The day had been busy, with audiences all morning that had dragged on until now. Leto felt prepared to strangle the Tleilaxu representative, of only to get rid of that awful smirk on his face, but that would have interfered with his plans. As soon as he had been able too, he had left the throne room and headed towards his - their now - private quarters.
He heard his daughter wailing from down the hallway. As he entered the bedroom, one look on Alice's face was enough to tell him what state of mind she was in.
"She won't stop," Alice insisted, still listlessly bouncing her daughter in a futile attempt to cure whatever ailment this was. "Nothing works. She's displeased with me and displeased with the world and I'm inclined to agree. What a horrid place it is."
There were frustrated tears threatening the corners of her eyes.
"If she's only going to cry, why don't we set her down and let her?" she asked. "I'm no help. I thought mothers had some magical touch but I'm defective. She ought to return me at the store for a better one."
It would seem Alice had lost her ability to be rational about this. Several hours of high decibels had contributed heavily to the loss.
"All babies cry, Alice," he said gently, raising his voice enough to make himself heard across the wailing. "It's not your fault, or hers." He walked over to the two of them and ran his fingers up along Alice's arm.
"Do you want me to hold her for a while?"
He was tired, and the crying was hard to listen to, but at least it was better than enduring the high, monotone voice of the Tleilaxu representative.
"All babies stop crying," she insisted, though she did not pull away from his touch. It was soothing, and she could use some balm for her frayed nerves. "Perhaps she will never stop. Perhaps she will cry until she cries a river and drowns in her own tears. I nearly did. Who's to say she can't? Perhaps she will scream until her face freezes that way and --"
Suddenly, she was so very, very tired.
"Would you?" she asked. "You may have success where I have only failure."
She had warned him. He might have listened, when she had.
He reached out for Hania and held her close, rocking her in his arms. It did not lessen her distress at all. Leto looked at Alice. "Perhaps something is causing her pain?"
There was no way to know. He remembered being frustrated as an infant when he had no way of communicating to adults what was wrong. Hania would not remember and was not aware of things like he had been, but perhaps she felt something similar.
Alice closed her eyes, letting herself sink into a chair.
"There is no sharp edge on her clothing," she said, "that I can discover. She will not eat, nor sleep. We change rooms, it does not help. Perhaps she is ill, perhaps she simply does not feel well today, perhaps she finds the scent of my hair unpleasant. I wish that I knew. It seems as though there's something obvious I'm overlooking, but I can't think of it, no matter how I try. I begin to think I'm going mad again."
"I ... don't recall when last I ate," she admitted. "Or bathed. I must smell horrid. I smell of spit-up. I can nearly taste it. Were you ... do you mean that you can remember ... when you were this young?"
She understood, intellectually, that he was Pre-Born, but ... to have memories of one's first days ...
She glanced up at him, her curiosity crowding out her more urgent needs. "When you wailed and screamed," she asked, "how did you ... could you tell anyone?"
"I did," he said, smiling at Hania. "It was very frustrating. But I was referring to the memories of my ancestors. All of them who at some point in their lives cared for infants suffered the same thing."
He looked up at Alice, still smiling. "Ask to have a bath prepared, then, and I will have some food sent for."
And if Hania would still be crying he would ask someone to look after her for a while.
That was the other part that was strange; remembering that he had an encyclopedia in his head of other ancestors to cross-reference his experiences against.
"Do any of them have advice?" she asked. Did it work like that? Could he consult them on matters grand and small, rouse them from eternal sleep in order to weigh in on child-rearing? "I ... oughtn't. Yet. She isn't well. I ..."
She put her palms over her eyes. "I want to leave this room and never come back," she confessed. "But I'm not going to run away from her. I said I wouldn't. I stopped that. So I'll sit here a-and -- and I'll try to help with her but she won't stop crying and I don't know what to do. So maybe I should leave and go have a bath, and what a terrible mother I am, to go indulge in a bath while my child screams her face off. There must be something I can do. I keep trying to think of something, but there isn't. Is there?"
"Taking a bath and eating is not running away," he pointed out. "You are her mother but she is not solely your responsibility." She was his too, and the rest of the tribe's.
"I'll send for Irulan. She will help and you can get some rest." He knew why Alice hadn't asked for help, but that was also why there was now considerable determination in his voice.
It didn't help matters that Hania was still howling, piteously, over whatever imagined slights were conspiring against her.
His voice had steel in it, and she had no steel left. That won the argument more than anything else; easier to let herself slide along with what he was saying than to continue fighting.
"What if I'm going mad again?" she asked, very quietly. "There's ... a rock. Except there isn't. Not any more. And nobody believes me."
