Dune

Quite naturally, holders of power wish to suppress wild research. Unrestricted questing after knowledge has a long history of producing unwanted competition. The powerful want a “safe line of investigations,” which will develop only those products and ideas that can be controlled and, most important, that will allow the larger part of the benefits to be captured by inside investors. Unfortunately, a random universe full of relative variables does not insure such a “safe line of investigations.”

—ASSESSMENT OF IX, BENE GESSERIT ARCHIVES

Hedley Tuek, High Priest and titular ruler of Rakis, felt himself inadequate to the demands just imposed upon him.

Dust-fogged night enveloped the city of Keen, but here in his private audience chamber the brilliance of many glowglobes dispelled shadows. Even here, in the heart of the Temple, though, the wind could be heard, a distant moan, this planet’s periodic torment.

The audience chamber was an irregular room seven meters long and four meters at its widest end. The opposite end was almost imperceptibly narrower. The ceiling, too, made a gentle slope in that direction. Spice fiber hangings and clever shadings in light yellows and grays concealed these irregularities. One of the hangings covered a focusing horn that carried even the smallest sounds to listeners outside the room.

Only Darwi Odrade, the new commander of the Bene Gesserit Keep on Rakis, sat with Tuek in the audience chamber. The two of them faced each other across a narrow space defined by their soft green cushions.

Tuek tried to conceal a grimace. The effort twisted his normally imposing features into a revealing mask. He had taken great care in preparing himself for this night’s confrontations. Dressers had smoothed his robe over his tall, rather stout figure. Golden sandals covered his long feet. The stillsuit under his robe was only for display: no pumps or catchpockets, no uncomfortable and time-consuming adjustments required. His silky gray hair was combed long to his shoulders, a suitable frame for his square face with its wide thick mouth and heavy chin. His eyes fell abruptly into a look of benevolence, an expression he had copied from his grandfather. This was how he had looked on entering the audience chamber to meet Odrade. He had felt himself altogether imposing, but, now, he suddenly felt naked and disheveled.

He’s really a rather empty-headed fellow, Odrade thought.

Tuek was thinking: I cannot discuss that terrible Manifesto with her! Not with a Tleilaxu Master and those Face Dancers listening in the other room. What ever possessed me to allow that?

“It is heresy, pure and simple,” Tuek said.

“But you are only one religion among many,” Odrade countered. “And with people returning from the Scattering, the proliferation of schisms and variant beliefs . . .”

“We are the only true belief!” Tuek said.

Odrade hid a smile. He said it right on cue. And Waff surely heard him. Tuek was remarkably easy to lead. If the Sisterhood was right about Waff, Tuek’s words would enrage the Tleilaxu Master.

In a deep and portentous tone, Odrade said: “The Manifesto raises questions that all must address, believers and non-believers alike.”

“What has all this to do with the Holy Child?” Tuek demanded. “You told me we must meet on matters concerning—”

“Indeed! Don’t try to deny that you know there are many people who are beginning to worship Sheeana. The Manifesto implicates—”

“Manifesto! Manifesto! It is a heretical document, which will be obliterated. As for Sheeana, she must be returned to our exclusive care!”

“No.” Odrade spoke softly.

How agitated Tuek was, she thought. His stiff neck moved minimally as he turned his head from side to side. The movements pointed to a wall hanging on Odrade’s right, defining the place as though Tuek’s head carried an illuminating beam to reveal that particular hanging. What a transparent man, this High Priest. He might just as well announce that Waff listened to them somewhere behind that hanging.

“Next, you will spirit her away from Rakis,” Tuek said.

“She stays here,” Odrade said. “Just as we promised you.”

“But why can’t she . . .”

“Come now! Sheeana has made her wishes clear and I’m sure her words have been reported to you. She wishes to be a Reverend Mother.”

“She already is the—”

“M’Lord Tuek! Don’t try to dissemble with me. She has stated her wishes and we are happy to comply. Why should you object? Reverend Mothers served the Divided God in the Fremen times. Why not now?”

“You Bene Gesserit have ways of making people say things they do not want to say,” Tuek accused. “We should not be discussing this privately. My councillors—”

“Your councillors would only muddy our discussion. The implications of the Atreides Manifesto—”

“I will discuss only Sheeana!” Tuek drew himself up in what he thought of as his posture of adamant High Priest.

“We are discussing her,” Odrade said.

