“Why are we stopping, Lord?” Moneo asked.

Leto did not answer. The cart creaked as he heaved his bulk into an arching curve which lifted his head and allowed him to look across the Forbidden Forest to the Kynes Sea glistening silver far off to the right. He turned left and there were the remains of the Shield Wall, a sinuous low shadow in the morning light. The ridge here had been raised almost two thousand metres to enclose the Sareer and limit airborne moisture there. From his vantage, Leto could see the distant notch where he had caused the Festival City of Onn to be built.

“It is a whim which stops me,” Leto said.

“Shouldn’t we cross the bridge before resting?” Moneo asked.

“I am not resting.”

Leto stared ahead. After a series of switchbacks which were visible from here only as a twisting shadow, the high road crossed the river on a faery bridge, climbed to a buffer ridge and then sloped down to the city which presented a vista of glittering spires at this distance.

“The Duncan acts subdued,” Leto said. “Have you had your long conversation with him?”

“Precisely as you required, Lord.”

“Well, it’s only been four days,” Leto said. “They often take longer to recover.”

“He has been busy with your Guard, Lord. They were out until late again last night.”

“The Duncans do not like to walk in the open. They think about the things which could be used to attack us.”

“I know, Lord.”

Leto turned and looked squarely at Moneo. The major-domo wore a green cloak over his white uniform. He stood beside the open bubble cover, exactly in the place where duty required that he station himself on these excursions.

“You are very dutiful, Moneo,” Leto said.

“Thank you, Lord.”

Guards and courtiers kept themselves at a respectful distance well behind the cart. Most of them were trying to avoid even the appearance of eavesdropping on Leto and Moneo. Not so Idaho. He had positioned some of the Fish Speaker guards at both sides of the Royal Road, spreading them out. Now, he stood staring at the cart. Idaho wore a black uniform with white piping, a gift of the Fish Speakers, Moneo had said.

“They like this one very much. He is good at what he does.”

“What does he do, Moneo?”

“Why, guard your person, Lord.”

The women of the Guard all wore skintight green uniforms, each with a red Atreides hawk at the left breast.

“They watch him very closely,” Leto said.

“Yes. He is teaching them hand signals. He says it’s the Atreides way.”

“That is certainly correct. I wonder why the previous one didn’t do that?”

“Lord, if you don’t know…”

“I jest, Moneo. The previous Duncan did not feel threatened until it was too late. Has this one accepted our explanations?”

“So I’m told, Lord. He is well started in your service.”

“Why is he carrying only that knife in the belt sheath?”