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.