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； struggling to swim and regain her breath。 The precious kit floated and bumped against the back of her head。
The Idaho River was not wide here； no more than fifty meters； a gently sweeping curve with sandy indentations fringed by roots and shelving banks of lush reeds and grass where the water refused to stay in the straight lines Leto's engineers had designed。 Siona was strengthened by the knowledge that the D…wolves had been conditioned to stop at the water。 Their territorial boundaries had been drawn； the river on this side and the desert wall on the other side。 Still； she swam the last few meters underwater and surfaced in the shadows of a cutbank before turning and looking back。
The wolf pack stood ranged along the bank； all except one which had e down to the river's edge。 It leaned forward with its forefeet almost into the flow。 She heard it whine。
Siona knew the wolf saw her。 No doubt of that。 D…wolves were noted for their keen eyesight。 There were Gaze Hounds in the ancestry of Leto's forest guardians and he bred the wolves for their eyesight。 She wondered if this once the wolves might break through their conditioning。 They were mostly sight…hunters。 If that one wolf at the river's edge should enter the water； all might follow。 Siona held her breath。 She felt the dragging of exhaustion。 They had e almost thirty kilometers； the last half of it with the D…wolves close behind。
The wolf at the river's edge whined once more then leaped back up to its panions。 At some silent signal； they turned and loped back into the forest。
Siona knew where they would go。 D…wolves were allowed to eat anything they brought down in the Forbidden Forest。 Everyone knew this。 It was why the wolves roamed the forest the guardians of the Sareer。
〃You'll pay for this； Leto；〃 she whispered。 It was a low sound； her voice； very close to the quiet rustling of the water against the reeds just behind her。 〃You'll pay for Ulot； for Kwuteg and for all the others。 You'll pay。〃
She pushed outward gently and drifted with the current until her feet met the first shelving of a narrow beach。 Slowly； her body dragged down by fatigue； she climbed from the water and paused to check that the sealed contents of her kit had remained dry。 The seal was unbroken。 She stared at it a moment in the moonlight； then lifted her gaze to the forest wall across the river。
The price we paid。 Ten dear friends。
Tears glimmered in her eyes； but she had the stuff of the ancient Fremen and her tears were few。 The venture across the river； directly through the forest while the wolves patrolled the northern boundaries； then across the Last Desert of the Sareer and over the Citadel's ramparts…all of this already was assuming dream proportions in her mind。。。even the flight from the wolves which she had anticipated because it was a certainty that the guardian pack would cross the track of the invaders and be waiting。。。all a dream。 It was the past。
I escaped。
She restored the kit with its sealed packet and fastened it once more against her back。
I have broken through your defenses； Leto。
Siona thought then about the cryptic volumes。 She felt certain that something hidden in those lines of cipher would open the way for her revenge。
I will destroy you； Leto！
Not We will destroy you！ That was not Siona's way。 She would do it herself。
She turned and strode toward the orchards beyond the river's mowed border。 As she walked she repeated her oath； adding to it aloud the old Fremen formula which terminated in her full name：
〃Siona Ibn Fuad al…Seyefa Atreides it is who curses you； Leto。 You will pay in full！〃
The following is from the Hadi Benotto translation of the volumes discovered at Dar…es…Balat：
I WAS born Leto Atreides II more than three thousand standard years ago； measuring from the moment when I cause these words to be printed。 My father was Paul Muad'Dib。 My mother was his Fremen consort； Chani。 My maternal grandmother was Faroula； a noted herbalist among the Fremen。 My paternal grandmother was Jessica； a product of the Bene Gesserit breeding scheme in their search for a male who could share the powers of the Sisterhood's Reverend Mothers。 My maternal grandfather was Liet…Kynes； the planetologist who organized the ecological transformation of Arrakis。 My paternal grandfather was Leto Atreides； descendant of the House of Atreus and tracing his ancestry directly back to the Greek original。
Enough of these begats！
