Disclaimer: Um…please don't tell Brian Herbert I wrote this. Please.
A/N: This one is random. Do you remember that part in Chapterhouse: Dune (in my copy, it's page 188) where Duncan tells Miles Teg about a dog he once had who hated clams and brought them to him constantly? Yes? No? Well…this is sort of based loosely on that. The other ones will be funnier, I promise, I just thought this was a supremely odd idea for a very short chapter.
The Death of Duncan Idaho #43
"Hey, buddy," Duncan said, bending down to scratch behind Leto's ears. It was, of course, imperative that the God Emperor never learned what he had named his dog. "Want to go to the beach?"
Leto jumped up and licked his face enthusiastically, which was answer enough for Duncan. He got the leash, which was really quite unnecessary—ironically enough, the God Emperor's namesake was always well-behaved—and headed out the door, Leto barking joyfully beside him.
"Let's hunt some clams," Duncan said to Leto with a grin.
Ten minutes later, Duncan had settled himself on the sand and was alternately watching the relaxing vista of the sea and the amusing sight of Leto madly digging holes in the sand. He was relentless in pursuit of clams, which were the scum of the earth as far as he was concerned. Watching him scrabble intently at the sand, Duncan had to laugh.
Life was good.
In no time, Leto came trotting toward him with a mouthful of clams, which he laid at his feet with an unmistakable air of pride. "Thanks, old boy," Duncan told him, carefully keeping a straight face so as not to hurt Leto's feelings. He picked up the clams and, with great ceremony, carried them over to a rock he habitually used for his little "picnics".
Methodically, Duncan smashed open the shells of the clams one by one and ate them. Not bad. Luckily, he quite enjoyed raw shellfish, or this would have gotten old long ago. As it was, it was a harmless way to please both his dog and himself.
After a few minutes, Duncan began to wonder where Leto had gotten to. "Letho?" he called through a mouthful of clam. He swallowed and repeated, "Leto?" Where was that dog?
Eventually, a familiar bark from behind a large outcropping reassured him that Leto was simply continuing his hunting out of sight. Duncan relaxed and waited for the next course.
He didn't wait long. Leto ran to him, wagging his tail in an ecstasy of joy. "What a surprise," Duncan exclaimed tolerantly. "More clams!" He took the new batch and set them on the rock in front of him, arranging them in order by size. He would save the biggest for last.
Halfway through the first clam, Duncan noticed that Leto hadn't run off in search of more clams. He was simply sitting by Duncan, watching him eat. Duncan politely offered him a little clam, but he declined. Shrugging, Duncan went back to his food. More for him.
Duncan began to wonder how many more clams he could eat and still have room for supper. Still, he couldn't stand to disappoint Leto, no matter how many clams he had to eat. He cracked open another one and bit into it, closing his eyes as though it would help him appreciate the taste more fully.
He swallowed. "Want to go home soon?" he asked Leto. Leto just sat there, wagging his tail madly and watching him with an odd look. Duncan frowned slightly, wondering where he'd seen that look before…
Shaking off a nonsensical feeling of dread, Duncan opened the next-to-last clam. Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over him, leaving him dizzy. "Oooh, Leto," he groaned, clutching his stomach. "What's in these clams?"
What, indeed? Duncan realized that he had never heard of any sort of illness from raw shellfish that set in this quickly. What was it, then?
And abruptly, Duncan realized something else. He realized that he remembered exactly where he had seen that odd look in Leto's eyes, that odd tilt of the head.
"Face Dancer," he gasped. Another wave of pain hit him, and he fell to the sand, curled in a fetal position. "But…that's impossible…Face Dancers don't…imitate animals." His eyes, slightly unfocused, came to rest on the dog still sitting unmoved, watching him. "…Do they?"
The last thing Duncan remembered clearly was the blurred shape in front of him stretching, elongating, gaining height, and a cold, amused voice saying, "There are many things you do not know about us, Duncan Idaho. And never will."
His last thought was a rueful, Mother, you were right about raw shellfish…I should have listened…
A/N: I warned you. Please don't flame me. I can promise that the next one will be oh so much more amusing…Just have to do research to make sure my details are correct. In the meantime…if you haven't read my other Dune story, feel free to see whether it's as out of character as this one. (Hint: it is.) And please, please review—it makes my day! (Quick question for people who know more about Dune than I do: did Idaho grow up with his mother?? Oh well, it makes a good last thought…)