Teg will have to be dealt with.
It would have to be done in such a way that it did not offend Taraza or weaken the ghola. Teg presented a special problem in many ways, especially in the way his mental processes could dip into and out of deeper sources akin to those of the Bene Gesserit.
The Reverend Mother who bore him, of course!
Something passed from such a mother to such a child. It began in the womb and probably did not end even when they were finally separated. He had never undergone the all-ravening transmutation that produced Abominations . . . no, not that. But he had subtle and real powers. Those born of Reverend Mothers learned things impossible to others.
Teg knew precisely how Lucilla viewed love in all of its manifestations. She had seen it on his face that once in his quarters at the Keep.
“Calculating witch!”
He might as well have spoken it aloud.
She recalled the way she had favored him with her benign smile and dominating expression. That had been a mistake, demeaning to both of them. She sensed in such thoughts a latent sympathy for Teg. Somewhere within her, despite all of the careful Bene Gesserit training, there were chinks in her armor. Her teachers had warned her about that many times.
“To be capable of inducing real love, you must feel it, but only temporarily. And once is enough!”
Teg’s reactions to the Duncan Idaho ghola said much. Teg was both drawn to and repelled by their young charge.
As I am.
Perhaps it had been a mistake not to seduce Teg.
In her sex education, where she had been taught to gain strength from intercourse rather than lose herself in it, her teachers had emphasized analysis and historical comparisons, of which there were many in a Reverend Mother’s Other Memories.
Lucilla focused her thoughts on Teg’s male presence. Doing this, she could feel a female response, her flesh wanting Teg close to her and aroused to sexual peak — ready for the moment of mystery.
Faint amusement crept into Lucilla’s awareness. Not orgasm. No scientific labels! It was purest Bene Gesserit cant: moment of mystery, the Imprinter’s ultimate specialty. Immersion in the long Bene Gesserit continuity required this concept. She had been taught to believe deeply in a duality: the scientific knowledge by which the Breeding Mistresses guided them but, at the same time, the moment of mystery that confounded all knowledge. Bene Gesserit history and science said the procreative drive must remain irretrievably buried in the psyche. It could not be removed without destroying the species.
The safety net.
Lucilla gathered her sexual forces around her now as only a Bene Gesserit Imprinter could. She began to focus her thoughts on Duncan. By now, he would be in the showers and thinking about this evening’s training session with his Reverend Mother-teacher.
I will go to my student presently, she thought. The important lesson must be taught or he will not be fully prepared for Rakis.
Those were Taraza’s instructions.
Lucilla swung the focus of her thoughts fully onto Duncan. It was almost as though she saw him standing naked under the shower.
How little he understood of what there might be to learn!
Duncan sat alone in the dressing cubicle off the showers which adjoined the practice hall. He was immersed in a deep sadness. This brought remembered pains to old wounds that this young flesh had never experienced.
Some things never changed! The Sisterhood was at its old-old games again.
He looked up and around this dark-paneled Harkonnen place. Arabesques were carved into walls and ceiling, strange designs in the tesserae of the floor. Monsters and lovely human bodies intermingled across the same defining lines. Only a flicker of attention separated one from the other.
Duncan looked down at this body that the Tleilaxu and their axlotl tanks had produced for him. It still felt strange at moments. He had been a man of many adult experiences in the last instant he remembered from his pre-ghola life — fighting off a swarm of Sardaukar warriors, giving his young Duke a chance to escape.
His Duke! Paul had been no older than this flesh then. Conditioned, though, the way the Atreides always were: Loyalty and honor above all else.