Find me a rebel and I will show you a closet aristocrat. Find me a priest and I will show you a greedy merchant. Find me a wanderer unfazed by the seduction of power; on her I will rest the weight of my kingdom.
- THE GOD-EMPEROR, FROM THE THE DAR-ES-BALAT DIARIES
Fragment from Master Scytale's autobiography "Dust Motes, Dancing in Unspeakable Light"
"They are in. They are in," softly spoke the guards.
No-globe's doors wide open, my body slumped
Against tanks divine; the holy tanks I built
Of human breath and flesh, a Law-defined.
Spilled across the room, a faceless, nameless crowd,
Cared not, knew not, of the tanks that I had made,
Best that way, best that way,
The rabble did not care.
Under failing lights the crowd stood there
Across the no-globe's open breach;
Aim-less, plan-less
Like puppets without speech;
Then armed men moved about,
Among them, with martial clout,
They took position among the crowd,
And all the lights went out.
Shots fired across the board
Between Sheaana's guards and foes
Amidst the rageful mob, like mindless mice,
Amidst holy tanks spilling spice.
A perfumed smell came to me,
Sheeana's hand, soft and free,
Grasped mine; my other hand
Clutched my chest, for shielded in the flesh,
Was the nullentropy sphere;
Let no one know of its existence
For its persistence
Was my act of resistance.
Where could I, the Last Master, run?
Shots were fired above our heads
Guards retracing every step
Toward the back, to escape;
Throw myself into a tank?
For not known to many
Its churning fluid
Is breathable; but sank did
That thought, as never I had meant
To leave axolotl tanks in powindah hands.
"Sheeana, Sheeana where are You?"
I screamed with sorrow and concern.
It's said God's own words are bonfires of hope
When they burn in a Faithful's heart;
But I'd digress if I did not confess
My heart stayed grievously dark.
For how can a Tleilaxu Master,
Who's promised serial resurrection,
Face death with no ghola ready for him,
And engage in end-of-life introspection?
Instead to God I screamed, asked why He
Among the Masters had chosen me, the least able,
For ultimate tribulation. The answer came;
Not as words but deeds, as God's answers are unspeakable.
My wall of fear did crumble
As I saw Sheeana stumble
Toward the crowd; the blinding lights turned on;
And not a shot did rumble.
"Get away, get away!"
Her guards screamed
And so did I, for one can't stand
His own master or mistress' life to end.
She stood humbly by the crowd,
Yet a force to behold;
Divinity does not deal
In disguises under which to conceal.
Eyes and movements oddly magnetic,
The horrible crowd seemed to soothe;
Lamb among wolves, Her persona ascetic
She professed the most invincible of truths.
Her arms raised in an act of blessing,
They fell to the ground, recognition flashing
Among the rabble's many faces. That was the rabble, the outcasts
Who recognized Her from the public broadcasts.
Like tugged by a gentle hand
The mindless people fell to the ground, Sheeana-fearing;
The armed enemy was left standing.
A flash of light, and the stragglers' sight
From me was concealed; I blinked,
And realized, where a dozen foes
Had stood, was only air;
On the ground their lifeless bodies lied.
Was it by pistol, or lasgun,
Or was it Sheeana's choice
To unleash her devilish voice,
A voice burning like the sun.
Lightning struck me,
For in that moment I believed;
In plain sight was my answer:
God's Holy Dancer.
Only then did Holy Sheeana lower her hands.
And I reckoned, by grace of the unspoken God
That She was the one the Prophet foresaw.
And so I called up to Him,
To the Shariat and the Wise Masters,
for mortal danger had me persuaded
That desire and faith need not be separated.
As I stood kneeling in fear and awe,
Sheeana's guards dragged me on.