fh.godemperorofdune-第76部分

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　Garun　returned　his　attention　to　Siona。　With　Nayla　listening；　Garun　began　explaining　the　layout　of　his　village。
　Idaho　moved　away　from　them　down　the　street；　noting　how　glances　flicked　toward　him　and　then　avoided　his　gaze。　He　felt　deeply　offended　by　the　surface　decorations　on　the　buildings；　none　of　it　disguising　the　evidence　of　decay。　He　stared　in　an　open　doorway　at　the　auditorium。　There　was　a　harshness　in　Tuono；　a　struggling　something　behind　the　wilting　flowers　and　the　servile　tone　of　Garun's　voice。　In　another　time　and　on　another　planet；　this　would　have　been　a　donkey…in…the…street　village　rope…belted　peasants　pressing　forward　with　petitions。　He　could　hear　the　whine　of　supplication　in　Garun's　voice。　These　were　not　Fremen！　These　poor　creatures　lived　on　the　margins；　trying　to　retain　parts　of　an　ancient　wholeness。　And　all　the　while；　that　lost　reality　slipped　farther　and　farther　from　their　grasp。　What　had　Leto　created　here？　These　Museum　Fremen　were　lost　to　everything　except　a　bare　existence　and　the　rote　mouthing　of　old　words　which　they　did　not　understand　and　which　they　did　not　even　pronounce　correctly！
　Returning　to　Siona；　Idaho　bent　to　study　the　cut　of　Garun's　brown　robe；　seeing　a　tightness　in　it　dictated　by　a　need　to　conserve　fabric。　The　gray　slick　of　a　stillsuit　could　be　seen　underneath；　exposed　to　sunlight　which　no　real　Fremen　would　ever　have　let　touch　his　stillsuit　that　way。　Idaho　looked　at　the　rest　of　the　delegation；　noting　an　identical　parsimonious　treatment　of　fabric。　It　betrayed　their　emotional　bent。　Such　garments　allowed　no　expansive　gestures；　no　freedom　of　movement。　The　robes　were　tight　and　confining　in　the　way　of　these　entire　people！
　Disgust　propelling　him；　Idaho　strode　forward　abruptly　and　parted　Garun's　robe　to　look　at　the　stillsuit。　Just　as　he　suspected！　The　suit　was　another　sham…no　arms　to　it；　no　boot…pumps！
　Garun　pulled　back；　putting　a　hand　to　the　knife　hilt　Idaho　had　exposed　at　the　man's　belt。　〃Here！　What're　you　doing？〃　Garun　demanded；　his　voice　querulous。　〃You　don't　touch　a　Fremen　thus！〃
　〃You；　a　Fremen？〃　Idaho　demanded。　〃I　lived　with　Fremen！　I　fought　by　their　sides　against　Harkonnens！　I　died　with　Fremen！　You？　You're　a　sham！〃
　Garun's　knuckles　went　white　on　the　knife　haft。　He　addressed　himself　to　Siona。　〃Who　is　this　man？〃
　Nayla　spoke　up：　〃This　is　Duncan　Idaho。〃
　〃The　ghola？〃　Garun　turned　to　look　at　Idaho's　face。　〃We　have　never　seen　your　like　here　before。〃
　Idaho　felt　himself　almost　overe　with　desire　to　cleanse　this　place　even　if　it　cost　him　his　life；　this　diminished　life　which　could　be　repeated　endlessly　by　people　who　had　no　real　concerns　for　him。　An　older　model；　yes！　But　this　was　no　Fremen。
　〃Draw　that　knife　or　take　your　hand　off　it；〃　Idaho　said。
　Garun　jerked　his　hand　away　from　the　knife。　〃It　is　not　a　real　knife；〃　he　said。　〃Only　for　decoration。〃　His　voice　became　eager。　〃But　we　have　real　knives；　even　crysknives！　They　are　kept　locked　in　the　display　cases　to　preserve　them。〃
