—The Stolen Journals

After sending word to the Fish Speakers, Leto descended to the crypt in the late evening. He had found it best to begin the first interview with a new Duncan Idaho in a darkened room where the ghola could hear Leto describe himself before actually seeing the pre-worm body. There was a small side room carved in black stone off the central rotunda of the crypt which suited this requirement. The chamber was large enough to accommodate Leto on his cart, but the ceiling was low. Illumination came from hidden glowglobes which he controlled. There was only the one door, but it was in two segments—one swinging wide to admit the Royal Cart, the other a small portal in human dimensions.

Leto rolled his Royal Cart into the chamber, sealed the large portal and opened the smaller one. He composed himself then for the ordeal.

Boredom was an increasing problem. The pattern of the Tleilaxu gholas had become boringly repetitious. Once, Leto had sent word warning the Tleilaxu to send no more Duncans, but they had known they could disobey him in this thing.

Sometimes I think they do it just to keep disobedience alive!

The Tleilaxu relied on an important thing which they knew protected them in other matters.

The presence of a Duncan pleases the Paul Atreides in me.

As Leto had explained it to Moneo in the majordomo’s first days at the Citadel:

“The Duncans must come to me with much more than Tleilaxu preparation. You must see to it that my houris gentle the Duncans and that the women answer some of his questions.”

“Which questions may they answer, Lord?”

“They know.”

Moneo had, of course, learned all about this procedure over the years.

Leto heard Moneo’s voice outside the darkened room, then the sound of the Fish Speaker escort and the hesitantly distinctive footsteps of the new ghola.

“Through that door,” Moneo said. “It will be dark inside and we will close the door behind you. Stop just inside and wait for the Lord Leto to speak.”

“Why will it be dark?” The Duncan’s voice was full of aggressive misgivings.

“He will explain.”

Idaho was thrust into the room and the door was sealed behind him.

Leto knew what the ghola saw—only shadows among shadows and blackness where not even the source of a voice could be fixed. As usual, Leto brought the Paul-Muad’Dib voice into play.

“It pleases me to see you again, Duncan.”

“I can’t see you!”

Idaho was a warrior and the warrior attacks. This reassured Leto that the ghola was a fully restored original. The morality play by which the Tleilaxu reawakened a ghola’s pre-death memories always left some uncertainties in the gholas’ minds. Some of the Duncans believed they had threatened a real Paul-Muad’Dib. This one carried such illusions.

“I hear Paul’s voice but I can’t see him,” Idaho said. He didn’t try to conceal the frustrations, let them all come out in his voice.

Why was an Atreides playing this stupid game? Paul was truly dead in some long-ago and this was Leto, the carrier of Paul’s resurrected memories… and the memories of many others if the Tleilaxu stories were to be believed.