“Then we may not have to kill her,” Idaho had said.

“I would rather not attempt it. I don’t think you have even the faintest idea of her strength and quickness.”

Garun, the Museum Fremen who dreamed of becoming a “true Naib in the old fashion”, Garun had set the stage for this climb by answering Idaho’s question: “How will the God Emperor come to Tuono?”

“In the same way he chose for a visit during my great-grandfather’s time.”

“And that was?” Siona had prompted him.

They had been sitting in the dusty shadows outside the guest house, sheltering from the afternoon sun on the day of the announcement that the Lord Leto would be wed in Tuono. A semicircle of Garun’s aides squatted around the doorstep where Siona and Idaho sat with Garun. Two Fish Speakers lounged nearby, listening. Nayla was due to arrive momentarily.

Garun pointed to the high wall behind the village, its rim glistening distant gold in the sunlight. “The Royal Road runs there and the God Emperor has a device which lowers him gently from the heights.”

“It’s built into his cart,” Idaho said.

“Suspensors,” Siona agreed. “I’ve seen them.”

“My great-grandfather said they came along the Royal Road, a great troop of them. The God Emperor glided down to our village square on his device. The others came down on ropes.”

Idaho spoke thoughtfully: “Ropes.”

“Why did they come?” Siona asked.

“To affirm that the God Emperor had not forgotten his Fremen, so my great-grandfather said. It was a great honour, but not as great as this wedding.”

Idaho arose while Garun was still talking. There was a clear view of the high wall from nearby—straight down the central street, a view from the base in the sand to the top in the sunlight. Idaho strode to the corner of the guest house and out into the central street. He stopped there, turned and looked at the wall. The first look told why everyone said it was not possible to climb that face. Even then, he resisted thinking about a measurement of the height. It could be five hundred metres or five thousand. The important thing lay in what a more careful study revealed—tiny transverse cracks, broken places, even a narrow ledge about twenty metres above the drifting sand at the bottom… and another ledge about two thirds of the way up the face.

He knew that an unconscious part of him, an ancient and dependable part, was making the necessary measurements, scaling them to his own body—so many Duncan-lengths to that place, a handgrip here, another there. His own hands. He could already feel himself climbing.

Siona’s voice came from near his right shoulder as he stood in that first examination. “What’re you doing?” She had come up soundlessly, looking now where he looked.

“I can climb that wall,” Idaho said. “If I carried a light rope, I could pull a heavier rope. The rest of you could climb it easily then.”

Garun joined them in time to hear this. “Why would you climb the wall, Duncan Idaho?”