ChapterHouse: Dune dc-6

by Frank Herbert

  Streggi cleared her throat.

  That damnable gesture will have to be suppressed! But the meaning was clear. Streggi had been put in charge of their schedule. We must be going.

  "We got a late start," Odrade said. "We stopped only to stretch our legs and see if you have problems you cannot meet on your own."

  "We can handle the gardeners, Mother Superior."

  Tsimpay's brisk tone said much more and Odrade almost smiled.

  Inspect if you wish, Mother Superior. Look anywhere. You will find Pondrille in Bene Gesserit order.

  Odrade glanced at Tamalane's bus. Some of the people already were returning to the air-conditioned interior. Tamalane stood by the door, well within earshot.

  "I hear good reports of you, Tsimpay," Odrade said. "You can do without our interference. I certainly don't want to intrude on you with an entourage that is far too large." This last loud enough that all would be certain to hear.

  "Where will you spend the night, Mother Superior?"

  "Eldio."

  "I've not been down there for some time but I hear the sea is much smaller."

  "Overflights confirm what you've heard. No need to warn them that we're coming, Tsimpay. They already know. We had to prepare them for this invasion."

  Orchard Mistress Fali took a small step forward. "Mother Superior, if we could get just..."

  "Tell your gardeners, Fali, that they have a choice. They can grumble and wait here until Honored Matres arrive to enslave them or they can elect to go Scattering."

  Odrade returned to her car and sat, eyes closed, until she heard the doors sealed and they were well on their way. Presently, she opened her eyes. They already were out of Pondrille and onto the glassy lane through the southern ring orchards. There was charged silence behind her. Sisters were looking deeply into questions about Mother Superior's behavior back there. An unsatisfactory encounter. Acolytes naturally picked up the mood. Streggi looked glum.

  This weather demanded notice. Words no longer could smooth over the complaints. Good days were measured by lower standards. Everyone knew the reason but changes remained a focal point. Visible. You could not complain about Mother Superior (not without good cause!) but you could grumble about the weather.

  "Why did they have to make it so cold today? Why today when I have to be out in it? Quite warm when we came out but look at it now. And me without proper clothing!"

  Streggi wanted to talk. Well, that's why I brought her. But she had become almost garrulous as enforced intimacy eroded her awe of Mother Superior.

  "Mother Superior, I've been searching in my manuals for an explanation of -"

  "Beware of manuals!" How many times in her life had she heard or spoken those words? "Manuals create habits."

  Streggi had been lectured often about habits. The Bene Gesserit had them - those things the Folk preserved as "Typical of the Witches!" But patterns that allowed others to predict behavior, those must be carefully excised.

  "Then why do we have manuals, Mother Superior?"

  "We have them mainly to disprove them. The Coda is for novices and others in primary training."

  "And the histories?"

  "Never ignore the banality of recorded histories. As a Reverend Mother, you will relearn history in each new moment."

  "Truth is an empty cup." Very proud of her remembered aphorism.

  Odrade almost smiled.

  Streggi is a jewel.

  It was a cautioning thought. Some precious stones could be identified by their impurities. Experts mapped impurities within the stones. A secret fingerprint. People were like that. You often knew them by their defects. The glittering surface told you too little. Good identification required you to look deep inside and see the impurities. There was the gem quality of a total being. What would Van Gogh have been without impurities?

  "It is comments of perceptive cynics, Streggi, things they say about history, that should be your guides before the Agony. Afterward, you will be your own cynic and you will discover your own values. For now, the histories reveal dates and tell you something occurred. Reverend Mothers search out the somethings and learn the prejudices of historians."

  "That's all?" Deeply offended. Why did they waste my time that way?

  "Many histories are largely worthless because prejudiced, written to please one powerful group or another. Wait for your eyes to be opened, my dear. We are the best historians. We were there."

  "And my viewpoint will change daily?" Very introspective.

  "That's a lesson the Bashar reminded us to keep fresh in our minds. The past must be reinterpreted by the present."

