Chapterhouse: Dune

by Frank Herbert

  Yes, we are like rocks rubbed against each other for so long that each takes on some of the conforming shape required by the other. But the original rock is still there at the core!

  The audience was becoming restive. They knew this was preliminary, no matter the hidden message within these hints about Tleilaxu. Preliminary and relative in importance. Odrade stepped to Bellonda's side, signaling her to cut it short.

  "Here is Mother Superior."

  How hard the old patterns die. Does Bell think they don't recognize me?

  Odrade spoke in compelling tones, just short of Voice.

  "Actions have been taken that require me to meet on Junction with Honored Matre leadership, a meeting from which I may not emerge alive. I probably will not survive. That meeting will be partly distraction. We are about to punish them."

  Odrade waited for murmurs to subside, hearing both agreement and disagreement in the sounds. Interesting. The ones who agreed were closer to the stage and farther back among new acolytes. Disagreement from advanced acolytes? Yes. They knew the warning: We dare not feed that fire.

  She pitched her voice lower, letting remotes carry it to those in the high tiers. "Before leaving, I will Share with more than one Sister. These times require such caution."

  "Your plan?" "What will you do?" Questions were shouted at her from many places.

  "We will feint at Gammu. That should drive Honored Matre allies to Junction. We then will take Junction and, I hope, capture the Spider Queen."

  "The attack will occur while you are on Junction?" This question came from Garimi, a sober-faced Proctor directly below Odrade.

  "That is the plan. I will be transmitting my observations to the attackers." Odrade gestured to Teg seated on Streggi's shoulders. "The Bashar will lead the attack in person."

  "Who goes with you?" "Yes. Who are you taking?" No mistaking the worry in those cries. So the word has not yet spread through Chapterhouse.

  "Tam and Dortujla," Odrade said.

  "Who will Share with you?" Garimi again. Indeed! That is the political question of most interest. Who may succeed

  Mother Superior? Odrade heard nervous stirring behind her. Bellonda excited? Not you, Bell. You already know that.

  "Murbella and Sheeana," Odrade said. "And one other if Proctors care to name a candidate."

  Proctors formed little consulting groups, shouting suggestions from group to group, but no names were submitted. Someone had a question though: "Why Murbella?"

  "Who knows Honored Matres better?" Odrade asked.

  That silenced them.

  Garimi moved closer to the stage and looked up at Odrade with a penetrating stare. Don't try to mislead a Reverend Mother, Darwi Odrade! "After our feint at Gammu, they will be even more alert and reinforced on Junction. What makes you think we can take them?"

  Odrade stepped aside and motioned Streggi forward with Teg.

  Teg had been watching Odrade's performance with fascination. He looked down now at Garimi. She was currently Chief Assignment Proctor and no doubt had been chosen to speak for a bloc of Sisters. It occurred to Teg then that this ludicrous position on the shoulders of an acolyte had been planned by Odrade for reasons other than those she voiced.

  To put my eyes closer to a level with adults around me ... but also to remind them of my lesser stature, to reassure them that a Bene Gesserit (if only an acolyte) still controls my movements.

  "I will not go into all of the weaponry details at the moment," he said. Damn this piping voice! He had their attention, though. "But we are going for mobility, for decoys that will destroy a great deal of the area around them if a lasgun beam hits them ... and we are going to englobe Junction with devices to reveal the movements of their no-ships."

  When they continued to stare at him, he said: "If Mother Superior confirms my previous knowledge of Junction, we will know our enemy's positions intimately. There should not be significant changes. Not enough time has passed."

  Surprise and the unexpected. What else did they expect from their Mentat Bashar? He stared back at Garimi, daring her to voice more doubts of his military ability.

  She had another question. "Are we to presume that Duncan Idaho advises you on weapons?"

  "When you have the best, you would be a fool not to use it," he said.

  "But will he accompany you as Weapons Master?"

  "He chooses not to leave the ship and you all know why. What is the meaning of that question?"

  He had deflected her and silenced her and she did not like it. A man should not be able to maneuver a Reverend Mother that way!

  Odrade stepped forward and put a hand on Teg's arm. "Have you all forgotten that this ghola is our loyal friend, Miles Teg?" She stared at particular faces in the throng, choosing ones she was certain watchdogged the comeyes and knew Teg was her father, moving her gaze from face to face with a deliberate slowness that could not be misinterpreted.

  Is there one among you who dares cry "nepotism"? Then look once more at his record in our service!

  Sounds of the Convocation became once more those in keeping with other graces they expected in assemblies. No more vulgar clash of demanding voices vying for attention. Now, they fitted their speech into a pattern much like plain-song and yet not quite a chant. Voices moved and flowed together. Odrade always found this remarkable. No one directed the harmony. It happened because they were Bene Gesserit. Naturally. This was the only explanation they needed. It happened because they were practiced in adjusting to each other. The dance of their everyday movements continued in their voices. Partners no matter transitory disagreements.

