Arrakeen, Arrakis, Saturday Afternoon
Irulan took a seat opposite Leto, the desk covered in various reports separating them.
"It is done, then?" she asked.
Leto gave a small nod in reply, then laughed softly. "Sadly this offers you nothing to add to your chronicles."
"As if I didn't have enough already. Are you going to tell me the consequences at least?"
"With the head of their House dead the Moritani will spend most of their resources on the struggle between the possible successors," he said. "But you know that. The outcome is yet undetermined." He look he gave Irulan showed his excitement.
"Don't tell me you are just playing games." Irulan might reproach him for that, but she would in no way be surprised. It amused Leto how she sometimes, just for a moment, slipped into treating him like he was still a child.
"No," he said. "Although I could have waited a century and there would have been only one contestant for the title. Either way, they will fall and return in a changed form. I'm just curious to have the nature of it less determined, and the use of them... as yet unknown."
"And that is not a game?"
"What isn't a game?" Leto leaned back in this chair, looking fondly at Irulan.
She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that told him she wasn't going to be tricked into having that conversation again. "I suppose Idaho will be pleased to hear the news. As a Swordsmaster of Ginaz..." She didn't need to finish that sentence.
"Poison was a better choice though. The number of suspects increased."
"What next?"
He gestured at the table in front of him. "It is going to be a long day."
---
Later, as the stones on the terrace outside were no longer burning hot from the sun, Leto left the desk and walked over to the balustrade. The desert stretched out in front of him, and he could see the reddish colour on the horizon that was a warning of a desert storm to come. It never reached the city, not completely, although in the morning there street sweepers would be busy. This was to be a desert night, he thought, a time to let the wind and sand tear his skin while leaving no trace. He would walk through it and then return early in the morning, before Alice was awake, and then watch her wake up and they would laugh together at how their bed had turned into a sand box.
Irulan was right, of course. He was playing games, but what was the fun in following a path without making the occasional detour?
[Open for Ghanima if she's there or for phonecalls.]
"It is done, then?" she asked.
Leto gave a small nod in reply, then laughed softly. "Sadly this offers you nothing to add to your chronicles."
"As if I didn't have enough already. Are you going to tell me the consequences at least?"
"With the head of their House dead the Moritani will spend most of their resources on the struggle between the possible successors," he said. "But you know that. The outcome is yet undetermined." He look he gave Irulan showed his excitement.
"Don't tell me you are just playing games." Irulan might reproach him for that, but she would in no way be surprised. It amused Leto how she sometimes, just for a moment, slipped into treating him like he was still a child.
"No," he said. "Although I could have waited a century and there would have been only one contestant for the title. Either way, they will fall and return in a changed form. I'm just curious to have the nature of it less determined, and the use of them... as yet unknown."
"And that is not a game?"
"What isn't a game?" Leto leaned back in this chair, looking fondly at Irulan.
She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that told him she wasn't going to be tricked into having that conversation again. "I suppose Idaho will be pleased to hear the news. As a Swordsmaster of Ginaz..." She didn't need to finish that sentence.
"Poison was a better choice though. The number of suspects increased."
"What next?"
He gestured at the table in front of him. "It is going to be a long day."
---
Later, as the stones on the terrace outside were no longer burning hot from the sun, Leto left the desk and walked over to the balustrade. The desert stretched out in front of him, and he could see the reddish colour on the horizon that was a warning of a desert storm to come. It never reached the city, not completely, although in the morning there street sweepers would be busy. This was to be a desert night, he thought, a time to let the wind and sand tear his skin while leaving no trace. He would walk through it and then return early in the morning, before Alice was awake, and then watch her wake up and they would laugh together at how their bed had turned into a sand box.
Irulan was right, of course. He was playing games, but what was the fun in following a path without making the occasional detour?
[Open for Ghanima if she's there or for phonecalls.]