Heretics of Dune by Frank Herbert

Schwangyu scowled, not trying to hide her upset from Odrade. They knew at Chapter House where loyalties lay! But no one . . . no one! would remove her from this post of observational command. Opposition had its rights!

Her thoughts were clear even to Teg. He noted the stiffness of Schwangyu’s back as she left them.

“It is bad When Sister is turned against Sister,” Odrade said.

Teg gave a handsign to his guard captain, ordering her to clear the area. Alone, Odrade said. Alone it would be. To Odrade, he said: “This is one of my areas. No spies or other means of observing us here.”

“I thought as much,” Odrade said.

“We have a service room over there.” Teg nodded to his left. “Furniture, even chairdogs if you prefer.”

“I hate it when they try to cuddle me,” she said. “Could we talk here?” She put a hand under Teg’s arm. “Perhaps we could walk a bit. I got so stiff sitting in that lighter.”

“What is it you’re supposed to tell me?” he asked as they strolled.

“My memories are no longer selectively filtered,” she said. “I have them all, only on the female side, naturally.”

“So?” Teg pursed his lips. This was not the overture he had expected. Odrade appeared more like one who would take off on a direct approach.

“Taraza says you have read the Atreides Manifesto. Good. You know it will cause upset in many quarters.”

“Schwangyu already has made it the subject of a diatribe against ‘you Atreides.’ ”

Odrade stared at him solemnly. As the reports all said, Teg remained an imposing figure, but she had known that without the reports.

“We are both Atreides, you and I,” Odrade said.

Teg came to full alert.

“Your mother explained that to you in detail,” Odrade said, “when you took your first school leave back to Lernaeus.”

Teg stopped and stared down at her. How could she know this? To his knowledge, he had never before met and conversed with this remote Darwi Odrade. Was he the subject of special discussions at Chapter House? He held his silence, forcing her to carry the conversation.

“I will recount a conversation between a man and my birthmother,” Odrade said. “They are in bed and the man says: ‘I fathered a few children when I first escaped from the close bondage of the Bene Gesserit, back when I thought myself an independent agent, free to enlist and fight anywhere I chose.’ ”

Teg did not try to conceal his surprise. Those were his own words! Mentat memory told him Odrade had them down as accurately as a mechanical recorder. Even the tone!

“More?” she asked as he continued to stare at her. “Very well. The man says: ‘That was before they sent me to Mentat training, of course. What an eye-opener that was! I had never been out of the Sisterhood’s sight for an instant! I was never a free agent.’ ”

“Not even when I spoke those words,” Teg said.

“True.” She urged him by pressure on his arm as they continued their stroll across the chamber. “The children you fathered all belonged to the Bene Gesserit. The Sisterhood takes no chances that our genotype will be sent into the wild gene pool.”

“Let my body go to Shaitan, their precious genotype remains in Sisterhood care,” he said.

“My care,” Odrade said. “I am one of your daughters.”

Again, he forced her to stop.

“I think you know who my mother was,” she said. She held up a hand for silence as he started to respond. “Names are not necessary.”

Teg studied Odrade’s features, seeing the recognizable signs there. Mother and daughter were matched. But what of Lucilla?

As though she heard his question, Odrade said: “Lucilla is from a parallel breeding line. Quite remarkable, isn’t it, what careful breed-matching can achieve?”

Teg cleared his throat. He felt no emotional attachment to this newly revealed daughter. Her words and other important signals of her performance demanded his primary attention.

“This is no casual conversation,” he said. “Is this all of what you were to reveal to me? I thought the Mother Superior said. . .”

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