Dune

The significant fact is this: No Bene Tleilax female has ever been seen away from the protection of their core planets. (Face Dancer mules who simulate females do not count in this analysis. They cannot be breeders.) The Tleilaxu sequester their females to keep them from our hands. This is our primary deduction. It must also be in the eggs that the Tleilaxu Masters conceal their most essential secrets.

—BENE GESSERIT ANALYSIS, ARCHIVES #XOXTM99 . . . .. 041

“So we meet at last,” Taraza said.

She stared across the two meters of open space between their chairs at Tylwyth Waff. Her analysts assured her that this man was Tleilaxu Master of Masters. What an elfin little figure he was to hold so much power. The prejudices of appearance must be discarded here, she warned herself.

“Some would not believe this possible,” Waff said.

He had a piping little voice, Taraza noted; something else to be measured by different standards.

They sat in the neutrality of a Guild no-ship with Bene Gesserit and Tleilaxu monitors clinging to the Guildship’s hull like predatory birds on a carcass. (The Guild had been cravenly anxious to placate the Bene Gesserit. “You will pay.” The Guild knew. Payment had been exacted from them before.) The small oval room in which they met was conventionally copper-walled and “spy-proof.” Taraza did not believe this for an instant. She presumed also that the bonds between Guild and Tleilaxu, forged of melange, still existed in full force.

Waff did not try to delude himself about Taraza. This woman was far more dangerous than any Honored Matre. If he killed Taraza, she would be replaced immediately by someone just as dangerous, someone with every essential piece of information possessed by the present Mother Superior.

“We find your new Face Dancers very interesting,” Taraza said.

Waff grimaced involuntarily. Yes, far more dangerous than the Honored Matres, who were not yet even blaming the Tleilaxu for the loss of an entire no-ship.

Taraza glanced at the small double-faced digital clock on the low side table at her right, a position where the clock could be read easily by either of them. The Waff-side face had been matched to his internal clock. She noted that the two internal-time readings stood within ten seconds of synchronization at an arbitrary midafternoon. It was one of the niceties of this confrontation where even the positioning and spacing between their chairs had been specified in the arrangements.

The two of them were alone in the room. The oval space around them was about six meters in its long dimension, half that in width. They occupied identical sling chairs of peg-fastened wood, which supported orange fabric; not a bit of metal or other foreign material in either of them. The only other furnishing of the room was the side table with its clock. The table was a thin black surface of plaz on three spindly wooden legs. Each of the principals in this meeting had been snooped with care. Each had three personal guards outside the room’s one hatch. Taraza did not think the Tleilaxu would try a Face Dancer exchange, not under the present circumstances!

“You will pay.”

The Tleilaxu, too, were extremely aware of their vulnerability, especially now that they knew a Reverend Mother could expose the new Face Dancers.

Waff cleared his throat. “I do not expect us to reach an agreement,” he said.

“Then why did you come?”

“I seek an explanation of this odd message we have received from your Keep on Rakis. For what are we supposed to pay?”

“I beg of you, Ser Waff, drop these foolish pretenses in this room. There are facts known to both of us that cannot be avoided.”

“Such as?”

“No female of the Bene Tleilax has ever been provided to us for breeding.” And she thought: Let him sweat that one! It was damnably frustrating not to have a line of Tleilaxu Other Memories for Bene Gesserit investigation and Waff would know it.

Waff scowled. “Surely you don’t think I would bargain with the life of—” He broke off and shook his head. “I cannot believe this is the payment you would ask.”

When Taraza did not respond, Waff said: “The stupid attack on the Rakian temple was undertaken independently by people on the scene. They have been punished.”

Expected gambit number three, Taraza thought.

She had participated in numerous analysis-briefings before this meeting, if one could call them briefings. Analyses there had been in excess. Very little was known about this Tleilaxu Master, this Tylwyth Waff. Some extremely important optional projections had been arrived at by inference (if these proved to be true). The trouble was that some of the most interesting data came from unreliable sources. One salient fact could be depended upon, however: The elfin figure seated across from her was deadly dangerous.

Waff’s gambit number three engaged her attention. It was time to respond. Taraza produced a knowing smile.

