Don't play erudite games with me, girl!
"We would flow in the same stream, eh, Murbella?"
Any Third-Stage acolyte would have become watchfully cautious hearing that tone from Mother Superior. Murbella appeared unmoved. "Except that I will not give him up."
"That is for you to decide."
"Did you let the Lady Jessica decide?"
The way out of this cul-de-sac at last.
Duncan had prompted Murbella to study Jessica's life. Hoping to thwart us! Holos of his performance had ignited severe analysis of records.
"An interesting person," Odrade said.
"Love! After all of your teaching, your conditioning!"
"You did not think her behavior treasonous?"
"Never!"
Delicately now. "But look at consequences: a Kwisatz Haderach... and that grandchild, the Tyrant!" Argument dear to Bellonda's heart.
"Golden Path," Murbella said. "Survival of humankind."
"Famine Times and the Scattering."
Are you watching this, Bell? No matter. You will watch it.
"Honored Matres!" Murbella said.
"All because of Jessica?" Odrade asked. "But Jessica returned to the fold and lived out her years on Caladan."
"Teacher of acolytes!"
"Example to them, as well. See what happens when you defy us?" Defy us, Murbella! Do it more adroitly than Jessica.
"Sometimes you repel me!" Natural honesty forced her to add: "But you know I want what you have."
What we have.
Odrade recalled her own first encounters with Bene Gesserit attractions. Everything of the body done with exquisite precision, senses honed to detect smallest details, muscles trained to perform in marvelous exactitude. These abilities in an Honored Matre could only add a new dimension amplified by bodily speed.
"You're throwing it back on me," Murbella said. "Trying to force my choice when you already know it."
Odrade remained silent. This was a form of argument ancient Jesuits had almost perfected. Simulflow superimposed disputational patterns: Let Murbella do her own convincing. Supply only the most subtle of nudges. Give her small excuses upon which to enlarge.
But hold fast, Murbella, to love for Duncan!
"You're very clever at parading your Sisterhood's advantages past me," Murbella said.
"We are not a cafeteria line!"
An insoucient grin flicked Murbella's mouth. "I'll take one of those and one of these and I think I'd like one of those creamy things over there."
Odrade enjoyed the metaphor but omnipresent watchers had their own appetites. "A diet that might kill you."
"But I see your offerings displayed so attractively. Voice! What a marvelous thing you've cooked up there. I have this wonderful instrument in my throat and you can teach me to play it in that ultimate way."
"Now, you're a concert master."
"I want your ability to influence those around me!"
"To what end, Murbella? For whose goals?"
"If I eat what you eat, will I grow into your kind of toughness: plasteel on the outside and even harder inside?"
"Is that how you see me?"
"The chef at my banquet! And I must eat whatever you bring - for my good and for yours."
She sounded almost manic. An odd person. Sometimes she appeared to be the most wretched of women, pacing her quarters like a caged beast. That mad look in her eyes, orange flecks in the corneas... as there were now.
"Do you still refuse to work on Scytale?"
"Let Sheeana do it."
"Will you coach her?"
"And she will use my coaching on the child!"
They stared at each other, realizing they shared a similar thought. This is not confrontation because each of us wants the other.
"I am committed to you for what you can give me," Murbella said, her voice low. "But you want to know if I may ever act against that commitment?"
"Could you?"
"No more than you could if circumstances demanded it."
"Do you think you will ever regret your decision?"
"Of course I will!" What kind of damnfool question was that? People always had regrets. Murbella said this.
"Just confirming your self-honesty. We like it that you don't fly under false colors."
"You get false ones?"
"Indeed. "
"You must have ways of weeding them out."
"The Agony does that for us. Falsehoods don't come through the Spice."
Odrade sensed Murbella's drumbeat flickering faster.
"And you're not going to demand I give up Duncan?" Very spiny.
"That attachment presents difficulties, but they are your difficulties."
"Another way of asking me to give him up?"
"Accept the possibility, that is all."
"I can't."
"You won't?"
"I mean what I say. I'm incapable."
"And if someone showed you how?"
Murbella stared into Odrade's eyes for a long beat, then: "I almost said that would set me free... but..."
"Yes?"
"I could not be free while he was bound to me."
"Is that renunciation of Honored Matre ways?"
"Renunciation? Wrong word. I've merely grown beyond my former Sisters."
"Former Sisters?"
"Still my Sisters, but they're Sisters of childhood. Some I remember fondly, some I dislike intensely. Playmates in a game that no longer interests me."
"That decision satisfies you?"
"Are you satisfied, Mother Superior?"
Odrade clapped her hands with unrestrained elation. How swiftly Murbella acquired Bene Gesserit riposte!
