Inner Sphere
In his mind Scytale kept a list. In one column he put the melodies he was familiar with. In the other column he put the songs that were new to him. The familiar column was longer but not much. "What's this one called?"
Duncan answered without looking up, continuing to play the baliset: "I'm not really sure about the title anymore, to be honest. Gurney Halleck played this one a lot. It's about a lady on Caladan waiting for her betrothed to return."
"So, it has a text then?"
"It has but don't expect me to start singing it anytime soon. Not while I'm still getting used to playing again." An absentminded smile showed up on his face, not hiding the self-deprecation in the sentiment: "Besides, I never was much of a singer. Gurney had the much better voice."
"Stop selling yourself short, I'm sure it's lovely", Scytale insisted, grabbing a pillow and slouching deeper into the divan. He had never heard Gurney Halleck sing, so he didn't really care. But that was beside the point. Duncan brought him constantly up as a comparison, Scytale didn't really get why. It was not like Duncan had learned to play under Halleck, he had learned that much later, in a cycle of his ghola life. But pointing that out wouldn't have accomplished anything productive, so Scytale kept silent.
It was just that keeping to hear about it made him a bit sad. It was one of the side effects of his empathy clarifying and focusing on the ghola: He sometimes resonated with sentiments that weren't his and sometimes he couldn't figure out their source.
He looked up at Duncan whose attention was focused on the baliset, on the clarity in his eyes. There was no trace left of the fever that had plagued him only days ago. At least not visibly so. When the fever had ended the mental changes that had caused it had stayed, solidifying in subtle ways of behaviour. The way Duncan found excuses to spend time at Scytale's place was maybe not quite as subtle.
The Caladanian song seamlessly went on, changing itself into a new one. A deeply melancholic melody that insisted on being noticed, full of dismal and urgency. Scytale knew that song well. He hadn't heard it since aeons, had almost forgotten about it. He didn't bring it up, feeling it would have been wrong to disturb the music, to bring attention away from it.
It was Duncan who started talking, a few seconds after the song had ended and he had stopped playing entirely. "That's one of the songs I learned when staying with the God Emperor", he silently said, turning towards Scytale but not quite meeting his eyes. "I thought I'd never be able again to play that one again but I managed it after all. And I'm glad I did."
The nice thing about the ghola playing the baliset for him was that Scytale didn't need to think so much about what to say next. The only thing he was required to do was to listen. The irritating thing about listening to the music was that he had to remind himself to stay alert. The music the ghola played sounded lovely and tempted him to let his guard down. Scytale suppressed a sigh, slightly sitting up. "You're not talking about still feeling rusty when playing, aren't you?"
Duncan shook his head, the expression on his face becoming unsettlingly empty. "I played it a lot towards the end. When I started to notice how things around me were beginning to unravel." Duncan paused, gently putting the baliset aside. He always handled the instrument with such care. "Or was it really my mind that had started to unravel? Either way, it felt like the things around me couldn't be relied on anymore. For a long time I had tried to come to peace with... look, I know you don't like it when people call him the tyrant but if you had to live beside him, there sometimes was no other word. Sometimes people just vanished. People you had known for years. Most of the times you'd have a hunch what they had done to offend but sometimes there just was no explanation. Nothing felt reliable anymore. And I knew it would only get worse. The only time I could forget about it all was when playing music."
In Scytale's deepest core a conflict grew, badly restrained empathy clashing with the strongest of his religious beliefs. Finally he had found words that avoided this conflict: "It's only with the likes of the witches where I get angry when they are calling him that. Their words are rooted in ignorance. You served the Prophet, it's different when you speak about your time beside him. In this your experience holds understanding that can't be denied."
Finally Duncan looked him in the eyes, a confused surprise erasing the empty expression on his face.
"It must have been difficult", Scytale said, becoming aware how close to each other they were actually sitting. It had felt much farther when Duncan's attention had been set on the baliset.