Perhaps madness would be an easier explanation to deal with. However, a disappearance of physical reality fit in what he had glimpsed in those flashes of vision that had suddenly appeared.
Alice pulled herself to her feet, walking over to the nearest window and scanning the endless sand. Finally, she pointed.
"There," she said. "Except ... not there. Not any longer. Do you see the jagged, triangular rock? It used to have a large squarish boulder on it. The two together made a face, in profile; sharp chin, Roman nose. I used to watch him while lulling Hania to sleep."
She glanced over to Leto to see how he was taking this. "I noticed a few days ago that the top rock was gone. I ... asked a few of the servants, if perhaps a sandstorm had removed it, but they all insisted I was ridiculous. That there were no such outcroppings there, and never had been."
He looked, and saw where she was pointing. "I don't remember it, but, Alice? I have seen a new thing coming." Leto stepped closer to her, and rocked Hania gently. "It escapes my vision, but I see its shadow. There is nothing there."
He heard his daughter wailing from down the hallway. As he entered the bedroom, one look on Alice's face was enough to tell him what state of mind she was in.
He tossed the ceremonial cloak on to a chair.
"Alice?"
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There were frustrated tears threatening the corners of her eyes.
"If she's only going to cry, why don't we set her down and let her?" she asked. "I'm no help. I thought mothers had some magical touch but I'm defective. She ought to return me at the store for a better one."
It would seem Alice had lost her ability to be rational about this. Several hours of high decibels had contributed heavily to the loss.
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"Do you want me to hold her for a while?"
He was tired, and the crying was hard to listen to, but at least it was better than enduring the high, monotone voice of the Tleilaxu representative.
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Suddenly, she was so very, very tired.
"Would you?" she asked. "You may have success where I have only failure."
She had warned him. He might have listened, when she had.
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There was no way to know. He remembered being frustrated as an infant when he had no way of communicating to adults what was wrong. Hania would not remember and was not aware of things like he had been, but perhaps she felt something similar.
Or perhaps this was just a good day for crying.
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"There is no sharp edge on her clothing," she said, "that I can discover. She will not eat, nor sleep. We change rooms, it does not help. Perhaps she is ill, perhaps she simply does not feel well today, perhaps she finds the scent of my hair unpleasant. I wish that I knew. It seems as though there's something obvious I'm overlooking, but I can't think of it, no matter how I try. I begin to think I'm going mad again."
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He looked down at Hania's contorted face.
"But I think you need some rest. Have you eaten at all?"
Eventually the baby would get too exhausted, at least.
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She understood, intellectually, that he was Pre-Born, but ... to have memories of one's first days ...
She glanced up at him, her curiosity crowding out her more urgent needs. "When you wailed and screamed," she asked, "how did you ... could you tell anyone?"
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He looked up at Alice, still smiling. "Ask to have a bath prepared, then, and I will have some food sent for."
And if Hania would still be crying he would ask someone to look after her for a while.
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"Do any of them have advice?" she asked. Did it work like that? Could he consult them on matters grand and small, rouse them from eternal sleep in order to weigh in on child-rearing? "I ... oughtn't. Yet. She isn't well. I ..."
She put her palms over her eyes. "I want to leave this room and never come back," she confessed. "But I'm not going to run away from her. I said I wouldn't. I stopped that. So I'll sit here a-and -- and I'll try to help with her but she won't stop crying and I don't know what to do. So maybe I should leave and go have a bath, and what a terrible mother I am, to go indulge in a bath while my child screams her face off. There must be something I can do. I keep trying to think of something, but there isn't. Is there?"
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"I'll send for Irulan. She will help and you can get some rest." He knew why Alice hadn't asked for help, but that was also why there was now considerable determination in his voice.
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His voice had steel in it, and she had no steel left. That won the argument more than anything else; easier to let herself slide along with what he was saying than to continue fighting.
"What if I'm going mad again?" she asked, very quietly. "There's ... a rock. Except there isn't. Not any more. And nobody believes me."
She hadn't dared to say that out loud yet.
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Perhaps madness would be an easier explanation to deal with. However, a disappearance of physical reality fit in what he had glimpsed in those flashes of vision that had suddenly appeared.
He hadn't dared to speak about those either.
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"There," she said. "Except ... not there. Not any longer. Do you see the jagged, triangular rock? It used to have a large squarish boulder on it. The two together made a face, in profile; sharp chin, Roman nose. I used to watch him while lulling Hania to sleep."
She glanced over to Leto to see how he was taking this. "I noticed a few days ago that the top rock was gone. I ... asked a few of the servants, if perhaps a sandstorm had removed it, but they all insisted I was ridiculous. That there were no such outcroppings there, and never had been."
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