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“I tell you only to look at this Atreides youth! He is the ultimate feedback upon which our species depends. He’ll reinsert into the system the results of its past performance. No other human could know that past performance as he knows it. And you consider destroying such a one!”

“I was ordered to test him and I’ve not—”

“But you have!”

“Is he Abomination?”

A weary laugh shook The Preacher. “You persist in Bene Gesserit nonsense. How they create the myths by which men sleep!”

“Are you Paul Atreides?” Halleck asked.

“Paul Atreides is no more. He tried to stand as a supreme moral symbol while he renounced all moral pretensions. He became a saint without a god, every word a blasphemy. How can you think—”

“Because you speak with his voice.”

“Would you test me, now? Beware, Gurney Halleck.”

Halleck swallowed, forced his attention back to the impassive Leto who still stood calmly observant. “Who’s being tested?” The Preacher asked. “Is it, perhaps, that the Lady Jessica tests you, Gurney Halleck?”

Halleck found this thought deeply disturbing, wondering why he let this Preacher’s words move him. But it was a deep thing in Atreides servants to obey that autocratic mystique. Jessica, explaining this, had made it even more mysterious. Halleck now felt something changing within himself, a something whose edges had only been touched by the Bene Gesserit training Jessica had pressed upon him. Inarticulate fury arose in him. He did not want to change!

“Which of you plays God and to what end?” The Preacher asked. “You cannot rely on reason alone to answer that question.”

Slowly, deliberately, Halleck raised his attention from Leto to the blind man. Jessica kept saying he should achieve the balance of kairits—“thou shalt-thou shalt not.” She called it a discipline without words and phrases, no rules or arguments. It was the sharpened edge of his own internal truth, all-engrossing. Something in the blind man’s voice, his tone, his manner, ignited a fury which burned itself into blinding calmness within Halleck.

“Answer my question,” The Preacher said.

Halleck felt the words deepen his concentration upon this place, this one moment and its demands. His position in the universe was defined only by his concentration. No doubt remained in him. This was Paul Atreides, not dead, but returned. And this non-child, Leto. Halleck looked once more at Leto, really saw him. He saw the signs of stress around the eyes, the sense of balance in the stance, the passive mouth with its quirking sense of humor. Leto stood out from his background as though at the focus of a blinding light. He had achieved harmony simply by accepting it.

“Tell me, Paul,” Halleck said. “Does your mother know?”

The Preacher sighed. “To the Sisterhood, all achieved harmony simply by accepting it.

“Tell me, Paul,” Halleck said. “Does your mother know?”

The Preacher sighed. “To the Sisterhood, all of it, I am dead. Do not try to revive me.”

Still not looking at him, Halleck asked: “But why does she—”

“She does what she must. She makes her own life, thinking she rules many lives. Thus we all play god.”

“But you’re alive,” Halleck whispered, overcome now by his realization, turning at last to stare at this man, younger than himself, but so aged by the desert that he appeared to carry twice Halleck’s years.

“What is that?” Paul demanded. “Alive?”

Halleck peered around them at the watching Fremen, their faces caught between doubt and awe.

“My mother never had to learn my lesson.” It was Paul’s voice! “To be a god can ultimately become boring and degrading. There’d be reason enough for the invention of free will! A god might wish to escape into sleep and be alive only in the unconscious projections of his dream-creatures.”

“But you’re alive!” Halleck spoke louder now.

Paul ignored the excitement in his old companion’s voice, asked: “Would you really have pitted this lad against his sister in the test-Mashhad? What deadly nonsense! Each would have said: ‘No! Kill me! Let the other live!’ Where would such a test lead? What is it then to be alive, Gurney?”

“That was not the test,” Halleck protested. He did not like the way the Fremen pressed closer around them, studying Paul, ignoring Leto.

But Leto intruded now. “Look at the fabric, father.”

“Yes . . . yes . . .” Paul held his head high as though sniffing the air. “It’s Farad’n, then!”

“How easy it is to follow our thoughts instead of our senses,” Leto said.

Halleck had been unable to follow this thought and, about to ask, was interrupted by Leto’s hand upon his arm. “Don’t ask, Gurney. You might return to suspecting that I’m Abomination. No! Let it happen, Gurney. If you try to force it, you’ll only destroy yourself.”