fh.godemperorofdune-第8部分

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on　the　delicate　nature　of　Siona's　present　fortunes。
　〃Have　I　not　created　her；　Moneo？〃　Leto　asked。　〃Have　I　not　controlled　the　conditions　of　her　ancestry　and　her　upbringing？〃
　〃She　is　my　only　daughter；　my　only　child；　Lord。〃
　〃In　a　way；　she　reminds　me　of　Harq　al…Ada；〃　Leto　said。　〃There　doesn't　appear　to　be　much　of　Ghani　in　her；　although　that　has　to　be　there。　Perhaps　she　harks　back　to　our　ancestors　in　the　Sisterhood's　breeding　program。〃
　〃Why　do　you　say　that；　Lord？〃
　Leto　reflected。　Was　there　need　for　Moneo　to　know　this　peculiar　thing　about　his　daughter？　Siona　could　fade　from　the　prescient　view　at　times。　The　Golden　Path　remained；　but　Siona　faded。　Yet　。。。she　was　not　prescient。　She　was　a　unique　phenomenon。。。and　if　she　survived。。。Leto　decided　he　would　not　cloud　Moneo's　efficiency　with　unnecessary　information。
　〃Remember　your　own　past；〃　Leto　said。
　〃Indeed；　Lord！　And　she　has　such　a　potential；　so　much　more　than　I　ever　had。　But　that　makes　her　dangerous；　too。〃
　〃And　she　will　not　listen　to　you；〃　Leto　said。
　〃No；　but　I　have　an　agent　in　her　rebellion。〃
　That　will　be　Topri；　Leto　thought。
　It　required　no　prescience　to　know　that　Moneo　would　have　an　agent　in　place。　Ever　since　the　death　of　Siona's　mother；　Leto　had　known　with　increasing　sureness　the　course　of　Moneo's　actions。　Nayla's　suspicions　pinpointed　Topri。　And　now；　Moneo　paraded　his　fears　and　actions；　offering　them　as　the　price　of　his　daughter's　continued　safety。
　How　unfortunate　he　fathered　only　the　one　child　on　that　mother。
　〃Recall　how　I　treated　you　in　similar　circumstances；〃　Leto　said。　〃You　know　the　demands　of　the　Golden　Path　as　well　as　I　do。〃
　〃But　I　was　young　and　foolish；　Lord。〃
　〃Young　and　brash；　never　foolish。〃
　Moneo　managed　a　tight　smile　at　this　pliment；　his　thoughts　leaning　more　and　more　toward　the　belief　that　he　now　understood　Leto's　intentions。　The　dangers；　though！
　Feeding　his　belief；　Leto　said：　〃You　know　how　much　I　enjoy　surprises。〃
　That　is　true；　Leto　thought。　Moneo　does　know　it。　But　even　while　Siona　surprises　me；　she　reminds　me　of　what　I　fear　most…the　sameness　and　boredom　which　could　break　the　Golden　Path。　Look　at　how　boredom　put　me　temporarily　in　the　Duncan's　power！　Siona　is　the　contrast　by　which　I　know　my　deepest　fears。　Moneo's　concern　for　me　is　well　grounded。
　〃My　agent　will　continue　to　watch　her　new　panions；　Lord；〃　Moneo　said。　〃I　do　not　like　them。〃
　〃Her　panions？　I　myself　had　such　panions　once　long　ago。〃
　〃Rebellious；　Lord？　You？〃　Moneo　was　genuinely　surprised。
　〃Have　I　not　proved　a　friend　of　rebellion？〃
　〃But　Lord。　。　。〃
　〃The　aberrations　of　our　past　are　more　numerous　than　you　may　think！〃
　〃Yes；　Lord。〃　Moneo　was　abashed；　yet　still　curious。　And　he　knew　that　the　God　Emperor　sometimes　waxed　loquacious　after　the　death　of　a　Duncan。　〃You　must　have　seen　many　rebellions；　Lord。〃
　Involuntarily；　Leto's　thoughts　sank　into　the　memories　aroused　by　these　words。
　〃Ahhh；　Moneo；〃　he　muttered。　〃My　travels　in　the　ancestral　mazes　have　memorized　uncounted　places　and　events　which　I　never　desire　to　see　repeated。〃
　〃I　can　imagine　your　inward　travels；　Lord。〃
　〃No；　you　cannot。　I　have　seen　peoples　and　planets　in　such　numbers　that　they　lose　meaning　even　in　imagination。　Ohhh；　the　landscapes　I　have　passed。　The　calligraphy　of　alien　roads　glimpsed　from　space　and　imprinted　upon　my　innermost　sight。　The　eroded　sculpture　of　canyons　and　cliffs　and　galaxies　has　imprinted　upon　me　the　certain　knowledge　that　I　am　a　mote。〃