“Then let me make it clear that we require more of our people in her entourage. She must be guarded at all—”

“The way she was guarded on that rooftop?” Odrade asked.

“Reverend Mother Odrade, this is Holy Rakis! You have no rights here that we do not grant!”

“Rights? Sheeana has become the target, yes the target! of many ambitions and you wish to discuss rights?”

“My duties as High Priest are clear. The Holy Church of the Divided God will—”

“M’Lord Tuek! I am trying very hard to maintain the necessary courtesies. What I do is for your benefit as well as our own. The actions we have taken—”

“Actions? What actions?” The words were pressed from Tuek with a hoarse grunting. These terrible Bene Gesserit witches! Tleilaxu behind him and a Reverend Mother in front! Tuek felt like a ball in a fearsome game, bounced back and forth between terrifying energies. Peaceful Rakis, the secure place of his daily routines, had vanished and he had been projected into an arena whose rules he did not fully understand.

“I have sent for the Bashar Miles Teg,” Odrade said. “That is all. His advance party should arrive soon. We are going to reinforce your planetary defenses.”

“You dare to take over—”

“We take over nothing. At your own father’s request, Teg’s people redesigned your defenses. The agreement under which this was done contains, at your father’s insistence, a clause requiring our periodic review.”

Tuek sat in dazed silence. Waff, that ominous little Tleilaxu, had heard all of this. There would be conflict! The Tleilaxu wanted a secret agreement setting melange prices. They would not permit Bene Gesserit interference.

Odrade had spoken of Tuek’s father and now Tuek wished only that his long-dead father sat here. A hard man. He would have known how to deal with these opposing forces. He had always handled the Tleilaxu quite well. Tuek recalled listening (just as Waff listened now!) to a Tleilaxu envoy named Wose . . . and another one named Pook. Ledden Pook. What odd names they had.

Tuek’s confused thoughts abruptly offered up another name. Odrade had just mentioned it: Teg! Was that old monster still active?

Odrade was speaking once more. Tuek tried to swallow in a dry throat as he leaned forward, forcing himself to pay attention.

“Teg will also look into your on-planet defenses. After that rooftop fiasco—”

“I officially forbid this interference with our internal affairs,” Tuek said. “There is no need. Our Priest Guardians are adequate to—”

“Adequate?” Odrade shook her head sadly. “What an inadequate word, given the new circumstances on Rakis.”

“What new circumstances?” There was terror in Tuek’s voice.

Odrade merely sat there staring at him.

Tuek tried to force some order into his thoughts. Could she know about the Tleilaxu listening back there? Impossible! He inhaled a trembling breath. What was this about the defenses of Rakis? The defenses were excellent, he reassured himself. They had the best Ixian monitors and no-ships. More than that, it was to the advantage of all independent powers that Rakis remain equally independent as another source of the spice.

To the advantage of everyone except the Tleilaxu with the damnable melange overproduction from their axlotl tanks!

This was a shattering thought. A Tleilaxu Master had heard every word spoken in this audience chamber!

Tuek called on Shai-hulud, the Divided God, to protect him. That terrible little man back there said he spoke also for Ixians and Fish Speakers. He produced documents. Was that the “new circumstances” of which Odrade spoke? Nothing remained long hidden from the witches!

The High Priest could not repress a shudder at the thought of Waff: that round little head, those glittering eyes; that pug nose and those sharp teeth in that brittle smile. Waff looked like a slightly enlarged child until you met those eyes and heard him speak in his squeaky voice. Tuek recalled that his own father had complained of those voices: “The Tleilaxu say such terrible things in their childish voices!”

Odrade shifted on her cushions. She thought of Waff listening out there. Had he heard enough? Her own secret listeners certainly would be asking themselves that question now. Reverend Mothers always replayed these verbal contests, seeking improvements and new advantages for the Sisterhood.

Waff has heard enough, Odrade told herself. Time to shift the play.

In her most matter-of-fact tones, Odrade said: “M’Lord Tuek, someone important is listening to what we say here. Is it polite that such a person listen secretly?”

Tuek closed his eyes. She knows!

He opened his eyes and met Odrade’s unrevealing stare. She looked like someone who might wait through eternity for his response.

“Polite? I . . . I . . .”

“Invite the secret listener to come sit with us,” Odrade said.

