In his most unctuous tones, Tuek said: “God’s own Holy Army.”
“All of them women?” Sheeana asked. She spoke as though she could not believe it. To those at the base of Rakian society, Fish Speakers were a name from ancient history, people cast out in the Famine Times.
She is testing me, Tuek thought. Fish Speakers. The modern carriers of the name had only a small trading-spying delegation on Rakis, composed of both men and women. Their ancient origins no longer were significant to their current activities, mostly working as an arm of Ix.
“Men always served the Fish Speakers in an advisory capacity,” Tuek said. He watched carefully to see how Sheeana would respond.
“Then there were always the Duncan Idahos,” Cania said.
“Yes, yes, of course: the Duncans.” Tuek tried not to scowl. That woman was always interrupting! Tuek did not like being reminded of this aspect to God’s historical presence on Rakis. The recurrent ghola and his position in the Holy Army carried overtones of Bene Tleilax indulgence. But there was no avoiding the fact that Fish Speakers had guarded the Duncans from harm, acting of course at the behest of God. The Duncans were holy, no doubt of it, but in a special category. By God’s own account, He had killed some of the Duncans himself, obviously translating them immediately into heaven.
“Kipuna has been telling me about the Bene Gesserit,” Sheeana said.
How the child’s mind darted around!
Tuek cleared his throat, recognizing his own ambivalent attitude toward the Reverend Mothers. Reverence was demanded for those who were “Beloved of God,” such as the Saintly Chenoeh. And the first High Priest had constructed a logical account of how the Holy Hwi Noree, Bride of God, had been a secret Reverend Mother. Honoring these special circumstances, the priesthood felt an irritating responsibility toward the Bene Gesserit, which was carried out chiefly by selling melange to the Sisterhood at a price ridiculously below that charged by the Tleilaxu.
In her most ingenuous tones, Sheeana said: “Tell me about the Bene Gesserit, Hedley.”
Tuek glanced sharply at the adults around Sheeana, trying to catch a smile on their faces. He did not know how to deal with Sheeana calling him by his first name that way. In one sense, it was demeaning. In another sense, she honored him by such intimacy.
God tests me sorely, he thought.
“Are the Reverend Mothers good people?” Sheeana asked.
Tuek sighed. The records all confirmed that God harbored reservations about the Sisterhood. God’s words had been examined carefully and submitted finally to a High Priest’s interpretation. God did not let the Sisterhood threaten his Golden Path. That much was clear.
“Many of them are good,” Tuek said.
“Where is the nearest Reverend Mother?” Sheeana asked.
“At the Sisterhood’s Embassy here in Keen,” Tuek said.
“Do you know her?”
“There are many Reverend Mothers in the Bene Gesserit Keep,” he said.
“What’s a Keep?”‘
“That’s what they call their home here.”
“One Reverend Mother must be in charge. Do you know that one?”
“I knew her predecessor, Tamalane, but this one is new. She has only just arrived. Her name is Odrade.”
“That’s a funny name.”
Tuek’s own thought, but he said: “One of our historians tells me it is a form of the name Atreides.”
Sheeana reflected upon this. Atreides. That was the family that had brought Shaitan into being. Before the Atreides there had been only the Fremen and Shai-hulud. The Oral History, which her people preserved against all priestly prohibition, chanted the begats of the most important people on Rakis. Sheeana had heard these names many nights in her village.
“Muad’dib begat the Tyrant.”
“The Tyrant begat Shaitan.”
Sheeana did not feel like arguing truth with Tuek. Anyway, he looked tired today. She said merely: “Bring me this Reverend Mother Odrade.”
Kipuna hid a gloating smile behind her hand.
Tuek stepped back, aghast. How could he comply with such a demand? Even the Rakian priesthood did not command the Bene Gesserit! What if the Sisterhood refused him? Could he offer a gift of melange in exchange? That might be a sign of weakness. The Reverend Mothers might bargain! No harder bargainers lived than the Sisterhood’s cold-eyed Reverend Mothers. This new one, this Odrade, looked to be one of the worst.