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before seen here. Not just acolytes. Reverend Mothers outnumbered the others
he saw rushing about down there. They reminded him of great carrion birds.
There went an acolyte at last, carrying a child on her shoulders. Very
mysterious. If only I had a link to Shipsystems!
He leaned against a wall and waited but the people vanished into various hatches
and doorways. Some destinations he could place with fair certainty, others
remained a mystery.
By the Holy Prophet! There went Mother Superior herself. She went through a
wider doorway where most of the others had gone.
Useless to ask Odrade when next he saw her. She had him in her trap now.
The Prophet is here and in powindah hands!
When no more people appeared in the corridor, Scytale returned to his quarters.
The Identification monitor at his doorway flickered at his passage but he forced
himself not to look at it. ID is the key. With his knowledge, this flaw in the
Ixian ship's control system beckoned like a siren.
When I move, they will not give me much time.
It would be an act of desperation with ship and contents hostage. Seconds in
which to succeed. Who knew what false panels might have been built, what secret
hatches where those awful women could leap out at him. He dared not gamble
before exhausting all other avenues. Especially now . . . with the Prophet
restored.
Tricky witches. What else did they change in this ship? A disquieting thought.
Does my knowledge still apply?
The presence of Scytale beyond the barrier had not escaped Odrade's notice but
she had other matters to concern her. Murbella's accouchement (she liked the
ancient term) had come at an opportune moment. Odrade wanted a distracted Idaho
with her for Sheeana's attempt at restoring the Bashar's memories. Idaho was
often distracted by thoughts of Murbella. And Murbella obviously could not be
with him here, not just now.
Odrade maintained prudent watchfulness in his presence. He was, after all, a
Mentat.
She had found him at his console again. As she emerged from the dropchute into
the access corridor to his quarters, she heard the clicking of relays and that
characteristic buzzing of the comfield and knew immediately where to find him.
He revealed an odd mood when she took him into the observation room where they
would monitor Sheeana and the child.
Worry about Murbella? Or about what they would presently see?
The observation room was long and narrow. Three rows of chairs faced the
seewall common with the secret room where the experiment would occur. The
observation area had been left in gray gloom with only two tiny glowglobes at
upper corners behind the chairs.
Two Suks were present . . . although Odrade worried that they might be
ineffective. Jalanto, the Suk Idaho considered their best, was with Murbella.
Demonstrate our concern. It's real enough.
Slingchairs had been set up along the seewall. An emergency access hatch into
the other room was near at hand.
Streggi brought the child down the outer passage where he would not see the
watchers and took him into the room. It had been prepared under Murbella's
directions: a bedroom, some of his own things brought from his quarters and
some things from the rooms shared by Idaho and Murbella.
An animal's cave, Odrade thought. There was a shabbiness about the place that
came from the deliberate disarray often found in Idaho's chambers: discarded
clothing on a slingchair, sandals in a corner. The sleeping mat was one Idaho
and Murbella had used. Inspecting it earlier, Odrade had noted that smell akin
to saliva, an intimate sexual odor. That, too, would work unconsciously on Teg.
Here is where the wild things originate, the things we cannot suppress. What
daring, to think we can control this. But we must.
As Streggi undressed the boy and left him naked on the mat, Odrade found her
pulse quickening. She shifted her chair forward, noticing her Bene Gesserit
companions imitate the same hitching motion.
Dear me, she thought. Are we nothing but voyeurs?
Such thoughts were necessary at this moment but she felt them demean her. She
lost something in that intrusion. Extremely non-Bene Gesserit thinking. But
very human!
Duncan had lapsed into a studied air of indifference, an easily recognized
pretense. Too much subjectivity in his thoughts for him to function well as a
Mentat. And that was precisely how she wanted him now. Participation Mystique.
Orgasm as energizer. Bell had recognized it correctly.
To one of three nearby Proctors, all chosen for strength and here ostensibly as
observers, Odrade said: "The ghola wants his original memories restored and
fears that utterly. That's the major barrier to be sundered."
"Bullcrap!" Idaho said. "You know what we have working for us right now? His
mother was one of you and she gave him the deep training. How likely is it she
failed to protect him against your Imprinters?"
Odrade turned sharply toward him. Mentat? No, he was back in his immediate
past, reliving and making comparisons. That reference to Imprinters, though . .
. Was that how the first "sexual collision" with Murbella restored memories of
other ghola-lifetimes? Deep resistance against imprinting?
The Proctor Odrade had addressed chose to ignore this impertinent interruption.
She had read the Archives material when Bellonda briefed her. All three of them
knew they might be called on to kill the ghola-child. Did he have powers
dangerous to them? The watchers would not know until (or unless) Sheeana
succeeded.
To Idaho, Odrade said: "Streggi told him why he is here."
"What did she tell him?" Very peremptory with Mother Superior. The Proctors
glared at him.
Odrade held her voice to deliberate mildness. "Streggi told him Sheeana would
restore his memories."
"What did he say?"
"Why isn't Duncan Idaho doing it?"
"She answered him honestly?" Getting some of his own back.
"Honestly but revealing nothing. Streggi told him Sheeana had a better way.
And that you approved."
"Look at him! He isn't even moving. You haven't drugged him, have you?"
Idaho glared back at the Proctors.
"We wouldn't dare. But he is focused inward. You do recall the necessity for
that, don't you?"
Idaho sank back into his chair, shoulders slumping. "Murbella keeps saying:
'He's just a child. He's just a child.' You know we had a fight over it."
"I thought your argument pertinent. The Bashar was not a child. It's the
Bashar we're awakening."
He raised crossed fingers. "I hope."
She drew back, looking at the crossed fingers. " I didn't know you were
superstitious, Duncan."
"I'd pray to Dur if I thought it would help."
He remembers his own re-awakening pains.
"Don't reveal compassion," he muttered. "Turn it back on him. Keep him focused
inward. You want his anger."
Those were words from his own practique.
Abruptly, he said: "This may be the stupidest thing I ever suggested. I should
go and be with Murbella."
"You're in good company, Duncan. And there's nothing you can do for Murbella
right now. Look!" As Teg leaped off the mat and stared up at the ceiling
comeyes.
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