Sisterhood of Dune

by Brian Herbert; Kevin J. Anderson

  “I wanted them to think!”

  “If Manford Torondo turns his people against you, we may have to abandon the school. You must convince them. Make your apologies—and lie if necessary. Do whatever you must. If they came to lynch you, I would be helpless to defend you—or myself.”

  “I understand, Father. I won’t let that happen, I promise you.”

  “But what if you die, and I am condemned to remain here hidden and helpless? How could I survive? I sacrificed everything for you. I sabotaged the machine defenses at Corrin and brought about the downfall of Omnius, just to save your life!”

  Gilbertus bowed his head. “I know, and I promise I will help you—but first I must convince Manford Torondo that I am no threat.”

  And so, to appease the dissenters, the Headmaster delivered a speech in the school auditorium, in as convincing a tone as he could manage, “We have to stop rationalizing the extent to which technology is acceptable. We should not measure it, but rather stand strong against it.” He had spoken eloquently for the better part of an hour, doing his best to persuade the small but destructively vocal minority that he was sincere.

  His backpedaling and excuses somewhat mollified Alys Carroll and the other angry students, but Gilbertus knew the problem was not over.

  He received word that Manford Torondo intended to investigate, in person.

  * * *

  WHEN THE BUTLERIAN leader came to assess the situation at the Mentat School, Gilbertus realized that this could well be his most dangerous debate.

  Manford arrived by powered boat at the Mentat School’s interconnected floating platforms. He emerged riding on the shoulders of his female Swordmaster, and that in itself was a bad sign. Gilbertus knew the legless man allowed himself to be borne on a palanquin when he simply intended to have a meeting, but he rode upon Anari Idaho’s shoulders whenever he went into battle.

  As he greeted Manford, Gilbertus maintained a steady demeanor of contrition and cooperation. “I apologize, Leader Torondo, that this misunderstanding has brought you away from your more important duties.”

  “This is one of my important duties.” Manford looked around at the buildings. “Your Mentat School should be solidly on the side of righteousness, without equivocation. By training humans to think with the efficiency of computers, you demonstrate our inherent superiority over the thinking machines. But from what my friend Alys Carroll tells me, you have allowed yourself to be … tempted.”

  Gilbertus kept his gaze downcast. “I assure you, it was merely a practice debate, an exercise to challenge the preconceptions of the students—nothing more.”

  “You debated a bit too well, Headmaster, and I must emphasize that you selected a subject that was unsuitable for any debating class, because the matter of thinking machines is undebatable.” With his right hand, Manford nudged Anari, and she walked forward, herding Gilbertus back inside the school. Manford continued, “One more thing. I have always been reticent about your practice of studying combat robots and computer brains as an aid to instruction. Too dangerous.”

  Gilbertus answered in a humble voice, “I understand. After much reflection, I also understand how my recent lesson was misconstrued, and I wish to make amends for my lapse in judgment.”

  A look of approval flickered in Manford’s eyes. “Very well. For our first step, I want you to show me this storehouse where you keep the forbidden machines. Alys Carroll told me that your specimens are not all as deactivated as you claim.”

  Gilbertus gave his best dismissive laugh. “They are merely museum pieces, dismantled components.”

  “Manford said he wants to see this place,” the Swordmaster growled.

  Gilbertus led them through the school buildings, along passages and across bridges; five silent but intense Butlerians also followed them, ready to do anything their leader asked.

  Fishing the key out of his waistcoat pocket, Gilbertus unlocked the door and swung open the entrance to the large storehouse, which was lit by garish glowglobes. Anari and Manford remained in the hall, looking suspiciously inside, while their five Butlerian companions shifted behind them.

  Manford scowled at the combat meks, the weapon arms, the detached robot heads. “I want to accept your claims of loyalty, Headmaster, but this causes me great concern. These evil artifacts should have no place in your teachings.”