"Well. I guess it had been." Duncan brushed a hand through his hair, the gesture only managing to tousle his hair further instead of ordering it. No matter what he did, his hair always looked at least a little bit unruly. "Do you want to know why I felt like I'd never be able to play this song again?" The question had sounded lonely, desperate. As if he had carried a heavy burden for too long. Which taken the length of his ghola memories into consideration very likely had to be the case. Around five thousand years of existence, for the both of them.
Scytale couldn't do anything but nod in agreement to the question. The depths of his empathy had fallen off the rails since it had focused on Duncan but then, it was so painfully easy to relate to him.
"I first heard this song when listening to recordings of Licallo. Does his name say anything to you? He was considered one of the greatest masters on the baliset at the time."
"I've heard of him. I heard some of his recordings."
"He was a genius. There was nothing more beautiful than his music. It's like... he had emotion and restraint, all in perfect balance. I spent hours listening to him." Duncan paused, raw pain gleaming up behind his eyes, an echo of the agony he had been in during his fever. "When I felt nothing in the life under the God Emperor could be relied on anymore, music was the only thing that let me forget. But it could never last. The moment I laid the baliset aside I could feel like everything around me sunk deeper into decay, the rot more visible with every day." He cast down his eyes, voice becoming so silent it was barely more than a whisper. "I knew it would only become worse. And there was no way to change anything, no way for improvement. So I thought I might as well end it as long as I had the strength left to make decisions. I put on a recording of Licallo. And then I made sure I didn't have to feel pain anymore."
Scytale went still, the words he had heard only slowly sinking in. His awareness started aching before he had fully grasped their meaning. Cautiously he reached out, gently starting to brush his fingers through black hair. It felt so soft. Given its unruly darkness you wouldn't have guessed, but it felt so soft. Duncan held still, leaning into the touch. "I never told anyone", he said, sounding completely exhausted. "I must be mad after all, telling a Tleilaxu. You probably already knew about that anyway. Don't these things stand in your documentations about me?"
"I don't know. It's not like I know by heart what's standing in there", Scytale said. The heavy weight on his chest made it hard to speak.
"Maybe the Tyrant hid it. Word getting out about his Duncan killing himself would have raised questions", Duncan sneered, grimacing in pain.
It was then Scytale realised it wasn't pity he felt for the ghola. He just didn't want to see him in pain. Wasn't there anything he could do, anything to lessen the burden? The next moment he reprimanded himself. He wasn't thinking like a Tleilaxu Master. He wasn't thinking like a Face Dancer either. His thoughts were starting to lack reason, becoming irrational. Being aware of that did nothing to make it stop. "I'm sorry." He didn't know why he had said that.
The bitterness on Duncan's face lost its edges, slowly getting replaced by a mild expression that let his eyes appear a liquid blue. "I never brought this up. I never felt there was someone I could tell." He tilted his head, further leaning into Scytale's touch. "It would have been pointless. They'd only ask why I'm pondering about a previous ghola life. Or they'd bless me with their clever insight. Like people pointing out to me I've always had a self-destructive side."
"I see."
"Why is it that people always act like they know all about you just because they ordered you?"
"Is that what happened."
"The God Emperor, the Sisterhood... Everyone acts like they know me because they've met previous versions of me. Isn't that annoying?"
Scytale nodded in agreement. Ordered or not, as a ghola you never quite belonged to yourself. Not fully.
Duncan brushed his fingers over Scytale's cheek, softly, lightly. "It's different with you. The lot of you act as if you know me because you grow me in your tanks... and raise me. And I know you sometimes plant weird habits in my mind. To mess with whoever it is that ordered me. You did it before. You did it now. I used to be angry about that but not anymore. I don't know why."
"Duncan..."
"Don't. I told you I'm not angry. I'm just thinking out loud."
"I that a Mentat thing too?"
