“Peculiar design for a city,” Idaho mused.

“It has one primary purpose—public viewing of the God Emperor.”

Idaho looked up at the segmented body on the cart, brought his gaze to the cowled face. He wondered if he would ever find it easy to look on that bizarre figure.

“But that’s only once every ten years,” Idaho said.

“At the Great Sharing, yes.”

“And you just close it down between times?”

“The Embassies are there, the offices of the trading factors, the Fish Speaker schools, the service and maintenance cadres, the museums and libraries.”

“What space do they take?” Idaho rapped the chart with his knuckles. “A tenth of the city at most?”

“Less than that.”

Idaho let his gaze wander pensively over the chart.

“Are there other purposes in this design, m’Lord?”

“It is dominated by the need for public viewing of my person.”

“There must be clerks, government workers, even common labourers. Where do they live?”

“Mostly in the suburbs.”

Idaho pointed at the chart. “These tiers of apartments?”

“Note the balconies, Duncan.”

“All around the plaza.” He leaned close to peer down at the chart. “That plaza is two kilometres across!”

“Note how the balconies are set back in steps right up to the ring of spires. The elite are lodged in the spires.”

“And they can all look down on you in the plaza?”

“You do not like that?”

“There’s not even an energy barrier to protect you!”

“What an inviting target I make.”

“Why do you do it?”

“There is a delightful myth about the design of Onn. I foster and promote the myth. It is said that once there lived a people whose ruler was required to walk among them once a year in total darkness, without weapons or armour. The mythical ruler wore a luminescent suit while he made his walk through the night-shrouded throng of his subjects. And his subjects—they wore black for the occasion and were never searched for weapons.”

“What’s that have to do with Onn… and you?”

“Well, obviously, if the ruler survived his walk he was a good ruler.”

“You don’t search for weapons?”

“Not openly.”

“You think people see you in this myth.” It was not a question.

“Many do.”

Idaho stared up at Leto’s face deep in its grey cowl. The blue on blue eyes stared back at him without expression.

Melange eyes, Idaho thought. But Leto said he no longer consumed any spice. His body supplied what spice his addiction demanded.

“You don’t like my holy obscenity, my enforced tranquillity,” Leto said.

“I don’t like you playing god!”

“But a god can conduct the Empire as a musical conductor guides a symphony through its movements. My performance is limited only by my restriction to Arrakis. I must direct the symphony from here.”

Idaho shook his head and looked once more at the city plan. “What’re these apartments behind the spires?”

“Lesser accommodation for our visitors.”

“They can’t see the plaza.”

“But they can. Ixian devices project my image into those rooms.”