"Satisfied? What a hellishly deadly word!"
As Odrade spoke, Murbella felt herself move as in a dream to the edge of an abyss, unable to awaken and prevent the plunge. Her stomach ached with secret emptiness and Odrade's next words came from echoing distance.
"The Bene Gesserit is all to a Reverend Mother. You will never be able to forget that."
As quickly as it had come, the dream sensation passed. Mother Superior's next words were cold and immediate.
"Prepare for more advanced training."
Until you meet the Agony - live or die.
Odrade lifted her gaze to the ceiling comeyes. "Send Sheeana in here. She begins at once with her new teacher."
"So you're going to do it! You're going to work on that child."
"Think of him as Bashar Teg," Odrade said. "That helps." And we're not giving you time to reconsider.
"I didn't resist Duncan and I can't argue with you."
"Don't even argue with yourself, Murbella. Pointless. Teg was my father and still I must do this."
Until that moment, Murbella had not realized the force behind Odrade's earlier statement. The Bene Gesserit is all to a Reverend Mother. Great Dur protect me! Will I be like that?
We witness a passing phase of eternity. Important things happen but some people never notice. Accidents intervene. You are not present at episodes. You depend on reports. And people shutter their minds. What good are reports? History in a news account? Preselected at an editorial conference, digested and excreted by prejudice? Accounts you need seldom come from those who make history. Diaries, memoirs and autobiographies are subjective forms of special pleading. Archives are crammed with such suspect stuff.
- Darwi Odrade
Scytale noticed the excitement of guards and others when he reached the barrier at the end of his corridor. Rapid movement of people, especially this early in the day, had attracted him first and sent him to the barrier. There went that Suk doctor, Jalanto. He recognized her from the time Odrade had sent her "because you are looking ill." Another Reverend Mother to spy on me!
Ahhhh, Murbella's baby. That was why this rushing around and the Suk.
But who were all those others? Bene Gesserit robes in an abundance he had never before seen here. Not just acolytes. Reverend Mothers outnumbered the others he saw rushing about down there. They reminded him of great carrion birds. There went an acolyte at last, carrying a child on her shoulders. Very mysterious. If only I had a link to Shipsystems!
He leaned against a wall and waited but the people vanished into various hatches and doorways. Some destinations he could place with fair certainty, others remained a mystery.
By the Holy Prophet! There went Mother Superior herself. She went through a wider doorway where most of the others had gone.
Useless to ask Odrade when next he saw her. She had him in her trap now.
The Prophet is here and in powindah hands!
When no more people appeared in the corridor, Scytale returned to his quarters. The Identification monitor at his doorway flickered at his passage but he forced himself not to look at it. ID is the key. With his knowledge, this flaw in the Ixian ship's control system beckoned like a siren.
When I move, they will not give me much time.
It would be an act of desperation with ship and contents hostage. Seconds in which to succeed. Who knew what false panels might have been built, what secret hatches where those awful women could leap out at him. He dared not gamble before exhausting all other avenues. Especially now... with the Prophet restored.
Tricky witches. What else did they change in this ship? A disquieting thought. Does my knowledge still apply?
The presence of Scytale beyond the barrier had not escaped Odrade's notice but she had other matters to concern her. Murbella's accouchement (she liked the ancient term) had come at an opportune moment. Odrade wanted a distracted Idaho with her for Sheeana's attempt at restoring the Bashar's memories. Idaho was often distracted by thoughts of Murbella. And Murbella obviously could not be with him here, not just now.
Odrade maintained prudent watchfulness in his presence. He was, after all, a Mentat.
She had found him at his console again. As she emerged from the dropchute into the access corridor to his quarters, she heard the clicking of relays and that characteristic buzzing of the comfield and knew immediately where to find him.
He revealed an odd mood when she took him into the observation room where they would monitor Sheeana and the child.
Worry about Murbella? Or about what they would presently see?
The observation room was long and narrow. Three rows of chairs faced the seewall common with the secret room where the experiment would occur. The observation area had been left in gray gloom with only two tiny glowglobes at upper corners behind the chairs.
Two Suks were present... although Odrade worried that they might be ineffective. Jalanto, the Suk Idaho considered their best, was with Murbella.
Demonstrate our concern. It's real enough.
Slingchairs had been set up along the seewall. An emergency access hatch into the other room was near at hand.
Streggi brought the child down the outer passage where he would not see the watchers and took him into the room. It had been prepared under Murbella's directions: a bedroom, some of his own things brought from his quarters and some things from the rooms shared by Idaho and Murbella.
An animal's cave, Odrade thought. There was a shabbiness about the place that came from the deliberate disarray often found in Idaho's chambers: discarded clothing on a slingchair, sandals in a corner. The sleeping mat was one Idaho and Murbella had used. Inspecting it earlier, Odrade had noted that smell akin to saliva, an intimate sexual odor. That, too, would work unconsciously on Teg.