  I will miss this.

  "It is never enough to make accurate predictions of distressful events," she said. "Who knows this better than we? Is there one among us who has not learned the lesson of the Kwisatz Haderach?"

  No need to elaborate. Evil prediction should not alter their course. That kept Bellonda silent. The Bene Gesserit were enlightened. Not dullards who attacked the bearer of bad tidings. Discount the messenger? (Who could expect anything useful from the likes of that one?) That was a pattern to be avoided at all costs. Will we silence disagreeable messengers, thinking the deep silence of death obliterates the message? The

  Bene Gesserit knew better than that! Death makes a prophet's voice louder. Martyrs are truly dangerous.

  Odrade watched reflexive awareness spread through the room, even up to the highest tiers.

  We are entering hard times, Sisters, and must accept that. Even Murbella knows it. And she knows now why I was so anxious to make a Sister of her. We all know it one way or another.

  Odrade turned and glanced at Bellonda. No disappointment there. Bell knew why she was not among the chosen. It's our best course, Bell. Infiltrate. Take them before they even suspect what we're doing.

  Shifting her gaze to Murbella, Odrade saw respectful awareness. Murbella was beginning to get her first batches of good advice from Other Memory. The manic stage had passed and she was even regaining a fondness for Duncan. In time perhaps ... Bene Gesserit training assured that she would judge Other Memory on her own. Nothing in Murbella's stance said: "Keep your lousy advice to yourself!" She had historical comparisons and could not evade their obvious message.

  Don't march in the streets with others who share your prejudices. Loud shouts are often the easiest to ignore. "I mean, look at them out there shouting their fool heads off! You want to make common cause with them?"

  I told you, Murbella: Now judge for yourself. "To create change you find leverage points and move them. Beware blind alleys. Offers of high positions are a common distraction paraded before marchers. Leverage points are not all in high office. They are often at economic or communications centers and unless you know this, high office is useless. Even lieutenants can alter our course. Not by changing reports but by burying unwanted orders. Bell sits on orders until she believes them ineffective. I give her orders sometimes for this purpose: so she can play her delaying game. She knows it and yet she plays he
r game anyway. Know this, Murbella! And after we Share, study my performance with great care. "

  Harmony had been achieved but at a cost. Odrade signaled that Convocation was ended, knowing well that all questions had not been answered nor even asked. But the unasked questions would come filtering through Bell where they would get the most appropriate treatment.

  Alert ones among the Sisters would not ask. They already saw her plan.

  As she left the Great Common Room, Odrade felt herself accept full commitment for choices she had made, recognizing previous hesitancy for the first time. There were regrets, but only Murbella and Sheeana might know them.

  Walking behind Bellonda, Odrade thought about the places I will never go, the things I will never see except as a reflection in the life of another.

  It was a form of nostalgia that centered on the Scatterings and this eased her pain. There was just too much for one person to see out there. Even the Bene Gesserit with its accumulated memories could never hope to catch up with all of it, not with every last interesting detail. It was back to grand designs. The Big Picture, the Mainstream. The specialties of my Sisterhood. Here were essentials Mentats employed: patterns, movements of currents and what those currents carried, where they were going. Consequences. Not maps but the flowings.

  At least, I have preserved key elements of our jury-monitored democracy in original form. They may thank me for that one day.

  Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty.

  --The Coda

  "Who expected the air machinery to break down?"

  The Rabbi asked his question of no one in particular. He sat on a low bench, a scroll clutched to his breast. The scroll had been reinforced by modern artifice but it still was old and fragile. He was not sure of the time. Midmorning probably. They had eaten not long ago food that could be described as breakfast.

  "I expected it."

  He appeared to be addressing the scroll. "Passover has come and gone and our door was locked."

  Rebecca came to stand over him. "Please, Rabbi. How does this help Joshua at his labors?"

  "We have not been abandoned," the Rabbi told his scroll. "It is we who have hidden ourselves away. When we cannot be found by strangers, where would anyone look who might help us?"

  He peered up abruptly at Rebecca, owlish behind his glasses. "Have you brought evil to us, Rebecca?"

  She knew his meaning. "Outsiders always think there's something nefarious about the Bene Gesserit," she said.

  "So now I, your Rabbi, am Outsider!"

  "You estrange yourself, Rabbi. I speak from the viewpoint of the Sisterhood you made me help. What they do is often boring. Repetitious but not evil."

  "I made you help? Yes, I did that. Forgive me, Rebecca. If evil joins us, I have done it."

  "Rabbi! Stop this. They are an extended clan. And still, they keep a touchy individualism. Does an extended clan mean nothing to you? Does my dignity offend you?"

  "I tell you, Rebecca, what offends me. By my hand you have learned to follow different books than..." He raised the scroll as though it were a bludgeon.