“That is precisely the kind of lie we expected from you,” she said.

“Do we begin with insults?” He spoke without heat.

“You set the pattern. Let me warn you that you will not be able to deal with us the way you dealt with those whores from the Scattering.”

Waff’s frozen stare invited Taraza to a daring gambit. The Sisterhood’s deductions, based partly on the disappearance of an Ixian conference ship, were accurate! Maintaining her same smile, she now pursued the optional conjecture line as though it were known fact. “I think,” she said, “the whores might like to learn that they have had Face Dancers among them.”

Waff suppressed his anger. These damnable witches! They knew! Somehow, they knew! His councillors had been extremely doubtful about this meeting. A substantial minority had recommended against it. The witches were so . . . so devilish. And their retaliations!

Time to shift his attention to Gammu, Taraza thought. Keep him off balance. She said: “Even when you subvert one of us, as you did with Schwangyu on Gammu, you learn nothing of value!”

Waff flared: “She thought to . . . to hire us like a band of assassins! We only taught her a lesson!”

Ahhhh, his pride shows itself, Taraza thought. Interesting. The implications of a moral structure behind such pride must be explored.

“You’ve never really penetrated our ranks,” Taraza said.

“And you have never penetrated the Tleilaxu!” Waff managed to produce this boast with passable calm. He needed time to think! To plan!

“Perhaps you would like to know the price of our silence,” Taraza suggested. She took Waff’s stony glare for agreement and added: “For one thing, you will share with us everything you learn about those Scattering-spawned whores who call themselves Honored Matres.”

Waff shuddered. Much had been confirmed by killing the Honored Matres. The sexual intricacies! Only the strongest psyche could resist entanglement in such ecstasies. The potential of this tool was enormous! Must that be shared with these witches?

“Everything you learn from them,” Taraza insisted.

“Why do you call them whores?”

“They try to copy us, yet they sell themselves for power and make a mockery of everything we represent. Honored Matres!”

“They outnumber you at least ten thousand to one! We have seen the evidence.”

“One of us could defeat them all,” Taraza said.

Waff sat in silence, studying her. Was that merely a boast? You could never be sure when it came to the Bene Gesserit witches. They did things. The dark side of the magic universe belonged to them. On more than one occasion the witches had blunted the Shariat. Was it God’s will that the true believers pass through another trial?

Taraza allowed the silence to continue building its own tensions. She sensed Waff’s turmoil. It reminded her of the Sisterhood’s preliminary conference in preparation for this meeting with him. Bellonda had asked the question of deceptive simplicity:

“What do we really know about the Tleilaxu?”

Taraza had felt the answer surge into every mind around the Chapter House conference table: We may know for sure only what they want us to know.

None of her analysts could avoid the suspicion that the Tleilaxu had deliberately created a masking-image of themselves. Tleilaxu intelligence had to be measured against the fact that they alone controlled the secret of the axlotl tanks. Was that a lucky accident as some suggested? Then why had others been unable to duplicate this accomplishment in all of these millennia?

Gholas.

Were the Tleilaxu using the ghola process for their own kind of immortality? She could see suggestive hints in Waff’s actions . . . nothing definite, but highly suspicious.

At the Chapter House conferences, Bellonda had returned repeatedly to their basic suspicions, hammering at them: “All of it . . . all of it, I say! Everything in our archives could be garbage fit only for slig fodder!”

This allusion had caused some of the more relaxed Reverend Mothers around the table to shudder.

Sligs!

Those slowly creeping crosses between giant slugs and pigs might provide meat for some of the most expensive meals in their universe but the creatures themselves embodied everything the Sisterhood held repugnant about the Tleilaxu. Sligs had been one of the earliest Bene Tleilax barter items, a product grown in their tanks and formed with the helical core from which all life took its shapes. That the Bene Tleilax made them added to the aura of obscenity around a creature whose multi-mouths ground incessantly on almost any garbage, passing that garbage swiftly into excrement that not only smelled of the sty but was slimy.

“The sweetest meat this side of heaven,” Bellonda had quoted from a CHOAM promotion.

“And it comes from obscenity,” Taraza had added.

Obscenity.