Hearing this Duncan smiled, shaking his head. "No. Not in the sense that they teach you to do this. At least my first teacher never did. But sometimes speaking out things aloud can help you make sense of them." He paused, eyes getting distant. "You're one of the few people on this entire ship who knows how to appreciate music. Did you like what you heard today?"
"Yes. A lot." Of course he did. Scytale had always loved music.
"Can I play some time for you again then?"
"Any time you want."
For some reason Duncan had looked like a burden had been taken away from him. "I'm still a little bit rusty. It will only get better from now on, you'll see."
This had been the truth at least. No longer feeling able to confront the weight of Scytale's gaze, Duncan averted his eyes, glancing at the baliset. He was still out of practice, even though he had made progress since starting to play again. But still. He needed to think consciously about so many things that had used to be routine when playing, the knowledge not lost but unacknowledged for far too long.
That's why he hadn't played the one thing he was still trying to get right. With the way the tune of this odd Ascending Bird song kept echoing around his mind, Duncan had figured he might as well try and get it perfect on the baliset. But for this he would still need more practice, there was a complexity woven in the song that made it hard to transfer from memory to music.
Duncan took a deep breath, noticing how the growing silence around them felt peaceful instead of awkward. Lack of practice wasn't the only reason he had played the song now. The truth was, something in the deepest of his core moved when playing it, a corner of his self so lost and lonely he had given up trying to confront it. It brought up hazy memories he couldn't quite grasp, faded images and sounds interwoven in a place that was located more on the side of instinct than reason. He wasn't sure he felt completely averse to this. The next moment he would play the song would be a moment of commitment and that's why Duncan hadn't been able to do it. Not right now though, not when he still kept pondering about the effects his fever from a few days ago had brought with it. Just thinking about it made him tired.
Instead his memories had wandered down other directions, digging up old aches that laid closer to the surface. He must have been crazy to bring up Licallo. But then, what would have been the use in hiding the truth connected to it? No matter where he went these days, there always seemed to wait the recollection of a distant pain that demanded his attention, insisting on getting confronted. If there was a way around it Duncan would not have known it.
He hesitated, suddenly feeling unable to make the slightest move. "Isn't it boring that I keep bringing up these things?"
Scytale's expression got serious. "Why would it be?", he asked, not pretending he didn't understand what Duncan was getting at.
Not knowing how to put this into words Duncan shrugged his shoulders. Why wouldn't it have been? He was so used to be met with annoyance when asking questions about parts of his former selves he didn't have the full memory of, was used of getting confronted with the utter lack of patience the times he insistent his experiences made by former cycles were important and needed consideration. What always seemed to happen was people around him insisting that nothing but the presence of his current self mattered. Focus on nothing but the challenges your self of the now holds. But how was he supposed to do that if his memory seamlessly connected with those of his old selves, giving him the awareness of a connected unit that only grew with every awakening he experienced? How was he supposed to do that? "I don't know. Everyone just always wants me to forget about my former selves. They never get it when I'm trying to explain them that there are no former selves."
Understanding flared up behind Scytale's eyes and his pointy fangs showed up behind a tired grin. "I know how that sounds, but try to not think about it too much. They either understand or they don't. That's just how it goes with primes." The last word had been a hiss dripping with venom, the sentiment full of resigned bitterness.
It wasn't hard to understand what had caused the emotion. In the end Duncan hadn't been in that unique a situation, hadn't been as isolated with what he lived through as he had thought. There were people who could relate. The knowledge felt like a comfort and raised the odd wish in him to make sure Scytale wouldn't regret that he had shared his own feelings about the matter. The simple knowledge that he wasn't all alone already felt like so much.
He didn't know where the thought came from but the realization hit him Bellonda would have wanted him killed immediately if she would have known he felt as much as the sliver of loyalty towards a Tleilaxu. She saw reason in the slightest issue to get him killed, he knew that, but still, for some reason he felt this might have been the incident that would have gotten her wish granted. He remembered a conversation he'd had with Odrade, how she had brought up how he and Scytale would have common ground to talk about the times of Paul Muad'dib's reign, just to immediately ridicule the mere idea.