Tuek passed a hand across his damp forehead. His father and grandfather, High Priests before him, had laid down ritual responses for most occasions, but nothing for a moment such as this. Invite the Tleilaxu to sit here? In this chamber with . . . Tuek was reminded suddenly that he did not like the smell of Tleilaxu Masters. His father had complained of that: “They smell of disgusting food!”

Odrade got to her feet. “I would much rather look upon those who hear my words,” she said. “Shall I go myself and invite the hidden listener to—”

“Please!” Tuek remained seated but lifted a hand to stop her. “I had little choice. He comes with documents from Fish Speakers and Ixians. He said he would help us to return Sheeana to our—”

“Help you?” Odrade looked down at the sweating priest with something akin to pity. This one thought he ruled Rakis?

“He is of the Bene Tleilax,” Tuek said. “He is called Waff and—”

“I know what he is called and I know why he is here, M’Lord Tuek. What astonishes me is that you would allow him to spy on—”

“It is not spying! We were negotiating. I mean, there are new forces to which we must adjust our—”

“New forces? Oh, yes: the whores from the Scattering. Does this Waff bring some of them with him?”

Before Tuek could respond, the audience chamber’s side door opened. Waff entered right on cue, two Face Dancers behind him.

He was told not to bring Face Dancers! Odrade thought.

“Just you!” Odrade said, pointing. “Those others were not invited, were they, M’Lord Tuek?”

Tuek lifted himself heavily to his feet, noting the nearness of Odrade, remembering all of the terrible stories about the Reverend Mothers’ physical prowess. The presence of Face Dancers added to his confusion. They always filled him with such terrible misgivings.

Turning toward the door and trying to compose his features into a look of invitation, Tuek said: “Only . . . only Ambassador Waff, please.”

Speech hurt Tuek’s throat. This was worse than terrible! He felt naked before these people.

Odrade gestured to a cushion near her. “Waff is it? Please come and sit down.”

Waff nodded to her as though he had never seen her before. How polite! With a gesture to his Face Dancers that they remain outside, he crossed to the indicated cushion but stood waiting beside it.

Odrade saw a flux of tensions move through the little Tleilaxu. Something like a snarl flickered across his lips. He still had those weapons in his sleeves. Was he about to break their agreement?

It was time, Odrade knew, for Waff’s suspicions to regain all of their original strength and more. He would be feeling trapped by Taraza’s maneuverings. Waff wanted his breeding mothers! The reek of his pheromones announced his deepest fears. He carried in his mind, then, his part of their agreement—or at least a form of that sharing. Taraza did not expect Waff really to share all of the knowledge he had gained from the Honored Matres.

“M’Lord Tuek tells me you have been . . . ahhh, negotiating,” Odrade said. Let him remember that word! Waff knew where the real negotiation must be concluded. As she spoke, Odrade sank to her knees, then back onto her cushion, but her feet remained positioned to throw her out of any line of attack from Waff.

Waff glanced down at her and at the cushion she had indicated for him. Slowly, he sank onto his cushion but his arms remained on his knees, the sleeves directed at Tuek.

What is he doing? Odrade wondered. Waff’s movements said he was embarked on a plan of his own.

Odrade said: “I have been trying to impress upon the High Priest the importance of the Atreides Manifesto to our mutual—”

“Atreides!” Tuek blurted. He almost collapsed onto his cushion. “It cannot be Atreides.”

“A very persuasive manifesto,” Waff said, reinforcing Tuek’s obvious fears.

At least that was according to plan, Odrade thought. She said: “The promise of s’tori cannot be ignored. Many people equate s’tori with the presence of their god.”

Waff sent a surprised and angry stare at her.

Tuek said: “Ambassador Waff tells me that Ixians and Fish Speakers are alarmed by that document, but I have reassured him that—”

“I think we may ignore the Fish Speakers,” Odrade said. “They hear the noise of god everywhere.”

Waff recognized the cant in her words. Was she jibing at him? She was right about the Fish Speakers, of course. They had been so far weaned from their old devotions that they influenced very little and whatever they did influence could be guided by the new Face Dancers who now led them.

Tuek tried to smile at Waff. “You spoke of helping us to . . .”

“Time for that later,” Odrade interrupted. She had to keep Tuek’s attention on the document that disturbed him so much. She paraphrased from the Manifesto: “Your will and your faith—your belief system—dominate your universe.”

