fh.godemperorofdune-第65部分

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　A　thumping　sounded　from　within　Leto's　aerie；　a　heavy　beating　against　stone。　Moneo　dared　not　open　the　door　to　investigate。　He　pushed　himself　away　from　the　surface　which　reflected　that　dreadful　thumping　…and　went　down　the　stairs；　moving　cautiously；　not　drawing　an　easy　breath　until　he　reached　ground　level　and　the　Fish　Speaker　guard　there。
　〃Is　he　disturbed？〃　she　asked；　looking　up　the　stairs。
　Moneo　nodded。　They　both　could　hear　the　thumping　quite　plainly。
　〃What　disturbs　him？〃　the　guard　asked。
　〃He　is　God　and　we　are　mortal；〃　Moneo　said。　This　was　an　answer　which　usually　satisfied　Fish　Speakers；　but　new　forces　were　at　work　now。
　She　looked　directly　at　him　and　Moneo　saw　the　killer　training　close　to　the　surface　of　her　soft　features。　She　was　a　relatively　young　woman　with　auburn　hair　and　a　face　usually　dominated　by　a　turned…up　nose　and　full　lips；　but　now　her　eyes　were　hard　and　demanding。　Only　a　fool　would　turn　his　back　on　those　eyes。
　〃I　did　not　disturb　him；〃　Moneo　said。
　〃Of　course　not；〃　she　agreed。　Her　look　softened　slightly。
　〃But　I　would　like　to　know　who　or　what　did。〃
　〃I　think　he　is　impatient　for　his　marriage；〃　Moneo　said。　〃I　think　that's　all　it　is。〃
　〃Then　hurry　the　day！〃　she　said。
　〃That's　what　I'm　about；〃　Moneo　said。　He　turned　and　hurried　away　down　the　long　hall　to　his　own　area　of　the　Citadel。　Gods！　The　Fish　Speakers　were　being　as　dangerous　as　the　God　Emperor。
　That　stupid　Duncan！　He　puts　us　all　in　peril。　And　Hwi　Noree！　What's　to　be　done　about　her？
　
　The　pattern　of　monarchies　and　similar　systems　has　a　message　of　value　for　all　political　forms。　My　memories　assure　me　that　governments　of　any　kind　could　profit　from　this　message。　Governments　can　be　useful　to　the　governed　only　so　long　as　inherent　tendencies　toward　tyranny　are　restrained。　Monarchies　have　some　good　features　beyond　their　star　qualities。　They　can　reduce　the　size　and　parasitic　nature　of　the　management　bureaucracy。　They　can　make　speedy　decisions　when　necessary。　They　fit　an　ancient　human　demand　for　a　parental　（tribal/feudal）　hierarchy　where　every　person　knows　his　place。　It　is　valuable　to　know　your　place；　even　if　that　place　is　temporary。　It　is　galling　to　be　held　in　place　against　your　will。　This　is　why　I　teach　about　tyranny　in　the　best　possible　way　by　example。　Even　though　you　read　these　words　after　a　passage　of　eons；　my　tyranny　will　not　be　forgotten。　My　Golden　Path　assures　this。　Knowing　my　message；　I　expect　you　to　be　exceedingly　careful　about　the　powers　you　delegate　to　any　government。
　…The　Stolen　Journals
　Leto　PREPARED　with　patient　care　for　his　first　private　meeting　with　Siona　since　her　childhood　banishment　to　the　Fish　Speaker　schools　in　the　Festival　City。　He　told　Moneo　that　he　would　see　her　at　the　Little　Citadel；　a　vantage　tower　he　had　built　in　the　central　Sareer。　The　site　had　been　chosen　to　provide　views　of　old　and　new　and　places　between。　There　were　no　roads　to　the　Little　Citadel。　Visitors　arrived　by　'thopter。　Leto　went　there　as　though　by　magic。　'
　With　his　own　hands；　in　the　early　days　of　his　ascendancy；　Leto　has　used　an　Ixian　machine　to　dig　a　secret　tunnel　under　the　Sareer　to　his　tower；　doing　all　of　the　work　himself。　In　those　days；　a　few　wild　sandworms　still　roamed　the　desert。　He　had　lined　his　tunnel　with　massive　walls　of　fused　silica　and　had　imbedded　countless　bubbles　of　worm…repelling　water　in　the　outer　layers。　The　tunnel　anticipated　his　maximum　growth　and　the　requirements　of　a　Royal　Cart　which；　at　that　time；　had　been　only　a　figment　of　his　visions；
　In　the　early　predawn　hours　of　the　day　assigned　to　Siona；　Leto　descended　to　the　crypt　and　gave　orders　to　his　guard　that　he　was　not　to　be　disturbed　by　anyone。　His　cart　sped　him　down　one　of　the　crypt's　dark　spokes　where　he　opened　a　hidden　portal；　emerging　in　less　than　an　hour　at　the　Little　Citadel。
　One　of　his　delights　was　to　go　out　alone　onto　the　sand。　No　cart。　Only　his　pre…worm　body　to　carry　him。　The　sand　felt　luxuriously　sensuous　against　him。　The　heat　of　his　passage　through　the　dunes　in　the　day's　first　light　sent　up　a　wake　of　steam　which　required　him　to　keep　moving。　He　brought　himself　to　a　stop　only　when　he　found　a　relatively　dry　pocket　about　five　kilometers　out。　He　lay　there　at　the　center　of　an　unfortable　dampness　from　the　trace…dew；　his　body　just　outside　the　long　shadow　of　the　tower　which　stretched　eastward　from　him　across　the　dunes。