Taraza thought of this as she stared at Waff. For what possible reason might people build around themselves a mask of obscenity? Waff’s flare of pride could not be fitted neatly into that image.

Waff coughed lightly into his hand. He felt the pressure of the seams where he had concealed two of his potent dart-throwers. The minority among his councillors had advised: “As with the Honored Matres, the winner in this encounter with the Bene Gesserit will be the one who emerges carrying the most secret information about the other. Death of the opponent guarantees success.”

I might kill her but what then?

Three more full Reverend Mothers waited outside that hatch. Doubtless Taraza had a signal prepared for the instant the hatch was opened. Without that signal, violence and disaster were sure to ensue. He did not believe for an instant that even his new Face Dancers could overcome those Reverend Mothers out there. The witches would be on full alert. They would have recognized the nature of Waff’s guards.

“We will share,” Waff said. The admissions implicit in this hurt him but he knew he had no alternatives. Taraza’s brag about relative abilities might be inaccurate because of its extreme claim, but he sensed truth in it nonetheless. He had no illusions, however, about what would ensue if the Honored Matres learned what had actually happened to their envoys. The missing no-ship could not yet be laid at the Tleilaxu door. Ships did vanish. Deliberate assassination was another matter altogether. The Honored Matres surely would try to exterminate such a brash opponent. If only as an example. Tleilaxu returned from the Scattering said as much. Having seen Honored Matres, Waff now believed those stories.

Taraza said: “My second agenda item for this meeting is our ghola.”

Waff squirmed in the sling chair.

Taraza felt repelled by Waff’s tiny eyes, the round face with its snub nose and too-sharp teeth.

“You have been killing our gholas to control the movement of a project in which you have no part other than to provide a single element,” Taraza accused.

Waff once more wondered if he must kill her. Was nothing hidden from these damnable witches? The implication that the Bene Gesserit had a traitor in the Tleilaxu core could not be ignored. How else could they know?

He said: “I assure you, Reverend Mother Superior, that the ghola—”

“Assure me of nothing! We assure ourselves.” A look of sadness on her face, Taraza shook her head slowly from side to side. “And you think we don’t know that you sold us damaged goods.”

Waff spoke quickly: “He meets every requirement imposed by your contract!”

Again, Taraza shook her head from side to side. This diminutive Tleilaxu Master had no idea what he was revealing here. “You have buried your own scheme in his psyche,” Taraza said. “I warn you, Ser Waff, that if your alterations obstruct our design, we will wound you deeper than you think possible.”

Waff passed a hand across his face, feeling the perspiration on his forehead. Damnable witches! But she did not know everything. The Tleilaxu returned from the Scattering and the Honored Matres she maligned so bitterly had provided the Tleilaxu with a sexually loaded weapon that would not be shared, no matter the promises made here!

Taraza digested Waff’s reactions silently and decided on a bold lie. “When we captured your Ixian conference ship, your new Face Dancers did not die quite fast enough. We learned a great deal.”

Waff poised himself on the edge of violence.

Bullseye! Taraza thought. The bold lie had opened an avenue of revelation into one of the more outrageous suggestions from her advisors. It did not seem outrageous now. “The Tleilaxu ambition is to produce a complete prana-bindu mimic,” her advisor had suggested.

“Complete?”

All of the Sisters at the conference had been astonished by the suggestion. It implied a form of mental copy going beyond the memory print about which they already knew.

The advisor, Sister Hesterion from Archives, had come armed with a tightly organized list of supporting material. “We already know that what an Ixian Probe does mechanically, the Tleilaxu do with nerves and flesh. The next step is obvious.”

Seeing Waff’s reaction to her bold lie, Taraza continued to watch him carefully. He was at his most dangerous right now.

A look of rage came over Waff’s face. The things the witches knew were too dangerous! He did not doubt Taraza’s claim in the slightest. I must kill her no matter the consequences to me! We must kill them all. Abominations! It’s their word and it describes them perfectly.

Taraza correctly interpreted his expression. She spoke quickly: “You are in absolutely no danger from us as long as you do not injure our designs. Your religion, your way of life, those are your business.”

