Leto thought it the most interesting place in the universe, this place where he awaited the arrival of his current petitioner. By most human standards, it was a gigantic space, the core of an elaborate series of catacombs beneath his Citadel. Radiating chambers thirty meters high and twenty meters wide ran like spokes from the hub where he waited. His cart had been positioned at the center of the hub in a domed and circular chamber four hundred meters in diameter and one hundred meters high at its tallest point above him. He found these dimensions reassuring. While he waited, he the hand and finger exercises of his Bene Gesserit inheritance. The hands were his pride. Beneath a gray membrane of sandtrout skin, their long digits and opposable thumbs could be used much as any human hands. He could crawl, roll and toss his body with astonishing speed, but he sometimes fell on the flippers and there was pain. The door to the human lift between two spoked passages in the northwest arc of the hub swung open. A person strode forth, a small figure at that distance, but Leto's eyes discerned even tiny details.