"As My Prince commands." He turned, looked at this youthful holder of all the dreams which now were distilled into the path which House Corrino would follow. "Church and state. My Prince, even scientific reason and faith, and even more: progress and tradition - all of these are reconciled in the teachings of Muad'Dib. He taught that there are no intransigent opposites except in the beliefs of men and, sometimes, in their dreams. One discovers the future in the past, and both are part of a whole."
In spite of doubts which he could not dispel, Farad'n found himself impressed by these words. He heard a note of reluctant sincerity in Tyekanik's voice, as though the man spoke against inner compulsions.
"And that's why you bring me this... this interpreter of dreams?"
"Yes, My Prince. Perhaps your dream penetrates Time. You win back your consciousness of your inner being when you recognize the universe as a coherent whole. Your dreams... well..."
"But I spoke idly of my dreams," Farad'n protested. "They are a curiosity, no more. I never once suspected that you..."
"My Prince, nothing you do can be unimportant."
"That's very flattering, Tyek. Do you really believe this fellow can see into the heart of great mysteries?"
"I do, My Prince."
"Then let my mother be displeased."
"You will see him?"
"Of course - since you've brought him to displease my mother."
Does he mock me? Tyekanik wondered. And he said: "I must warn you that the old man wears a mask. It is an Ixian device which enables the sightless to see with their skin."
"He is blind?"
"Yes, My Prince."
"Does he know who I am?"
"I told him, My Prince."
"Very well. Let us go to him."
"If My Prince will wait a moment here, I will bring the man to him."
Farad'n looked around the fountain garden, smiled. As good a place as any for this foolishness. "Have you told him what I dreamed?"
"Only in general terms, My Prince. He will ask you for a personal accounting."
"Oh, very well. I'll wait here. Bring the fellow."
Farad'n turned his back, heard Tyekanik retire in haste. A gardener could be seen working just beyond the hedge, the top of a brown-capped head, the flashing of shears poking above the greenery. The movement was hypnotic.
This dream business is nonsense, Farad'n thought. It was wrong of Tyek to do this without consulting me. Strange that Tyek should get religion at his age. And now it's dreams.
Presently he heard footsteps behind him. Tyekanik's familiar positive stride and a more dragging gait. Farad'n turned, stared at the approaching dream interpreter. The Ixian mask was a black, gauzy affair which concealed the face from the forehead to below the chin. There were no eye slits in the mask. If one were to believe the Ixian boasts, the entire mask was a single eye.
Tyekanik stopped two paces from Farad'n, but the masked old man approached to less than a pace.
"The interpreter of dreams," Tyekanik said.
Farad'n nodded.
The masked old man coughed in a remote grunting fashion, as though trying to bring something up from his stomach.
Farad'n was acutely conscious of a sour spice smell from the old man. It emanated from the long grey robe which covered his body.
"Is that mask truly a part of your flesh?" Farad'n asked, realizing he was trying to delay the subject of dreams.
"While I wear it," the old man said, and his voice carried a bitter twang and just a suggestion of Fremen accent. "Your dream," he said. "Tell me."
Farad'n shrugged. Why not? That was why Tyek had brought the old man. Or was it? Doubts gripped Farad'n and he asked: "Are you truly a practitioner of oneiromancy?"
"I have come to interpret your dream, Puissant Lord."
Again Farad'n shrugged. This masked figure made him nervous and he glanced at Tyekanik, who remained where he had stopped, arms folded, staring at the fountain.
"Your dream, then," the old man pressed.
Farad'n inhaled deeply, began to relate the dream. It became easier to talk as he got fully into it. He told about the water flowing upward in the well, about the worlds which were atoms dancing in his head, about the snake which transformed itself into a sandworm and exploded in a cloud of dust. Telling about the snake, he was surprised to discover, required more effort. A terrible reluctance inhibited him and this made him angry as he spoke.
The old man remained impassive as Farad'n at last fell silent. The black gauze mask moved slightly to his breathing. Farad'n waited. The silence continued.
Presently Farad'n asked: "Aren't you going to interpret my dream?"
"I have interpreted it," he said, his voice seeming to come from a long distance.
"Well?" Farad'n heard his own voice squeaking, telling him the tension his dream had produced.
Still the old man remained impassively silent.
"Tell me, then!" The anger was obvious in his tone.
"I said I'd interpret," the old man said. "I did not agree to tell you my interpretation."
Even Tyekanik was moved by this, dropping his arms into balled fists at his sides. "What?" he grated.