Children of Dune – Entry #3

So many passages are meant to endear Leto II to the reader.  His character is to be loved and respected as Paul once was.  Little things about Leto’s character, things we credit to the Atreides.

     And Leto, who’d already known these things, had nodded his gratitude at the wisdom of such instruction.

     But Stilgar’s voice could be filled with many valuable things.

(Children of Dune, p. 212)

Leto’s respect for Stilgar, even with all Leto knows from his many lives within including that of his father’s, is just beautiful. Stilgar, the quintessential Fremen.  In Leto’s memory, he recalls Stilgar’s explanation of Jacurutu, the sietch of Fremen who would think nothing of killing another Fremen for his water.  And that is where Leto goes after letting the Empire believe that he has been killed.  It wasn’t clear why but it certainly would be a good hiding place and I am now sure that he was seeking out The Preacher who he believed to be his father.

The scene where Alia realizes that The Preacher is definitely her brother is so intense, I just have to include the whole passage here.  The Preacher is speaking to the masses in the square and Alia has snuck down into the crowd to get an up close look for herself.

     “Why has another Leto been taken from us?” The Preacher demanded.  There was real pain in his voice.  “Answer me if you can! Ahhhh, their message is clear: abandon certainty.”  He repeated it in a rolling stentorian shout: “Abandon certainty! That’s life’s deepest command.  That’s what life’s all about.  We’re a probe into the unknown, into the uncertain.  Why can’t you hear Muad’Dib?  If certainty is knowing absolutely an absolute future, then that’s only death disguised!  Such a future becomes now! He showed you this!”

     With a terrifying directness The Preacher reached out, grabbed Alia’s arm.  It was done without any groping or hesitation.  She tried to pull away, but he held her in a painful grip, speaking directly into her face as those around them edged back in confusion.

     “What did Paul Atreides tell you, woman?” he demanded.

     How does he know I’m a woman? she asked herself.  She wanted to sink into her inner lives, ask their protection, but the world within remained frighteningly silent, mesmerized by this figure from their past.

     “He told you that completion equals death!” The Preacher shouted.  “Absolute prediction is completion … is death!”

     She tried to pry his fingers away.  She wanted to grab her knife and slash him away from her, but dared not.  She had never felt this daunted in all of her life.

     The Preacher lifted his chin to speak over her to the crowd, shouted: “I give you Muad’Dib’s words! He said, ‘I’m going to rub your faces in things you try to avoid. I don’t find it strange that all you want to believe is only that which comforts you.  How else do humans invent the traps which betray us into mediocrity?  How else do we define cowardice?’  That’s what Muad’Dib told you!”

     Abruptly he released Alia’s arm, thrust her into the crowd. She would have fallen but for the press of people supporting her.

     “To exist is to stand out, away from the background,” The Preacher said.  “You aren’t thinking or really existing unless you’re willing to risk even your own sanity in the judgment of your existence.”

     Stepping down, The Preacher once more took Alia’s arm – no faltering or hesitation.  He was gentler this time, though.  Leaning close, he pitched his voice for her ears alone, said: “Stop trying to pull me once more into the background, sister.”

     Then, hand on his young guide’s shoulder, he stepped into the throng.  Way was made for the strange pair.  Hands reached out to touch The Preacher, but people reached with an awesome tenderness, fearful of what they might find beneath that dusty Fremen robe.

     Alia stood alone in her shock as the throng moved out behind The Preacher.

     Certainty filled her.  It was Paul.  No doubt remained.  It was her brother.  She felt what the crowd felt.  She had stood in the sacred presence and now her universe tumbled all about her.  She wanted to run after him, pleading for him to save her from herself, but she could not move.  While others pressed to follow The Preacher and his guide, she stood intoxicated with an absolute despair, a distress so deep that she could only tremble with it, unable to command her own muscles.

     What will I do?  What will I do? she asked herself.

(Children of Dune, p. 226 – 227)

Wow.