　〃Not　you；　Lord。　Certainly　not　you。〃
　〃Less　than　a　mote！　I　have　seen　people　and　their　fruitless　societies　in　such　repetitive　posturings　that　their　nonsense　fills　me　with　boredom；　do　you　hear？〃
　〃I　did　not　mean　to　anger　my　Lord。〃　Moneo　spoke　meekly。
　〃You　don't　anger　me。　Sometimes　you　irritate　me；　that　is　the　extent　of　it。　You　cannot　imagine　what　I　have　seen…caliphs　and　mjeeds；　rakahs；　rajas　and　bashars；　kings　and　emperors；　primitos　and　presidents…I've　seen　them　all。　Feudal　chieftains；　every　one。　Every　one　a　little　pharaoh。〃
　〃Forgive　my　presumption；　Lord。〃
　〃Damn　the　Romans！〃　Leto　cried。
　He　spoke　it　inwardly　to　his　ancestors：　〃Damn　the　Romans！〃
　Their　laughter　drove　him　from　the　inward　arena。
　〃I　don't　understand；　Lord；〃　Moneo　ventured。
　〃That's　true。　You　don't　understand。　The　Romans　broadcast　the　pharaonic　disease　like　grain　farmers　scattering　the　seeds　of　next　season's　harvest　…Caesars；　kaisers；　tsars；　imperators；　caseris。。。palatos。。。damned　pharaohs？〃
　〃My　knowledge　does　not　enpass　all　of　those　titles；　Lord。〃
　〃I　may　be　the　last　of　the　lot；　Moneo。　Pray　that　this　is　so。〃
　〃Whatever　my　Lord　mands。〃
　Leto　stared　down　at　the　man。　〃We　are　myth…killers；　you　and　I；　Moneo。　That's　the　dream　we　share。　I　assure　you　from　a　God's　Olympian　perch　that　government　is　a　shared　myth。　When　the　myth　dies；　the　government　dies。〃
　〃Thus　you　have　taught　me；　Lord。〃
　〃That　man…machine；　the　Army；　created　our　present　dream；　my　friend。〃
　Moneo　cleared　his　throat。
　Leto　recognized　the　small　signs　of　the　majordomo's　impatience。
　Moneo　understands　about　armies。　He　knows　it　was　a　fool's　dream　that　armies　were　the　basic　instrument　of　governance。
　As　Leto　continued　silent；　Moneo　crossed　to　the　lasgun　and　retrieved　it　from　the　crypt's　cold　floor。　He　began　disabling　it。
　Leto　watched　him；　thinking　how　this　tiny　scene　encapsulated　。。fostered　the　essence　of　the　Army　myth。　The　Army　fostered　technology　because　the　power　of　machines　appeared　so　obvious　to　the　shortsighted。
　That　lasgun　is　no　more　than　a　machine。　But　all　machines　fail　or　are　superceded。　Still；　the　Army　worships　at　the　shrine　of　such　things…both　fascinated　and　fearful。　Look　at　how　people　fear　the　Ixians！　In　its　guts；　the　Army　knows　it　is　the　Sorcerer's　Apprentice。　It　unleashes　technology　and　never　again　can　the　magic　be　stuffed　back　into　the　bottle。
　I　teach　them　another　magic。
　Leto　spoke　to　the　hordes　within　then：
　〃You　see？　Moneo　has　disabled　the　deadly　instrument。　A　connection　broken　here；　a　small　capsule　crushed　there。〃
　Leto　sniffed。　He　smelled　the　esters　of　a　preservative　oil　riding　on　the　stink　of　Moneo's　perspiration。
　Still　speaking　inwardly；　Leto　said：　〃But　the　genie　is　not　dead。　Technology　breeds　anarchy。　It　distributes　these　tools　at　random。　And　with　them　goes　the　provocation　for　violence。　The　ability　to　make　and　use　savage　destroyers　falls　inevitably　into　the　hands　of　smaller　and　smaller　groups　until　at　last　the　group　is　a　single　individual。〃
　Moneo　returned　to　a　point　below　Leto；　holding　the　disabled　lasgun　casually　in　his　right　hand。　〃There　is　talk　on　Parella　and　the　planets　of　Dan　about　another　jihad　against　such　things　as　this。〃
　Moneo　lifted　the　lasgun　and　smiled；　signaling　that　he　knew　the　paradox　in　such　empty　dreams。