What were the reasons of the Sisterhood to keep up their animosity, to make sure these two parties they couldn't trust didn't get along with each other? Everyone knew you couldn't trust a Tleilaxu but as Bellonda had made it clear, the Sisterhood saw no reason to trust a ghola raised by them either. No matter what I'll do, in the end I'll always stay a dirty Tleilaxu for them too, Duncan thought, the realisation chilling him to his core. The Sisterhood was loyal to the ones who proved to be loyal to them but the likes of Bellonda had made clear there were restrictions to that. Garimi had been so surprised when hearing he wanted to go with them. At the time he had put it down to her assuming he wanted to stay with Murbella, no matter what, but... Had she actually wished he'd rather stay on Chapterhouse, away from them, far away from them? No matter the loyalty and effort he put in, was he destined to stay the eternal outsider, a presence more tolerated than welcome? We might have ordered you but that is also the reason we can expect you to behave. Duncan didn't know if he felt like behaving anymore.
He felt a soft tugging at his hair, Scytale's hands combing through his hair. "You look sad."
"I'm not. I'm just thinking about a lot of thing."
"Sad things?"
"I don't know. Just stuff I had no time to think about earlier. You know how the Sisterhood always seems to read your mind. So you only focus to what's at hand." It was the truth. On Chapterhouse he always had to be in an alert state of mind: Bellonda had not been the only one searching for reasons to have him killed. The ever present comeyes had not helped to find a moment of rest either.
Scytale nodded, his amber eyes overflowing with compassion. There always had been a calculating edge to him but since a while that appeared to have been chipped away in the moments where it was no one but the two of them. A disturbance rippling the surface.
Unable to keep his hands still Duncan started tracing the collar of Scytale's shirt, fascinated by the contrast of dark green cloth and pale grey skin. "What are the sad things you are thinking about though?"
Scytale froze, a veil setting over his eyes, a glimmer of confusion. "Why would you ask me that?"
Duncan hesitated, gripped by a deep aversion to cause him pain, driven by the knowledge it was pain that kept bringing them closer together. "Because you have that look. As if you're suffering too."
Scytale stayed silent, staring at him with resignation.
"I noticed it since a while. Something's been off since the last time Odrade took you out on one of your walks. What did she say to you?" It was the truth. He had looked downright miserable when he had returned on that day. Things kept happening around Duncan but no one ever told him anything! Even Scytale still kept hiding things from him! "Is it something Sheeana, Garimi and the others would know about?"
The resignation on Scytale's face grew stronger. "Don't ask me questions I can't answer", he said, lowering his gaze. He leant his forehead against Duncan's shoulder, hiding his face out of sight. "And don't make claims you present as mere observations."
Duncan's breath shuddered, the words shaking him. As if he stood under the effect of Voice. He had wanted to say more, so much more, but found he had forgotten what he had wanted to say. As if his mind had been wiped clear. But of course that could only be a false impression, the matter of it all was that he found himself overwhelmed by aeons of memories he couldn't forget. Gripped by an apologetic drive he wrapped his arms around Scytale's shoulders, drawing him closer. "When I'm angry I sometimes keep talking even though I know I should stop. It's a bad habit."
"I thought you're not angry with me."
"I'm not. I'm just... angry at the situation in general."
"And you happen to let that out on me."
"No! I'm..." That's not what he had been doing at all. Everything around him had just felt off since he'd had the fever. Since they had left Chapterhouse. Since Murbella had went through the spice agony. Since getting locked up in the no-ship. Since getting his memories back and losing grip on who he had been before Teg had awoken him.
Duncan brushed his hand through Scytale's hair, messing up the sandy strands. "I just wanted to know if Odrade had said something... stupid to you."
"Well, she did belong to the witches if that's what you wanted to get at."
