Dune

“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.