“What else can I do?” Leto studied Moneo’s downcast features. “You and I, Moneo, whatever else we do, we provide good theatre.”

Moneo peered at Leto’s face. “Lord?”

“The rites of the religious festival of Bacchus were the seeds of Greek theatre, Moneo. Religion often leads to theatre. They will have fine theatre out of us.” Once more, Leto turned and looked at the southwest horizon.

There was a wind there now piling up the clouds. Leto thought he could hear driven sand blustering along the dunes, but there was only resonant quiet in the tower aerie, a quiet with the faintest of wind hiss behind it.

“The clouds,” he whispered. “I would take a cup of moonlight once more, an ancient sea marge at my feet, thin clouds clinging to my darkling sky, the blue-grey cloak around my shoulders and horses neighing nearby.”

“My Lord is troubled,” Moneo said. The compassion in his voice wrenched at Leto.

“The bright shadows of my pasts,” Leto said. “They never leave me in peace. I listened for a soothing sound, the bell of a country town at nightfall, and it told me only that I am the sound and soul of this place.”

As he spoke, darkness enclosed the tower. Automatic lights came on around them. Leto kept his attention directed outward where a thin melon slice of First Moon drifted above the clouds with orange planet-light revealing the satellite’s full circle.

“Lord, why have we come out here?” Moneo asked. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I wanted the benefit of your surprise,” Leto said. “A Guild lighter will land beside us out here soon. My Fish Speakers bring Malky to me.”

Moneo inhaled a quick breath and held it a moment before exhaling. “Hwi’s… uncle? That Malky?”

“You are surprised that you had no warning of this,” Leto said.

Moneo felt a chill all through his body. “Lord, when you wish to keep things secret from…”

“Moneo?” Leto spoke in a softly persuasive tone. “I know that Malky offered you greater temptations than any other…”

“Lord! I never…”

“I know that, Moneo.” Still in that soft tone. “But surprise has shocked your memories alive. You are armed for anything I may require of you.”

“What… what does my Lord…”

“Perhaps we will have to dispose of Malky. He is a problem.”

“Me? You want me to…”

“Perhaps.”

Moneo swallowed, then: “The Reverend Mother…”

“Anteac is dead. She served me well, but she is dead. There was extreme violence when my Fish Speakers attacked the… place where Malky lay hidden.”

“We are better off without Anteac,” Moneo said.

“I appreciate your distrust of the Bene Gesserit, but I would that Anteac had left us in another way. She was faithful to us, Moneo.”

“A Reverend Mother was…”

“Both the Bene Tleilax and the Guild wanted Malky’s secret,” Leto said. “When they saw us move against the Ixians, they struck ahead of my Fish Speakers. Anteac… well, she could only delay them a bit, but it was enough. My Fish Speakers invested the place…”