  "I'm not sure I will enjoy that, Mother Superior. So many moral decisions."

  Ahhhh, this jewel saw to the heart of it and spoke her mind like a true Bene Gesserit. There were brilliant facets among Streggi's impurities.

  Odrade looked sideways at the pensive acolyte. Long ago, the Sisterhood had ruled that each Sister must make her own moral decisions. Never follow a leader without asking your own questions. That was why moral conditioning of the young took such high priority.

  That is why we like to get our prospective Sisters so young. And it may be why a moral flaw has crept into Sheeana. We got her too late. What do she and Duncan talk about so secretly with their hands?

  "Moral decisions are always easy to recognize," Odrade said. "They are where you abandon self-interest."

  Streggi looked at Odrade with awe. "The courage it must take!"

  "Not courage! Not even desperation. What we do is, in its most basic sense, natural. Things done because there is no other choice."

  "Sometimes you make me feel ignorant, Mother Superior."

  "Excellent! That's beginning wisdom. There are many kinds of ignorance, Streggi. The basest is to follow your own desires without examining them. Sometimes, we do it unconsciously. Hone your sensitivity. Be aware of what you do unconsciously. Always ask: 'When I did that, what was I trying to gain?' "

  They crested the final hill before Eldio and Odrade welcomed a reflexive moment.

  Someone behind her murmured, "There's the sea."

  "Stop here," Odrade ordered as they neared a wide turnout at a curve overlooking the sea. Clairby knew the place and was prepared for it. Odrade often asked him to stop here. He brought them to a halt where she wanted. The car creaked as it settled. They heard the bus pull up behind, a loud voice back there calling on companions to "Look at that!"

  Eldio lay off to Odrade's left far down there: delicate buildings, some raised off the ground on slender pipes, wind passing under and through them. This was far enough south and down off the heights where Central perched that it was much warmer. Small vertical-axis windmills, toys from this distance, whirled at the corners of Eldio's buildings to help power the community. Odrade pointed them out to Streggi.

  "We thought of them as independence from bondage to a complex technology controlled by others."

  As she spoke, Odrade shifted her attention to the right. The sea! It was a dreadfully condensed remnant of its once glorious expanse. Sea Child hated what she saw.

  Warm vapor lifted from the sea. The dim purple of dry hills drew a blurred outline of horizon on the far side of the water. She saw that Weather had introduced a wind to disperse saturated air. The result was a choppy froth of waves beating against the shingle below this vantage.

  There had been a string of fishing villages here, Odrade recalled. Now that the sea had receded, villages lay farther back up the slope. Once, the villages had been a colorful accent along the shore. Much of their population had been siphoned off in the new Scattering. People who remained had built a tram to get their boats to and from the water.

  She approved of this and deplored it. Energy conservation. The whole situation struck her suddenly as grim - like one of those Old Empire geriatric installations where people waited around to die.

  How long until these places die?

  "The sea is so small!" It was a voice from the rear of the car. Odrade reco
gnized it. An Archives clerk. One of Bell's damned spies.

  Leaning forward, Odrade tapped Clairby on the shoulder. "Take us down to the near shore, that cove almost directly below us. I wish to swim in our sea, Clairby, while it still exists."

  Streggi and two other acolytes joined her in the warm waters of the cove. The others walked along the shore or watched this odd scene from the car and bus.

  Mother Superior swimming nude in the sea!

  Odrade felt energizing water around her. Swimming was required because of command decisions she must make.

  How much of this last great sea could they afford to maintain during these final days of their planet's temperate life? The desert was coming - total desert to match that of lost Dune. If the axe-bearer gives us time. The threat felt very close and the chasm deep. Damn this wild talent! Why do I have to know?

  Slowly, Sea Child and wave motions restored her sense of balance. This body of water was a major complication - much more important than scattered small seas and lakes. Moisture lifted from here in significant amounts. Energy to charge unwanted deviations in Weather's barely controlled management. Yet, this sea still fed Chapterhouse. It was a communication and transport route. Sea carriers were cheapest. Energy costs must be balanced against other elements in her decision. But the sea would vanish. That was sure. Whole populations faced new displacements.

