lord?”

“I told him not to see Noree, to avoid her. I told him it was an order.”

“She has sympathy for him, Lord. Nothing more.”

“Why should she have sympathy for him?”

“He is a ghola. He has no connection to our times, no roots.”

“He has roots as deep as mine!”

“But he does not know this, Lord.”

“Are you arguing with me, Moneo?”

Moneo backed away a half-step, knowing that this did not remove him from danger. “Oh, no, Lord. But I always try to tell you truly what I believe is happening.”

“I will tell you what is happening. He is courting her.”

“But she initiates their meetings, Lord.”

“Then you knew about this!”

“I did not know you had absolutely prohibited it, Lord.”

Leto spoke in a musing voice: “He is clever with women, Moneo, exceedingly clever. He sees into their souls and makes them do what he wants. It has always been that way with the Duncans.”

“I did not know you had prohibited all meetings between them, Lord!” Moneo’s voice was almost strident.

“He is more dangerous than any of the others,” Leto said. “It is the fault of our times.”

“Lord, the Tleilaxu do not have a successor for him ready to deliver.”