Here is where the wild things originate, the things we cannot suppress. What daring, to think we can control this. But we must.
As Streggi undressed the boy and left him naked on the mat, Odrade found her pulse quickening. She shifted her chair forward, noticing her Bene Gesserit companions imitate the same hitching motion.
Dear me, she thought. Are we nothing but voyeurs?
Such thoughts were necessary at this moment but she felt them demean her. She lost something in that intrusion. Extremely non-Bene Gesserit thinking. But very human!
Duncan had lapsed into a studied air of indifference, an easily recognized pretense. Too much subjectivity in his thoughts for him to function well as a Mentat. And that was precisely how she wanted him now. Participation Mystique. Orgasm as energizer. Bell had recognized it correctly.
To one of three nearby Proctors, all chosen for strength and here ostensibly as observers, Odrade said: "The ghola wants his original memories restored and fears that utterly. That's the major barrier to be sundered."
"Bullcrap!" Idaho said. "You know what we have working for us right now? His mother was one of you and she gave him the deep training. How likely is it she failed to protect him against your Imprinters?"
Odrade turned sharply toward him. Mentat? No, he was back in his immediate past, reliving and making comparisons. That reference to Imprinters, though... Was that how the first "sexual collision" with Murbella restored memories of other ghola-lifetimes? Deep resistance against imprinting?
The Proctor Odrade had addressed chose to ignore this impertinent interruption. She had read the Archives material when Bellonda briefed her. All three of them knew they might be called on to kill the ghola-child. Did he have powers dangerous to them? The watchers would not know until (or unless) Sheeana succeeded.
To Idaho, Odrade said: "Streggi told him why he is here."
"What did she tell him?" Very peremptory with Mother Superior. The Proctors glared at him.
Odrade held her voice to deliberate mildness. "Streggi told him Sheeana would restore his memories."
"What did he say?"
"Why isn't Duncan Idaho doing it?"
"She answered him honestly?" Getting some of his own back.
"Honestly but revealing nothing. Streggi told him Sheeana had a better way. And that you approved."
"Look at him! He isn't even moving. You haven't drugged him, have you?"
Idaho glared back at the Proctors.
"We wouldn't dare. But he is focused inward. You do recall the necessity for that, don't you?"
Idaho sank back into his chair, shoulders slumping. "Murbella keeps saying: 'He's just a child. He's just a child.' You know we had a fight over it."
"I thought your argument pertinent. The Bashar was not a child. It's the Bashar we're awakening."
He raised crossed fingers. "I hope."
She drew back, looking at the crossed fingers. " I didn't know you were superstitious, Duncan."
"I'd pray to Dur if I thought it would help."
He remembers his own re-awakening pains.
"Don't reveal compassion," he muttered. "Turn it back on him. Keep him focused inward. You want his anger."
Those were words from his own practique.
Abruptly, he said: "This may be the stupidest thing I ever suggested. I should go and be with Murbella."
"You're in good company, Duncan. And there's nothing you can do for Murbella right now. Look!" As Teg leaped off the mat and stared up at the ceiling comeyes.
"Isn't someone coming to help me?" Teg demanded. More desperation in his voice than predicted for this stage. "Where's Duncan Idaho?"
Odrade put a hand on Idaho's arm as he hitched forward. "Stay where you are, Duncan. You can't help him, either. Not yet."
"Isn't someone going to tell me what to do?" The young voice had a lonely, piping sound. "What're you going to do?"
Sheeana's cue and she entered the room through a hidden hatch behind Teg. "Here I am." She wore only a gossamer robe of pale blue, almost transparent. It clung to her as she strode around to face the boy.
He gawked. This was a Reverend Mother? He had never seen one robed that way. "You're going to give me back my memories?" Doubt and desperation.
"I will help you give them back to yourself." As she spoke, she slipped out of the robe and tossed it aside. It floated to the floor like a great blue butterfly.
Teg stared at her. "What're you doing?"
"What do you think I'm doing?" She sat down beside him and put a hand on his penis.
His head tipped forward as though pushed from behind and he stared at her hand as an erection formed in it.
"Why're you doing that?"
"Don't you know?"
"No!"
"The Bashar would know."
He looked up at her face so close to his. "You know! Why won't you tell me?"
"I'm not your memory!"
"Why're you humming like that?"
She put her lips against his neck. The humming was clear to the watchers. Murbella called it an intensifier, feedback keyed to the sexual response. It grew louder.
"What're you doing?" Almost a shriek as she sat him astraddle of her. She swayed, massaging the small of his back.