"See, that's what I meant. Sisterhood will always stay Sisterhood", Duncan said, trying to clarify. Still feeling confused by the numb sensation in his mind he kept carding his fingers through Scytale's hair. He didn't know why so many Tleilaxu kept it that silvery blond colour. It looked off in a subtle way he couldn't properly describe. "Did you know that I once had to disguise myself as a Tleilaxu?"
"Now, did you?", Scytale said, wrapping his arms firmly around Duncan's waist. "How did that one happen?"
"We needed to throw off people searching for our track. It was just recently. I mean, a few years ago, when I was younger."
"And hence smaller, I assume?"
"See, you get where I'm going with this. They didn't do much else than bleach and straighten my hair but it worked, at least for a while."
"I see."
Duncan stilled his hands, looking down at Scytale, trying to meet his eyes. "Are you still angry with me?", he asked, surprised himself how silent his voice had sounded.
Scytale glanced up, no longer avoiding him. "Yes. In fact, I'm pouting." Despite his words there hadn't been any malice in his voice. He had just sounded sad.
The emptiness that had set itself into Duncan's mind spread slowly, dripping into the most forlorn parts of his body. "I just wanted to know if I can do something to help."
"I know. It's nothing, I'm just tired."
A dismal isolation gripped Duncan's chest, making it hard for his breaths to reach the bottom of his lungs. Lies. All he ever got were lies. Scytale was exhausted, he could see as much, but here was much more to the situation than he was being told. But there was nothing to be done about that. You couldn't force trust. If someone didn't trust you they would hide the truth from you, it was that simple. And not really anybody's fault. Not always.
Duncan strengthened his grip around Scytale, drawing him closer. He needed time. You could erase distrust if you only had time. "It's just. I've been feeling lonely." He had. Not just since he had decided to leave Chapterhouse. Solid isolation had become a constant part of his self, so firmly set in his deepest core that he hadn't really noticed anymore that it had been there. The clarity of new realizations had made him aware of that too. It was as if until recently he had been blindly stumbling on foreign ground, nothing but dull sound and chipped skin to make sense of his surroundings.
A small warm hand brushed over his brows, setting aside a strand of hair that had hindered the sight of his eyes. "You must have been. I'm sorry."
The abyss around him had grown too much. Duncan couldn't stand it anymore. Nothing had made sense since a long time and the only remedy that promised oblivion was too close and too far away at the same time. Slowly he leaned down, leaning his forehead against Scytale's. Duncan froze, gripped by a strange hesitation. He put his hand on Scytale's nape, holding him in place. The next moment he felt something warm and light brush against the corner of his mouth, the lightest ghost of a kiss. Not so alone anymore then. Unable to hold still any longer he pulled Scytale on his lap with arms rendered clumsy by the jittering current rushing through his muscles. He pressed a firm kiss on Scytale's mouth, a kiss Duncan knew had to be too wet and too rough to be enjoyable. He couldn't help it; his muscles still felt so heavy. Through the haze of it all he felt Scytale gripping his arms, his shoulder, clawing at the cloth of Duncan's jacket. Moving felt clumsy but breathing had gotten easier. Duncan had no recollection who of them had deepened their kiss. He decided that he answer to this couldn't be that important, welcoming instead how the hot and wet sensation he got lost in made it hard to think.
He couldn't remember who had ended their kiss either. It didn't matter. The only important thing was that Scytale was still here in Duncan's lap, head leaning against his shoulders, making no attempt to move. Duncan put his arm around his waist, pulling him closer, holding on tight.
Duncan's muscles ached, pierced from a tension that had held them in its grip. But now he could breathe again. The memory of the pain would lessen.
It was Scytale who ended their silence: "Duncan? There's something I wanted to say earlier."
"Yes?"
"I felt lonely too."
Feeling the leaden heaviness in his muscles return, Duncan stayed silent, not knowing what to say.
Up this close he more felt Scytale's whisper than hearing it: "Well, it's just something I wanted to say earlier."