Waff hesitated, not so much from what Taraza said as from the reminder of her powers. What else did they know? To continue in a subservient position, though! After rejecting such an alliance with the Honored Matres. And with ascendancy so near after all of those millennia. Dismay filled him. The minority among his councillors had been right after all: “There can be no bond between our peoples. Any accord with powindah forces is a union based upon evil.”

Taraza still sensed the potential violence in him. Had she pushed him too far? She held herself in defensive readiness. An involuntary jerking of his arms alerted her. Weapons in his sleeves! Tleilaxu resources were not to be underestimated. Her snoopers had detected nothing.

“We know about the weapons you carry,” she said. Another bold lie suggested itself. “If you make a mistake now, the whores will also learn how you use those weapons.”

Waff took three shallow breaths. When he spoke, he had himself under control: “We will not be Bene Gesserit satellites!”

Taraza responded in an even-toned, soothing voice: “I have not by word or action suggested such a role for you.”

She waited. There was no change in Waff’s expression, no slightest shift in the unfocused glare he directed at her.

“You threaten us,” he muttered. “You demand that we share everything we—”

“Share!” she snapped. “One does not share with unequal partners.”

“And what would you share with us?” he demanded.

She spoke with the chiding tone she would use to a child: “Ser Waff, ask yourself why you, a ruling member of your oligarchy, came to this meeting?”

His voice still firmly controlled, Waff countered: “And why did you, Mother Superior of the Bene Gesserit, come here?”

She spoke mildly: “To strengthen us.”

“You did not say what you would share,” he accused. “You still hope for advantage.”

Taraza continued to watch him carefully. She had seldom sensed such suppressed rage in a human. “Ask me openly what you want,” she said.

“And you will give it out of your great generosity!”

“I will negotiate.”

“Where was the negotiation when you ordered me . . . ORDERED ME! to—”

“You came here firmly resolved to break any agreement we made,” she said. “Not once have you tried to negotiate! You sit in front of someone willing to bargain with you and you can only—”

“Bargain?” Waff’s memory was hurled back to the Honored Matre’s anger at that word.

“I said it,” Taraza said. “Bargain.”

Something like a smile twitched the corners of Waff’s mouth. “You think I have authority to bargain with you?”

“Have a care, Ser Waff,” she said. “You have the ultimate authority. It resides in that final ability to destroy an opponent utterly. I have not threatened that, but you have.” She glanced at his sleeves.

Waff sighed. What a quandary. She was powindah! How could one bargain with a powindah?

“We have a problem that cannot be resolved by rational means,” Taraza said.

Waff hid his surprise. Those were the very words the Honored Matre had used! He cringed inwardly at what that might signify. Could Bene Gesserit and Honored Matres make common cause? Taraza’s bitterness argued otherwise, but when were the witches to be trusted?

Once more, Waff wondered if he dared sacrifice himself to eliminate this witch. What would it serve? Others among them surely knew what she knew. It would only precipitate the disaster. There was that internal dispute among the witches, but, again, that might just be another ruse.

“You ask us to share something,” Taraza said. “What if I were to offer you some of our prize human bloodlines?”

There was no mistaking how Waff’s interest quickened.

He said: “Why should we come to you for such things? We have our tanks and we can pick up genetic examples almost anywhere.”

“Examples of what?” she asked.

Waff sighed. You could never escape that Bene Gesserit incisiveness. It was like a sword thrust. He guessed that he had revealed things to her that led naturally to this subject. The damage already had been done. She correctly deduced (or spies had told her!) that the wild pool of human genes held little interest for the Tleilaxu with their more sophisticated knowledge of life’s innermost language. It never paid to underestimate either the Bene Gesserit or the products of their breeding programs. God Himself knew they had produced Muad’Dib and the Prophet!

“What more would you demand in exchange for this?” he asked.

“Bargaining at last!” Taraza said. “We both know, of course, that I am offering breeding mothers of the Atreides line.” And she thought: “Let him hope for that! They will look like Atreides but they will not be Atreides!”

Waff felt his pulse quicken. Was this possible? Did she have the slightest idea what the Tleilaxu might learn from an examination of such source material?

“We would want first selection of their offspring,” Taraza said.

“No!”

“Alternate first selection, then?”