　Leto　closed　his　eyes。　The　hordes　within　wanted　to　argue；　but　he　shut　them　off；　thinking：　Jihads　create　armies。　The　Butlerian　Jihad　tried　to　rid　our　universe　of　machines　which　simulate　the　mind　of　man。　The　Butlerians　left　armies　in　their　wake　and　the　lxians　still　make　questionable　devices。。。for　which　I　thank　them。　What　is　anathema？　The　motivation　to　ravage；　no　matter　the　instruments。
　〃It　happened；〃　he　muttered。
　〃Lord？〃
　Leto　opened　his　eyes。　〃I　will　go　to　my　tower；〃　he　said。　〃I　must　have　more　time　to　mourn　my　Duncan。〃
　〃The　new　one　is　already　on　his　way　here；〃　Moneo　said。
　You；　the　first　person　to　encounter　my　chronicles　for　at　least　four　thousand　years；　beware。　Do　not　feel　honored　by　your　primacy　in　reading　the　revelations　of　my　Ixian　storehouse。　You　will　find　much　pain　in　it。　Other　than　the　few　glimpses　required　to　assure　me　that　the　Golden　Path　continued。　I　never　wanted　to　peer　beyond　those　four　millennia。　Therefore；　I　am　not　sure　what　the　events　in　my　journals　may　signify　to　your　times。　I　only　know　that　my　journals　have　suffered　oblivion　and　that　the　events　which　I　recount　have　undoubtedly　been　submitted　to　historical　distortion　for　eons。　I　assure　you　that　the　ability　to　view　our　futures　can　bee　a　bore。　Even　to　be　thought　of　as　a　god；　as　I　certainly　was；　can　bee　ultimately　boring。　It　has　occurred　to　me　more　than　once　that　holy　boredom　is　good　and　sufficient　reason　for　the　invention　of　free　will。
　…Inscription　on　the　storehouse　at　bar…es…Balat
　I　am　Duncan　Idaho。
　That　was　about　all　he　wanted　to　know　for　sure。　He　did　not　like　the　Tleilaxu　explanations；　their　stories。　But　then　the　Tleilaxu　had　always　been　feared。　Disbelieved　and　feared。
　They　had　brought　him　down　to　the　planet　on　a　small　Guild　shuttle；　arriving　at　the　dusk　line　with　a　green　glimmer　of　sun　corona　along　the　horizon　as　they　dipped　into　the　shadow。　The　spaceport　had　not　looked　at　all　like　anything　he　remembered。
　It　was　larger　and　with　a　ring　of　strange　buildings。
　〃Are　you　sure　this　is　Dune'？〃　he　had　asked。
　〃Arrakis；〃　his　Tleilaxu　escort　had　corrected　him。
　They　had　sped　him　in　a　sealed　groundcar　to　this　building　somewhere　within　a　city　they　called　Onn；　giving　the　〃n〃　sound　a　strange　rising　nasal　inflection。　The　room　in　which　they　left　him　was　about　three　meters　square；　a　cube　really。　There　was　no　sign　of　glowglobes；　but　the　place　was　filled　with　warm　yellow　light。
　I　am　a　ghola；　he　told　himself。
　That　had　been　a　shock；　but　he　had　to　believe　it。　To　find　himself　living　when　he　knew　he　had　died；　that　was　proof　enough。　The　Tleilaxu　had　taken　cells　from　his　dead　flesh　and　they　had　grown　a　bud　in　one　of　their　axlotl　tanks。　That　bud　had　bee　this　body　in　a　process　which　had　made　him　feel　at　first　an　alien　in　his　own　flesh。
　He　looked　down　at　the　body。　It　was　clothed　in　dark　brown　trousers　and　jacket　of　a　coarse　weave　which　irritated　his　skin。　Sandals　protected　his　feet。　Except　for　the　body；　that　was　all　they　had　given　him；　a　parsimony　which　said　something　about　the　real　Tleilaxu　character。
　There　was　no　furniture　in　the　room。　They　had　let　him　in　through　a　single　door　which　had　no　handle　on　the　inside。　He　looked　up　at　the　ceiling　and　around　at　the　walls；　at　the　door。　Despite　the　featureless　character　of　the　place；　he　felt　that　he　was　being　watched。
　〃Women　of　the　Imperial　Guard　will　e　for　you；〃　they　had　said。　Then　they　had　gone　away；　smiling　slyly　among　themselves。
　Women　of　the　Imperial　Guard？
　The　Tleilaxu　escort　had　taken　sadistic　delight　in　exposing　their　shapechanging　abilities。　He　had　not　known　from　one　minute　to　the　next　what