Dune

It flowed and it went somewhere. You could stand on the bank (as Odrade sometimes thought they did here) and you could observe the flow. A map might tell you where the river went but no map could reveal more essential things. A map could never show intimate movements of the river’s cargo. Where did they go? Maps had limited value in this age. A printout or projection from Archives; that was not the map they required. There had to be a better one somewhere, one attached to all of those lives. You could carry that map in your memory and have it out occasionally for a closer look.

Whatever happened to the Reverend Mother Perinte we sent out last year?

The map-in-the-mind would take over and create a “Perinte Scenario.” It was really yourself on the river, of course, but this made little difference. It still was the map they needed.

We don’t like it that we’re caught in someone else’s currents, that we don’t know what may be revealed at the river’s next bend. We always prefer overflight even though any commanding position must remain part of other currents. Every flow contains unpredictable things.

Odrade looked up to see her three companions watching her. Tamalane and Sheeana had turned their backs to the window.

“Honored Matres have forgotten that clinging to any form of conservatism can be dangerous,” Odrade said. “Have we forgotten it as well?”

They continued to stare at her but they had heard. Become too conservative and you were unprepared for surprises. That was what Muad’Dib had taught them, and his Tyrant son had made the lesson forever unforgettable.

Bellonda’s glum expression did not change.

In the deep recesses of Odrade’s consciousness, Taraza whispered: “Careful, Dar. I was lucky. Quick to grab advantage. Just as you are. But you cannot depend on luck and that is what bothers them. Don’t even expect luck. Much better to trust your water images. Let Bell have her say.”

“Bell,” Odrade said, “I thought you accepted Duncan.”

“Within limits.” Definitely accusatory.

“I think we should go out to the ship.” Sheeana spoke with demanding emphasis. “This is not the place to wait. Do we fear what she may become?”

Tam and Sheeana turned toward the door simultaneously as though the same puppet master controlled their strings.

Odrade found the interruption welcome. Sheeana’s question alarmed them. What could Murbella become? A catalyst, my Sisters. A catalyst.

The wind shook them when they emerged from Central and for once Odrade was thankful for tube transport. Walking could await warmer temperatures without this blustering mini-tempest tugging at their robes.

When they were seated in a private car, Bellonda once more took up her accusatory refrain. “Everything he does could be camouflage.”

Once more, Odrade voiced the oft-repeated Bene Gesserit warning to limit their reliance on Mentats. “Logic is blind and often knows only its own past.”

Tamalane chimed in with unexpected support. “You are getting paranoid, Bell!”

Sheeana spoke more softly. “I’ve heard you say, Bell, that logic is good for playing pyramid chess but often too slow for needs of survival.”

Bellonda sat in glowering silence, only a faint hissing rumble of their tube passage intruding on the quiet.

Wounds must not be taken into the ship.

Odrade matched her tone to Sheeana’s: “Bell, dear Bell. We do not have time to consider all ramifications of our plight. We no longer can say, ‘If this happens, then that must surely follow, and in such a case, our moves must be so and so and so . . . ’”

Bellonda actually chuckled. “Oh, my! The ordinary mind is such a clutter. And I must not demand what we all need and cannot have—sufficient time for every plan.”

It was Bellonda-Mentat speaking, telling them she knew she was flawed by pride in her ordinary mind. What a badly organized, untidy place that was. Imagine what the non-Mentat puts up with, imposing so little order. She reached across the aisle and patted Odrade’s shoulder.

“It’s all right, Dar. I’ll behave.”

What would an outsider think, seeing that exchange? Odrade wondered. All four of them acting in concert for the needs of one Sister.

For the needs of Murbella’s Agony, as well.

People saw only the outside of this Reverend Mother mask they wore.