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intent on unraveling the dramas which only I can recount. They want to make
the personal connections to their own lives.
They want the meanings, the truth!"
"But you warn us against truth, Lord," I said.
"Indeed! All of history is a malleable instrument in my hands. Ohhh, I have
accumulated all of these pasts and I possess every fact-yet the facts are mine
to use as I will and, even using them truthfully, I change them. What am I
speaking to you now? What is a diary, a journal`? Words."
Again, the Lord Leto fell silent. I weighed the portent of what he had said,
weighed it against the admonition of Reverend Mother Syaksa, and against the
things that the God Emperor had uttered to me earlier. He said I was his
messenger and thus I felt that I was under his protection and might dare more
than any other. Thus it was that I said:
"Lord Leto, you have said that you will not see me again. Does that mean you
are about to die?"
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I swear it here in my record of this event, the Lord Leto laughed! Then he
said:
"No, gentle Sister, it is you who will die. You will not live to be a Reverend
Mother. Do not be saddened by this for by your presence here today, by
carrying my message back to the Sisterhood, by preserving my secret words as
well, you will achieve a far greater status. You become here an integral part
of my myth. Our distant cousins will pray to you for intercession with me!"
Again, the Lord Leto laughed, but it was gentle laughter and he smiled upon me
warmly. I find it difficult to record here
with that accuracy which I am enjoined to employ in every accounting such as
this one, yet in the moment that the Lord Leto spoke these terrible words to
me, I felt a profound bond of friendship with him, as though some physical
thing had leaped between us, tying us together in a way that words cannot
fully describe. It was not until the instant of this experience that I
understood what he had meant by the wordless truth. It happened, yet I cannot
describe it.
===
Archivists' note:
Because of intervening events, the discovery of this private record is now
little more than a footnote to history, interesting because it contains one of
the earliest references to the God
Emperor's secret journals. For those wishing to explore further into this
account, reference may be made to Archive Records, subheadings: Chenoeh, Holy
Sister Quintinius Violet: Chenoeh Report, The, and Melange Rejection, Medical
Aspects of.
(Footnote: Sister Quintinius Violet Chenoeh died in the fists third year of
her Sisterhood, the cause being ascribed to melange incompatibility during her
attempt to achieve the .status of
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Reverend Mother.)
Our ancestor, Assur-nasir-apli, who was known as the cruelest of the cruel,
seized the throne by slaying his own father and starting the reign of the
sword. His conquests included the Ururnia
Lake region. which led him to Commagene and Khabur. His son received tribute
from the Shuites, from Tyre, Sidon, Gebel and even from Jehu, son of Omri
whose very name struck terror into thousands. The conquests which began with
Assur-nasirapli carried arms into Media and later into
Israel, Damascus, Edom. Arpad, Babylon and Umlias. Does anyone remember these
names and places now? I have given you enough clues: Try to name the planet.
-The Stolen Journals
THF AIR was stagnant deep within the carved cut of the Royal Road leading down
to the flat approach to the bridge across the Idaho River. The road turned to
the right out of the manmade immensity of rock and earth. Moneo, walking
beside the Royal Cart, saw the paved ribbon leading across a narrow ridgetop
to the lacery of plasteel which was the bridge almost a kilometer distant.
The river, still deep in a chasm, turned inward toward him on the right and
then ran straight through multi-stage cascades toward the far side of the
Forbidden Forest where the confining walls dropped down almost to the level of
the water. There at
the outskirts of Onn lay the orchards and gardens which helped to feed the
city.
Moneo, looking at the distant stretch of river visible from where he walked,
saw that the canyon top was bathed in light, while the water still flowed in
shadows broken only by the faint silvery shimmering of the cascades.
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Straight ahead of him, the road to the bridge was brilliant in sunlight, the
dark shadows of erosion gullies on both sides set off like arrows to indicate
the correct path. The rising sun already had made the roadway hot. The air
trembled above it, a warning of the day to come.
We'll be safely into the City before the worst of the heat, Moneo thought.
He trotted along in the weary patience which always overcame him at this
point, his gaze fixed forward in expectation of the petitioning Museum Fremen.
They would come up out of one of the erosion gullies, he knew. Somewhere on
this side of the bridge. That was the agreement he had made with them. No way
to stop them now. And the God Emperor still showed signs of the Worm.
Leto heard the Fremen before any of his party either saw or heard them.
"Listen!" he called.
Moneo came to full alert.
Leto rolled his body on the cart, arched the front upward cent of the bubble
shield and peered ahead.
Moneo knew this kind of thing well. The God Emperor's senses, so much more
acute than any of those around him, had detected a disturbance ahead. The
Fremen were beginning to move up to the road.
Moneo let himself fall back one pace and moved out to the limit of his dutiful
position. He heard it himself then.
There was the sound of gravel spilling.
The first Fremen appeared, coming up out of gullies on both sides of the road
no more than a hundred meters ahead of the Royal party.
Duncan Idaho dashed forward and slowed himself to a trot beside Moneo.
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"Are those the Fremen?" Idaho asked.
"Yes." Moneo spoke with his attention on the God Emperor, who had lowered his
bulk back onto the cart.
The Museum Fremen assembled on the road, dropped their outer robes to reveal
inner robes of red and purple. Moneo
gaped. The Fremen were togged out as pilgrims with some kind of black garment
under the colorful robes. The ones in the foreground waved rolls of paper as
the entire group began singing and dancing toward the royal entourage.
"A petition, Lord," the leaders cried. "Hear our petition!"
"Duncan!" Leto cried. "Clear them out!"
Fish Speakers surged forward through the courtiers as their Lord shouted.
Idaho waved them forward and began running toward the approaching mob. The
guards formed a phalanx, Idaho at the apex.
Leto slammed closed the bubble cover of his cart, increased its speed and
called out in an amplified roar: "Clear away! Clear away!"
The Museum Fremen, seeing the guards run forward, the cart picking up speed as
Leto shouted, made as though to open a path up the center of the road. Moneo,
forced to run to keep up with the cart, his attention momentarily on the
running footsteps of the courtiers behind him, saw the first unexpected change
of program by the Fremen.
As one person, the chanting throng threw off the pilgrim cloaks to reveal
black uniforms identical to those worn by Idaho.
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