"I had no idea", Duncan said softly, not knowing why it felt like a confession. In his arms he felt Scytale stir, settling in closer. Something about the gesture made Duncan feel apologetic, though he didn't know why. He turned his head, placing a light kiss on Scytale's temple. Following his impulse seemed to have been the right thing, even though he still couldn't say what had caused it. Duncan gave up searching for words or explanations, hoping that staying in place where he was would be enough of an answer.
Call the Haunted
Scytale stirred, realizing he had been sleeping deeply until right now. Mind still lagging in a sleepy state he realized his eyes were still closed and that he was only in the process of gaining consciousness. Yet he knew something had been waking him up though he couldn't say what it was. Memory trickled down, getting noticed by his awareness. Why was he sleeping? The last thing he could remember was being with the ghola, what was he doing sleeping right now? He bolted upright, looking around him with startled eyes.
His panic needed another moment to leave, even though he could see nothing dangerous was going on around him. He had just fallen asleep. Duncan was still with him too, sitting at the other edge of the divan, back turned towards Scytale while playing the baliset. Scytale listened to the music, a sombre but energetic tune, feeling the last traces of his terror leave. So that's what had just woke him up, nothing else to it.
"I didn't plan on falling asleep. I'm sorry", Scytale said, surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded. How long had he been sleeping?
Duncan didn't stop playing but slightly turned towards Scytale. "You looked so tired. I didn't want to wake you up."
Tired? Had he been tired? Well apparently. Scytale looked at the clock bolted to the wall. An Ixian model that displayed standard time alongside local time on Ix. It told him he had slept through the better part of the afternoon. However you wanted to define "afternoon" when travelling through space. He shook his head, resisting the urge to rub his eyes. "I hate space travel. The longer the worse. I always end up with weird sleeping patterns."
Hearing this Duncan smiled. He had a very nice profile, balanced proportions but without it looking too perfect. "It's weird without any sun around, yes. I don't like it that much either."
Scytale sighed in agreement. "Not enough of a sun, yes. And just too much dark around." He grabbed the pillow he had been lying on, scooting closer to Duncan. Letting his elbow rest on the pillow he leaned his head against Duncan's back, resting against him. Duncan paused his playing, not moving a millimetre. "Still tired?"
"No. Not really. Just still in the middle of waking up." He rubbed his head against Duncan's back, for the simple reason that he wanted to. "I like listening to you play, you know?"
"So? I'm glad", Duncan said, continuing the song he had been playing until now. When it had ended he seamlessly continued playing, starting something new. Once again it was a melancholic melody but this one went slower. Scytale needed a moment to realize what song it was. He blamed it on not having heard it on the baliset since many years. Suddenly he felt very cold, ice gripping his body. The horror that slowly crept over his mind was rendering him unable to move.
The thing was, Scytale hadn't had a way of knowing what method in detail had been used to condition the ghola into obedience towards the Tleilaxu. There could be finer details located in behaviour, located in reasoning, in physical abilities. Whatever it was he never had known the details. But that didn't really matter because the base technique that got used for conditioning always stayed the same. After all that was the point of it, designing it so that every Tleilaxu Master in a difficult situation had a chance to render any ghola he encountered useful to his needs. With being ignorant of the details of how this ghola had been raised, Scytale couldn't place it. He couldn't place the reason the ghola had responded on a level this deep to Scytale's attempt to get him imprinted on him.
