occasional moment with your senses. Yeah. An occasional taste. An occasional touch. Oh, no one need ever know. No! You murdered my father. You tried to destroy my family. You would have killed Paul. Oh, yes, yes. All that, yes. Of course I would have killed you. I mean, you and your brother stood in my way, but that's old business. You won. I am dead. Thanks to you, my darling... I have only a fragile existence, a mere memory self within you. You are alive, and I am yours to command. And how little I ask in return. Mine? To command? Oh, yes. Yours. Yours, my precious girl. Think of what we can accomplish together. Your power and my experience. There will be nothing standing in our way. - The voices in my head? - Will be silenced. - My enemies? - Will be destroyed. No one will stand in the way of our powers. From this moment on, the future... is ours. It comes... just like you summoned it. No. It summoned me, Stil. And may I ask why we risked a sand-crossing... - at night without bodyguards? - Come, come, Stil. How often do you ride the sands anymore... when you want, where you want... calling a worm instead of riding with a flock of thopters? How often-- How often do you arm the thumper and just go... like the Fremen you used to be? Used to be? Do you know in many corners of the universe... this delicate thing... is considered a wondrous beauty? But here-- here it's a symbol... a symbol of the corruption infecting Arrakis... that wouldn't exist but for the changes we're enforcing on this place. Changes inspired by your father. Now that's the official Stilgar speaking, the government Stilgar. The Fremen Stilgar is still repulsed at this alien life, isn't he? - I have a serious problem, Stil. - So I've gathered. The problem with me is the problem with this place. My father, he-- he left so many things undone. I don't understand. A good ruler doesn't need to be a prophet, Stil, not even god-like. A good ruler has to be sensitive to the ones he rules. The ancient meaning of the Fremen word ''naib'' is ''servant of the sietch.'' When the owner dies, the chrysknife dissolves, yes? It is our legend. Muad'Dib has dissolved, but his chrysknife has not. Stil, a new path must be taken... one that may require me to demystify my own father. To destroy his legacy. These are not sentiments I'd share with your aunt... or her priests, young lord. Beware Alia, Stil. She's no longer your friend. And, Stil... you must promise to protect Ghanima. If anything should happen to me-- anything-- my sister will be your only hope. You were in the desert. Yes. I-- I couldn't sleep. I could have kept you company. You were sleeping. I didn't want to disturb you. You used to. All the time. We'd sneak out of the sietch together. No one ever knew. Sometimes we wouldn't be back till dawn. I had to talk to Stilgar. Oh. I see. Ghanima, we may have to face some of what's coming apart. That doesn't mean you have to face it alone. The Atreides man named Gurney Halleck... is being sent to the desert to ask questions. Sooner or later, he will encounter someone who can be bought. Then we must make sure he buys the right answers. What shall I do with the blind fool, Father? He can still be useful. Take him into the desert until we need his sermons again. Out of chaos comes civil war. Fremen and Atreides destroying each other. The water of our enemies will feed our revenge. Our suffering will be repaid a thousandfold. Jacarutu. It was a cowardly thing to do. You lost so much here. I know it. Leto knows it. Even Alia must know it, in a way. It helps, doesn't it? The Litany Against Fear. You were thinking it, weren't you? Fear is the mind killer. Ghani, I've decided I want you to know my fear. Fear I've kept hidden too long. I fear for those who are pre-born. Just before we came to Arrakis the first time... I brought a Reverend
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