city... must be arrested and brought to me. I will make an example of all who defy me. Get out! This is my mother's doing. I want her dead. - Now. - No, my dear. Not just yet. Patience, my dear. Patience and calm. That is the palliative for fury and despair. Everyone is turning against me. Oh, don't worry, child. There are many clever ways to rid oneself of a troublesome witch. Your efforts to the contrary, I suppose. Well, unfortunately, my efforts were, shall we say, interrupted... by a wonderfully devious and cruel little girl. You took great pleasure in the act, as I recall. I had to admire your ruthlessness. Had you only been a few years older-- Why am I even listening to you, you perverted old fool? Because I am here to help you. Because I'm the only one you can trust. What you must do is take care of your mother in public. Why don't you call in that lovely boy? The priest. Javid, eh? Mix business with pleasure perhaps? You were right, Muriz. Her paranoia deepens with each passing hour. - She's ordered immediate retaliation. - Good. The more the repression, the greater the rebellion. The greater the rebellion... the sooner our enemies slaughter each other. Get word to that Corrino witch. Tell her we continue to work our mischief. Even though she's not of council any longer... I have asked Lady Jessica... adored mother of Muad'Dib... to join us for the ritual of supplication. We bring before the holy family a Kedeshian troubadour... a miserable wanderer... who has lost everything but the clothes on his back... and now must beg the court for-- Mercy, Holy Mother. I am Gadian Al-Fali... naib of Sietch Gara Kulan. My ladies, do not listen to this man. His appeal is not approved. I am here concerning a matter of the desert. A matter of the desert is a concern of great magnitude, Fedaykin. But, Reverend Mother-- Yes, milady. I am Fedaykin. Once offering his life at the side of Muad'Dib. This is not the proper forum for-- We will hear this matter of the desert. We have abandoned our friend the desert, Holy Mother. Shai Hulud no longer roams the sands. He cannot be found except in the empty quarters, far from our people. The superstitious of the inner desert... have always feared the transformation of our land. A land where nothing grew. Now there are plants. They spread like maggots upon the wound. There are clouds in the sky... and rain. Precious mother of Muad'Dib, rain from the sky of Dune. It is a death to us all. We only do what Liet and Muad'Dib intended us to do. Would you challenge their holy words? And what of the worms then? There will always be some desert, some worms. As go the worms, so goes the spice. And if the spice does not flow, what coin do we have to buy our way? Silence! These are matters of state. And you will not challenge the wisdom of this government... to do what it decides is best. The rabble of the desert must be made to comply with our judgment. It is we who rule here... not the mob of the sands. There are those of you who fear I have returned to Arrakis as a Bene Gesserit. That I have abandoned my loyalty to the Atreides partnership with the desert. But since the day the Fremen... gave life to me and to my son... I have always been Fremen. And I will always be Fremen. Be quiet! We cannot abandon the desert. My daughter is lying. The worms will not survive if the desert shrinks. She knows this. Spice production will slow... until it is only a fraction of what it has been. And when that happens-- We'll have a corner on the scarcest commodity in the universe. You will have a corner in hell. Fedaykin, we who have been scorched know how to stand back to back. I have men here, milady. When religion and politics ride in the same cart... the whirlwind follows. The Golden Path. It's up to you now. The desert storm that can't be stopped. The whirlwind. Leto, don't.
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