  "No books at all, Rabbi. Oh, they have a Coda but it's just a collection of reminders, sometimes useful, sometimes to be discarded. They always adjust their Coda to current requirements."

  "There are books that cannot be adjusted, Rebecca!"

  She stared down at him with ill-concealed dismay. Was this how he saw the Sisterhood? Or was it fear talking?

  Joshua came to stand beside her, hands greasy, black smears on forehead and cheeks. "Your suggestion was the right one. It's working again. How long I don't know. The problem is--"

  "You do not know the problem," the Rabbi interrupted.

  "The mechanical problem, Rabbi," Rebecca said. "This no-chamber's field distorts machinery."

  "We could not bring in frictionless machinery," Joshua said. "Too revealing, not to mention the cost."

  "Your machinery is not all that has been distorted."

  Joshua looked at Rebecca with raised eyebrows. What's wrong with him? So Joshua trusted Bene Gesserit insights, too. That offended the Rabbi. His flock sought guidance elsewhere.

  The Rabbi surprised her then. "You think I'm jealous, Rebecca?"

  She shook her head from side to side.

  "You display talents," the Rabbi said, "that others are quick to use. Your suggestion fixed the machinery? These ... these Others told you how?"

  Rebecca shrugged. This was the Rabbi of old, not to be challenged in his own house.

  "I should praise you?" the Rabbi asked. "You have power? Now, you will govern us?"

  "No one, least of all I, ever suggested that, Rabbi." She was offended and did not mind showing it.

  "Forgive me, daughter. That is what you call 'flip.' "

  "I don't need your praise, Rabbi. And of course I forgive."

  "Your Others have something to say about this?"

  "The Bene Gesserit say fear of praise goes back to an ancient prohibition against praising your child because that brings down the wrath of the gods. "

  He bowed his head. "Sometimes a bit of wisdom."

  Joshua appeared embarrassed. "I'm going to try sleeping. I should be rested." He aimed a meaningful glance at the machinery area where a labored rasping could be heard.

  He left them for the darkened end of the chamber, stumbling on a child's toy as he went.

  The Rabbi patted the bench beside him. "Sit, Rebecca."

  She sat.

  "I am fearful for you, for us, for all of the things we represent." He caressed the scroll. "We have been true for so many generations." His gaze swept the room. "And we don't even have a minyan here."

  Rebecca wiped tears from her eyes. "Rabbi, you misjudge the Sisterhood. They wish only to perfect humans and their governments."

  "So they say."

  "So I say. Government, to them, is an art form. You find that amusing?"

  "You arouse my curiosity. Are these women self-deluded by dreams of their own importance?"

  "They think of themselves as watchdogs."

  "Dogs?"

  "Watchdogs, alert to when a lesson may be taught. That is what they seek. Never try to teach someone a lesson he cannot absorb."

  "Always these bits of wisdom." He sounded sad. "And they govern themselves artistically?"

  "They think of themselves as a jury with absolute powers that no law can veto."

  He waved the scroll in front of her nose. "I thought so!"

  "No human law, Rabbi."

  "You tell me these women who make religions to suit themselves believe in a ... in a power greater than themselves."

  "Their belief would not accord with ours, Rabbi, but I do not think it evil."

  "What is this... this belief?"

  "They call it the 'leveling drift.' They see it genetically and as instinct. Brilliant parents are likely to have children closer to the average, for example."

  "A drift. This is a belief?"

  "That is why they avoid prominence. They are advisors, even king-makers on occasion, but they do not want to be in the target foreground."

  "This drift... do they believe there is a Drift-Maker?"

  "They don't assume there is. Only that there is this observable movement."

  "So what do they do in this drift?"

  "They take precautions."

  "In the presence of Satan, I should think so!"

  "They don't oppose the current but seem only to move across it, making it work for them, using the back eddies."

  "Oyyy!"

  "Ancient sailing masters understood this quite well, Rabbi. The Sisterhood has what amounts to current charts telling them places to avoid and where to make their greatest efforts."

  Again, he waved the scroll. "This is no current chart."

  "You misinterpret, Rabbi. They know the fallacies about overwhelming machines." She glanced at the laboring machinery. "They see us in currents machinery cannot breast."

&
nbsp; "These little wisdoms. I do not know, daughter. Meddling in politics, I accept. But in holy matters..."

  "A leveling drift, Rabbi. Mass influence on brilliant innovators who move out of the pack and produce new things. Even when the new helps us, the drift catches the innovator."

  "Who is to say what helps, Rebecca?"

  "I merely tell what they believe. They see taxation as evidence of the drift, taking away free energy that might create more new things. A sensitized person detects it, they say."

  "And these... these Honored Matres?"

  "They fit the pattern. Power-closed government intent on making all potential challengers ineffectual. Screen out the bright ones. Blunt intelligence."