Dune

She stood in the open door of the Assembly Room looking out at the Botanical Garden. Logno waited four paces behind. Not too close behind me, Logno, or I shall have to kill you.

There was still dew on the lawn beyond the tiles where, when the sun had risen far enough, servants would distribute comfortable chairs and tables. She had ordered a sunny day and Weather had damned well better produce it. Logno’s report was interesting. So the old witch had returned to Buzzell. And she was angry, too. Excellent. Obviously, she knew she was being watched and she had visited her supreme witch to ask for removal from Buzzell, for sanctuary. And she had been refused.

They don’t care that we destroy their limbs just as long as the central body remains hidden.

Speaking over her shoulder to Logno, Dama said: “Bring that old witch to me. And all of her attendants.”

As Logno turned to obey, Dama added: “And begin starving some Futars. I want them hungry.”

“Yes, Dama.”

Someone else moved into Logno’s attendant position. Dama did not turn to identify the replacement. There were always enough aides to carry out necessary orders. One was much like another except in the matter of threat. Logno was a constant threat. Keeps me alert.

Dama inhaled deeply of the fresh air. It was going to be a good day precisely because that was what she desired. She gathered in her secret memories then and let them soothe her.

Guldur be blessed! We’ve found the place to rebuild our strength.

Consolidation of the Old Empire was proceeding as planned. There would not be many witches’ nests left out there and, once that damnable Chapterhouse was found, the limbs could be destroyed at leisure.

Ix, now. There was a problem. Perhaps I should not have killed those two Ixian scientists yesterday.

But the fools had dared demand “more information” from her. Demanded! And after saying they still had no solution to rearming The Weapon. Of course, they did not know it was a weapon. Did they? She could not be sure. So it had been a good thing to kill those two after all. Teach them a lesson.

Bring us answers, not questions.

She liked the order she and her Sisters were creating in the Old Empire. There had been too much wandering about and too many different cultures, too many unstable religions.

Worship of Guldur will serve them as it serves us.

She felt no mystical affinity to her religion. It was a useful tool of power. The roots were well known: Leto II, the one those witches called “The Tyrant,” and his father, Muad’Dib. Consummate power brokers, both of them. Lots of schismatic cells around but those could be weeded out. Keep the essence. It was a well-lubricated machine.

The tyranny of the minority cloaked in the mask of the majority.

That was what the witch Lucilla had recognized. No way to let her live after discovering she knew how to manipulate the masses. The witch nests would have to be found and burned. Lucilla’s perceptiveness clearly was not an isolated example. Her actions betrayed the workings of a school. They taught this thing! Fools! You had to manage reality or things really got out of control.

Logno returned. Dama could always tell the sound of her footsteps. Furtive.

“The old witch will be brought from Buzzell,” Logno said. “And her attendants.”

“Don’t forget about the Futars.”

“I have given the orders, Dama.”

Oily voice! You’d like to feed me to the herd, wouldn’t you, Logno?

“And tighten up security on the cages, Logno. Three more of them escaped last night. They were wandering around in the garden when I awoke.”

“I was told, Dama. More cage guards have been assigned.”

“And don’t tell me they’re harmless without a Handler.”

“I do not believe that, Dama.”

And that’s truth from her, for once. Futars terrify her. Good.

“I believe we have our power base, Logno.” Dama turned, noting that Logno had encroached at least two millimeters into the danger zone. Logno saw it, too, and retreated. As close as you want in front where I can see you, Logno, but not behind my back.

Logno saw the orange blaze in Dama’s eyes and almost knelt. Definite bending of the knees. “It is my eagerness to serve you, Dama!”

Your eagerness to replace me, Logno.

“What of that woman from Gammu? Odd name. What was it?”