The melody flowed into the air, carrying a deep emotion and gentle restrain that made it so much more than a sequence of correctly played notes. It was a beautiful piece of music, painfully so.
fear not the twilight of dusk
my beloved
clarifying shadows
give a chance
to see the hidden dark
The thing was, Scytale hadn't lied, this song really had used to be an old folksong. It had already started to fall out of fashion since the days he'd been a prime. He hadn't quite gotten why; he'd always had liked this one a lot. But sometimes that was just the way some things went. During the ending times of the Prophet's reign it already had been rendered into nothing but a tool to adjust the behaviour of a ghola. These days no one knew it as anything else, not even his fellow Masheikhs who all had lived through a ghola existence much longer than his own. His prime had been from an ancient age but for many millennia he hadn't been resurrected. There was a long gap of nothing between his first death and the time his Ewige Wiederkehr had been allowed to start. Compared to the lifespan on everyone else on the council he was an infant, having went through the cycle for five thousand years only. And he had been brought back only because the more thoughtful ones like Plasto had considered it constructive to add a fresh impulse that would bring in something new. Good old Plasto, he had been one of the more reasonable ones, one to operate with consideration. He had been one of the few displaying patience and kindness to the most recent additions to the council, never one giving in to ridicule. And now Scytale was the only one left and with him would end everything connected to the Tleilaxu if he found no way to use what was stored in his nullentropy capsule.
Scytale clutched his chest, feeling like the air he breathed didn't properly reach his lungs anymore. He had no idea what the conditioning of the ghola contained in detail but he hadn't been able to afford wasting the chance of winning his cooperation. He was the only ally he had left.
The music was still trickling in the space around them, sad and slow. Scytale hadn't heard it played this beautiful in years. The pain in his lungs slowly spread, reaching his mind. He didn't know what kind of conditioning the ghola had experienced to respond to the stimulus on a level this deep. Maybe the there was another reason that laid in a cause that was not directly connected, something that had occurred in the long time he had spent offworld. It sometimes was hard to tell with gholas this old. And the poor thing had been so exhausted and lost since a long time. A wave of pity washed over Scytale, an irrational impulse that had set itself into his mind before he had been able to suppress it. He hated feeling pity because no one ever gave him the same consideration. But sometimes he couldn't help it.
He didn't know since when Duncan had stopped playing but he was still sitting there, baliset in his hand, letting Scytale lean against his back. "This was the song from your home you were telling me about the other day. Did you like it?"
"You played it beautifully."
Duncan went tense, softly laying the baliset aside. "I wasn't sure. I thought maybe you did not want to hear it."
"Why?"
"I don't always feel like hearing something I know from back on Caladan. I thought maybe it's the same with you. But you kept humming this one, so I guessed it would be ok."
"No worries", Scytale said. He noticed how the hoarseness in his voice had vanished. And that though it felt difficult right now to keep his voice even. Weird.
Duncan turned around, lying down next to Scytale. He put his arm around him, pulling him close. Scytale didn't resist, thankful for the warmth spreading around him. It made it easier to breathe.
The expression on Duncan's face remained thoughtful, as if there was something on his mind. When he finally spoke he lowered his gaze, almost looking shy. "Do you know what one of the things I like about you is?"
Scytale felt his face getting hot, caught off-guard by the question. "What?"
"You never act as if you already know what I feel or what I'm going to do before I do it."
"Oh I... who keeps acting like that? The witches?"
Duncan huffed, a self-deprecating smile appearing on his face. "If it were only them I could live with it. It's not really important who." He looked at Scytale. "It's just annoying if someone keeps acting as if they know me better than I know myself."
"It must be."
"The point is, you're not like that. You always listen to what I have to say."
Well, Scytale had to if he wanted to know how he could bind the ghola's conditioning to him. But that wasn't the only reason. The thing was, he found Duncan truly interesting. Someone who was worth being listened to. Still. "I don't know. I guess?"
There was still that self-deprecating smile on Duncan's face. "I'm all kinds of sudden today, I know. But it's the truth. I've just been thinking."
"Thinking about what else?" Duncan had been erratic today, if there was a reason for it then it was better to know.
Duncan's eyes got distant, an old pain flaring up behind them. "I was just thinking about the times the God Emperor ordered me. It always went similar: Once I would regain my memories a bunch of Face Dancers would escort me to Arrakis. But once I was there it would still take some time until I was to meet him. In the beginnings I would be alone for some time with his Fish Speakers. I didn't know any of them, it always felt so weird."
