[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
portal from his anteroom, hesitating until she had assessed his mood.
How quickly the word travels, he thought.
He saw her there, framed in the portal, a projection of Fish Speaker essence-
more voluptuous than some, but no more blatantly sexual. The blue uniform did
not conceal graceful hips, firm breasts. He looked up at her puckish face under
a brush of blonde hair-acolyte cut.
"Moneo sends me to inquire after you," she said. "He asks that you attend him in
his workroom."
Idaho had seen that workroom several times, but still remembered it best from
his first view of it. He had known on entering the room that it was where Moneo
spent most of his time. There was a table of dark brown wood streaked by fine
golden graining, a table about two meters by one meter and set low on stubby
legs in the midst of gray cushions. The table had struck Idaho as something rare
and expensive, chosen for a single accent. It and the cushions-which were the
same gray as floor, walls and ceiling-were the only furnishings.
Considering the power of its occupant, the room was small, no more than five
meters by four, but with a high ceiling. Light came from two slender glazed
windows opposite each other on the narrower walls. The windows looked out from a
considerable height, one onto the northwest fringes of the Sareer and the
bordering green of the Forbidden Forest, the other providing a southwest view
over rolling dunes.
Contrast.
The table had put an interesting accent on this initial thought. The surface had
appeared as an arrangement demonstrating the idea of clutter. Thin sheets of
crystal paper lay scattered across the surface, leaving only glimpses of the
wood grain underneath. Fine printing covered some of the paper. Idaho recognized
words in Galach and four other languages, including the rare transite tongue of
Perth. Several sheets of the paper revealed plan drawings and some were scrawled
with black strokes of brush-script in the bold style of the Bene Gesserit. Most
interesting of all had been four rolled white tubes about a meter long-tri-D
printouts from an illegal computer. He
had suspected the terminal lay concealed behind a panel in one of the walls.
The young messenger from Moneo cleared her throat to awaken Idaho from his
reverie. "What response shall I return to Moneo?" she asked.
Idaho focused on her face. "Would you like me to impregnate you?" he asked.
"Commander!" She was obviously shocked not so much by his suggestion as by its
non sequitur intrusion.
"Ahhh, yes," Idaho said. "Moneo. What shall we tell Moneo?"
"He awaits your reply, Commander."
"Is there really any point in my responding?" Idaho asked.
"Moneo told me to inform you that he wishes to confer with both you and the Lady
Hwi together."
Idaho sensed a vague arousal of interest. "Hwi is with him?"
"She has been summoned, Commander." The messenger cleared her throat once more.
"Would the Commander wish me to visit him here later tonight?"
"No. Thank you, anyway. I've changed my mind."
He thought she concealed her disappointment well, but her voice came out stiffly
formal: "Shall I say that you will attend Moneo?"
"Do that." He waved her away.
After she had gone, he considered just ignoring the summons. Curiosity grew in
him, though. Moneo wanted to talk to him with Hwi present? Why? Did he think
this would bring Idaho running? Idaho swallowed. When he thought of Hwi, the
emptiness in his breast became full. The message of that could not be ignored.
Something of terrible power bound him to Hwi.
He stood up, his muscles stiff after their long inaction. Curiosity and this
binding force impelled him. He went out into the corridor, ignored the curious
glances of guards he passed, and followed that compelling inner force up to
Moneo's workroom.
Hwi was already there when Idaho entered the room. She was across the cluttered
table from Moneo, her feet in red slippers tucked back beside the gray cushion
on which she sat. Idaho saw only that she wore a long brown gown with a braided
green belt, then she turned and he could look at nothing except her face. Her
mouth formed his name without speaking it.
Even she has heard, he thought.
Oddly, this thought strengthened him. The thoughts of this day began to form new
shapes in his mind.
"Please sit down, Duncan," Moneo said. He gestured to a cushion beside Hwi. His
voice conveyed a curious, halting tone, a manner that few people other than Leto
had ever observed in him. He kept his gaze directed downward at the cluttered
surface of his table. The late afternoon sunlight cast a spidery shadow across
the jumble from a golden paperweight in the shape of a fanciful tree with
jeweled fruit, all mounted on a flame-crystal mountain.
Idaho took the indicated cushion, watching Hwi's gaze follow him until he was
seated. She looked at Moneo then and he thought he saw anger in her expression.
Moneo's usual plain-white uniform was open at the throat, revealing a wrinkled
neck and a bit of dewlap. Idaho stared into the man's eyes, prepared to wait,
forcing Moneo to open the conversation.
Moneo returned the stare, noting that Idaho still wore the black uniform of
their morning encounter. There was even a small trace of grime down the front,
memento of the corridor floor where Moneo had spilled him. But Idaho no longer
wore the antique Atreides knife. That bothered Moneo.
"What I did this morning was unforgivable," Moneo said. "Therefore, I do not ask
you to forgive me. I merely ask that you try to understand."
Hwi did not appear surprised by this opening, Idaho noted. It revealed much
about what the two of them had been discussing before Idaho's arrival.
When Idaho did not respond, Moneo said: "I had no right to make you feel
inadequate."
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]