Recognizing the disturbance in Odrade, Taraza played on it. “Well, Dar, I think we finally meet as strangers.”
The effect of Taraza’s words startled Odrade. She correctly interpreted the threat but fear left her, spilling out as though it were water poured from a jug. For the first time in her life, Odrade recognized the precise moment of crossing a dividing line. This was a line whose existence she thought few of her Sisters suspected. As she crossed it, she realized that she had always known it was there: a place where she could enter the void and float free. She no longer was vulnerable. She could be killed but she could not be defeated.
“So it’s not Dar and Tar anymore,” Odrade said.
Taraza heard the clear, uninhibited tone of Odrade’s voice and interpreted this as confidence. “Perhaps it never was Dar and Tar,” she said, her voice icy. “I see that you think you have been extremely clever.”
The battle has been joined, Odrade thought. But I do not stand in the path of her attack.
Odrade said: “The alternatives to alliance with the Tleilaxu could not be accepted. Especially when I recognized what it was you truly sought for us.”
Taraza felt suddenly weary. It had been a long trip despite the space-folding leaps of her no-ship. The flesh always knew when it had been twisted out of its familiar rhythms. She chose a soft divan and sat down, sighing in the luxurious comfort.
Odrade recognized the Mother Superior’s fatigue and felt immediate sympathy. They were suddenly two Reverend Mothers with common problems.
Taraza obviously sensed this. She patted the cushion beside her and waited for Odrade to be seated.
“We must preserve the Sisterhood,” Taraza said. “That is the only important thing.”
“Of course.”
Taraza fixed her gaze searchingly on Odrade’s familiar features. Yes, Odrade, too, is weary. “You have been here, intimately touching the people and the problem,” Taraza said. “I want . . . no, Dar, I need your views.”
“The Tleilaxu give the appearance of full cooperation,” Odrade said, “but there is dissembling in this. I have begun to ask myself some extremely disturbing questions.”
“Such as?”
“What if the axlotl tanks are not . . . tanks?”
“What do you mean?”
“Waff reveals the kinds of behavior you see when a family tries to conceal a deformed child or a mad uncle. I swear to you, he is embarrassed when we begin to touch on the tanks.”
“But what could they possibly . . .
“Surrogate mothers.”
“But they would have to be . . .” Taraza fell silent, shocked by the possibilities this question opened.
“Who has ever seen a Tleilaxu female?” Odrade asked.
Taraza’s mind was filled with objections: “But the precise chemical control, the need to limit variables . . .” She threw her hood back and shook her hair free. “You are correct: we must question everything. This, though . . . this is monstrous.”
“He is still not telling the full truth about our ghola.”
“What does he say?”
“No more than what I have already reported: a variation on the original Duncan Idaho and meeting all of the prana-bindu requirements we specified.”
“That does not explain why they killed or tried to kill our previous purchases.”
“He swears the holy oath of the Great Belief that they acted out of shame because the eleven previous gholas did not live up to expectations.”
“How could they know? Does he suggest they have spies among . . .”
“He swears not. I taxed him with this and he said that a successful ghola would be sure to create a visible disturbance among us.”
“What visible disturbance? What is he . . .”
“He will not say. He returns each time to the claim that they have met their contractual obligations. Where is the ghola, Tar?”
“What . . . oh. On Gammu.”
“I hear rumors of . . .”
“Burzmali has the situation well in hand.” Taraza closed her mouth tightly, hoping that was the truth. The most recent report did not fill her with confidence.
“You obviously are debating whether to have the ghola killed,” Odrade said.
“Not just the ghola!”