“Some believe,” she read, “that you must compromise integrity with a certain amount of dirty work before you can put genius to work. They say the compromise begins when you come out of the sanctus intending to realize your ideals. Moneo says my solution is to stay within the sanctus, sending others to do my dirty work.”

She looked up at Idaho. “The God Emperor—his own words.”

Slowly, Idaho relaxed his fists. He knew he needed this distraction. And it interested him that Siona had emerged from her silence.

“What is that book?” he asked.

Briefly, she told him how she and her companions had stolen the Citadel charts and the copies of Leto’s journals.

“Of course you knew about that,” she said. “My father has made it plain that spies betrayed our raid.”

He saw the tears latent in her eyes. “Nine of you killed by the wolves?”

She nodded.

“You’re a lousy commander!” he said.

She bristled but before she could speak, he asked: “Who translated them for you?”

“This is from Ix. They say the Guild found the key.”

“We already knew our God Emperor indulged in expedience,” Idaho said. “Is that all he has to say?”

“Read it for yourself.” She rummaged in her pack beside the cot and came up with the first volume of the translation which she tossed across to his cot. As Idaho returned to the cot, she demanded: “What do you mean I’m a lousy commander?”

“Wasting nine of your friends that way.”

“You fool!” She shook her head. “You obviously never saw those wolves!”

He picked up the book and found it heavy, realizing then that it had been printed on crystal paper. “You should have armed yourselves against the wolves,” he said, opening the volume.

“What arms? Any arms we could get would’ve been useless!”

“Lasguns?” he asked, turning a page.

“Touch a lasgun on Arrakis and the Worm knows it!”

He turned another page. “Your friends got lasguns eventually.”

“And look what it got them!”

Idaho read a line, then: “Poisons were available.”

She swallowed convulsively.

Idaho looked at her. “You did poison them after all, didn’t you?”

Her voice was almost a whisper: “Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you do that in advance?” he asked.

“We… didn’t… know… we… could.”

“But you didn’t test it,” Idaho said. He turned back to the open volume. “A lousy commander.”

“He’s so devious!” Siona said.

Idaho read a passage in the volume before returning his attention to Siona. “That hardly begins to describe him. Have you read all of this?”

“Every word! Some of them several times.”

Idaho looked at the open page and read aloud: “I have created what I intended—a powerful spiritual tension throughout my Empire. Few sense the strength of it. With what energies did I create this condition? I am not that strong. The only power I possess is the control of individual prosperity. That is the sum of all the things I do. Then why do people seek my presence for other reasons? What could lead them to certain death in the futile attempt to reach my presence? Do they want to be saints? Do they think that thus they gain the vision of God?”