My paternal grandfather died as many good Greeks did； attempting to kill his mortal enemy； the old Baron Vladimir Harkonnen。 Both of them rest unfortably now in my ancestral memories。 Even my father is not content。 I have done what he feared to do and now his shade must share in the consequences。
The Golden Path demands it。 And what is the Golden Path？ you ask。 It is the survival of humankind； nothing more nor less。 We who have prescience； we who know the pitfalls in our human futures； this has always been our responsibility。
Survival。
How you feel about this…your petty woes and joys； even your agonies and raptures…seldom concerns us。 My father had this power。 I have it stronger。 We can peer now and again through the veils of Time。
This planet of Arrakis from which I direct my multigalactic Empire is no longer what it was in the days when it was known as Dune。 In those days； the entire planet was a desert。 Now； there is just this little remnant； my Sareer。 No longer does the giant sandworm roam free； producing the spice mйlange。 The spice！ Dune was noteworthy only as the source of melange； the only 。source。 What an extraordinary substance。 No laboratory has ever been able to duplicate it。 And it is the most valuable substance humankind has ever found。
Without melange to ignite the linear prescience of Guild Navigators； people cross the parsecs of space only at a snail's crawl。 Without melange； the Bene Gesserit cannot endow Truthsayers or Reverend Mothers。 Without the geriatric properties of melange； people live and die according to the ancient measure…no more than a hundred years or so。 Now； the only spice is held in Guild and Bene Gesserit storehouses； a few small hoards among the remnants of the Great Houses； and my gigantic hoard which they all covet。 How they would like to raid me！ But they don't dare。 They know I would destroy it all before surrendering it。
No They e hat in hand and petition me for melange。 I dole it out as a reward and hold it back as punishment。 How they hate that。
It is my power； I tell them。 It is my gift。
With it； I create Peace。 They have had more than three thousand years of Leto's Peace。 It is an enforced tranquility which humankind knew only for the briefest periods before my ascendancy。 Lest you have forgotten； study Leto's Peace once more in these； my journals。
I began this account in the first year of my stewardship； in the first throes of my metamorphosis when I was still mostly human； even visibly so。 The sandtrout skin which I accepted （and my father refused） and which gave me greatly amplified strength plus virtual immunity from conventional attack and aging…that skin still covered a form recognizably human： two legs； two arms； a human face framed in the scrolled folds of the sandtrout。
Ahhh； that face！ I still have it…the only human skin I expose to the universe。 All the rest of my flesh has remained covered by the linked bodies of those tiny deep sand vectors which one day can bee giant sandworms。
As they will。。。someday。
I often think about my final metamorphosis； that likeness of death。 I know the way it must e but I do not know the moment or the other players。 This is the one thing I cannot know。 I only know whether the Golden Path continues or ends。
As I cause these words to be recorded； the Golden Path continues and for that； at least； I am content。
I no longer feel the sandtrout cilia probing my flesh； encapsulating the water of my body within their placental barriers。 We are virtually one body now； they my skin and I the force which moves the whole。。。most of the time。
At this writing； the whole could be considered rather gross。 I am what could be called a pre…worm。 My body is about seven meters long and somewhat more than two meters in diameter； ribbed for most of its length； with my Atreides face positioned man…height at one end； the arms and hands （still quite recognizable as human） just below。 My legs and feet？ Well； they are mostly atrophied。 Just flippers； really； and they have wandered back along my body。 The whole of me weighs approximately five old tons。 These items I append because I know they will have historical interest。
How do I carry this weight around？ Mostly on my Royal Cart； which is of Ixian manufacture。 You are shocked？ People invariably hated and feared the Ixians even more than they hated and feared me。 Better the devil you know。 And who knows what the Ixians might manufacture or invent？ Who knows？
I certainly don't。 Not all of it。
But I have a certain sympathy for the Ixians。 They believe so strongly in their technology； their science； their machines。 Because we believe （no matter the content） we understand each other； the Ixians and I。 They make many devices for me and think they earn my gratitude thus。