—The Stolen Journals

“You sent them to Tuono without consulting me? How surprising of you, Moneo! You’ve not done such an independent thing in a long while.”

Moneo stood about ten paces from Leto in the gloomy centre of the crypt, head bowed, using every artifice he knew to keep from trembling, aware that even this could be seen and interpreted by the God Emperor. It was almost midnight. Leto had kept his majordomo waiting and waiting.

“I pray I have not offended my Lord,” Moneo said.

“You have amused me, but take no heart from that. Lately, I cannot separate the comic from the sad.”

“Forgive me, Lord,” Moneo whispered.

“What is this forgiveness you ask? Must you always require judgment? Can’t your universe merely be?”

Moneo lifted his gaze to that awful cowled face. He is both ship and storm. The sunset exists in itself. Moneo felt that he stood on the brink of terrifying revelations. The God Emperor’s eyes bored into him, burning, probing. “Lord, what would you have of me?”

“That you have faith in yourself.”

Feeling that something might explode in him, Moneo said: “Then the fact that I did not consult you before…”

“How enlightened of you, Moneo! Small souls who seek power over others first destroy the faith those others might have in themselves.”

The words were shattering to Moneo. He sensed accusation in them, confession. He felt his hold on a fearsome but infinitely desirable thing weakening. He tried to find words to call it back but his mind remained blank. Perhaps if he asked the God Emperor…

“Lord, if you would but tell me your thoughts on…”

“My thoughts vanish on contact!”

Leto stared down at Moneo. How strange were the majordomo’s eyes perched there above that hawkish Atreides nose—free verse eyes in a metronome face. Did Moneo hear that rhythmic pulse beat: Malky is coming! Malky is coming! Malky is coming!?

Moneo wanted to cry out in anguish. The thing he had felt—all gone! He put both hands over his mouth.

“Your universe is a two-dimensional hourglass,” Leto accused. “Why do you try to hold back the sand?”

Moneo lowered his hands and sighed. “Do you wish to hear about the wedding arrangements, Lord?”

“Don’t be tiresome! Where is Hwi?”

“The Fish Speakers are preparing her for…”

“Have you consulted her about the arrangements?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“She approved?”

“Yes, Lord, but she accused me of living for the quantity of activity and not for the quality.”

“Isn’t she marvellous, Moneo? Does she see the unrest among the Fish Speakers?”

“I think so, Lord.”

“The idea of my marriage disturbs them.”

“It’s why I sent the Duncan away, Lord.”

“Of course it is, and Siona with him to…”

“Lord, I know you have tested her and she…”

“She senses the Golden Path as deeply as you do, Moneo.”

“Then why do I fear her, Lord?”

“Because you raise reason above all else.”

“But I do not know the reason for my fear!”