  Gilbertus schooled his emotions as Erasmus had taught him. “The mind of man is holy,” he said, reaching his decision. “There cannot be even a semblance of impropriety in the Mentat School. Allow me to take care of it myself.”

  In the storeroom, he found a metal rod that would serve as a cudgel, picked it up, and hefted it in his hand. “Thank you for the opportunity—and for believing in me.” Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, he stepped to the shelf filled with robot heads, raised the cudgel, and brought it down with all of his strength.

  As Erasmus had said, he needed to convince the Butlerians. He smashed the first robot head, crumpling the faceplate and scattering the diamondlike optic threads. He swung the club and knocked two other dismantled heads aside, then he turned and began to furiously batter an intact combat mek.

  Within moments, the enthusiastic Butlerians had grabbed their own makeshift cudgels and joined him in the mayhem.

  * * *

  MANFORD TORONDO’S FOLLOWERS were too eager as they flooded through the Mentat School, peering into the students’ quarters, ransacking possessions, demanding that the students unlock sealed trunks (or breaking open the seals themselves if the students refused). In response to indignant outcries, the Butlerian searchers said, “A Machine Apologist has no right to privacy, and if you are innocent, you have nothing to hide.”

  Gilbertus knew they would reach his chambers soon enough. His pulse raced as they made their way through the corridors.

  Riding on his Swordmaster’s shoulders, Manford had to duck in the door-way as she walked into the Headmaster’s office. Two Butlerians followed them. “I will search your office personally, Headmaster Albans,” Manford said. “Simply a pro forma matter.”

  “By all means,” Gilbertus said, because he could say nothing else. He studied the placid face of the Butlerian leader, trying to detect any hint of genuine suspicion. Did Manford have a reason to target his office, or was he just being thorough?

  Anari Idaho looked at the books on his desk, studying the titles skeptically. “Why do you have so many books about the demon robot Erasmus?”

  “Because it is important to know our enemy.” None of the books shed any positive light on Erasmus whatsoever; some were filled with ridiculous exaggerations, while others were eerily accurate. Gilbertus had been there on Corrin himself, had watched the bloody “panic response” experiments, the dissections of living twins, even some of the supposed “artwork” the robot had fashioned out of entrails and internal organs.

  “No person with a soul can ever understand Erasmus,” Manford said. “I know this for a fact. I have studied his original laboratory journals myself.”

  Gilbertus felt his pulse race. “You have the journals? Might I be allowed to peruse them?”

  “No, Headmaster. Some information is too vile for any other eyes to see. I intend to burn the documents after I have finished with them.”

  The Butlerians pulled out the drawers of his desk, opened cabinets, lifted corners of carpeting in search of hidden lockboxes beneath the floorboards. They took down the curtain rods, unscrewed the finials, and looked inside.

  Gilbertus remained outwardly calm despite his growing fear. If they found the robot’s microscopic spyeyes, if they discovered circuitry connections that led to the secure hiding place, then the robot memory core would be destroyed, Gilbertus executed, the whole Mentat School razed to the ground.

  They took books and keepsakes off the shelves, rapped the backboards looking for secret compartments. Gilbertus tried not to stare at them. His thoughts raced as he considered any possible weakness. He had never expected a search to be so meticulous.


  They moved to the next section of the shelves that contained the secret compartment hiding the robot’s memory core. They pulled books from the top shelf, working their way down.

  “Please be careful,” he blurted out. “Some of those items are valuable.”

  Manford gave a nod to his followers. “No need to be discourteous. The Headmaster has cooperated fully. As I stated before, I do not doubt his loyalty.”

  Gilbertus seized on an idea, a way to distract them from their search. Erasmus himself had suggested that he keep this precious piece of knowledge as a bargaining chip. Now he decided to play it.

  “I have something important to reveal to you, sir—the result of an intricate Mentat projection.” Manford motioned for his followers to stop. Gilbertus leaned forward, lowered his voice. “But this is best discussed in private. If word should leak out before we’re ready…” He looked meaningfully at the followers. “I don’t know these people.”

