“You were not there, Duncan.”
“I am trying to be. So you spared your enemy against all advice.”
“Except for the Face Dancers.”
“But then you walked unarmed through the enemy ranks and before they had laid down their weapons.”
“To assure them they would not be mistreated.”
“That was very dangerous.”
“Was it? Many of them came over to us for the final assault on Kroinin where we broke the anti-Sisterhood forces.”
Duncan stared hard at Teg. Not only did this old Bashar resemble Duke Leto in appearance, but he also had that same Atreides charisma: a legendary figure even among his former enemies. Teg had said he was descended from Ghanima of the Atreides, but there had to be more in it than that. The ways of the Bene Gesserit breeding mastery awed him.
“We will go back to the practice now,” Duncan said.
“Don’t damage yourself.”
“You forget, Bashar. I remember a body as young as this one and right here on Giedi Prime.”
“Gammu!”
“It was properly renamed but my body still recalls the original. That is why they sent me here. I know it.”
Of course he would know it, Teg thought.
Restored by the brief respite, Teg introduced a new element in the attack and sent a sudden burn-line against Duncan’s left side.
How easily Duncan parried the attack!
He was using an oddly mixed variation on the five attitudes, each response seemingly invented before it was required.
“Each attack is a feather floating on the infinite road,” Duncan said. His voice gave no hint of exertion. “As the feather approaches, it is diverted and removed.”
As he spoke, he parried the shifting attack and countered.
Teg’s Mentat logic followed the movements into what he recognized as dangerous places. Dependencies and key logs!
Duncan shifted over to attack, moving ahead of it, pacing his movements rather than responding. Teg was forced to his utmost abilities as the shadow forces burned and flickered across the floor. Duncan’s weaving figure in its mobile cage danced along the space between them. Not one of Teg’s hunter-seekers or burn-line counters touched the moving figure. Duncan was over them, under them, seeming totally unafraid of the real pain that this equipment could bring him.
Once more, Duncan increased the speed of his attack.
A bolt of pain shot up Teg’s left arm from his hand on the controls to his shoulder.
With a sharp exclamation, Duncan shut down the equipment. “Sorry, Bashar. That was superb defense on your part but I’m afraid age defeated you.”
Once more, Duncan crossed the floor and stood over Teg.
“A little pain to remind me of the pain I caused you,” Teg said. He rubbed his tingling arm.
“Blame the heat of the moment,” Duncan said. “We have done enough for now.”
“Not quite,” Teg said. “It is not enough to strengthen only your muscles.”
At Teg’s words Duncan felt an alerting sensation throughout his body. He sensed the disorganized touch of that uncompleted thing that the reawakening had failed to arouse. Something crouched within him, Duncan thought. It was like a coiled spring waiting for release.
“What more would you do?” Duncan asked. His voice sounded hoarse.
“Your survival is in the balance here,” Teg said. “All of this is being done to save you and get you to Rakis.”
“For Bene Gesserit reasons, which you say you do not know!”
“I don’t know them, Duncan.”
“But you’re a Mentat.”
“Mentats require data to make projections.”
“Do you think Lucilla knows?”
“I’m not sure but let me warn you again about her. She has orders to get you to Rakis prepared for what you must do there.”
“Must?” Duncan shook his head from side to side. “Am I not my own person with rights to make my own choices? What do you think you’ve reawakened here, a damned Face Dancer capable only of obeying orders?”
“Are you telling me you will not go to Rakis?”
“I’m telling you I will make my own decisions when I know what it is I’m to do. I’m not a hired assassin.”
“You think I am, Duncan?”
“I think you’re an honorable man, someone to be admired. Give me credit for having my own standards of duty and honor.”