Tuek recognized the words. He had read the terrible document. This Manifesto said God and all of His works were no more than human creations. He wondered how he should respond. No High Priest could let such a thing go unchallenged.

Before Tuek could find words, Waff locked eyes with Odrade and responded in a way he knew she would interpret correctly. Odrade could do no less, being who she was.

“The error of prescience,” Waff said. “Isn’t that what this document calls it? Isn’t that where it says the mind of the believer stagnates?”

“Exactly!” Tuek said. He felt thankful for the Tleilaxu intervention. That was precisely the core of this dangerous heresy!

Waff did not look at him, but continued to stare at Odrade. Did the Bene Gesserit think their design inscrutable? Let her meet a greater power. She thought herself so strong! But the Bene Gesserit could not really know how the Almighty guarded the future of the Shariat!

Tuek was not to be stopped. “It assaults everything we hold sacred! And it’s being spread everywhere!”

“By the Tleilaxu,” Odrade said.

Waff lifted his sleeves, directing his weapons at Tuek. He hesitated only because he saw that Odrade had recognized part of his intentions.

Tuek stared from one to the other. Was Odrade’s accusation true? Or was that just another Bene Gesserit trick?

Odrade saw Waff’s hesitation and guessed its reason. She cast through her mind, seeking an answer to his motivations. What advantage could the Tleilaxu gain by killing Tuek? Obviously, Waff aimed to substitute one of his Face Dancers for the High Priest. But what would that gain him?

Sparring for time, Odrade said: “You should be very cautious, Ambassador Waff.”

“When has caution ever governed great necessities?” Waff asked.

Tuek lifted himself to his feet and moved heavily to one side, wringing his hands. “Please! These are holy precincts. It is wrong to discuss heresies here unless we plan to destroy them.” He looked down on Waff. “It’s not true, is it? You are not the authors of that terrible document?”

“It is not ours,” Waff agreed. Damn that fop of a priest! Tuek had moved well to one side and once more presented a moving target.

“I knew it!” Tuek said, striding around behind Waff and Odrade.

Odrade kept her gaze on Waff. He planned murder! She was sure of it.

Tuek spoke from behind her. “You do not know how you wrong us, Reverend Mother. Ser Waff has asked that we form a melange cartel. I explained that our price to you must remain unchanged because one of you was the grandmother of God.”

Waff bowed his head, waiting. The priest would come back into range. God would not permit a failure.

Tuek stood behind Odrade looking down at Waff. A shudder passed through the priest. Tleilaxu were so . . . so repellent and amoral. They could not be trusted. How could Waff’s denial be accepted?

Not wavering from her contemplation of Waff, Odrade said: “But, M’Lord Tuek, was not the prospect of increased income attractive to you?” She saw Waff’s right arm come around slightly, almost aimed at her. His intentions became clear.

“M’Lord Tuek,” Odrade said, “this Tleilaxu intends to murder us both.”

At her words, Waff jerked both arms up, trying to aim at the two separated and difficult targets. Before his muscles responded, Odrade was under his guard. She heard the faint hiss of dart throwers but felt no sting. Her left arm came up in a slashing blow to break Waff’s right arm. Her right foot broke his left arm.

Waff screamed.

He had never suspected such speed in the Bene Gesserit. It was almost a match for what he had seen in the Honored Matre on the Ixian conference ship. Even through his pain he realized that he must report this. Reverend Mothers command synaptic bypasses under duress!

The door behind Odrade burst open. Waff’s Face Dancers rushed into the chamber. But Odrade already was behind Waff, both hands on his throat. “Stop or he dies!” she shouted.

The two froze.

Waff squirmed under her hands.

“Be still!” she commanded. Odrade glanced at Tuek sprawled on the floor to her right. One dart had hit its target.

“Waff has killed the High Priest,” Odrade said, speaking for her own secret listeners.

The two Face Dancers continued to stare at her. Their indecision was easy to see. None of them, she saw, had realized how this played into Bene Gesserit hands. Trap the Tleilaxu indeed!

Odrade spoke to the Face Dancers. “Remove yourselves and that body to the corridor and close the door. Your Master has done a foolish thing. He will have need of you later.” To Waff, she said: “For the moment, you need me more than you need your Face Dancers. Send them away.”

“Go,” Waff squeaked.

When the Face Dancers continued to stare at her, Odrade said: “If you do not leave immediately, I will kill him and then I will dispatch both of you.”

“Do it!” Waff screamed.

