Schwangyu threw up her hands in a gesture of capitulation. “He’s all yours, then, Reverend Mother. And the consequences are on your head. But you will not remove me from this post no matter what you report to Chapter House.”
“Remove you? Certainly not. I don’t want your faction sending someone unknown to us.”
“There is a limit to the insults I will take from you,” Schwangyu said.
“And there’s a limit to how much treachery Taraza will accept,” Lucilla said.
“If we get another Paul Atreides or, the Gods forbid, another Tyrant, it will be Taraza’s doing,” Schwangyu said. “Tell her I said so.”
Lucilla stood. “You may as well know that Taraza left entirely at my discretion how much melange I feed this ghola. I have already begun increasing his intake of the spice.”
Schwangyu pounded both fists on her desk. “Damn you all! You will destroy us yet!”
The Tleilaxu secret must be in their sperm. Our tests prove that their sperm does not carry forward in a straight genetic fashion. Gaps occur. Every Tleilaxu we have examined has hidden his inner self from us. They are naturally immune to an Ixian Probe! Secrecy at the deepest levels, that is their ultimate armor and their ultimate weapon.
-Bene Gesserit Analysis, Archives Code: BTXX441WOR
On a morning of Sheeana’s fourth year in priestly sanctuary, the reports of their spies brought a gleam of special interest to the Bene Gesserit watchers on Rakis.
“She was on the roof, you say?” the Mother Commander of the Rakian Keep asked.
Tamalane, the commander, had served previously on Gammu and knew more than most about what the Sisterhood hoped to conjoin here. The spies’ report had interrupted Tamalane’s breakfast of cifruit confit laced with melange. The messenger stood at ease beside the table while Tamalane resumed eating as she reread the report.
“On the roof, yes, Reverend Mother,” the messenger said. Tamalane glanced up at the messenger, Kipuna, a Rakian native acolyte being groomed for sensitive local duties. Swallowing a mouthful of her confit, Tamalane said: ” ‘Bring them back!’ Those were her exact words?”
Kipuna nodded curtly. She understood the question. Had Sheeana spoken with preemptory command?
Tamalane resumed scanning the report, looking for the sensitive signals. She was glad they had sent Kipuna herself. Tamalane respected the abilities of this Rakian woman. Kipuna had the soft round features and fuzzy hair common among much of the Rakian priestly class, but there was no fuzzy brain under that hair.
“Sheeana was displeased,” Kipuna said. “The ‘thopter passed nearby the rooftop and she saw the two manacled prisoners in it quite clearly. She knew they were being taken to death in the desert. ”
Tamalane put down the report and smiled. “So she ordered the prisoners brought back to her. I find her choice of words fascinating.”
“Bring them back?” Kipuna asked. “That seems a simple enough order. How is it fascinating?”
Tamalane admired the directness of the acolyte’s interest. Kipuna was not about to pass up a chance at learning how a real Reverend Mother’s mind worked.
“It was not that part of her performance that interested me,” Tamalane said. She bent to the report, reading aloud: ” ‘You are servants unto Shaitan, not servants unto servants.’ ” Tamalane looked up at Kipuna. “You saw and heard all of this yourself?”
“Yes, Reverend Mother. It was judged important that I report to you personally should you have other questions.”
“She still calls him Shaitan,” Tamalane said. “How that must gall them! Of course, the Tyrant himself said it: ‘They will call me Shaitan.’ ”
“I have seen the reports out of the hoard found at Dar-es-Balat,” Kipuna said.
“There was no delay in bringing back the two prisoners?” Tamalane asked.
“As quickly as a message could be transmitted to the ‘thopter, Reverend Mother. They were returned within minutes.”
“So they are watching her and listening all the time. Good. Did Sheeana give any sign that she knew the two prisoners? Did any message pass between them?”
“I am sure they were strangers to her, Reverend Mother. Two ordinary people of the lower orders, rather dirty and poorly clothed. They smelled of the unwashed from the perimeter hovels.”