Scytale felt himself grimace. He knew the whores from the scattering partially originated from Fish Speakers. "Were they at least nice to you?"
"If I behaved well enough. A new Duncan had expectations to fulfil. But that was not the issue." Duncan tensed and when he continued talking his voice sounded unapologetic bitter. "There's no way I could have ever told this to anyone. But every time I was left alone amongst the Fish Speakers like that I felt abandoned. I was angry the Tleilaxu had left me alone with the God Emperor and... everything. I couldn't figure out why I felt like that but it was the truth. Your Face Dancers kept leaving me alone like this and for this I couldn't forgive them."
Scytale could feel a sharp edged pity solidify in his chest that filled his awareness with pain. He reached out, brushing his hand through Duncan's unruly hair.
Duncan held still, leaning into the touch. For a moment he closed his eyes, as if against his will. When he opened them again his gaze held nothing but resigned sadness. "Will you abandon me too once I'm no longer useful to you?"
No! Of course he wouldn't! The mere idea scared him. Scytale threw his arms around Duncan, pulling him closer. "No. We'll stay together."
Duncan leaned into their touch, tightening his grip around Scytale, deepening their embrace. "If they make me enter another ghola cycle, promise me I can stay with you. Always getting pushed around to stay with someone new, it's hell."
"No one else will get you. You'll stay with us from now on." He would. For the reason alone that Scytale needed his help for restoring what the Tleilaxu had lost. And because it would have been foolish to let a ghola go who displayed such willingness to cooperate. There was also a third reason. Scytale couldn't stand the thought of putting it into words. But that would be alright. Words did not define the essence of a thing, what existed did not need a definition to matter. Better keep it safe in silence.
Duncan leaned slightly back, looking him into the eyes. Faint hope and the last traces of disbelieve laid in disarray on his face. "I wouldn't mind if you were the one making me enter another ghola cycle. As long as you don't make me leave you. Just so you know."
Scytale leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on Duncan's temple. "I won't make you leave again. I promise." He wouldn't. For the third reason alone. The third reason belonged to Scytale alone and he didn't know if he'd ever be able to tell anyone about it. It was that precious.
"Good." There was still fear in Duncan's eyes but he sounded convinced enough. Letting his gaze set on Scytale he continued talking: "Do you know what it's like to constantly getting reminded of an old debt but it's always new people who claim you owe them your loyalty? I'm no longer so sure a debt you have to repay can actually last this long. It's exhausting."
"It must be." The thing was, Scytale couldn't imagine. At least his fellow Masheikhs on the council had always stayed the same. The Face Dancer servants he had grown most fond of had gained their right to enter ghola cycles of their own. His own, reliable Face Dancers! How much he missed them.
He felt warmth on his cheek, Duncan brushing his fingers over Scytale's face. "You understand. Because you actually listen. And because you're exhausted for your own reason", Duncan said, voice gentle. His statement hadn't felt invasive, it had felt like an attempt at understanding.
"You see a lot", Scytale admitted.
When Duncan spoke next there was hesitation in his voice. "I never got to choose where to go next. It feels like now I had the chance to make a decision. Is that alright with you?"
"Yes." Of course it was. "I want you to be here too, you know?"
"Oh. Good."
"It is."
An absentminded smile showed up on Duncan's face. "Does that mean I'm now a dirty Tleilaxu too?"
Scytale had to smile. Duncan kept surprising him but at the same time he didn't behave unexpected. Not really. "I'm afraid so. I'm not sure how that part could be avoided."
"It's intentional after all, yes?"
"It's always been intentional, yes", Scytale admitted. There would have been no use in denying this.
Duncan shook his head, defiance flaring up in his eyes. "It's fine. I don't even want to avoid it."
The statement resonated in Scytale, sharpening a resolute kind of determination he realized had laid dormant in him for too long. The sentiment could only prove to be useful. After all neither he nor Duncan any longer had a mean for escape.
The End
