And the hidden eyes.
Motion at the wide street door to her right! A single figure in priestly gold, purple, and white let himself into the courtyard. She studied him, looking for signs that the Tleilaxu might have extended their sway by another Face Dancer mimic. But this was a man, a priest she recognized: Albertus, the senior of Dar-es-Balat.
Just as we expected.
Albertus moved through the wide atrium and across the courtyard toward her, walking with careful dignity. Were there dangerous portents in him? Would he signal his assassins? She glanced upward at the tiered balconies: little flickering motions at the higher levels. The approaching priest was not alone.
But neither am I!
Albertus came to a stop two paces from Odrade and looked up at her from where he had kept his attention — on the intricate gold and purple designs of the courtyard’s tiled floor.
He has weak bones, Odrade thought.
She gave no sign of recognition. Albertus was one of those who knew that his High Priest had been replaced by a Face Dancer mimic.
Albertus cleared his throat and took a trembling breath.
Weak bones! Weak flesh!
While the thought amused Odrade, it did not reduce her wariness. Reverend Mothers always noted that sort of thing. You looked for the marks of the breeding. Such selectivity as existed in the ancestry of Albertus carried flaws, elementals that the Sisterhood would try to correct in his descendants if it ever appeared worthwhile to breed him. This would be considered, of course. Albertus had risen to a position of power, doing it quietly but definitely, and it must be determined whether that implied valuable genetic material. Albertus had been poorly educated, though. A first-year acolyte could have handled him. Conditioning among the Rakian priesthood had degenerated badly since the old Fish Speaker days.
“Why are you here?” Odrade demanded, making it as much an accusation as a question.
Albertus trembled. “I bring a message from your people, Reverend Mother.”
“Then say it!”
“There has been a slight delay, something about the route here being known by too many.”
That, at least, was the story they had agreed to tell the priests. But the other things on the face of Albertus were easy to read. Secrets shared with him were dangerously close to exposure.
“I almost wish I had ordered you killed,” Odrade said.
Albertus recoiled two full paces. His eyes went vacant, as though he had died right there in front of her. She recognized the reaction. Albertus had entered that fully revelatory phase where fear gripped his scrotum. He knew that this terrible Reverend Mother Odrade might pass a death sentence upon him quite casually or kill him with her own hands. Nothing he said or did would escape her awful scrutiny.
“You have been considering whether to kill me and destroy our Keep at Keen,” Odrade accused.
Albertus trembled violently. “Why do you say such things, Reverend Mother?” There was a revealing whine in his voice.
“Don’t try to deny it,” she said. “I wonder how many have found you as easy to read as I do? You are supposed to be a keeper of secrets. You are not supposed to be walking around with all of our secrets written on your face!”
Albertus fell to his knees. She thought he would grovel.
“But your own people sent me!”
“And you were only too happy to come and decide whether it might be possible to kill me.”
“Why would we –”
“Silence! You do not like it that we control Sheeana. You are fearful of the Tleilaxu. Matters have been taken from your priestly hands and things have been set in motion that terrify you.”
“Reverend Mother! What are we to do? What are we to do?”
“You will obey us! More than that, you will obey Sheeana! You fear what we venture this day? You have greater things to fear!”
She shook her head in mock dismay, knowing the effect all of this was having on poor Albertus. He cringed beneath the weight of her anger.
“On your feet!” she ordered. “And remember that you are a priest and the truth is demanded of you!”