  Sea Child's memories interfered. Nostalgia. It blocked paths of proper judgment. How fast must the sea go? That was the question. All of the inevitable relocations and resettlements waited on that decision.

  Best it were done quickly. The pain banished into our past. Let us get on with it!

  She swam to the shallows and looked up at a puzzled Tamalane. Tam's robed skirts were dark with splashings from an unexpected wave. Odrade lifted her head clear of the small surges.

  "Tam! Eliminate the sea as fast as possible. Get Weather to plot a swift dehydration scheme. Food and Transport will have to be brought into it. I'll approve the final plan after our usual review."

  Tamalane turned away without speaking. She beckoned appropriate Sisters to accompany her, glancing only once at Mother Superior as she did this. See! I was right to bring along the necessary cadre!

  Odrade climbed from the water. Wet sand gritted under her feet. Soon, it will be dry sand. She dressed without bothering to towel herself. Clothing gripped her flesh uncomfortably but she ignored this, walking up the strand away from the others, not looking back at the sea.

  Souvenirs of memory must be only that. Things to be taken up and fondled occasionally for evocation of past joys. No joy can be permanent. All is transient. "This, too, shall pass away" applies to all of our living universe.

  Where the beach became loamy dirt and a few sparse plants, she turned finally and looked back at the sea she had just condemned.

  Only life itself mattered, she told herself. And life could not endure without an ongoing thrust of procreation.

  Survival. Our children must survive. The Bene Gesserit must survive!

  No single child was more important than the totality. She accepted this, recognizing it as the species talking to her from her deepest self, the self she had first encountered as Sea Child.

  Odrade allowed Sea Child one last sniff of salt air as they returned to their vehicles and prepared to drive into Eldio. She felt herself grow calm. That essential balance, once learned, did not require a sea to maintain it.

  ***

  Uproot your questions from their ground and the dangling roots will be seen. More questions!

  - Mentat Zensufi

  Dama was in her element.

  Spider Queen!

  She liked the witches' title for her. This was the heart of her web, this new control center on junction. The exterior of the building still did not suit her. Too much Guild complacency in its design. Conservative. But the interior had begun to take on a familiarity that soothed her. She could almost imagine she had never left Dur, that there had been no Futars and the harrowing flight back into the Old Empire.

  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 could 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?"

  "Rebecca, Dama. She and some of her companions have... ahhh, temporarily eluded us. We will find them. They cannot get off the planet."

  "You think I should have kept her here, don't you?"

  "It was wise to think of her as bait, Dama!"

  "She's still bait. That witch we found on Gammu did not go to those people by accident."

  "Yes, Dama."

  Yes, Dama! But the subservient sound in Logno's voice was enjoyable. "Well, get on with it!"

  Logno scurried away.

  There were always those little cells of potential violence meeting secretly somewhere. Building up their mutual charges of hate, swarming out to disrupt the orderly lives around them. Someone always had to clean up after those disruptions. Dama sighed. Terror tactics were so... so temporary!

  Success, that was the danger. It had cost them an empire. If you waved your success around like a banner someone always wanted to cut you down. Envy!

  We will hold our success more cautiously this time.

  She fell into a semi-reverie, still alert to the sounds behind her, but relishing the evidence of new victories that had been displayed to her this morning. She liked to roll the names of captive planets silently on her tongue.

  Wallach, Kronin, Reenol, Ecaz, Bela Tegeuse, Gammu, Gamont, Niushe...

  ***

  Humans are born with a susceptibility to that most persistent and debilitating disease of intellect: self-deception. The best of all possible worlds and the worst get their dramatic coloration from it. As nearly as we can determine, there is no natural immunity. Constant alertness is required.

  - The Coda

  With Odrade away from Central (and probably only for a short time) Bellonda knew swift action was required. That damned Mentat-ghola is too dangerous to live!