　Idaho　could　not　help　himself。　He　threw　his　head　back　in　laughter。　Siona　smiled；　but　Nayla　looked　thoughtful　and　the　rest　of　the　Fish　Speaker　troop　drew　into　a　close；　watchful　circle　around　them。
　The　laughter　had　an　odd　effect　on　Garun。　He　lowered　his　head　and　clasped　his　hands　tightly　together；　but　not　before　Idaho　saw　them　trembling。　When　Garun　peered　upward　once　more；　it　was　to　look　at　Idaho　from　beneath　heavy　brows。　Idaho　felt　abruptly　sobered。　It　was　as　though　some　terrible　boot　had　crushed　Garun's　ego　into　fearful　subservience。　There　was　watchful　waiting　in　the　man's　eyes。　And　for　no　reason　he　could　explain；　Idaho　remembered　a　passage　from　the　Orange　Catholic　Bible。　He　asked　himself：　Are　these　the　meek　who　will　outwait　us　all　and　inherit　the　universe？
　Garun　cleared　his　throat；　then：　〃Perhaps　the　ghola　Duncan　Idaho　will　witness　our　ways　and　our　ritual　and　judge　them？〃
　Idaho　felt　shamed　by　the　plaintive　request。　He　spoke　without　thinking：　〃I　will　teach　you　anything　Fremen　that　I　know。〃　He　looked　up　to　see　Nayla　scowling　at　him。　〃It　will　help　to　pass　the　time；〃　he　said。　〃And　who　knows？　It　may　return　something　of　the　true　Fremen　to　this　land。〃
　Siona　said：　〃We've　no　need　to　play　old　cultish　games！　Take　us　to　our　quarters。〃
　Nayla　lowered　her　head　in　embarrassment　and　spoke　without　looking　at　Siona。　〃mander；　there　is　a　thing　I　have　not　ventured　to　tell　you。〃
　〃That　you　must　make　sure　we　stay　in　this　filthy　place；〃　Siona　said。
　〃Oh；　no！〃　Nayla　looked　up　at　Siona's　face。　〃Where　could　you　go？　The　Wall　cannot　be　climbed　and　there　is　only　the　river　beyond　it；　anyway。　And　in　the　other　direction；　it　is　the　Sareer。　Oh；　no。。。it　is　something　else。〃　Nayla　shook　her　head。
　〃Out　with　it！〃　Siona　snapped。
　〃I　am　under　the　strictest　orders；　mander；　which　I　dare　not　disobey。〃　Nayla　glanced　at　the　other　members　of　the　troop　then　back　to　Siona。　〃You　and　the。。。Duncan　Idaho　are　to　be　quartered　together。〃
　〃My　father's　orders？〃
　〃Lady　mander；　they　are　said　to　be　the　orders　of　the　God　Emperor　himself　and　we　dare　not　disobey。〃
　Siona　looked　full　at　Idaho。　〃You　will　remember　my　warning；　Duncan；　when　last　we　spoke　at　the　Citadel？〃
　〃My　hands　are　mine　to　do　with　as　I　wish；〃　Idaho　snarled。　〃I　don't　think　you　have　any　doubts　about　my　wishes！〃
　She　turned　away　from　him　after　a　curt　nod　and　looked　at　Garun。　〃What　does　it　matter　where　we　bed　in　this　disgusting　place？　Take　us　to　our　quarters。〃
　Idaho　found　Garun's　response　fascinating…a　turning　of　the　head　toward　the　ghola；　shielding　the　face　behind　the　Fremen　hood；　then　a　secret　conspiratorial　wink。　Only　then　did　Garun　lead　them　away　down　the　ditty　street。
　
　What　is　the　most　immediate　danger　to　my　stewardship？　I　will　tell　you。　It　is　a　true　visionary；　a　person　who　has　stood　in　the　presence　of　God　with　the　full　knowledge　of　where　he　stands。　Visionary　ecstasy　releases　energies　which　are　like　the　energies　of　sex…uncaring　for　anything　except　creation。　One　act　of　creation　can　be　much　like　another。　Everything　depends　upon　the　vision。
　…The　Stolen　Journals