"Answer me, damn you!" A definite shriek.
Where did that "damn you!" come from? Odrade wondered.
Sheeana slipped him into her. "Here's your answer!"
His mouth formed a soundless "Ohhhhhhhhh."
The watchers saw her concentration on Teg's eyes but Sheeana watched him with other senses as well.
"Feel the tensing of his thighs, the telltale vagus pulse and especially note the darkening of his nipples. When you have him at that point, sustain it until his pupils dilate."
"Imprinter!" Teg's scream made the watchers jump.
He beat his fists against Sheeana's shoulders. All of them at the seewall observed an inner flickering of his eyes as he twisted back and forth, something new peering out of him.
Odrade was on her feet. "Has something gone wrong?"
Idaho remained in his chair. "What I predicted."
Sheeana thrust Teg away to escape his clawing fingers.
He sprawled to the floor and whirled with a speed that shocked the watchers. Sheeana and Teg confronted each other for several long heartbeats. Slowly, he straightened and only then did he look down at himself. Presently, he lifted his attention to his left arm held in front of him. His gaze went to the ceiling, to each wall in turn. Again, he looked at his body.
"What in the nether hell..." Still childish piping but oddly matured.
"Welcome, ghola-Bashar," Sheeana said.
"You were trying to imprint me!" Angry accusation. "You think my mother didn't teach me how to prevent that?" A distant expression came over his face. "Ghola?"
"Some prefer to think of you as a clone."
"Who're... Sheeana!" He whirled, looking all around the room. It had been selected for its concealed access, no visible hatches. "Where are we?"
"In the no-ship you took to Dune just before you were killed there." Still according to the rules.
"Killed..." Again, he looked at his hands. Watchers could almost see ghola-imposed filters drop from his memories. "I was killed... on Dune?" Almost plaintive.
"Heroic to the end," Sheeana said.
"My... the men I took from Gammu... were they..."
"Honored Matres made an example of Dune. It's a lifeless ball, charred to cinders."
Anger touched his features. He sat and crossed his legs, placing a clenched fist on each knee. "Yes... I learned that in the history of the... of me." Again, he glanced at Sheeana. She remained seated on the mat, quite still. This was such a plunge into memories as only one who had been through the Agony could appreciate. Utter stillness was required now.
Odrade whispered: "Don't interfere, Sheeana. Let it happen. Let him work it out." She made a hand-signal to the three Proctors. They went to the access hatch, watching her instead of the secret room.
"I find it odd to consider myself a subject of history," Teg said. The child's voice but that recurring sense of maturity in it. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.
In the observation room, Odrade sank back into her chair and asked: "What did you see, Duncan?"
"When Sheeana pushed him away from her, he turned with a swiftness I have never seen except in Murbella."
"Faster even than that."
"Perhaps... it's because his body is young and we have given him prana-bindu training."
"Something else. You alerted us, Duncan. An unknown in Atreides marker cells." She glanced at the watchful Proctors and shook her head. No. Not yet. "Damn that mother of his! Hypnoinduction to block an Imprinter and she hid it from us."
"But look what she gave us," Idaho said. "A more effective way to restore memories."
"We should have seen that on our own!" Odrade felt anger at herself. "Scytale claims Tleilaxu used pain and confrontation. I wonder."
"Ask him. "
"It's not that simple. Our Truthsayers are not certain of him."
"He is opaque."
"When have you studied him?"
"Dar! I have access to comeye records."
" I know, but..."
"Dammit! Will you keep your eyes on Teg? Look at him! What's happening?"
Odrade snapped her attention to the seated child.
Teg looked at the comeyes, an expression of terrible intensity on his face.
It had been for him like awakening from sleep in the stress of conflict, an aide's hand shaking him. Something needed his attention! He recalled sitting in the no-ship's command center, Dar standing beside him with a hand on his neck. Scratching him? Something urgent to do. What? His body felt wrong. Gammu... and now they were on Dune and... He remembered different things: childhood on Chapterhouse? Dar as... as... More memories meshed. They tried to imprint me!
Awareness flowed around this thought like a river spreading itself for a rock.
"Dar! Are you there? You're there!"
Odrade sat back and put a hand to her chin. What now?
"Mother!" What an accusatory tone!
Odrade touched a transplate beside her chair. "Hello, Miles. Shall we go for a walk in the orchards?"
"No more games, Dar. I know why you need me. I warn you, though: Violence projects the wrong kinds of people into power. As if you didn't know!"
"Still loyal to the Sisterhood, Miles, in spite of what we just tried?"
He glanced at the watchful Sheeana. "Still your obedient dog."
Odrade shot an accusatory look at the smiling Idaho. "You and your damned stories!"
