64 But the lasgun was still humming and, as Moneo's hands slipped
from the cable's severed end, he saw lancing flame strike the cart's
suspensor bubbles, piercing one after another in eruptions of golden smoke.
Moneo stretched his hands over his head as he fell.
65 The smoke! The golden smoke!
66 His robe whipped upward, turning him until his face was directed
downward into the abyss. With his gaze on the depths, he recognized a
maelstrom of boiling rapids there, the mirror of his life-precipitous currents
and plunges, all movement gathering up all substance. Leto's words wound
through his mind on a path of golden smoke: "Caution is the path to
mediocrity. Gliding, passionless mediocrity is all that most people think they
can achieve." Moneo fell freely then in the ecstasy of awareness. The
universe opened for him like clear glass, everything flowing in a no Time.
67 The golden smoke!
68 "Leto!" he screamed. "Siaynoq! I believe!"
69 The robe tore away from his shoulders then. He turned in the wind of
the canyon-one last glimpse of the Royal Cart tipping . . . tipping from the
shattered roadbed. The God Emperor slid out of the open end.
70 Something solid smashed into Moneo's back-his last sensation.