　LETO　LAY　without　his　cart　on　the　high；　sheltered　balcony　of　his　Little　Citadel　tower；　subduing　a　fretfulness　which　he　knew　came　from　the　necessary　delays　putting　off　the　date　of　his　wedding　to　Hwi　Noree。　He　stared　toward　the　southwest。　Somewhere　off　there　beyond　the　darkening　horizon；　the　Duncan；　Siona　and　their　panions　had　been　six　days　in　Tuono　Village。
　The　delays　are　my　own　fault；　Leto　thought。　I　am　the　one　who　changed　the　place　for　the　wedding；　making　it　necessary　for　poor　Moneo　to　revise　all　of　his　preparations。
　And　now；　of　course；　there　was　the　matter　of　Malky。
　None　of　these　necessities　could　be　explained　to　Moneo；　who　could　be　heard　stirring　about　within　the　central　chamber　of　the　aerie；　worrying　about　his　absence　from　the　mand　post　where　he　directed　the　festive　preparations。　Moneo　was　such　a　worrier！
　Leto　looked　toward　the　setting　sun。　It　floated　low　to　the　horizon；　faded　a　dim　orange　by　a　recent　storm。　Rain　crouched　low　in　the　clouds　to　the　south　beyond　the　Sareer　now。　In　a　prolonged　silence；　Leto　had　watched　the　rain　there　for　a　time　
　which　had　stretched　out　with　no　beginning　or　end。　The　clouds　had　grown　out　of　a　hard　gray　sky；　rain　walking　in　visible　lines。　He　had　felt　himself　clothed　in　memories　that　came　unbidden。　The　mood　was　hard　to　shake　off　and；　without　even　thinking；　he　muttered　the　remembered　lines　of　an　ancient　verse。
　〃Did　you　speak；　Lord？〃　Moneo's　voice　came　from　close　beside　Leto。　By　merely　turning　his　eyes；　Leto　could　see　the　faithful　majordomo　standing　attentively　waiting。
　Leto　translated　into　Galach　as　he　quoted：　〃The　nightingale　nests　in　the　plum　tree；　but　what　will　she　do　with　the　wind？〃
　〃Is　that　a　question；　Lord？〃
　〃An　old　question。　The　answer　is　simple。　Let　the　nightingale　keep　to　her　flowers。〃
　〃I　don't　understand；　Lord。〃
　〃Stop　mouthing　the　obvious；　Moneo。　It　disturbs　me　when　you　do　that。〃
　〃Forgive　me；　Lord。〃
　〃What　else　can　I　do？〃　Leto　studied　Moneo's　downcast　features。　〃You　and　I；　Moneo；　whatever　else　we　do；　we　provide　good　theater。〃
　Moneo　peered　at　Leto's　face。　〃Lord？〃
　〃The　rites　of　the　religious　festival　of　Bacchus　were　the　seeds　of　Greek　theater；　Moneo。　Religion　often　leads　to　theater。　They　will　have　fine　theater　out　of　us。〃　Once　more；　Leto　turned　and　looked　at　the　southwest　horizon。
　There　was　a　wind　there　now　piling　up　the　clouds。　Leto　thought　he　could　hear　driven　sand　blustering　along　the　dunes；　but　there　was　only　resonant　quiet　in　the　tower　aerie；　a　quiet　with　the　faintest　of　wind　hiss　behind　it。
　〃The　clouds；〃　he　whispered。　〃I　would　take　a　cup　of　moonlight　once　more；　an　ancient　sea　barge　at　my　feet；　thin　clouds　clinging　to　my　darkling　sky；　the　blue…gray　cloak　around　my　shoulders　and　horses　neighing　nearby。〃
　〃My　Lord　is　troubled；〃　Moneo　said。　The　passion　in　his　voice　wrenched　at　Leto。
　〃The　bright　shadows　of　my　pasts；〃　Leto　said。　〃They　never　leave　me　in　peace。　I　listened　for　a　soothing　sound；　the　bell　of　a　country　town　at　nightfall；　and　it　told　me　only　that　I　am　the　sound　and　soul　of　this　place。〃
　As　he　spoke；　darkness　enclosed　the　tower。　Automatic　lights　came　on　around　them。　Leto　kept　his　attention　directed　outward　where　a　thin　melon　slice　of　First　Moon　drifted　above　the　clouds　with　orange　planet…light　revealing　the　satellite's　ful