Страница 32 из 103
THЕ AIR was stagnant deep within the carved cut of the Royal Road leading down to the flat approach to the bridge across the Idaho River. The road turned to the right out of the manmade immensity of rock and earth. Moneo, walking beside the Royal Cart, saw the paved ribbon leading across a narrow ridgetop to the lacery of plasteel which was the bridge almost a kilometer distant.
The river, still deep in a chasm, turned inward toward him on the right and then ran straight through multi-stage cascades toward the far side of the Forbidden Forest where the confining walls dropped down almost to the level of the water. There at the outskirts of O
Moneo, looking at the distant stretch of river visible from where he walked, saw that the canyon top was bathed in light, while the water still flowed in shadows broken only by the faint silvery shimmering of the cascades.
Straight ahead of him, the road to the bridge was brilliant in sunlight, the dark shadows of erosion gullies on both sides set off like arrows to indicate the correct path. The rising sun already had made the roadway hot. The air trembled above it, a warning of the day to come.
We'll be safely into the City before the worst of the heat, Moneo thought.
He trotted along in the weary patience which always overcame him at this point, his gaze fixed forward in expectation of the petitioning Museum Fremen. They would come up out of one of the erosion gullies, he knew. Somewhere on this side of the bridge. That was the agreement he had made with them. No way to stop them now. And the God Emperor still showed signs of the Worm.
Leto heard the Fremen before any of his party either saw or heard them.
"Listen!" he called.
Moneo came to full alert.
Leto rolled his body on the cart, arched the front upward cent of the bubble shield and peered ahead.
Moneo knew this kind of thing well. The God Emperor's senses, so much more acute than any of those around him, had detected a disturbance ahead. The Fremen were begi
There was the sound of gravel spilling.
The first Fremen appeared, coming up out of gullies on both sides of the road no more than a hundred meters ahead of the Royal party.
Duncan Idaho dashed forward and slowed himself to a trot beside Moneo.
"Are those the Fremen?" Idaho asked.
"Yes." Moneo spoke with his attention on the God Emperor, who had lowered his bulk back onto the cart.
The Museum Fremen assembled on the road, dropped their outer robes to reveal i
"A petition, Lord," the leaders cried. "Hear our petition!"
"Duncan!" Leto cried. "Clear them out!"
Fish Speakers surged forward through the courtiers as their Lord shouted. Idaho waved them forward and began ru
Leto slammed closed the bubble cover of his cart, increased its speed and called out in an amplified roar: "Clear away! Clear away!"
The Museum Fremen, seeing the guards run forward, the cart picking up speed as Leto shouted, made as though to open a path up the center of the road. Moneo, forced to run to keep up with the cart, his attention momentarily on the ru
As one person, the chanting throng threw off the pilgrim cloaks to reveal black uniforms identical to those worn by Idaho.
What are they doing? Moneo wondered.
Even while he was asking himself this question, Moneo saw the flesh of the approaching faces melt away in Face Dancer mockery, every face resolving into a likeness of Duncan Idaho.
"Face Dancers!" someone screamed.
Leto, too, had been distracted by the confusion of events, the sounds of many feet ru
At that instant, the petitioners discarded their pilgrim cloaks and began the transformation maneuver, their faces flickering into likenesses of Duncan Idaho. Leto heard the scream: "Face Dancers!" He identified its source, a consort clerk in Royal Accounting.
Leto's initial reaction was amusement.
Guards and Face Dancers collided. Screams and shouts replaced the petitioners' chanting. Leto recognized Tleilaxu bat- the-commands. A thick knot of Fish Speakers formed around the black clad figure of his Duncan. The guards were obeying Leto's oft repeated instruction to protect their ghola-commander.
But how will they tell him from the others.
Leto brought his cart almost to a stop. He could see Fish Speakers on the left swinging their stunclubs. Sunlight flashed from knives. Then came the buzzing hum of lasguns, a sound Leto's grandmother had once described as "the most terrible in our universe." More hoarse shouts and screams erupted from the vanguard.
Leto reacted with the first sound of lasguns. He swerved the Royal Cart off the road to his right, shifted from wheels to suspensors and drove the vehicle back like a battering ram into a clot of Face Dancers trying to enter the fray from his side. Turning in a tight arc, he hit more of them on the other side, feeling the crushing impact of flesh against plasteel, a red spray of blood, then he was down off the road into an erosion gully. The brown serrated sides of the gully flashed past him. He swept upward and swooped across the river canyon to a high, rock-girt viewpoint beside the Royal Road. There, he stopped and turned, well beyond the range of hand-held lasguns.
What a surprise!
Laughter shook his great body with grunting, trembling convulsions. Slowly, the amusement subsided.
From his vantage, Leto could see the bridge and the area of the attack. Bodies lay in tangled disarray all across the scene and into the flanking gullies. He recognized courtier finery, Fish Speaker uniforms, the bloodied black of the Face Dancer disguises. Surviving courtiers huddled in the background while Fish Speakers sped among the fallen making sure the attackers were dead with a swift knife stroke into each body.
Leto swept his gaze across the scene searching for the black uniform of his Duncan. There was not one such uniform standing. Not one! Leto put down a surge of frustration, then saw a clutch of Fish Speaker guards among the courtiers and... and a naked figure there.
Naked!
It was Duncan! Naked! Of course! The Duncan Idaho without a uniform was not a Face Dancer.
Again, laughter shook him. Surprises on both sides. What a shock that must have been to the attackers. Obviously, they
had not prepared themselves for such a response.
Leto eased his cart out onto the roadway, dropped the wheels into position and rolled down to the bridge. He crossed the bridge with a sense of deja vu, aware of the countless bridges in his memories, the crossings to view the aftermaths of battles. As he cleared the bridge. Idaho broke from the knot of guards and ran toward him, skipping and dodging the bodies. Leto stopped his cart and stared at the naked ru