  Manford pondered a moment, then dismissed the Butlerians. “Anari stays.”

  “That is acceptable.”

  After the other Butlerians had left the office, Manford said, “Very well, I hope this is significant. Tell me more.”

  Gilbertus spoke in a rush. “I believe I have located an extensive abandoned robot outpost, a large shipyard or supply station … perhaps the largest of all. According to my projections, it remains untouched … and waiting for you.”

  “Excellent!” Manford looked very pleased. “We will make an example of it. Good work, Headmaster.”

  “I can give you the full details of my projection. When I am proved right, I hope you will consider it a peace offering, to show you my true loyalty.”

  Manford chuckled. “Headmaster, there has been enough turmoil here at your school, and this unrest, even a potential schism, does not serve my purposes. I need tactically trained Mentats for our continuing work of hunting down forbidden technology and illegal activities, so your Mentats must continue their studies.” Manford adjusted himself in the harness on Anari Idaho’s shoulders. “I’ll issue a statement that I have no concerns about the purity of the Mentat School. I’ll put an end to these mutterings, and all will return to normal.”

  “And we will destroy the shipyards,” Anari Idaho said.

  The first person to successfully negotiate a dangerous path is either the bravest or the most fortunate.

  —PROVERB OF THE SISTERHOOD

  First there were three more Reverend Mothers, guided by Dorotea. And in the giddy rush of the following week, eleven more were successful … while ten less fortunate Sisters perished in agony. Reverend Mother Raquella guided four of the volunteers, having them take the new Rossak drug, coaching them through the process, as she had done before. Three of those four died.

  In all, sixteen women passed through the mental barrier and became superior humans, achieving their true potential.

  Valya was not one of them.

  She had kept the capsule of the Rossak drug that Dorotea had given to her, but Valya wrestled with her decision. Despite being sorely tempted, she had not been able to gather the resolve to make the attempt. Though she sincerely believed she had learned what the Sisterhood could teach her, and knew herself to be more qualified than most of the volunteers who had accepted the risk, she still could not justify the odds. Nearly half of those who tried the poison perished in the attempt.

  And Valya still had much to live for, much to accomplish.

  She had not heard from Griffin in a long time, and longed to be at his side when he defeated Vorian Atreides, but she was here, facing an even more difficult opponent.

  Valya felt like a person standing on the edge of a high and narrow gap, knowing she might be able to leap across—as others had done—but if she failed, the fall would kill her. She was not yet ready to make the leap, and keeping herself alive was not cowardice, she told herself, but a necessity. She had fallen into her own arctic waters of doubt … and her brother was not here to jump in and save her.

  Instead, one afternoon Valya turned to her other primary path to advancement. Smiling, trying to make up for all the attention she had previously given to Dorotea rather than to Anna, she accompanied the Emperor’s sister back to her sleeping quarters in the acolytes’ section. “Why don’t we study the Azhar Book together?” Valya suggested. “I can help you with your lessons. Or we could just talk. Perhaps you would like to tell me how you were able to manipulate your fogwood trees back in Zimia, and the burrowers in their tunnels.”

  Anna brightened. “I’ve got a better idea.” Valya sensed an excitement in the other young woman. All around them the tunnels were empty and quiet. Anna looked around, as if to see if anyone could eavesdrop. She leaned closer, and spoke in an excited rush. “It’s time for me to go through the transformation and become a Reverend Mother! When I succeed, imagine how much help I can be at the Imperial Court—and my brothers wouldn’t be able to tell me what to do anymore.”

  Valya knew the girl was not even close to being prepared for such an ordeal; she was too moody and flighty to be a candidate. “Anna, even I’m not ready. Maybe with a few more years of training—”

  “I can survive, Valya—I know it.” Anna clutched her arm. “Stay with me and help me pass through.”