The Face Dancers took this as the command to obey their Master. Odrade heard something else in Waff’s voice. He obviously would have to be talked out of suicidal hysteria.

Once she was alone with him, Odrade removed the exhausted weapons from his sleeves and pocketed them. They could be examined in detail later. There was little she could do for his broken bones except render him briefly unconscious and set them. She improvised splints from cushions and torn strips of green fabric from the High Priest’s furnishings.

Waff reawakened quickly. He groaned when he looked at Odrade.

“You and I are now allies,” Odrade said. “The things that have transpired in this chamber have been heard by some of my people and by representatives from a faction that wants to replace Tuek with one of their own number.”

It was too fast for Waff. He was a moment grasping what she had said. His mind fastened, though, on the most important thing.

“Allies?”

“I imagine Tuek was difficult to deal with,” she said. “Offer him obvious benefits and he invariably waffled. You have done some of the priests a favor by killing him.”

“They are listening now?” Waff squeaked.

“Of course. Let us discuss your proposed spice monopoly. The late lamented High Priest said you mentioned this. Let me see if I can deduce the extent of your offer.”

“My arms,” Waff moaned.

“You’re still alive,” she said. “Be thankful for my wisdom. I could have killed you.”

He turned his head away from her. “That would have been better.”

“Not for the Bene Tleilax and certainly not for my Sisterhood,” she said. “Let me see. Yes, you promised to provide Rakis with many new spice harvesters, the new airborne ones, which only touch the desert with their sweeper heads.”

“You listened!” Waff accused.

“Not at all. A very attractive proposal, since I’m sure the Ixians are providing them free for their own reasons. Shall I continue?”

“You said we are allies.”

“A monopoly would force the Guild to buy more Ixian navigation machines,” she said. “You would have the Guild in the jaws of your crusher.”

Waff lifted his head to glare at her. The movement sent agony through his broken arms and he groaned. Despite the pain, he studied Odrade through almost lidded eyes. Did the witches really believe that was the extent of the Tleilaxu plan? He hardly dared hope the Bene Gesserit were so misled.

“Of course that was not your basic plan,” Odrade said.

Waff’s eyes snapped wide open. She was reading his mind! “I am dishonored,” he said. “When you saved my life you saved a useless thing.” He sank back.

Odrade inhaled a deep breath. Time to use the results of the Chapter House analyses. She leaned close to Waff and whispered in his ear: “The Shariat needs you yet.”

Waff gasped.

Odrade sat back. That gasp said it all. Analysis confirmed.

“You thought you had better allies in the people from the Scattering,” she said. “Those Honored Matres and other hetairas of that ilk. I ask you: does the slig make alliance with its garbage?”

Waff had heard that question uttered only in khel. His face pale, he breathed in shallow gasps. The implications in her words! He forced himself to ignore the pain in his arms. Allies, she said. She knew about the Shariat! How could she possibly know?

“How can either of us be unmindful of the many advantages in an alliance between Bene Tleilax and Bene Gesserit?” Odrade asked.

Alliance with the powindah witches? Waff’s mind was filled with turmoil. The agony of his arms was held so tentatively at bay. This moment felt so fragile! He tasted acid bile on the back of his tongue.

“Ahhhh,” Odrade said. “Do you hear that? The priest, Krutansik, and his faction have arrived outside our door. They will propose that one of your Face Dancers assume the guise of the late Hedley Tuek. Any other course would cause too much turmoil. Krutansik is a fairly wise man who has held himself in the background until now. His Uncle Stiros groomed him well.”

“What does your Sisterhood gain from alliance with us?” Waff managed.

Odrade smiled. Now she could speak the truth. That was always much easier and often the most powerful argument.

“Our survival in the face of the storm that is brewing among the Scattered Ones,” she said. “Tleilaxu survival, too. The farthest thing from our desires is an end to those who preserve the Great Belief.”

Waff cringed. She spoke it openly! Then he understood. What matter if others heard? They could not see through to the secrets beneath her words.

“Our breeding mothers are ready for you,” Odrade said. She stared hard into his eyes and made the handsign of a Zensunni priest.

Waff felt a tight band release itself from his breast. The unexpected, the unthinkable, the unbelievable thing was true! The Bene Gesserit were not powindah! All the universe would yet follow the Bene Tleilax into the True Faith! God would not permit otherwise. Especially not here on the planet of the Prophet!