“All at the powindah conference affirmed this,” Waff said. “Even a third-stage Guild steersman agrees.”
“But that one person has produced a thing that excites violent reactions among diverse peoples,” Mirlat argued.
“Have we ever questioned the Atreides talent for disruption?” Waff asked. “When the powindah showed me this document I knew God had sent us a signal.”
“Do the witches still deny authorship?” Torg the Younger asked.
How alertly apt he is, Waff thought.
“Every powindah religion is called into question by this manifesto,” Waff said. “Every faith except ours is left hanging in limbo.”
“Exactly the problem!” Mirlat pounced.
“But only we know this,” Waff said. “Who else even suspects the existence of the Shariat?”
“The Guild,” Mirlat said.
“They have never spoken of it and they never will. They know what our response would be.”
Waff lifted the sheaf of papers from his lap and again read aloud:
“Forces that we cannot understand permeate our universe. We see the shadows of those forces when they are projected upon a screen available to our senses, but understand them we do not.”
“The Atreides who wrote that knows of the Shariat,” Mirlat muttered.
Waff continued reading as though there had been no interruption:
“Understanding requires words. Some things cannot be reduced to words. There are things that can only be experienced wordlessly.”
As though he handled a holy relic, Waff returned the document to his lap. Softly, so that his listeners were required to bend toward him and some cupped a hand behind an ear, Waff said: “This says our universe is magical. It says all arbitrary forms are transient and subject to magical changes. Science has led us to this interpretation as though it placed us on a track from which we cannot deviate.”
He allowed these words to fester for a moment, then: “No Rakian priest of the Divided God nor any other powindah charlatan can accept that. Only we know it because our God is a magical God whose language we speak.”
“We will be accused of the authorship,” Mirlat said. The moment he had spoken, Mirlat shook his head sharply from side to side. “No! I see it. I see what you mean.”
Waff held his silence. He could see that all of them were reflecting on their Sufi origins, recalling the Great Belief and the Zensunni ecumenism that had spawned the Bene Tleilax. The people of this kehl knew the God-given facts of their origins but generations of secrecy assured that no powindah shared their knowledge.
Words flowed silently through Waff’s mind: “Assumptions based on understanding contain belief in an absolute ground out of which all things spring like plants growing from seeds.”
Knowing that his councillors also recalled this catechism of the Great Belief, Waff reminded them of the Zensunni admonition.
“Behind such assumptions lies a faith in words that the powindah do not question. Only the Shariat question and we do so silently.”
His councillors nodded in unison.
Waff inclined his head slightly and continued: “The act of saying that things exist that cannot be described in words shakes a universe where words are the supreme belief.”
“Powindah poison!” his councillors shouted.
He had them all now and Waff hammered home his victory by demanding: “What is the Sufi-Zensunni Credo?”
They could not speak it but all reflected on it: To achieve s’tori no understanding is needed. S’tori exists without words, without even a name.
In a moment, all of them looked up and exchanged knowing glances. Mirlat took it upon himself to recite the Tleilaxu pledge:
“I can say God, but that is not my God. That is only a noise and no more potent than any other noise.”
“I now see,” Waff said, “that you all sense the power that has fallen into our hands through this document. Millions upon millions of copies already are being circulated among the powindah.”
“Who does this?” Mirlat asked.
“Who cares?” Waff countered. “Let the powindah chase after them, seeking their origin, trying to suppress them, preaching against them. With each such action, the powindah inject more power into these words.”
“Should we not preach against these words, too?” Mirlat asked.
“Only if the occasion demands it,” Waff said. “See you!” He slapped the papers against his knees. “The powindah have constricted their awareness to its tightest purpose and that is their weakness. We must insure that this manifesto gains as wide a circulation as possible.”