  Valya reacted with alarm. If Anna Corrino died from the poison, the Emperor would have no choice but to retaliate. And they would blame Valya herself! “No, Anna, don’t talk like that. So many women have died in the attempt. Emperor Salvador would forbid it outright.”

  “I’m my own person, more than just the Emperor’s sister, more than … more than just a Corrino.” Tears sprang to Anna’s eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

  Oh, I know that all too well. Valya tried to give her a reassuring smile. “I’m your friend, Anna. I don’t want you in any danger, so I can’t let you try it … not yet. But if you work hard on your studies, and develop your abilities first—” Valya knew, though, that would never happen; the Princess just didn’t have the focus and determination, other than the stubbornness she displayed on occasion.

  In a huff, Anna turned her back. “I make my own decisions. You don’t control me—as you said, I am the Emperor’s sister.” She reached into her own robe and withdrew a small, dark-blue pill. “If you’re too afraid to become a Reverend Mother, then I will do it—without you.”

  Startled, Valya recognized what looked like the second capsule Sister Dorotea had recently given her. “Where did you get that?”

  “Your own quarters. I found it there, just like I stole the passkey to get into Sister Karee’s lab. You spent so much time with Dorotea, you didn’t even notice!”

  Valya lunged forward to snatch at the pill, but Anna yanked it away. “Stop,” Valya said. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

  “I am so tired of people always telling me that!” Squirming away, she popped the capsule into her mouth and swallowed. Valya watched in horror. Anna stepped back and crossed her arms, smug. “Now there’s nothing you can do.”

  Valya felt cold, knew how swiftly the Rossak drug would act. The Emperor’s sister smiled—then collapsed to the stone floor in convulsions, her face knotted in a scream that could not escape through her clenched jaws.

  Valya dropped to her knees and grabbed Anna’s shoulders, trying to rock her back to awareness, but the young woman was already lost in the depths of her ordeal. The reaction was extreme and another thought chilled her. What if Dorotea had intentionally given Valya a lethal dose, one designed to kill her before she could transform?

  Valya’s heart pounded, and she knew she should summon one of the medical Sisters and get Anna to the infirmary. She looked around wildly for help, but was afraid to be seen here. She was responsible for Anna Corrino!

  Dorotea would know full well where the drug had come from, and that Valya had avoided taking it. She might even have guessed that Valya was too frightened to attempt the transformation yet herself. What if Dorotea had convinced Anna to take
the poison instead?

  Anna continued to writhe and whimper, flailing her arms in unimaginable pain. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

  All of Valya’s hopes of getting close to the Corrinos, of regaining her family status, lay dashed on the chamber floor. How could Anna have done this to her?

  But another thought occurred to her—Anna had already sneaked into Karee’s lab once, so maybe Valya could convince the others that the girl had done it again, stolen a capsule of the Rossak drug, and foolishly swallowed it on her own. Valya would have to replace the capsule, keeping another one in her pockets so she could show Dorotea that she still had it. Then she would be cleared.

  She looked down at Anna Corrino, who lay shuddering and spasming on the stone floor. There was really nothing Valya could do for her—the die was already cast. And one of the acolytes would find her soon enough.

  Moving quickly, alert for any movement in the corridors, she slipped away from the acolyte chambers and hurried to the jungle lab of Karee Marques to prepare the evidence she needed.

  Those who nourish themselves with hatred seldom realize they are starving.

  —ZENSUNNI WARNING

  Though he was groggy and blinded for most of the journey, Griffin knew that his captors were not just taking him to a hiding hole in an Arrakis City slum. He awoke aboard a loud, vibrating aircraft that rose and fell on thermals and updrafts. He recognized the three voices, particularly the raspy woman’s, but they conversed with one another in a language he could not comprehend.

  After he had been awake for several minutes, jostling and bumping in the flying craft, he called out through the opaque hood, “Where are you taking me? Who are you?” His hands were bound, and he couldn’t fight.

  “No questions,” the woman said. He felt the needle-jet against his neck again and fell back into unconsciousness.…