But what if the Tleilaxu sent out in the Scattering had not carried with them the secret of the axlotl tanks? What then? Melange. The orange-eyed whores obviously used an inadequate substitute. The people of the Scattering might not have solved the mystery of the Tleilaxu tanks. They would know about axlotl tanks and try to recreate them. But if they failed — melange!
She began to explore this projection.
The Lost Ones ran out of the true melange their ancestors took into the Scattering. What sources did they have then? The worms of Rakis and the original Bene Tleilax. The whores would not dare reveal their true interest. Their ancestors believed that the worms could not be transplanted. Was it possible the Lost Ones had found a suitable planet for the worms? Of course it was possible. They might begin bargaining with the Tleilaxu as a diversion. Rakis would be their real target. Or the reverse could be true.
Transportable wealth.
She had seen Teg’s reports on the wealth being accumulated on Gammu. Some among the ones returning had coinages and other negotiable chips. That much was plain from the banking activities.
What greater currency was there, though, than the spice?
Wealth. That was it, of course. And whatever the chips, the bargaining had begun.
Taraza grew aware of voices outside her door. The acolyte Sleep-Guard was arguing with someone. The voices were low but Taraza heard enough to bring her into full alert.
“She left a wake-up for late morning,” the Sleep-Guard protested.
Someone else whispered: “She said she was to be told the moment I returned.”
“I tell you she is very tired. She needs –”
“She needs to be obeyed! Tell her I’m back!”
Taraza sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the cot. Her feet found the floor. Gods! How her knees ached. It pained her, too, that she could not place the intruding whisper, the person arguing with her guard.
Whose return did I . . . Burzmali!
“I’m awake,” Taraza called.
Her door opened and the Sleep-Guard leaned in. “Mother Superior, Burzmali has returned from Gammu.”
“Send him in at once!” Taraza activated a single glowglobe at the head of her cot. Its yellow light washed away the room’s darkness.
Burzmali entered and closed the door behind him. Without being told. he touched the sound-insulation switch on the door and all outside noises vanished.
Privacy? It was bad news then.
She looked up at Burzmali. He was a short, slender fellow with a sharply triangular face narrowing to a thin chin. Blond hair swept over a high forehead. His widely spaced green eyes were alert and watchful. He looked far too young for the responsibilities of a Bashar, but then Teg had looked even younger at Arbelough. We are getting old, damn it. She forced herself to relax and place her trust in the fact that Teg had trained this man and expressed full confidence in him.
“Tell me the bad news,” Taraza said.
Burzmali cleared his throat. “Still no sign of the Bashar and his party on Gammu, Mother Superior.” He had a heavy, masculine voice.
And that’s not the worst of it, Taraza thought. She saw the clear signs of Burzmali’s nervousness.
“Let’s have it all,” she ordered. “Obviously, you have completed your examination of the Keep’s ruins.”
“No survivors,” he said. “The attackers were thorough.”
“Tleilaxu?”
“Possible.”
“You have doubts?”
“The attackers used that new Ixian explosive, 12-Uri. I . . . I think it may have been used to mislead us. There were mechanical brain-probe holes in Schwangyu’s skull, too.”
“What of Patrin?”
“Exactly as Schwangyu reported. He blew himself up in that decoy ship. They identified him from bits of two fingers and one intact eye. There was nothing left big enough to probe.”
“But you have doubts! Get to them!”
“Schwangyu left a message that only we might read.”
“In the wear marks on furniture?”
“Yes, Mother Superior, and –”
“Then she knew she would be attacked and had time to leave a message. I saw your earlier report on the devastation of the attack.”
“It was quick and totally overpowering. The attackers did not try to take captives.”