“Perhaps.”

“What do you mean, perhaps?” She leaned forward. Waff’s intensity told her she was on a hot trail.

“What else would you ask of us?”

“Our breeding mothers must have unfettered access to your genetic laboratories.”

“Are you mad?” Waff shook his head in exasperation. Did she think the Tleilaxu would give away their strongest weapon just like that?

“Then we will accept a fully operational axlotl tank.”

Waff merely stared at her.

Taraza shrugged. “I had to try.”

“I suppose you did.”

Taraza sat back and reviewed what she had learned here. Waff’s reaction to that Zensunni probe had been interesting. “A problem that cannot be resolved by rational means.” The words had produced a subtle effect on him. He had seemed to rise out of some place within himself, a questioning look in his eyes. Gods preserve us all! Is Waff a secret Zensunni?

No matter the dangers, this had to be explored. Odrade must be armed with every possible advantage on Rakis.

“Perhaps we have done all we can for now,” Taraza said. “There is time to complete our bargain. God alone in His infinite mercy has given us infinite universes where anything may happen.”

Waff clapped his hands once without thinking. “The gift of surprises is the greatest gift of all!” he said.

Not just Zensunni, Taraza thought. Sufi also. Sufi! She began to readjust her perspective on the Tleilaxu. How long have they been holding this close to their breasts?

“Time does not count itself,” Taraza said, probing. “One has only to look at any circle.”

“Suns are circles,” Waff said. “Each universe is a circle.” He held his breath waiting for her response.

“Circles are enclosures,” Taraza said, picking the proper response out of her Other Memories. “Whatever encloses and limits must expose itself to the infinite.”

Waff raised his hands to show her his palms then dropped his arms into his lap. His shoulders lost some of their tense upward thrust. “Why did you not say these things at the beginning?” he asked.

I must exercise great care, Taraza cautioned herself. The admissions in Waff’s words and manner required careful review.

“What has passed between us reveals nothing unless we speak more openly,” she said. “Even then, we would only be using words.”

Waff studied her face, trying to read in that Bene Gesserit mask some confirmation of the things implied by her words and manner. She was powindah, he reminded himself. The powindah could never be trusted . . . but if she shared the Great Belief . . .

“Did God not send His Prophet to Rakis, there to test us and teach us?” he asked.

Taraza delved deep into her Other Memories. A Prophet on Rakis? Muad’Dib? No . . . that did not square with either Sufi or Zensunni beliefs in . . .

The Tyrant! She closed her mouth into a grim line. “What one cannot control one must accept,” she said.

“For surely that is God’s doing,” Waff replied.

Taraza had seen and heard enough. The Missionaria Protectiva had immersed her in every known religion. Other Memories reinforced this knowledge and filled it out. She felt a great need to get herself safely away from this room. Odrade must be alerted!

“May I make a suggestion?” Taraza asked.

Waff nodded politely.

“Perhaps there is here the substance of a greater bond between us than we imagined,” she said. “I offer you the hospitality of our Keep on Rakis and the services of our commander there.”

“An Atreides?” he asked.

“No,” Taraza lied. “But I will, of course, alert our Breeding Mistresses to your needs.”

“And I will assemble the things you require in payment,” he said. “Why will the bargain be completed on Rakis?”

“Is that not the proper place?” she asked. “Who could be false in the home of the Prophet?”

Waff sat back in his chair, his arms relaxed in his lap. Taraza certainly knew the proper responses. It was a revelation he had never expected.

Taraza stood. “Each of us listens to God personally,” she said.

And together in the kehl, he thought. He looked up at her, reminding himself that she was powindah. None of them could be trusted. Caution! This woman was, after all, a Bene Gesserit witch. They were known to create religions for their own ends. Powindah!

Taraza went to the hatch, opened it and gave her security signal. She turned once more toward Waff who still sat in his chair. He has not penetrated our true design, she thought. The ones we send to him must be chosen with extreme care. He must never suspect that he is part of our bait.

His elfin features composed, Waff stared back at her.

How bland he looked, Taraza thought. But he could be trapped! An alliance between Sisterhood and Tleilaxu offered new attractions. But on our terms!

“Until Rakis,” she said.