“I’m a replacement, is that right?” Idaho asked.

“That’s right,” Leto said.

“How did the other… me… I mean, how did he die?”

“All flesh wears out, Duncan. It’s in the records.”

Leto waited patiently, wondering how long it would be until the tamed history failed to satisfy this Duncan.

“What do you really look like?” Idaho asked. “What’s this sandworm body the Tleilaxu described?”

“It will make sandworms of sorts someday. It’s already far down the road of metamorphosis.”

“What do you mean of sorts?”

“It will have more ganglia. It will be aware.”

“Can’t we have some light? I’d like to see you.”

Leto commanded the floodlights. Brilliant illumination filled the room. The black walls and the lighting had been arranged to focus the illumination on Leto, every visible detail revealed.

Idaho swept his gaze along the faceted silvery-grey body, noted the beginnings of a sandworm’s ribbed sections, the sinuous flexings… the small protuberances which had once been feet and legs, one of them somewhat shorter than the other. He brought his attention back to the well-defined arms and hands and finally lifted his attention to the cowled face with its pink skin almost lost in the immensity, a ridiculous extrusion on such a body.

“Well, Duncan,” Leto said. “You were warned.”

Idaho gestured mutely toward the pre-worm body.

Leto asked it for him: “Why?”

Idaho nodded.

“I’m still Atreides, Duncan, and I assure you with all the honour of that name, there were compelling reasons.”

“What could possibly…”

“You will learn in time.”

Idaho merely shook his head from side to side.

“It’s not a pleasant revelation,” Leto said. “It requires that you learn other things first. Trust the word of an Atreides.”

Over the centuries, Leto had found that this invocation of Idaho’s profound loyalties to all things Atreides dampened the immediate wellspring of personal questions. Once more, the formula worked.

“So I’m to serve the Atreides again,” Idaho said. “That sounds familiar. Is it?”

“In many ways, old friend.”

“Old to you, maybe, but not to me. How will I serve?”

“Didn’t my Fish Speakers tell you?”

“They said I would command your elite Guard, a force chosen from among them. I don’t understand that. An army of women?”

“I need a trusted companion who can command my Guard. You object?”

“Why women?”

“There are behavioural differences between the sexes which make women extremely valuable in this role.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“You think them inadequate?”

“Some of them looked pretty tough, but…”

“Others were, ahhh, soft with you?”

Idaho blushed.

Leto found this a charming reaction. The Duncans were among the few humans of these times who could do this. It was understandable, a product of the Duncans’ early training, their sense of personal honour—very chivalrous.

“I don’t see why you trust women to protect you,” Idaho said. The blood slowly receded from his cheeks. He glared at Leto.

“But I have always trusted them as I trust you—with my life.”

“What do we protect you from?”