　From　a　distance；　the　three　thousand　meters　of　the　tower　could　be　seen　as　an　impossible　needle　stabbing　the　sky。　Only　the　inspired　blend　of　Leto's　mands　and　Ixian　imagination　made　the　structure　conceivable。　One　hundred　and　fifty　meters　in　diameter；　the　tower　sat　on　a　foundation　which　plunged　as　deeply　under　the　sand　as　it　climbed　above。　The　magic　of　plasteel　and　superlight　alloys　kept　it　supple　in　the　wind　and　resistant　to　sandblast　abrasions。
　Leto　enjoyed　the　place　so　much　that　he　rationed　his　visits；　making　up　a　long　list　of　personal　rules　which　had　to　be　met。　The　rules　added　up　to　〃Great　Necessity。〃
　For　a　few　moments　while　he　lay　there；　he　could　shed　the　loads　of　the　Golden　Path。　Moneo；　good　and　reliable　Moneo；　would　see　that　Siona　arrived　promptly；　just　at　nightfall。　Leto　had　a　full　day　in　which　to　relax　and　think；　to　play　and　pretend　that　he　possessed　no　cares；　to　drink　up　the　raw　sustenance　of　the　earth　in　a　feeding　frenzy　which　he　could　never　indulge　in　at　Onn　or　at　the　Citadel。　In　those　places；　he　was　required　to　confine　himself　to　furtive　burrowings　through　narrow　passages　where　only　prescient　caution　kept　him　from　encountering　waterpockets。　Here；　though；　he　could　race　through　the　sand　and　across　it；　feed　and　grow　strong。
　Sand　crunched　beneath　him　as　he　rolled；　flexing　his　body　in　pure　animal　enjoyment。　He　could　feel　his　worm…self　being　restored；　an　electric　sensation　which　sent　messages　of　health　all　through　him。
　The　sun　was　well　above　the　horizon　now；　painting　a　golden　line　up　the　side　of　the　tower。　There　was　the　smell　of　bitter　dust　in　the　air　and　an　odor　of　distant　spiny　plants　which　had　responded　to　the　morning's　trace…dew。　Gently　at　first；　then　more　rapidly；　he　moved　out　in　a　wide　circle　around　the　tower；　thinking　about　Siona　as　he　went。
　There　could　be　no　more　delays。　She　had　to　be　tested。　Moneo　knew　this　as　well　as　Leto　did。
　Just　that　morning；　Moneo　had　said：　〃Lord；　there　is　terrible　violence　in　her。〃
　〃She　has　the　beginnings　of　adrenalin　addiction；〃　Leto　had　said。　〃It's　cold…turkey　time。〃
　〃Cold　what；　Lord？〃
　〃It's　an　ancient　expression。　It　means　she　must　be　subjected　to　a　plete　withdrawal。　She　must　go　through　a　necessity　shock。〃
　〃Oh。。。I　see。〃
　For　once；　Leto　realized；　Moneo　did　see。　Moneo　had　gone　through　his　own　cold…turkey　time。
　〃The　young　generally　are　incapable　of　making　hard　decisions　unless　those　decisions　are　associated　with　immediate　violence　and　the　consequent　sharp　flow　of　adrenalin；〃　Leto　had　explained。
　Moneo　had　held　himself　in　reflexive　silence；　remembering；　then：　〃It　is　a　great　peril。〃
　〃That's　the　violence　you　see　in　Siona。　Even　old　people　can　cling　to　it；　but　the　young　wallow　in　it。〃
　As　he　circled　his　tower　in　the　growing　light　of　the　day；　enjoying　the　feel　of　the　sand　even　more　as　it　dried；　Leto　thought　about　the　conversation。　He　slowed　his　passage　over　the　sand。　A　wind　from　behind　him　carried　the　vented　oxygen　and　a　burnt　flint　smell　over　his　human　nostrils。　He　inhaled　deeply；　lifting　his　magnified　awareness　to　a　new　level。
　This　preliminary　day　contained　a　multiple　purpose。　He　thought　of　the　ing　encounter　much　as　an　ancient　bullfighter　had　thought　about　the　first　examination　of　a　horned　adversary。　Siona　possessed　her　own　version　of　horns；　although　Moneo　would　make　certain　that　she　brought　no　physical　weapons　to　this　encounter。　Leto　had　to　be　sure；　though；　that　he　knew　Siona's　every　strength　and　every　weakness。　And　he　would　have　to　create　special　susceptibilities　in　her　wherever　possible。　She　had　to　be　prepared　for　the　test；　her　psychic　muscles　blunted　by　well…planted　barbs。
　Shortly　after　noon；　his　worm…self　satiated；　Leto　returned　to　the　tower；　crawled　back　onto　his　cart　and　lifted　on　suspensors　to　the　very　tip　of　a　portal　there　which　opened　only　at　his　mand。　Throughout　the　rest　of　the　day；　he　lay　there　in　the　aerie；　thinking；　plotting。
　The　fluttering　wings　of　an　ornithopter　w